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dorimena · 3 years

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𝕷𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕮𝖆𝖐𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.4k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, lingerie, sex toy (vibrating butt plug), implied edging, implied overstimulation, pegging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, dom!reader, sub!reader

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; garterbelt, dry orgasms, didn’t know lima bean respect day existed, if you haven't realized i refer to reader's dick as cock whether flesh or silicone, implied aftercare, aged up character, Bakugou is in his 20s

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; late gift for the birthday boy who i haven’t written anything about until now. It was supposed to come out as a small fic, but University kept getting in the way and I’ve fallen behind with some pendant writings. Guess this is my first headcanon thing. Not proofread!

April 20th could mean anything for a lot of people:

In the US, it’s National Pineapple Upside Down Cake Day.

Also in the US, it’s National Lima Bean Respect Day.

Internationally, for the weed lovers, it’s 420 Day.

But April 20th simply means it’s your boyfriend’s birthday.

Bakugou had been hinting about wanting a small surprise for a while, whether big or small

And by hinting, I mean downright telling you every breakfast, lunch and dinner spent possible throughout March that he wants something from you, but doesn’t want to know what

If you were Mina, you would’ve thrown a party at some lowkey club and hired one of the best DJs in the city, if not the country

If you were Kirishima, you would’ve taken him hiking to a new mountain someplace else in Japan + a weekend glamping getaway

If you were Sero, you would’ve gone to do something relaxing, maybe a spa? Aerial yoga? Definitely not to just see his ass in some yoga pants

If you were Kaminari-

Well, that’s actually an interesting thought… What would you have done if you were Kaminari?

Bakugou wearing a black, see-through thong, the most sensual looking lace garterbelt you could find in his size and a pretty black bow sitting on his ass is what you managed to come up with

Sure. At first he was ready to fight, but then he remembered who you were so obedient baby boy mode was activated without any more fuss. That, and his fucking fantasies.

He’s also been fantasizing for the past few weeks leading up to his birthday about how you’d probably ride him. Maybe fuck him? He doesn’t care, just wants to be babied and loved and fucked good until he passes out to wake up a week later.

Maybe not, he still has work to do

Another reason he put up with this is because, y’know, you tend to be nicer on special days so-

Bakugou wearing a garterbelt makes you feel so many levels of horny in a span of 30 seconds once you see it on him. It accentuates his already envious waist line even more. God, you can’t wait to see him bent over and ass up.

So you tell him gently to do so from where you’re sitting, and he does it so prettily.

Reminds you of a graceful cat, the way he turns around on the bed, chest already down onto the bed sheets as he pulls his torso as close to his knees as possible. Juicy ass is as high as it could be and wow, the thong doesn’t do a good work at hiding the glimmer of the diamond butt plug.

Pity it didn’t come in any other color than white, but it came with the lingerie.

You didn’t even warn him when you turn the butt plug on.

The promised low setting already sounding pretty loud, his small huffs indicating it’s not as overwhelming yet.

Good.

But by now, you’ve left it on for a good while, watching as he tries not to lose his balance or shuffle too much to ‘lose the appeal’.

He’s cursing at you in airy moans, vermillion eyes glaring at you. Why are you teasing him? You’re meant to be nice.

It’s his fucking birthday

You’d punish him for his impatience, but you already punished him the day before.

You don’t want him not being fucked in the ass so you turn the vibrator up to the last setting, smiling sweetly as he curses even louder

This is still punishing but nice, right?

He seems to agree

His arms are restless, moving from staying beside him to moving above his head to grip at the sheets.

His hands also go to grab his ass and pull the cheeks apart to show you how he’s clenching desperately around the toy, whining about how he needs you right now, to stop fucking around and get your big ass cock in him or else-

But that “or else” doesn’t really get finished, not with you startling him with your speed and sight of the ribbons.

His arms are tied now, forcing him to keep spreading his ass, to keep showing himself off.

This has him burying his face into the bed, hiding how red he’s gotten from embarrassment.

You don’t allow that, so you press your hand onto the plug to push it in deeper.

He yells out your name, body jolting as the toy relentlessly messes with his prostate while your other hand curiously goes to touch the front.

The thong is absolutely soaked and sticky, and when you move your fingers against the fabric to feel just how sticky it is, Bakugou tries humping them, well, really just trying to rub his dick against your fingers because wow the stimulation of the fabric is n i c e.

But you’re not having it just yet, you wanna appreciate his perfect posture a bit more.

Reminder: the butt plug is already at its highest setting.

So the next best thing you can do is smack his ass because your baby loves that, loves how you leave compliments and praise for how it jiggles and gets a pretty red. He does it for you, after all, makes sure it’s always at its best presentation.

But he’ll never tell you shit because then you’ll tease him and embarrass him in front of his friends.

So a few slaps in, being careful with his hands, all followed by cooing at how it moves, how it blushes, how it’s now matching his face and probably dick too, has him trying to fuck back into the vibrator, but he’s humping absolutely nothing and growing more and more desperate and horny.

You back away from the bed, going for your camera to take another pic for your growing collection.

On the bed lies Bakugou Katsuki, all tied up, lingerie getting sticky with precum, the laciest garterbelt you’ve ever seen decorating his waist while he’s panting heavily, ass in the air, face completely red and wet, whether it be his sweat or tears.

He’s holding his ass apart to show you the vibrating diamond butt plug that’s been stuck in the highest setting, buzzing away as he’s whimpering your name, hiccuping “mommy, mommy, mommy” as he pleads for mercy, wiggling his ass as he tries luring you back to his body.

“M-mommy! Hnnnm tuh-touch me! Plea-ease? Please~”

Hey, aren’t you supposed to be nice? Eh...

He can’t come alone from the vibrating butt plug, never has been able to before, and if his rocking hips don’t indicate how much he wants to either fuck the bed or have your hand on it, you just ignore it.

Let’s see if tonight he’ll be able to cum hands-free for once. And make sure he cries more and more everytime he gets to cum from your cock and only because of your cock.

Basically that’s your birthday gift. Fuck him good until he either forgets his name, he's a babbling, crying mess, he's completely milked, or all of the above.

After hours of being edged by the toy he finally came, but in thin, small amounts, so you had to fuck out a few more rounds and cum out of him before he passed out.

In all honesty, he begged you to fuck him until he passed out. He had been fantasizing about it, after all.

After you both had your final orgasm of the night, rather early morning, he’s in tears, body trembling through the last tremors of his 2nd dry orgasm out of what? 7 orgasms? The copious amount of cum he’s managed to get milked out of him drying everywhere on his body, drool wetting the bed sheets even more than they were, room smelling like caramel, asshole fluttering around nothing and dick twitching as if wanting more.

Bakugou’s speaking gibberish at this point, the only coherent words leaving his dumb mouth being “mommy”, “more” or your name as he slowly succumbs to his exhaustion.

You give him your premium grade A aftercare during the little time he remained conscious and took care of everything else as he slept.

Next day, you cook breakfast, even if he grumbled about the taste or appearance.

He’s a good boy, he’s not gonna yell at you or be ungrateful with anything and everything you do, considering you put up with his anger. I mean, he gives his opinions, insights, inquiries through loving shouts of disapproval and approval.

All in all, he liked his birthday, but told you he kind of expected you to throw a party and had mentally prepared himself

Goddamn it. Guess next year you’ll call Mina for some help

#bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #sub bakugou #sub bnha #ლ; blasphemy #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚

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mercurygguk · 3 years

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what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends.

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her.

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

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amiechuchu · 3 years

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Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between

Chapter 3: Background of the Study

[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]

other chapters can be found here

Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.

“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.

“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.

The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.

Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?

Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”

“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere.

“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”

Silence.

Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy.

Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”

“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick.

Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”

“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.

“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.

“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?

Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.

Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.

Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face.

“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.

“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”

Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.

Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki.

Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.

The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment.

Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand.

Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff @aces-tattooartist

#mmaatib #magic mayhem and all things in between #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki/you #loki/reader #amie drabbles

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scarletjedi · 3 years

Text

Untamed Time Travel Fix-It Fic But Make it Mingcheng part 3B

@piyo-13

Part 1: The Setup

Part 2A: Gusu Revisited

Part 2B: Gusu Unleashed!

Part 3A: The Return of the Plot

PART 3B: THE ROAD TO WAR

Things happen pretty quickly after that.

The Nie Soldiers accompany Lan Wangji back to Gusu, beating Wen Xu’s forces there, warning Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen of the coming attack. When Wen Zu arrives, Gusu Lan is ready. With help from the Nie and Lan Wangji, the Wen are beaten back at the gates. Wen Xu retreats to regroup - setting up a siege. The Cloud recesses don’t burn, but they are trapped.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian return to Lotus Pier, intending to begin building up subtle defences thinking it’s better to not tip their hand that they know an attack is coming. They are welcomed back, but find Lotus Pier preoccupied: Yanli had asked Madam Yu to arrange a date for the wedding, now that she had spent (supervised) time with Jin Zixuan and they found themselves to be most compatible. This puts Madame Yu into a good enough mood that she doesn’t scold them (much) for coming home the long way ‘round. With the piers distracted, it’s pretty easy for Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to begin to build their defenses. Wei Wuxian begins to worry about Lan Wangji - he was supposed to meet them in Lotus Pier once the Wens were defeated.

An auspicious date is picked for Yanli’s wedding — and then comes the summons for the Wen Indoctrination. Their defences aren’t finished, but it’s more than they had before — and with luck, they would have time after they return.

The circumstances are different, but the power dynamic is still very much the same. With Gusu under siege instead of burt, the threat is not so absolute, but it’s not enough yet to trigger a full on push back, no matter how much Nie Mingjue campaigns for it (and plans. He has no desire to end up without Baxia at Wen Ruohan’s feet again, no thank you — and no desire to let Meng Yao out of his sight).

Jiang Fengmain and Madame Yu fight over sending Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian again, but this time, when Wei Wuxian begins to sink into himself, Jiang Cheng grips his knee where they can’t see, offering his support — and warning him to be silent when it looks like he’d talk to defend Jiang Cheng.

“It’s an impossible situation,” Jiang Cheng says, voice level, and the steel in his voice is enough to make both of his parents stop. “If we go, we’re their hostages. If we stay, we draw their forces down on us like Gusu Lan — and as strong as our rivers are, we don’t have a mountain to keep them at bay. Are we ready to fight off the Wen army?” He looked between his parents. “I know we are strong, and I know we cause no offence enough to be a target, but we are a target. I am willing to go to Qishan, to buy us time at home to prepare.” He looked at Wei Wuxian, scowling when he saw how proud Wei Wuxian looked.

The night before they leave, Jiang Cheng is restless. He knows he’ll get little rest in the coming weeks, but he can’t seem to quiet his mind. So, he does what he has always done, and slips out to the end of the moonlit pier.

It’s not quiet on the water, but the sounds are gentle: water lapping at the pylons, dragonflies buzzing, a frog croaking. It settles him, and he sits with his feet dangling over the darkened water.

He hears his mother approach - a courtesy. She wants him to know she’s coming, and he decides to wait. She is alone, without Jinzou and Yinzou, and that is enough to make him pause.

He looked at her, curious, when she sits next to him, but she doesn’t say anything, eyes on the moon.

So, he says nothing either. They sit in silence for several minutes. Long enough that Jiang Cheng is getting ready to excuse himself, when his mother holds out her hand and waits.

Frowning, Jiang Cheng takes her hand. She grips him right, suddenly, and it’s a good thing because he tries to pull away in surprise when Zidian slides off of her hand and onto his.

“Mother?!” The word is choked between his teeth, his memory of the last time she had given him Zidian burning fresh in his memory. “I can’t—“

“You will,” she said, cutting him off. “And you will bring it home once more.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I will.”

She nodded once, and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his cheek to her chest. His mother could be hot tempered, sharp to the point of cruelty, but she was his mother and she loved him fiercely. Jiang Cheng held on.

They go, with extra provisions hidden on them, trying to figure out a way around giving over their swords - in all of their planning about the war, that was a detail that they had missed.

Their arrival in Qishan is a little rougher, with the Wen Army engaged rather than victorious, but it still matches pretty evenly to their memories — including the moment when Wen guards drag Lan Wangji up the stairs, alone. Jiang Cheng has to hold Wei Wuxian back, because Gusu wasn’t supposed to have fallen.

When Lan Wangji is close enough, Wei Wuxian still leans in to whisper at him. “Lan Zhan!” But before he can say more than that, Lan Wangji reaches out and cups the side of Wei Wuxian’s face his his hand — it’s shockingly bold, and Jiang Cheng has to stamp down the knee-jerk reaction he has to watching his brother’s shameless romance with his husband - and it’s worth it to hear Jin Zixuan choke behind him, and watch Nie Huaisang hide his laughter behind a furiously moving fan.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, and that must have meant something to Wei Wuxian, because he smiled widely, even when the guards dragged them apart.

In the end, there was no way for them to get around it, and their swords were taken from them. Later that night, when the guards had passed, they gathered in the rooms Jiang Cheng shared with Wei Wuxian — all except Lan Wangji, who had been placed under guard, which made Wei Wuxian twitchier than normal. Jin Zixuan was the one pacing, however, clearly discomforted by his lack of sword, even though he had lived through this once before and knew exactly where they were being kept.

“Jin-xiong,” Nie Huaisang whined, “Please sit down, you are making me dizzy.”

Jin Zixuan barely spares him a glance. He hadn’t been any better about being without Suihua the first time around, but at least he wasn’t bothering poor Mianmian with it this time. The fact that she hadn’t strangled him before they made it to the Xanwu’s cave...

“Let him be,” Wei Wuxian said. He had finally collapsed backwards onto his bed, next to where Nie Huaisang was fanning himself. His arm was draped dramatically over his eyes and Nie Huaisang fanned him for a moment, in sympathy. “If he wants to waste his energy, that’s on him.”

“Oh?” Nie Huaisang asked, fake-innocent enough that Jiang Cheng turned to watch. “But Wei-xiong, didn’t you say that—”

Whatever “Wei-xiong” said, they would never know, because a knock sounded at the door. Almost as if they really were still teenagers, the four time travelers exchanged a panicked “oh shit!” look.

“Don’t just stand there, hide!” Jiang Cheng hissed, and the knock sounded again — this time, with an accompanying, low: “Wei-gonzi? It’s me!”

“Wen Ning!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, bounding off of the bed.

“Wei-gonzi?” Jiang Cheng protested, though there was little force behind it. “It’s my room too.”

Wei Wuxian ushered Wen Ning inside quickly, and shut the door behind him.

“I don’t have much time,” Wen Ning began, before Wei Wuxian could speak. “But I brought — ” He reached into his robes and pulled out a Qiankun pouch, pushing it into Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Hey, food!” Wei Wuxian said, peering inside. He reached in as if to take something, and Jiang Cheng snatched it away. “Hey!”

“They’re feeding us now,” Jiang Cheng said. “We should save this for when they stop.” He turned to Wen Ning with a short bow. “Thank you, Wen Ning.”

Wen Ning nodded. “There’s medicine, too. Pills to restore qi, to stop bleeding and prevent infection.” He turned back to Wei Wuxian. “I spoke to Huanguan Jun,” he said, and that had Wei Wuxian’s full attention. “He’s not uninjured, but he has no broken bones. The official story is that he was captured outside of the Cloud Recesses and sent as a warning and as leverage, but he says it was a plan to get here, to help with the Xuanwu.”

“Does he have a plan to return our swords?” Jin Zixuan asked, and — well, it’s an understandable question. None of them had figured it out, after all, but Jiang Cheng’s hope lasted only the moment before Wen Ning shook his head.

“We did it last time,” Wei Wuxian said. “Injured and with makeshift weapons. We can do it again.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nie Huaisang said. “I want no part of that.”

Last time, Nie Huaisang managed to faint just before the night hunt that ended in the Xuanwu and their escape, and — well, to be honest, Jiang Cheng never actually found out how Nie Huaisang made it home. It wasn’t like the Wens would have sent him back after sending the other young masters to their deaths.

He didn’t escape it this time, marching sullenly along with them. He whined often enough that his feet hurt that Wen Qing managed to convince Wen Chao to call a halt so she could see to them. Judging by the way she paused when he took off his boots, his feet were not nearly in as poor condition as his complaints made them sound. Still — everyone would be better off for a break, and without Lan Wangji’s leg —

Ah.

“You’re a menace,” he murmured, leaning against he tree that Nie Huaisang sat beneath. Nie Huaisang flicked open his fan, holding it to shade his face.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, and Jiang Cheng snorted in amusement.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jiang Cheng kept his voice low, barely letting his mouth move. “You weren’t here last time. How did you get home?”

“Oh, Meng Yao let me out,” Nie Huaisang said. Jiang Cheng stared at him, but Nie Huaisang didn’t look up. “It was before he came to Wen Ruohan’s attention. I’m sure, if he’d already been granted any sort of position within his court, I’d have been left there to rot until Da-ge came to get me.”

But, they had changed things. Meng Yao had never killed that general. He was never banished from the Unclean Realm, and never went to the Wen Sect. Nie Huaisang had no man on the inside, and therefore decided to face the Xanwu of Slaughter rather than find another way out of Nightless City.

Nie Huaisang was a little bit terrifying, and continued to be terrifying all the way until they were in the Xanwu’s cave and fighting both it and the Wens. Not that Jiang Cheng was paying that much attention to him, being that he was currently using Zidian to strangle the life out of Wen Zuhilu much more quickly than he would have liked given the threat-rich environment he was in — but he was aware enough to his surrounding to know that Nie Huaisang’s ever-present fan also doubled as a fucking battle fan which had to have been a later-in-life development for his pre-time-travel self because what the fuck Nie Huaisang!

Other bits of information flashed through his awareness — Mianmian disarming that terrible Wang Lingjiao — Jin Zixuan fighting surprisingly well with a sword taken from a fallen Wen disciple — Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian fighting back to back — the Xuanwu of Slaughter eating Wen Chao —

That was enough to make Jiang Cheng drop his hold on Zidian, dropping Wen Zuhilio to the ground as he stared at where the Xanwu of Slaughter had it’s head reared back as it gobbled up Wen Chao like a snake!

“Oh, gross...” Wei Wuxian muttered.

Wen Zuhilu’s sword lay at Jiang Cheng’s feet. It was, in the end, a simple thing to pick it up and drive it through Wen Zuhilu’s back, hopefully cutting his heart in two. If he wasn’t dead before, he was surely dead now. Jiang Cheng didn’t spare him another glance as he joined the others in hiding from the Xuanwu as they planned.

The Xanwu killing Wen Chao fixed one problem, and Jaing Cheng killing The Core Melting Hand solved another. So now, of course, they were faced with a new problem. Previously, Wen Chao’s cowardice meant that none of the Wens had remained in the cave with them to face an angry Xuanwu, and their escape was thus unhampered by the enemy. Now, they had Wang Lingjiao pouting under the influence of the Lan silencing spell, a handful of Wen Chao’s entourage, and Wen Qing - who wasn’t a problem herself, but keeping her sympathy for them a secret certainly was.

“Well, now what?” Nie Huaisang hissed, fanning himself with his damned war fan, Huaisang!

“We wait for that thing to calm down and then we leave,” Jin Zixuan said, like it was going to be that easy. It wasn’t like they could go back the way they—

Except they could. Wen Chao never gave the order to retreat and cut the ropes. They could, conceivably, get out the entrance of the cave and not have to deal with the Xanwu again.

Jiang Cheng met Wei Wuxian’s eyes, saw the same realization there, and then his features set in the same resolve that he had last seen in the burial mounds, when it was all falling to shit.

“Jiang Cheng—” Wei Wuxian started.

“I know, I know,” Jiang Cheng interrupted. “I got you the first time.”

“Then could you share with the rest of the class?” Nie Huaisang asked, only a little dry.

“We can not leave the Xuanwu here,” Lan Wangji said. Then, after a beat. “Alive.”

Wei Wuxian was already nodding. “Exactly Lan Zhan. It was sleeping before, and not a threat, but it’s awake now, and if it gets loose it could cause a lot of harm before it could be subdued. If it could be subdued, with everyone distracted by, you know, the war.”

Jiang Cheng noticed Wen Qing’s attention shoot to Wei Wuxian, and he remembered, belatedly, that they weren’t actually at war yet. Only Qinghe Nie was actively skirmishing, and the Sunshot Campaign wasn’t formed until after the fall of Lotus Pier. Luckily, She seemed to be the only one who noticed the slip — after all, one of their biggest arguments to get the campaign started was that they had already been at war, just not unified.

“You want to take out the Xuanwu of Slaughter?” aked one of the surviving Wen that Jiang Cheng didn’t know. “Without your swords?”

“They defeated us easily enough,” Wen Qing snapped. “Do you wish to provoke them? Or would you like to be first chosen as bait?”

Jiang Cheng exchanged a look with Wei Wuxian, who flashed a quick grin before stroking his chin in a clear impersonation of Lan Qiren. “You know, that’s not a half bad idea.”

“It was their plan for us,” Jiang Cheng added, playing into the bit. “It would only be fair to use it on them. We could even have Mianmian choose, since she was the first chosen.” He nodded at Mianmian, who seemed surprised to be addressed, but he focused his sharpest grin on Wang Lingjiao, who had paled considerably and no longer struggled against the spell.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said quietly, plaintively, and Wei Wuxian pouted at him.

“Fine,” he said, flouncing dramatically. “I guess we’re better than using live bait.

Jiang Cheng nodded. “I wouldn’t trust ‘em anyway. You need to only bring people you can rely on into a fight as dangerous as with the Xuanwu. Jin Zixuan,” he said, and didn’t bother repressing his smirk when Jin Zixuan stood a little taller at being addressed so suddenly. Turns out his Sect Leader voice was useful, even if his voice still hadn’t settled into it’s full register. “We need someone to lead everyone else away while the Xuanwu is distracted. Can you do that?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, resolved and not a little bit relieved at not having to fight the Xanwu without his sword.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said. “Take Nie Huaisang with you.” He looked at Nie Husaisang. “I don’t want to be the one to tell your brother we took you anywhere near the Xuanwu, no matter how much he nags you to train.”

Nie Huaisang waved it off with his closed fan. “It’s alright. I have absolutely no desire to go anywhere near that thing. I’m not built for night hunts.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, voice quiet as he came up beside him, using the soft sounds of the others getting ready to leave as cover. “Last time, Lan Zhan and I could handle it. You should get out too.”

Jiang Cheng bit back his initial spike of anger, telling himself that this came from a place of concern not a dig at his skills — but, being back in this place, this time was dredging up a lot of dirt that he thought he had left behind, and he wasn’t surprised that Wei Wuxian was falling back into old habits as well.

“Last time, I didn’t have Zidian,” Jiang Cheng said. “And I know Lan Wangji didn’t have those guqin strings on him, either.” Blinking, Wei Wuxian looked over his shoulder to see Lan Wangji pull a coil of strings from his sleeve. “And more importantly, last time, you and Lan Wangji nearly died, and were out of commission for days. With the three of us, we might just walk away.” He gripped Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “And if you try to sacrifice yourself for me again, I’m telling A-Jie.”

That cracked a smile on Wei Wuxian’s face, and he nodded, pulling back to stand, arms behind his back as they watched the others make their way back out of the cave.

Before he left, Jin Zixuan paused and said, “How long should we wait for you?”

Jiang Cheng blinked and exchanged a look with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji spoke: “Six hours.”

A bit surprised, perhaps by the specificity, Jin Zixuan nodded, and followed the others out.

They have the advantage, this time, of their own weapons — Zidian, the Chord Assassination, and Wei Wuxian’s knowledge of resentful energy.

“I need a dizi,” he muttered to himself as they crouched down to draw diagrams in the dirt.

“I will get you a dizi,” Lan Wangji said before Jiang Cheng could say they probably had some back at Lotus Pier. That caused Wei Wuxian to flush pink and protest quietly, hiding his face in his palms.

“If you’re going to flirt the entire time, I’m going to leave,” Jiang Cheng said. And, when Lan Wangji shot him a look that said “do it, bitch,” Jiang Cheng continued, “and I’m going to tell everybody you’ve eloped and you won’t be able to go anywhere without a chaperone until my mother and your uncle settle the marriage contract.”

That shut him up.

It’d eventually decided that they would take the same basic strategy as last time. Wei Wuxian would grab the sword pinning it in place, and Lan Wangji would strangle it to death with the Cord Assassination. Only this time, Wei Wuxian would not be crawling into the Xanwu shell, what the fuck, and would be summoning the sword to him from the outside using resentful energy. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng would both then strangle the beast, and hopefully between the two of them it wouldn’t take a full six hours.

And, well, that’s pretty much what happens. Wei Wuxian stands out of range while Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng take their place, and then he begins to whistle. The sound of it isn’t loud, but it fills the cavern with an awful pressure, and Jiang Cheng shook his head like there was water in his ear. Then, like a branch giving way, something small but dark and foul rockerted out of the Xanwu’s shell, the Xanwu’s head roaring after. Jiang Cheng reacted, and Zidian wrapped around the Xanwu’s neck in the same instant as Lan Wangji’s chord, and the Xanwu snapped its teeth mere feet away from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian smirked, and shouted something that squirmed in Jiang Cheng’s ear, and the sword — the fifth piece of Yin Iron — embedded itself in the top of the Xuanwu’s head.

The Xanwu roared and Jiang Cheng pulled harder, sending a sharp pulse through Zidian, where it met a similar pulse from Lan Wangji—

And the head of the Xanwu popped clean off, falling to the water below, and sending a small wave up to soak Jiang Cheng’s boots. He kicked his foot, disgusted, and watched as drops of water flicked off. Great.

Jiang Cheng let Zidian curl back up, dormant, and stared down at the corpse of the Xuanwu. “That took you six hours?”

Wei Wuxian was blinking at the Xuanwu, equally surprised. “To be fair, Lan Zhan was injured, and we hadn’t eaten in days.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agreed, curling up his chord. “No proper weapons. Wei Ying was also injured, and did not yet have his understanding of resentful energy.”

“And you weren’t here!” Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng kicked off his rock and joined the other two. “No, I was running to get help, and I almost didn’t make it in time.” He clapped his hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “This is better.”

He turned his back, giving them a moment of privacy while he drew the talisman that would dry his boots. It wasn’t a talisman that he bothered to use often, being wet was part of living on a pier, but it was one that every disciple learned early and learned well. It had saved him from a weeks worth of blisters last time, and it would do the same now.

It didn’t do anything for the smell, however, and Jiang Cheng resigned himself to needing a new pair of boots. Again.

Climbing out of the cave wasn’t actually easier than leaving though the water, though if Jiang Cheng had to choose, he would choose not sneaking past the mythical murder beast without a weapon.

“What are we going to do about the Wens?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, they can all die, as far as I am concerned — except Wen Qing, of course — but...”

“We can’t let them go back,” Jiang Cheng said. “Wen Chao is dead, and even though it’s not our fault, you know we’ll be blamed. We want to keep that information to ourselves as long as possible.”

“Hostages?” Wei Wuxian asked. “It’s just - I don’t want that woman anywhere near Lotus Pier and, sorry Lan Zhan, we don’t know if the Cloud Recesses is able to handle a hostage right now.”

Which left Jinlintai or the Unclean Realm. The Jins were closer, but Jiang Cheng knew better than to trust Jin Guangshan and with the Nies already fighting, he didn’t want to anything to make them a bigger target.

Not that it mattered anyway, because when they climbed out of the cave they found the area filled with Nie cultivators — and Nie Mingjue, who was holding Nie Huaisang while he hung like a limpet, crying about everything he had to endure. It’s only when they appear, and Nie MIngjue relaxes, that Jiang Cheng realized that Nie Huaisang was physically holding Nie Mingue back from rushing into the cave himself.

He so surprised that it takes Lan Wangji bowing in greeting before Jiang Cheng remembers to bow himself.

Apparently, Nie Huaisang had planned more than just escaping with them via the Xuanwu, and when they had first left on the hunt, had managed to sent message to Nie Mingjue - along with the other half of a tracking talisman that was attached to Nie Huaisang’s fan. The timing was simply happenstance, and with an actual sect leader present, the decision of what to do with their prisoners was technically no longer Jiang Cheng’s.

Jin Zixuan stared at them openly. “That was not six hours.”

“Thank the gods,” Jiang Cheng said, then paused. “How long was it?”

“About two,” Nie Huaisang said, miraculously no longer a sobbing mess. He joined them, pulling Nie Mingjue with him. Nie Mingjue eyed him sideways, as if aware Huaisang was plotting something, but not truly minding. “Dage said he’ll bring everyone back home, and send official word to Wen Ruohan once he’s sure you are home safe and can muster your defences.”

Jiang Cheng looked at Nie Mingjue. “Are you sure?” he asked. “That’ll put a lot of heat on you, and more quickly.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “I could execute them here.” Which - wasn’t a terrible plan, except that previous fighting had been on Nie land - an act of war, yes, but Nie killing Wen on Wen land was an act of war that Wen Ruohan would recognize.

“Not Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian said quickly, which got him a look from Nie Mingjue. “She’s just as much a hostage as we were. She healed Nie Huaisang’s feet!”

Nie Huaisang nodded vigorously. “She did.” When Nie Mingjue looked at him to confirm, Jiang Cheng nodded.

There, in front of the Xanwu cave, Nie Mingjue and the Nie cultivators kill the remaining Wen, and Wen Qing is taken as hostage.

Later, the histories would mark this moment as the true beginning of the Sunshot Campaign.

Part 3A

Part 4: Sunshot!

#mingcheng #mincheng notefic #my fic #fic update #the untamed

42 notes · View notes

froggywhumpy · 3 years

Text

Unknown Caller

- - -

Hey! Hope you like this chapter! You don’t understand (you probably do) the amount of research on phones and tracing calls I had to do to make sure this chapter would even work. I did not proofread. Again, if you see any typos, no you didn’t<3. With that information, I hope you like it!

- - -

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump @whatwasmyprevioususername @myst-in-the-mirror @happy-whumper @abitefullofwhump @starnight-whump @cowboy-anon @whumpasaurus101

- - -

CW: threatening, fear of heights

- - -

Ezra screamed and flailed and kicked and fought, though this had absolutely no affect on Damion.

As soon as Damion entered the living room, he threw Ezra to the floor, pressing his boot onto his chest, pinning him there. Ezra screamed in response.

“Listen closely because I’m only gonna say this once. You are not to, under any circumstance, attempt to resist against anything I do to you. Is that understood?” Damion’s voice was low as he threatened the younger boy.

“Yes- yes, yes, I understand!!” Ezra cried.

“Good.” Damion removed his boot from Ezra’s chest. Ezra lay there, his body unmoving apart from the shaking of his chest as he sobbed.

At this point, Drew had entered the house. He walked over to Ezra, kneeling down to his level.

“Shhh, don’t cry.” Drew scooped Ezra up, carrying him as if he was a baby. He set Ezra down on Damion’s couch, stroking his hair for a moment before standing up to his full height again.

“Would you mind showing me around? It looks really different since I’ve been here last.” Drew said pleasantly, returning to casually playing with Ezra’s hair. Ezra flinched at the touch.

“Yeah, sure!” Ezra could hear the smile in Damion’s voice.

“You don’t mind waiting here for me, do you, love?” Drew asked Ezra.

After a moment, Ezra shook his head. Drew smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

“Yeah, don’t move, or you might accidentally tip the house over the cliff.” Damion chuckled.

“Oh, shut up.” The younger brother laughed. “Let’s go.”

- - -

Damion’s living room was nice by Ezra’s standard, if you weren’t counting the view of the cliff edge and the mountains beyond that just outside the windows. The windows went from floor to high ceiling and they covered most of the western wall. The setting sun shone through those western windows, illuminating the living room with rays of golden light.

On the northern wall sat a stone fireplace, with a blue expensive looking rug on the floor directly in front of it. On the mantle were a few pictures, framed: one featuring a younger Drew and Damion, looking to be around ages 6 and 10. Another displayed the brothers in their teenage years, with an older man that Ezra could only assume was their father.

Before Ezra could observe the final walls in their full detail, Drew and Damion re-entered the living room. “Just passing through.” Drew smiled at Ezra cheerfully as he followed his brother up the stairs to the second floor.

Ezra sighed heavily, turning to look at the wall opposite of the wall with the fireplace on it. It had the archway entrance to the dining room and at the other end of the wall was the a hallway, lined with doors. Other than that, it was plain.

Hanging in between the entrances was a beautiful, custom-made painting of the view from the western windows. Ezra had to admit, the painting was amazingly beautiful and well-made. He just wished he could enjoy the real thing without feeling nauseous. Since he had started looking around, he had gotten over his initial fear of being so close to the cliff edge, and he had stopped crying, but he was still careful to avoid looking out the windows. He didn’t wanna start crying again.

On the last wall was the one with the front door and the staircase that Drew and Damion had ascended a few minutes earlier. Pressed against the staircase was a console table, with another picture- this one containing a woman holding a baby- and next to that, a telephone.

Ezra shot up from the couch in an instant. He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave the couch, but he had no idea when he would get this opportunity again. He crept over to the phone, snatching it up from the stand where it was charging. He heard Drew and Damion above him, and Ezra knew he had to make his call fast if he wanted to not be caught. Ezra hastily dialed the first number that came to mind; Jason’s. Thankfully, Ezra had it committed to memory by now. Ezra brought the phone to his ear and silently begged for Jason to pick up.

“Hello..?” Jason’s voice came over the receiver, clearly confused.

“It’s m-me.” Ezra stammered, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh my god- are you okay?! Did they hurt you, where are you?” Concern flooded into Jason’s tone, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m-“ Ezra thought for a moment. “Fine? I- I don’t know where I am, they took me on an airplane and- and it landed in Santa Fe but then we got in the car and we drove for a really long time and now I don’t know where I am but there are lots of mountains and cliffs and I’m really scared, Jason, I’m really scared and-“ once Ezra started speaking, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Ezra- hey, calm down, I can’t- are you hurt, Ez?” Jason’s voice was still panicked, though now less so, as he tried to comfort Ezra.

“Um- a little.” Ezra sniffed, trying to hold back tears.

“What did they do to you..?”

“W-ell.” He fought to keep his voice steady. “They- Drew-“

Ezra froze as he heard the sound of creaking wood from the top of the stairs. Ezra glanced up- at the top of the stairs stood Drew, who was staring down at Ezra with a barely controlled fury in his eyes.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Ezra’s jaw dropped, and the phone slipped out of his hand, clattering to the floor. “I- it’s not-“

“It’s not what?” Drew’s glare didn’t falter as he quickly descended the stairs. Ezra could hear the faint sound of Jason screaming as Drew finished walking downstairs. Drew picked up the phone on the ground, hanging up on Jason.

Ezra stumbled backwards as he tried to flee from Drew as he approached him. In his panic, he tripped over his own feet and fell onto his back. Still, he continued to scramble back, until his back was pressed against the cold glass of a window.

Drew stood over Ezra, leaning down to whisper in the shaking boy’s ear:

“Jason isn’t going to save you. Nobody can.”

#ezra&drew #intimate whumper #whumpblr #caretaker #protective caretaker #honestly we love jason so much #or at least i do #intimate whump #istg if i find a typo im gonna scream

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seiin-translations · 3 years

Text

2.43 S1 Chapter 4.1 - Drifting Yunichika

1. LINE JUDGE

Heeeeeey guys I’m back

Translation Notes

1. Tora no Yu is the name of a public bath

2. A lariat is a wrestling move where a wrestler runs towards their opponent and “ strikes them by extending their arm straight out and moving it forward against their neck or chest area. “

Previous || Index || Next

“If that’s how it’s going to be, Yuni,” Nagato Ryo said quite simply after he stuffed all his belongings from the locker in the room into his enamel bag.

It had been less than three months since he joined the team in April, so he didn’t have much stuff. The inside of the empty locker was also clean. They didn’t have a lot of members, and they weren’t tyrannized just because they were first-years, so they were given their own individual lockers as soon as they joined the team. They were a small team where everyone had to work together, regardless of rank, or there wouldn’t be enough people to prepare for practice. It was very hard on the team to have people quit.

The volleyball shoes that were transferred from his locker to his bag—they went to a sports shop together to buy them when they entered high school because the ones from middle school had gotten smaller. He wondered what kind of fate would befall those shoes that they had bought together at the store entrance after they examined them seriously but still excitedly, after he brought them home. He wondered if they would be put away somewhere.

“Ryo, are you really…”

Even while standing by the doorway to clear his path, Kuroba said in a way as though he was still unwilling to give up, Is there any way I can talk you out of this? He and Nagato had been together since elementary school and middle school. Since they entered the same high school and joined the same club, he freely thought that there wasn’t really any doubt that they would hanging out together again for the next three years.

“If Haijima’s joining, I quit.”

His chest throbbed when he flatly said that. Even though he wasn’t the one being rejected, when he thought about Haijima, his chest ached. Nagato gave a little exasperated sigh.

“I want to have fun in club. I just don’t want to make bad memories with a guy who ruins the mood. What’s so weird about that? Do you have to put so much effort into club activities?”

“No…”

Kuroba shook his head, his face slightly looking down. The purpose for joining a club was different for everyone. There were those who were ready and willing to spend their entire high school careers aiming for nationals, and there were those who just wanted to enjoy their hobbies and interests with their friends.

Nagato shouldered his bag and walked past him. He turned his body towards him at the door.

“Yuni, you’re still doing it, aren’t you?”

He said, as though it was the final confirmation. He felt like he was telling him that they could still go together.

Until that point, he had been mumbling his words, but when he was asked that, Kuroba raised his head and answered without hesitation.

“I’m doing it.”

Last summer, the prefectural tournament of their third year of middle school. Though they advanced to the semifinals, Kuroba ran away from the competition. He ended his middle school volleyball career with the regret of doing something that couldn’t be undone and the indigestion that grew larger and larger within him afterwards. He didn’t want to feel those things a second time.

But most importantly, he finally brought Haijima back to the volleyball team.

His middle school teammate, Haijima Kimichika, was a volleyball fanatic who loved volleyball. It was already at a level where it went too far. He was always serious towards volleyball, and what’s worse, his ability was so high that he often left the others behind and went on a rampage. He had the irredeemable flaw of not being able to read the mood of the team. The way he spoke was also awful.

He certainly was a guy who was unusually good at making other people angry. Even Kuroba had been irritated by him many times.

…But even so.

He joined the volleyball team in high school as well, had a good relationship with his senpais, and though the serious practice of high school was tougher than he expected, he had never thought that it was so painful that he wanted to quit. Every time he jumped off the gym floor with a squeak of his shoes, every time he hit a ball someone set to him, the feelings he had a year ago buzzed in the back of his body—while he chewed upon the joy of volleyball Haijima taught him, every day during club activities.

There was one thing he always thought.

“I want to play volleyball with Haijima.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Around seven o’clock in the morning, the sky was already bright as though painted in ultramarine blue, and thick columns of clouds were gradually rising. On both sides of the one-lane farm road that continued straight ahead were rural landscapes as far as the eye could see. The rice plants that were still green were growing quickly. The slightly hazy and blue-green mountaintops surrounded the perimeter at 360 degrees.

Blue and green and white. Monshiro’s summer, distinctly color keyed by these three colors, was arriving.

On the paved road in the middle of the rice paddies, a light pickup truck was driving fast with enka music coming out of it at a loud volume. His relative yelled cheerfully, adding embellishment to the song while he gripped the shaky steering wheel. It’s not a residential area, so it won’t bother the neighbors, but the Kuroba family acts way too freely in town… the son and heir to the Kuroba family sitting in the passenger’s seat, Kuroba Yuni, was feeling quite fed up. For the Kurobas, the entire town was like their own yard. Most of the mountains in Monshiro were privately owned by the Kurobas, so that wasn’t necessarily wrong.

“Uncle, can you turn down the volume a little bit…”

“Aah? You said something, Bon?”

His yelling voice returned from the driver’s seat, still with the strange intonations of enka.

“…Nothing.”

Exhausted, he leaned against the side door, his temple reaching the upper frame of the window. At that moment, they passed a bicycle that was travelling below the window and left it behind.

“Ah!”

He immediately tried to poke his head out of the window, but scraped his forehead against the window frame and groaned, “Oww…”

“Mm?” his relative stepped on the brakes. “Is there someone there?”

“Ah, yeah. A guy on my team…”

After he said that, he realized that there was also a delicate distance with “guy on my team.” He could say “team member” again, which was progress, but he didn’t feel like he could say “friend.” They were still more distant from each other than middle school—than kindergarten if they went back farther in time.

As his relative backed the truck up, Kuroba opened the door and jumped down onto the road. He stumbled a step forward and then ran.

Haijima, who had been pedalling his bike with his head down, looked up and stopped his bike by putting one foot on the ground. He was dressed lightly in a T-shirt and knee-length track pants, but heavily equipped with his baggage of box-shaped enamel bag and drum-shaped sports bag that were slung over his shoulders.

His relative stopped the truck.

“Oi, get in, get in. I’ll send you all the way to school.”

His relative tried to lift the bike that Haijima was riding on, and Haijima hopped his bike on one foot, looking annoyed. “You’re the kid at Ooe-san’s house, right? I’ll bring your bike home later. You’re gonna stay there for five days. If you leave it at the station, it’ll get stolen. I’ve heard things have been getting a bit dangerous around here lately.” His relative chatted as he carried the bike onto the back of the truck with an astonishing amount of power, even though he was past sixty. “It’s four stays over five days,” Kuroba corrected, but his relative basically didn’t listen to people. “There’s no way for this town to be dangerous. Everyone knows each other…” Haijima grumbled in a low voice.

“Well, get in. I said I’ll give you a ride while I deliver provisions to the training camp.”

Not being completely one-sided like his relative, Kuroba shyly stretched out his hand for the sports bag Haijima was carrying. He was relieved that Haijima didn’t push away as he obediently lowered his head and pulled the strap of his bag from around his neck.

“’Provisions’? You mean, all of that?”

While fixing his glasses, Haijima looked at the back of the truck with his eyes half-closed.

There were about ten bales of rice stacked in a pyramid on the tray. A huge mound of round cabbages that still had dirt on them. Tightly lined up buckets overflowing with potatoes, onions, and tomatoes…

“Do they think we have a hundred members or something?”

“I told them we didn’t need it. But they said it was Grandpa’s order…”

With the cargo of one bike and one human added on board, the truck started driving down the farm road again. This time, he and Haijima rode in the back of the truck, so they didn’t have to listen to his relative’s singing up close. The sound of the car radio in the driver’s seat and the rough voice of his relative were blown back by the wind.

Haijima sat with his back to the mountain of cabbages, hugging his knees, and Kuroba sat cross-legged with a bucket full of tomatoes in his arms. Haijima’s bike was precariously balanced in the gap between two rice bales.

“Ah, it’s hot…”

Haijima held up his hand to the sunlight beating down on the back of the truck and squinted his eyes.

It was now summer vacation, and the summer training camp for the boys’ volleyball team was starting today. It was taking place at school, so their practice environment didn’t change, but just the idea of staying there overnight made him a bit excited.

“Hey, how many pairs of underpants did you bring?”

When he inadvertently asked that, Haijima screwed his face up, looking very annoyed.

“Is this an elementary school field trip…Don’t get carried away.”

“Okay, but this is my first training camp. So, how many underpants?”

“I don’t know. Grandma packed enough for me.”

“What, you didn’t pack for yourself? I think you’re the one who’s like an elementary schooler.”

The man named Haijima didn’t have the nerves to spare time for anything else other than volleyball, so in the way of a first-year high school boy, he cared little about his clothes or looking good. However, looking at the shirt of his uniform and his T-shirts, he was always made to wear proper and pure white ones. It was probably the concern of his maternal grandmother who he lived with.

“This is my dominion, but…” With a haughty looking expression for some reason, Haijima pulled the enamel bag he usually carried around for club activities to his side. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said, indicating with his chin the duffel bag that thrown on top of the ragged pile of cabbage behind him. While he let someone else prepare his underpants, he was certainly very careful about his volleyball gear, to the point where he didn’t want anyone to touch them.

“You’re a guy who has clear judgement about your own ins and outs…”

Even while shrugging his shoulders and sighing, but he found himself reflecting on their conversation.

Their last tournament of their third year of middle school was held exactly one year ago, in July of last year. Because Kuroba evaded his responsibilities, Monshiro Middle School was lacking an attacker and were eliminated from the semifinals, and then Haijima got injured, so they ended up withdrawing from the third-place playoffs. Ever since that tournament, Kuroba and his other teammates had severed ties with Haijima. After a year of not talking to each other, he thought that they were finally able to communicate rather decently now. Even if for now, he was still no more than “guy from my team.”

“Hey, didn’t my mom go talk to your grandma? Can’t we make some kind of parents’ association or something…? It’ll make donations and gifts more convenient, Apparently she talked with Nagato’s mom at first, but Nagato quit, so she said she’ll go talk to Chika’s grandma…”

He began speaking in a good mood, but when he noticed Haijima’s expression becoming increasingly grim, he stopped talking. “Parents’ association…” Haijima spat out those words in a chilling voice. Kuroba faltered, wondering what set him off as his neutral mood was suddenly dropped into low gear.

“Haven’t you learned yet that club activities aren’t a good place for parents to butt in and meddle?”

“Well…sure, but it wasn’t my idea, it was Nagato’s mom’s.”

“Well, now that Nagato quit, there’s no need for this conversation then.”

Haijima turned to the side in a huff and sank his back into the mountain of cabbages. Even Kuroba felt annoyed at that attitude.

“Don’t talk like that. Whose fault do you think it is…”

“It’s mine, right? If he didn’t like me joining so much that he quit, then he wasn’t serious from the start.”

It’s no good. It’s not worth talking. Nothing changed…This guy’s lack of consideration. For Haijima, the people who played volleyball seriously and everyone else were clearly divided into those he cared about and those he didn’t. It was the same as the things he took good care of in his club activities bag and everything else he didn’t care about.

He didn’t believe Nagato’s quitting was Haijima’s fault, but he honestly wanted him to share a little bit of the bad aftertaste he himself felt.

However, when he tried to say something and inhaled, he couldn’t think of any words that would make Haijima understand. Ah, geez, sometimes I don’t know why I brought Haijima back, even to the point where I ended up cutting ties with Nagato.

Shit, he cursed, and took a tomato from a bucket and threw it at the side of Haijima’s face. He stopped it with his left hand, looking startled.

“You—”

“Eat it, it’s tasty.”

He also took out a somewhat large tomato and took a big bite out of it. The sweet juices trickled down his chin, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“I picked them in my relative’s field. I’m sure our senpais would love them.”

It had actually become a traumatic experience for him, when he had gotten nervous and lost his bearings with the huge cheering squad of all his relatives appearing at that middle school game. He really wished they would cut it out with that sort of thing. At any rate, in this case, they overdid it with the scale of the “little favor”. But, putting that aside.

“I think you’re doing this with good intentions. Even if you don’t want a PTA, you should accept these. And then they’ll be satisfied too.”

Although he often felt embarrassed or irritated by them, he didn’t hate or detest his grandfather or relatives or his parents. If someone talked bad about them, he didn’t feel good about that.

Holding the tomato in his hand, Haijima looked at him in silence for a while. The dazzling summer sunrays reflected off his pale face, and he couldn’t see his expression behind his glasses. He then clicked his tongue and turned his face from him again.

“…That’s something a well-bred guy would say.”

He said bitterly, throwing his gaze towards the scenery streaming past them. In the end, the tomato just rolled around in his hand, and he never ate it. Even though it had been a year and a half since he moved to town from Tokyo, he seemed to persist in not becoming a member of the town. It felt somewhat lonely. I might still be dragging the image of “Chika” from kindergarten around, he suddenly thought. He knew that “Chika” went to Tokyo and got lost and would never come back. The only clue to finding “Chika” was volleyball, and it wasn’t like he was only playing volleyball for that reason, but it was probably a big part of it.

A light horn sounded from the driver’s seat.

They passed another bike near the shoulder of the road. Haijima, looking behind him, noticed something and muttered, “Ah.” Kuroba also took notice of a jet-black umbrella that completely disregarded the weather and was somewhat meandering along under the blinding summer sky. “Ah,” he said, and half-rose.

“Kanno-senpaaaai!”

When he called out to him from the back of the truck, a pale freckled face, even whiter than Haijima’s, peeked out from beneath the umbrella. He was holding his umbrella, so he was riding with one hand.

It was Kanno Akito, who, in his long jersey pants and long-sleeved hoodie, he looked just like a boxer who was in the middle of losing weight. On top of that, he was wearing his hood entirely over his head and his hands were tucked into his sleeves (by the way, all of it was apparently of UV cut). He was their senpai on the volleyball team and came from the same middle school, Monshiro Middle, as Kuroba and Haijima. He looked like a lanky and tall scarecrow wearing clothes and carrying an umbrella. He hated to say it about themselves, but it was unavoidable that the volleyball team’s boys were often described as pasty.

Recognizing the two’s faces, Kanno’s mouth moved to form a “’’Sup” and he bobbed his head slightly in greeting. Kuroba turned around to the driver’s seat and raised his voice to not be overpowered by the loud enka music.

“Uncle, stop! There’s one more passenger!”

***

“Great, as soon as camp is over, it’ll be time for the Autumn Tournament. We’ll finish up the team during these five days. Some of you might have come here thinking you’re going to play around at night, but be prepared to be worked so hard that you won’t have the energy for that.” The captain, Oda, gave them a pep talk. “Yes!” the first- and second-years shouted, somewhat out of sync. The vice-captain, Aoki, was standing half a step behind Oda. Oda nodded in satisfaction at the team members’ response and turned diagonally behind him.

“Anything from Sensei…”

He was about to say, and then his face stiffened.

The old teacher who was the advisor for the boys’ volleyball team was leaning his frail body back in his folding chair, snoring comfortably. Slivers of light shone over the handrail of the second floor gallery, creating a stripped spot of sun in the gym, and the advisor’s face, his wrinkled mouth half open, looked like a fish being cooked on a grill.

“…Someone. A first-year. Move him to the shade before he becomes a dried fish.”

Oda ordered with a grimace. “Ah, yes!” When Kuroba tried to run, Haijima jumped at the same time, and there was an atmosphere that restrained them both for an instant as they wondered which of them was going. “…The two of you do it.” Oda sighed.

Heave ho. They lifted the chair on both sides at Kuroba’s call. They carried the chair to a corner of the gym with their advisor, who showed no signs of waking up even when he was in midair. Kuroba was about three centimeters taller, so it was slightly tilted towards Haijima’s side. When Kuroba lowered the position of his hand, Haijima raised his arm high as though indignant.

He’s still the same guy who hates to lose.

Now, if “first-years” was called, then it would be himself and Haijima who would move. After the provisional club enrollment period in April was over, three first-years, including Kuroba and Nagato, officially joined the club. Of course Haijima didn’t join the team at that time. It was after the ballgame tournament in June when Haijima finally agreed to join after Oda’s persistent persuasion. However, Nagato and the other first-year quit at the same time as Haijima joined. Apparently Nagato asked him to quit, but he hadn’t bothered to catch that person to find out the truth.

Since the ban on first-years quitting or leaving clubs was lifted at the end of June, three months since enrollment, it seemed that every club had members who left one after the other after the ballgame tournament either way.

“It was us third-year’ decision to take Haijima, even knowing Nagato’s opinion. There’s nothing a freshman needs to feel responsible for. There’s nowhere you can complain.” Aoki must have sensed Kuroba’s worries, because he reassured him with that.

For the current boys’ volleyball team members, there were two first-years: Kuroba and Haijima. Four second-years—Kanno, Uchimura and Hokao who were there from the start, and Okuma, who transferred over from the rugby team. For the third-years, there were still the same two people—the imbalanced captain duo of the 163 centimeter Oda and the 193 centimeter Aoki. There were fluctuations within the grades, but if you added the three years up, there were eight people, the same number as before the ballgame tournament.

The finals of the ballgame tournament, where they were betting on getting either Haijima or Okuma, ended in the victory of Team F led by Oda, so the right to obtain Okuma (well, it hadn’t existed in the first place) had disappeared, but Okuma himself came knocking on the volleyball team’s door. The rugby team had an image of being a tightly unified group, and there must have been a good reason for him to change clubs at this stage of his second year. Perhaps something about volleyball appealed to him.

“It’s as Oda said about practice. I’ll talk about the rest.”

While Kuroba and Haijima carried chairs over, Aoki took over the talk and continued the meeting.

“Well, it’s the same camp as last year, so the second-years already know, right? There are no baths, so you can either use the school showers or go down to the Tora no Yu. (1) No bikes allowed when you’re going to the Tora no Yu. Either way, you’d be drenched with sweat on the way back. For laundry, you can use the coin laundry at the Tora no Yu. We don’t have a specific person on duty, but it’s cheaper to use it all at once, so ask each other. Don’t let it pile up since it’ll stink. After dinner and the meeting, we’ll have a study session until lights out. The only time I’ll look at your homework is during camp, so make good use of it. Lights out strictly at eleven. If there’s anyone awake, I’ll assume you have too much energy and have you do twenty dashes on the slope. Now finally, for the meals, which you guys are probably wondering about the most…breakfast and lunch are sold in the cafeteria, but we’re making dinner ourselves. I’ll post the rotation chart in the kitchen, so keep an eye out for it. Anyways, we’re having yakiniku tonight.”

A small cheer went up. Aoki held up his hand and said, “However, starting tomorrow we’ll only be having curry. Kuroba’s parents have contributed tons of meat and vegetables, so everyone thank him.”

His name suddenly brought up, Kuroba, who was about to put down the chairs and return to the meeting circle, shrank back.

“Yo, land-owning rich kid!” Okuma clapped his hands and teased, and the other team members also applauded. “N-no, it’s not my parents, it’s my relatives. They can’t possibly eat all these vegetables and they think there’s about a hundred people on the team…” Before he knew it, he ended up copying the lines Haijima said this morning. Although he said something self-important to Haijima, when he was praised before everyone, he was embarrassed about acting like a rich country bumpkin giving everyone a lavish feast.

“What are you saying, Kuroba? It’s the kindness of your guardians. We’re grateful for it.”

“Well, if you throw it all into curry, then it wouldn’t be too hard to consume.”

Oda and Aoki backed him up in their own ways. The third-years are so mature, he thought.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Hey, Kuroba!” The spike he hit with all his strength became a home run and hit the opposite wall, earning him a warning from the setter, Uchimura. “You gotta hit them with each and every one of your nerves. There’s no point in practicing. Oda-senpai says it’s during practice when you should think. On the contrary, you think too much during matches…”

“Oh, okay. Got it.”

He pouted as he answered, but his gaze was pulled in another direction. Oda had just beckoned Haijima over and started talking to him.

“So, Haijima, how’s our attackers?”

“They’re not bad at all. I’ll match up with everyone during the training camp. Since the right side hitters seem useful, I’d like to increase the combos involving them and the centers. Like A and D double quicks or a C quick and a right broad jump or a tandem attack with the center and the right side…”

Haijima began to easily enumerate tactical terms that Kuroba couldn’t imagine very well just by listening.

“Oh, oh, wait a minute. Oi, Kanno, the white board. And, Okuma!”

Oda hurriedly called the two second-years over. Kanno ran over with a sketchbook-sized whiteboard under his armpit. “Me too? Alright.” Okuma did a lariat (2) to Kuroba’s neck for no reason and passed him. “Gueh…” It was quite irritating that this senpai always seemed to not be satisfied unless he did one unnecessary thing.

“And, Kuroba!”

“Ah, yes!”

He responded while rubbing his throat.

“I said center and right. Let the guys on the left do receiving practice.”

Haijima said without even looking at him. Kuroba, who was about to run, froze. Even the other team members were startled at the way he spoke, like he was cutting him off.

Haijima was the only one who didn’t notice the tensing atmosphere, and he put the whiteboard on the floor and knelt down, beginning to let his mind unfold on a two-dimensional court. Haijima’s position, setter, was also called the playmaker, and it was the team’s brain, the backbone of all the attacks from its own side. In Haijima’s mind, he probably stockpiled an infinite number of tactics that could be combined as long as he had the right pieces to make them happen. Dragging in the centers Aoki and Okuma and the right-side hitter Kanno, Haijima’s talk became excited, and even the captain Oda was left out.

Oda approached them, scratching his head.

“Let me join you guys.”

The remaining four people began receiving practice.

“He was like that since middle school, right?”

Oda said, while underhand receiving the ball Uchimura hit to him.

“Yes…like that.”

“He must have something special in his head. Like, apparently shogi masters are able to visualize the movements of all the pieces of the board dozens of moves ahead in their minds. I don’t know anything about shogi though.”

“I know a little about it. My grandpa’s hobby is shogi.”

He unintentionally mentioned his grandpa and felt embarrassed again that he might get thought of as a grandpa’s boy, but Oda didn’t make fun of him like Okuma.

“For him, instead of shogi pieces, it’s the ball on the court and the opposing team’s players…he can picture the movements of everything on the court in an instant. He’s really the embodiment of a volleyball brain…but well, everything off the court slips out of his head right away.”

“He’s extreme. Inside and outside.”

“It’s up to the team to make the best use of him or hold him back. It feels like if he was such a good all-rounder, he could be the top player anywhere, but it’s actually the opposite. There might not be a lot of teams that can accept him. If he goes somewhere bad, he’ll be pretty easily destroyed, so it’ll be too dangerous.”

“Haa…”

Feeling dejected, Kuroba’s shoulders slumped. Haijima had failed because of that in middle school. Probably at his Tokyo middle school too… There was an incident that forced him to transfer from his powerhouse private school to this countryside. Would he just repeat the same thing in high school? What was he brought back to this court for?

“We’ll make use of him.”

Oda’s voice suddenly became stronger. After he received the ball with his knees bent, he turned his eyes towards the circle with Haijima in the center. Haijima had his backside towards them now and his forehead almost touching the floor, absorbed in moving the pieces on the whiteboard.

“I started thinking, ‘Isn’t it my responsibility to protect that talent and send it off to university?’”

“Senpai…”

Something hot spread in his chest. Our captain is so cool…he thought proudly. He knew that the other clubs made fun of the fact that boys’ volleyball’s captain was tiny. But he didn’t care what other people said. Oda had the ability to make them want to take this person to the national stage before he graduated. That was why for the members of this team, there was no question that Oda was their captain.

That kind of existence didn’t exist when he was in middle school, where there were only vague, indistinct horizontal ties. They’ve never decided on a leader, and Haijima only served as team captain at the time of the tournament because of the difference in experience levels. Their middle school team was completely reliant on Haijima alone. Haijima was the only one who seriously wanted to win the prefectural tournament, and everyone else, including himself, still felt like they were participating to make memories.

I’m sure that with this team, this time for sure we’ll be able to say, “Let’s fight together” with everyone.

Now, if I could just get stronger individually…

I’ll work even harder at practice. So that I’ll be an attacker who Haijima will firmly place his trust in for any situation.

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43 #2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Ranked S

Tigre stood in the doorway to the dining hall of Cassell College in awe of the massive chandelier. It was gold, in the shape of a great tree under a high domed ceiling and every leaf was a light. It was the most magnificent thing he had seen in all of the College so far and it was accessible because he knew what a tree was and what a lamp was and he could see that this work of art was the two put together. What great innovation!

After spending a few hours last night with Chu Zihang’s friends, he felt too excited to sleep. He kept fiddling with the tablet computer all night, surfing the internet and googling all manner of things until the machine ran out of batteries. They had explained how to charge it, but Tigre felt a moment of great panic when the low battery warning came up. What if he tried to charge it and it didn’t work? He’d be up a creek on his first day of school.

The freshman students in green uniforms all sat at very long heavy wooden tables. He recognized the Smith sisters and waved, trotting up to them and sitting down. “Hi! I hope you feel better now!”

The Smith sisters all looked at him in silence and uncomfortable smiles. Except for Ruby. She gave a little laugh and said. “Yeah, we do… thanks.”

They all wore the same hairstyle with their hair tied up and back and the mass of curls poofed out like a bouquet of flowers. They still had the insect motif. Ruby with her butterfly earrings, Porsche with her dragonfly earrings, and Ladybug Celeste.

“Oh. What’s that on the wall? Is that dragon language too?” Tigre asked in wonder.

“That’s Latin…” Porsche drawled. “You should be able to tell if you speak Spanish.” She rested her cheek in her hand and pointed at him, doubt filling her voice.

“He said he only spoke a little!” Ruby was quick to defend him. “It’s just saying ‘Welcome new students.”

“Oh… Latin…” Now that he stared at it he could tell it was a bit like Spanish.

Suddenly a silver platter was settled in front of him and the lid opened to reveal a plate of hardboiled eggs, bread, cheese and ham. He yelped in surprise. “Woah!”

Ruby laughed again. Even Celeste cracked a smile. “You must have grown up in the boonies. You act like you’re in Disney World.” She said, chuckling.

Tigre was already stuffing his face with the bread and eggs and mumbled. “No, I’m from Mexico.”

Celeste shook her head, covering her smile. “I know! What I meant was… you know what? Never mind. It’s nice to meet someone who’s not a sourpuss.”

A sudden hush fell over the dining room and a few students stood up as Lu Mingfei entered accompanied by the members of the Student Union Elite and a beautiful woman walking behind him. “That’s Lu Mingfei, S ranked President of the Student Union. I hear he’s back from killing a real dragon.” Ruby explained in a hush whisper. “I hear he’s the strongest student the College has ever had.”

“Really he did?” Tigre watched in awe. This guy was so quiet and normal and humble, he never imagined that he could have killed a dragon. “I heard he was President of the Student Union. What does that mean?”

“There are many clubs here but two main ones. The Student Union and Lionheart. The Student Union was run by Caesar Gattuso who killed the King of Bronze and Fire two years ago. He passed his club to Lu Mingfei. Lionheart was run by Chu Zihang who killed the King of Earth and Mountains year before last. They had a great rivalry but Lu Mingfei doesn’t seem to be interested in continuing that and Lionheart leadership has been hollowed out. Chu Zihang, Susie, and Lancelot all graduated. They were all the Lionheart elite.”

“Was run? Chu Zihang doesn’t run it any more?”

“No, he graduated recently and was sent on missions. In fact, they’re all graduated now. Caesar is in Rome in the Italy branch.”

Tigre’s chewing slowed and he swallowed. “Graduated… so Chu Zihang doesn’t go here any more…”

“No, he was just here recovering from his last mission. He’ll probably go back to work now that he’s fully recovered.” Porsche shrugged.

He sighed and lowered his eyes. “Oh… he… he didn’t tell me that.”

Celeste’s elegant eyebrow raised. “Why would he tell you that? Do you know him?”

For the first time, Tigre seemed genuinely sad to the sisters. He stopped eating and hung his head. “Yeah. He saved my life.”

“Get out!” Porsche’s eyes were wide in her head. “How did that happen?”

Tigre looked on the verge of tears. “It’s kinda sad but I was not let out of a prison all my life. Chu Zihang broke me out of that prison and that’s how I came here. He gave me a computer tablet. He didn’t say he was leaving.”

The sisters all fixed him with sad serious gazes.

“No wonder you don’t know anything…” Ruby sighed.

“I… I’ll send him a farewell message later I guess.” He mumbled. He understood that Chu Zihang had to leave, but did he have to leave without saying anything? The tablet computer must have been a goodbye gift as well as a welcome gift.

The Smith sister’s eyes all went wide at the same time, like a row of kittens. They were looking behind him and when Tigre turned around, Lu Mingfei was standing behind him.

“All settled in?”

“Yes… sir?” He asked.

“Oh no, not you too with the sir stuff.” Mingfei lamented, one hand on his head.

“I’m sorry I just heard you were the strongest student in Cassell!” Tigre explained quickly.

Lu Mingfei winced slowly and sighed. “Anyway. I wanted to ask you if you’ve settled in alright.”

Tigre nodded. He noticed that all the students in the dining hall were staring at him. Some of them whispered to each other, their eyes fixed on him as they did so.

“I heard Chu Zihang was leaving. Do you know when?” Tigre asked quietly sad.

“Oh… yeah he left last night. He didn’t tell you?” Mingfei’s eyes widened slightly.

Crestfallen, Tigre shook his head.

“Ah… Senior Brother is always like this. He comes and goes without a word and doesn’t understand how that might affect people. He thought a lot of you. Anyway, We can talk later, don’t take it so hard, okay?” He gave Tigre an awkward pat on the shoulder.

The sisters were rendered speechless. Lu Mingfei walked away to the Senior Student’s table where he sat down, surrounded by men in suits as he was served by three separate waiters. It seemed like he was in the lap of luxury, the King of Cassell. Yet, looking at him, Tigre couldn’t help but think that Lu Mingfei was very lonely. He didn’t really talk to the people next to him, just lowered his head and ate like a horse in a stable.

A hand suddenly slammed into his view. “Hey, I’m talking here.”

“Charles Xavier!” Tigre exclaimed.

The boy with dark hair and eyes who challenged him before apparently had been trying to get his attention when he was looking at Lu Mingfei.

“My name’s not ‘Charles Xavier’ I was messing with you!” He wrinkled his nose and glared his eyes down at him. “You know Lu Mingfei? How the hell?”

“I… I met him yesterday after the test. There was a little party at Chu Zihang’s house.” Tigre answered honestly with an owlish expression.

‘Charles Xavier’ massaged the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut like he suddenly had a massive headache. “You were at… Chu Zihang’s party?”

Tigre flinched. “Uh… Yeah… Sorry, if I knew you wanted to go I would have invited you…”

Celeste and her two sisters all lifted their coffee cups in unison and sipped, watching this scene with great pleasure.

‘Charles’ cleared his throat. “Well then… allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Robert Musonda, of the Musonda copper mining company in Zambia. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh… nice to meet you too.” Tigre accepted the offered hand.

“Have you decided which club you were going to join? I personally have not. I was waiting to see how things were. With all the elites gone, things could go either way. The Student Union could fall, or Lionheart could resurge.”

“I haven’t… really thought of clubs. I…” Tigre looked to Ruby for help. She’d been very helpful so far.

“Lionheart and Student Union were huge rivals before. I think people are expecting that to continue but it doesn’t have to. It depends on leadership. I think Lionheart will really push hard to regain some ground after losing so much to Student Union.” She nodded to him.

Robert Musonda clasped his hands behind his back. “In fact, leadership itself is up for grabs at Lionheart. A lot of freshmen are thinking of going to see if they can snatch the spot. With you being good friends with Mingfei and Chu Zihang, you’d be a shoe in!”

“I wouldn’t call myself good friends… We just met yesterday…”

Robert Musonda leaned forward. “He came over here and greeted you and only you… I call that good friends.” He patted Tigre on the shoulder the same way Lu Mingfei had and dropped his card next to him. “Let’s chat after class.”

Robert sauntered away. His card had a small floral scent but was simple and white with black block lettering of his family business and name along with a phone number and email.

As they were leaving the breakfast hall, Tigre’s tablet computer chimed. When he looked at it, he had a new message in his inbox. “Oh. I got my exam results.”

“Quick check your email!” Celeste exclaimed.

Apparently all the results were posted publicly and at the same time. Students all stopped what they were doing and were looking at their results, heads bowed over their phones. Some students cheered and pumped their fists. Others gave each other high fives. Some students huddled together, giving consoling pats on the back. They were listed in order by last name and, since Tigre didn’t have a last name, the null entry in the last name field put his name right at the top.

Name: Tigre

Resonance Test result: S

Attached to his email was several pages of materials. Based on his ranking, he was afforded a stipend of money. $100,000! He also had a lot of privileges like first pick of meals and he could call the train to take him to Chicago whenever he wanted.

“Congratulations on your high level of Ranking.” It said. “With these privileges also come responsibilities. You are expected to perform at high level in the college in both class attendance and performance. If you fail to perform, you will be downgraded and your privileges will be revoked.”

He looked up at Ruby, relying on her once again for guidance. “What classes do I have?”

“You have to pick your own classes.” She said, with a trembling voice. “I can’t believe you’re S ranked. That’s insane. Are you half dragon?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Tigre shrugged.

Celeste stepped in, pushing Tigre forward. “There’s a link to register for classes. But let’s not do this in the hallway where everyone stares at us.”

She leaned over to him, smiling gently. “So, do you have a roommate yet?”

“Uh… I don’t have a dorm.” He said quietly.

“Then you should stay with us. We’ll help you.” Celeste smiled at him.

“Yeah!” Porsche said, glancing at her Celeste and holding his hand. “We’ll start by registering you for classes and stuff. Do you have anything you need to move?”

“Not… really? Just a few things.” Tigre said nervously as he was herded out of the Dining Hall by the three women.

Ruby clung to his other arm. “Then I’ll help you move!”

“Move? Move where?”

The triplets turned and looked at him with shining brown eyes. They beamed at him, speaking in unison. “To our dorm silly!”

#Dragon Raja

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obeymeaskme · 3 years

Text

Obey Me!: Human and Demon Hearts!

A/N: Just a reminder to check out my pinned post to see all the chapters!

Chapter Four: The Incident (1/2)

Word count: 1,604

Rating: 18+

By the time Tuesday morning had arrived, Satan had already bragged to the whole household about how he 'found a cure for Noelle's pesky ailment'. This was the reason everyone was sitting at the table waiting. After all it was the first time most of the brothers saw Noelle since Sunday morning, excluding Asmo who tried to charm her a second time at school, and Levi who was forced to be near her due to being her guide. Thankfully the relations between the others in the house hadn't gotten any worse than before.

The explanation was simple. She has to learn to control, her own magic.

"Someone has to teach her magic." Satan said with a blissful smile. The others groaned against it. Most of them. Asmodeus seemed to want to take that responsibility in a heartbeat.

"Oh! I can do it! After all I'm one of the few who won't try and tear her to shreds~"

Noelle and Bella shared a concerned look at his request. Neither fully confident his intentions were pure. Thankfully, Lucifer was on the same page as they were.

"You will do no such thing Asmodeus. We will let Leviathan handle it."

"WHAT!?"

Everyone turned their heads towards the serpent demon and his outburst. He hadn't been paying full attention to the conversation. So the news of him being forced to teach the 'Normie' shocked him.

"Why me! That's so unfair!"

Lucifer gave his final retort.

"You're the only one who hasn't spent nearly as much time as the others. Perhaps if you weren't lost in your anime fantasies and actually tried to get along with Noelle, you could have gone under my radar…"

The conversation seemed to end there, and so did the meeting. Everyone had gone off on their own ways, eager to continue their activities. Everyone but Levi, and Noelle.

Even under Lucifer's instructions Leviathan had managed to keep her at a distance. He had her follow him to the library, and tossed her a book. It was a book on beginners' magic. His grand plan was for her to learn on her own while he played games on his hand held device. No matter how hard Noelle tried, she couldn't gather the courage to ask him questions when they occurred.

The rest of the day went by slowly, and Noelle and Bella finally had a chance to catch up with each other. Both of them burrowing themselves under Bella's mountain of stuffed animals. Her being the first to speak.

"So… You and Levi huh?"

Noelle sighed and nodded in response, letting her friend do the talking.

"I'm sorry if it's not going well for you. Look at the bright side! You get to learn magic. That's pretty cool."

Noelle gave another nod, this time adding a forced smile, and verbally interacting.

"Yeah. I asked Satan for help but when he starts, he doesn't seem to slow down. We both figured I'd be better off on my own."

"What about Lord Diavolo? He's such a big shot, why doesn't he get you a tutor?"

Noelle shrugged.

"I tried that. A tutor is too much use of the school's resources, and Lord D is really keen on the brothers being our guide…"

"That sucks…"

Night came around which it gave Noelle a chance to rest before tomorrow. The only hope of her gaining Levi's companionship was just a sunset away.

Morning came with it's usual dark and hazy atmosphere. Bella had stretched her way out of bed, trying not to trip over the passed out Belphegor who made his nest on her floor. They had watched a movie the night before, both falling asleep halfway through.

On her way going downstairs she came across Noelle, who was just now coming out of her room. They exchanged a quick hello, and gathered their school supplies. Noelle took a deep breath and followed her out the door. On the way to school a group of lower level demons had been slouching around the gates of the entryway. These were the same group of demons that have been bugging both girls throughout the week prior. But most of their pranks were pretty plain, and nothing to be concerned about, especially when Beel was hanging around them. At least, up until today.

"Hey Human Meatballs! Where do you think you're going?"

The girls did their best to ignore them. But sometimes ignoring someone in hopes they go away doesn't work. Especially with demons. In one quick motion one of the demons had snagged Bella by the hoodie, pulling her back into their grasps. Noelle had panicked and followed them, trying to grab onto Bella as much as possible. Anger in her voice.

"HEY! Let go of her, you dumb asses!"

The demon's mocking tones was their only response. Thinking quickly on her feet she unzipped Bella's sweater, giving her friend a makeshift get away. Noelle on the other hand felt a sharp pain in her arm, as the others grabbed and pulled on her. Then all at once, they stopped. Hands frozen in place.

The air surrounding them grew thick and heavy. Out of Noelle's eyesight, a familiar growl was heard. Without warning all three demons turned on their heels and ran off. Noelle had turned around to see what made them flee, her heart beating in her chest. She calmed down quickly seeing the familiar blue eyes of Satan as he rushed to her side.

"I saw everything. How's your arm?"

"My arm-"

As soon as she moved her limb, a shot of pain rippled through it. Satan had pulled the sleeve back, even against Noelle's howls of protest. The skin was cut deeply and it was bleeding. Satan rubbed his hand over it and growled, dragging her along to sit on a bench.

"I have to go get Lucifer. He's the only one who can help-"

"NO!"

Satan looked at her in shock. His head tilted in confusion.

"It's… not that bad. Please, promise me you won't tell him. If he figures out I got into a fight, let alone one that got me hurt, he'll send me back to the human world! He'll force me to leave Bella by herself!"

Satan took a deep, unsure breath and agreed to keep it a secret. For now he patched her up to the best of his abilities, and they went through school like nothing happened.

Neither of them saw the demon bullies for the rest of the day.

The school day itself went along well. Assignments had been finished in most of the girl's classes so they found themselves wandering the hallways multiple times. Noelle had checked up on her, and returned her sweater during a study hall. Both of them trying to find ways to patch up the holes that were left behind.

Satan had joined them on the way back to the House, along with Beel and Belphegor who both apologized for not being around during the earlier encounter. But that didn't matter. They were back home where it was safe.

Noelle had just barely flopped on her bed when a knock was heard on the door. Once back up on her feet, she found a small package sitting outside of her room. Her excitement grew knowing exactly what it was. She all but slammed the door and sat at her crafting table, taking out a sharp knife to open the package.

Sitting inside was the Ruri-chan figurine she'd been waiting for. She'd never really won anything with raffles, especially not with something so wide-scaled. Immediately she took Ruri-chan out of the cluttered shipping paper and ran to Levi's room, knocking on it.

"What's the password?"

Noelle giggles to herself, not knowing the password but knowing how to get his attention.

"Does the sound of a Ruri-chan special edition Soda Brand Figurine count?"

Almost instantly she was met with Orange eyes, and swept hair. Her high energy quickly faded the longer he glared at the box in her hands.

"How did you get that?"

Noelle shrunk back as black hot ashes flaked off from Levi's body.

"I heard about the figurine contest and decided to give it a try?"

They locked eyes, and Levi gave an airy hiss, backing her up across the hallway, demon form unleashed.

"So what? You came here to rub it in my face? Mock me for being an Otaku or something? That's pretty stupid, not to mention low-"

Noelle began to squeeze her eyes shut, not being able to look at him out of fear. She didn't even see him grab her injured arm until it was too late. Even when she was brought to her knees he still persisted.

"And all you ever do is mock me behind my back right? That's why you're so chummy with my brothers too, right? You think I'm so below you, even if you're just a Normie-"

"LET GO!"

Noelle had quickly tossed the box at him, hitting him in the face. He released her, ignoring her silent sobs as she gripped her arm. It took him a few minutes to process the blood on his hand wasn't from his face. Looking down at her, he slowly pieced together the two things that had just happened.

A 'Normie' had wanted to help him win something he wasn't going to get on his own, and how aggressive he was towards her. Concerned that he broke her arm, he pulled her up and ran with her to the bathroom. His heart beat finally steadied as he saw bleeding scratch marks, and nothing to indicate he broke any bones.

#obey me: human and demon hearts #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphagor #obey me fanfic #obey me oc

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 2: “YATA MISAKI’S BUILDING EXPLORATION! HAUNTED HOUSE EDITION” (Part 2)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

The director puts his hand to his jaw and thinks. Yata looked at his figure expectantly.

"It is true that this will hinder the schedule."

"Really?!"

"Then, let's go find the rabbit."

"Eh?"

The director and other members of the film crew rose to their feet one after another. From those who handle the light to the makeup, they try to go with the director. Yata instinctively tried to stop them.

"Wait a minute! Why is everyone going?"

"As we will be looking for him, it is better to have more manpower."

"That's right, oh, yeah, then I'll go with you."

"No, if we let the actor do these kinds of tasks, the name of the show will be frowned upon. Yata-san and Kamamoto-san, you should wait here."

Just with that, the other members except Yata and Kamamoto walked out of the reception room.

"……"

Yata stretched out his empty hand and sat back on the couch.

The reception room, where the current had already been introduced, felt even colder when the equipment left. Yata flailed his legs fiercely, staring into the dim lamplight. He cannot say anything and is calm.

He feels bad because he is worried about the normal path. As an important figure in the world of idols, Yata pays tribute to Kokujoji. He is concerned about the status of the great man, not because he is afraid of this eerie western-style building.

While repeating his trembling thoughts, Yata was confident that the team or the rabbit would return as soon as possible.

And 30 minutes passed, 1 hour passed.

It seems that the rain has stopped a bit. Instead, thunder was heard more frequently. The haunting and rumbling sky sometimes casts a light similar to a flare on the window. This time, Yata realized that his body was jumping.

"It's not too late?"

Unable to suppress the trembling voice, he talks to Kamamoto. Kamamoto keeps his camera on the table in front of him, arms crossed and silent.

Yata was driven by anxiety and shook his shoulder.

"Eh? Kamamoto?"

Kamamoto lowered his head in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Don't fall asleep, fat man!"

"Hmm!" When he touched his head, Kamamoto's sunglasses slid off.

Kamamoto makes a shocked voice, dressed like an idiot with sunglasses hooked to the edge of his ear.

"What is it? What is it?"

"Idiot! The others haven't come back yet!"

However, Yata's anger did not seem to be transmitted to Kamamoto at all. He stretched out humorously, grabbed the camera from the table, and stood up.

"I'm in trouble. Then I'll search a bit!"

"Oh, why?"

The voice was about to scream, but Yata no longer has the psychological margin to worry about such things. Kamamoto scratched his head like he was in trouble.

"No, it doesn't matter what you say. If they don't come back, it's only natural for me to go looking for them, right?"

"That said, the directors have not returned. If you go, the same thing will happen, right?"

Kamamoto bowed his head and pointed the camera at Yata. Yata's face is reflected in the black lens. Kamamoto had a ridiculous tone as he clearly reflected his scared face.

"Maybe Yata-san… Are you afraid of being alone?"

"Moron!"

Yata's low kick went through Kamamoto's right knee and the giant rolled on the ground.

"Hey, Yata-san, please stop hitting me!"

"Ah! Maybe it's because I don't like your comments?"

"Just kidding! Yata isn't scared at this level! I get it!"

"I go to search..."

Yata responds with a negative voice like a different person than until now. Kamamoto stood up while rubbing his knees and headed straight for the exit.

"Then, I'll go for a bit."

Kamamoto left the room. Yata was left alone in the reception room.

"……"

He cannot hear anything but the sound of rain, thunder, and the beat of his heart. He feels restless and walk around the table for no reason. Check the clock almost every minute. Every time, he repeats the idea of going round and round, why he hasn't come back yet.

At that moment, the roar of the guitar solo echoed through the hall.

"What?!"

Involuntarily, he raises a strange voice and jumps. The guitar solo echoed in Yata's bag that he had left on the couch. The fiery melody is a representative song of "Red King Idol" Suoh Mikoto, which Yata respects.

Yata took out his PDA while suppressing his heartbeat.

The incoming call was from Kamamoto. As soon as he answers the call, Yata yells at him.

"Hey, don't call suddenly!"

As he screamed, Yata felt relieved somewhere in his heart.

Kamamoto on the other end of the phone echoed the usual subtle voice without knowing such complicated psychology.

"No, I'm sorry, Yata-san. I thought it would be bad for Yata-san to be worried, so I'm sorry."

"Are you eating something?"

"Eh? No, no way..."

"You're eating! Where are you now?"

"Oh, no... it's like a kitchen."

"You're stupid! How do you eat in someone's kitchen when you visit their house? You can't do that, even if you're a visitor!"

Yata yells. At the same time, when he looks out the window, he notices that his expression has softened. Kamamoto's usual eating habits seemed to be irreplaceable and encouraging at this point.

Kamamoto says, while making a locking sound.

"Well, you often say that if I'm hungry, I can't do it, right? And I came here guessing."

"Eh?"

"I could see a figure here, so I thought it was a rabbit. It was wearing white clothes, so I'm sure it's correct."

A small shadow was born on Yata's slightly warmed chest.

A figure in white clothes.

"Hey, Kamamoto."

"Hmm? That? That, maybe..."

When he hears Kamamoto's voice as if noticing something, the shadow gets bigger as it swells.

"Wait a minute. Come back!"

"No, what are you talking about, there was a rabbit. Sorry! When can I start recording?"

There, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

The shadow fills Yata's heart. Yata clenches the sweat from his hands that slowly spreads onto his PDA.

"Hey! Kamamoto! Come back!"

"That? It's weird. Why?"

"Kamamoto!"

"Why was his neck looking away?"

Almost at the same time as those words, a wet sound echoed off his PDA.

It's like hitting a wet leather bag on the ground.

It's like squashing a rotten tomato.

A sound with an ominous premonition clung to Yata's ears.

"Kama-…!"

The calling voice was interrupted by a loud sound that pierced the tympanic membrane. Maybe that's why he dropped his PDA. He lets it go involuntarily, and Yata looks at his PDA. Notice the words "Rikio Kamamoto" floating just below the "Call" screen.

After a while of silence, the speaker began to pick up the sound of "something."

Tap. Tap. Yata notes that the sound that resonates regularly is footsteps. Facing Yata, who is stuck as if frozen, the speaker mercilessly continues to reproduce the sound of "something".

"Heh heh heh."

In the end, a sound like that of a laughing voice, and the call was cut off.

Seeing the words "End of call", Yata noticed the sweat on his back.

There is certainly "something" here.

Yata thinks about it while being driven into a panic. Can't imagine what it is. Is it related to that white figure? What happened to that rabbit and the members that went looking for him?

And Kamamoto...

"Ah!"

Clenching his fist and teeth, Yata stared at the living room door.

If Yata were alone, he would have screamed and stormed out of the reception room, rushing into mountains of thunderstorms. Not good in this situation, let's be clear. It is incredibly scary. Even now, his knees are shaking and he can't even stand.

However, Kamamoto is here. There are also directors and film crews that came with him.

If he abandons them and runs away alone, he will deny the human Misaki Yata.

"Damn!"

Yata slammed his hardened fist against his thigh. That doesn't stop the shaking of the knees, but it is something.

Thus, pain inspired Yata. He strides across the room and kicks the door open before crossing.

"Wait, Kamamoto! I'm going to help you now!"

Screaming to inspire himself, Yata stepped into the darkness in front of him.

++++++++++

Kamamoto said at the end that he was in the kitchen.

Of course, Yata does not know the layout of the building. Still, since it's a kitchen, he guesses it's somewhere on the first floor, and he walks down the hall in big surprise. The lamp, which should be from the lighting equipment, was not on, and Yata had to use the light from his PDA as a flashlight and advance terrifyingly.

Lightning and thunder roar. The entire view of the hallway was projected for a moment as if the camera's flash fired.

It's a long corridor with blood-colored ridges and bone-like walls. The portraits are evenly spaced on the wall.

As he slowly advances, Yata tries to keep the portrait out of his eyes. Because the line of sight can match. Because if he looks at them, they might laugh at him.

If he looks at a portrait, his heart may explode as if he is doing his best live. Yata still couldn't die. He couldn't die until he saved Kamamoto and the team members.

"……"

The blankness on his face means that fear outweighs courage. There is no colleague from the "Homura Performing Arts Office" who can laugh at him, they are not here at the moment. Yata has to fight both loneliness and fear.

Fold the corner twice.

Apparently it is a corridor. Maybe the kitchen is not on the first floor. If that happens, he will have to climb the stairs. That fact began to haunt Yata's thoughts.

Before entering the hall, a white figure reflected in the window for a moment flickered in Yata's mind.

Climbing the stairs means going to that figure. Yata wasn't sure he could get into such a situation even though he no longer had the courage to oppress it anymore.

When, suddenly, the door on his left moved with a piercing noise.

"Eh?"

Yata jumped to the ground in a squeaky voice.

The door opened slowly as if it had a will of its own.

The warm breeze that flowed from there caressed his taut cheeks.

He's sure it was moved by air flow or something, until he found out, it wouldn't move.

Thousands of words that are less than thoughts fill his mind. The instinct of "I want to get away from here" and the belief that "I can't abandon my friends" conflict with each other, and Yata's body tends to be rigid.

As it is, a minute has passed.

Nothing happens.

Realizing that, Yata began to move. The doorplate illuminated by the light of the PDA came into view.

The word "Dining Room" was written there.

"This is here?"

Muttering to be sure, swallowing hard, Yata opened the door.

The spacious dining room was filled with humid air. There is a long table as seen in the movie and several chairs around it. A three-pointed candelabrum on a pure white tablecloth receives the light and glows golden.

Yata scans the room while glancing at the scene. If there is a door that leads to the kitchen, that will be the goal.

The feelings of wanting to find them and not wanting to find them are in conflict in Yata. It was the manifestation of the two feelings that filled Yata's heart, the instinct of not wanting to face loyalty and the belief that he should help his companions.

Suddenly, Yata felt something crash against his toes.

It bounces and terrifyingly points the light to the ground.

It was a ham. A thick, boneless ham that appears to be around Yata's foot. There is evidence that the packaging has been broken and removed.

Kamamoto no doubt picked it up and ate it.

He had been here.

"Kamamoto?"

His voice echoed mysteriously. When he turned on the lights, the door that would lead to the kitchen was open. Yata went in there.

The kitchen floor was damp. When Yata's shoes hit the wet floor, he made a sticky noise and pulled a rope between his shoes and the floor.

The light from the PDA trembled as if Yata's discomfort was transmitted.

The previous light reflects the ground. Yata arrived when there was a trail of something crawling across the red-black wet ground.

At the same time, there is a watery sound in the kitchen.

Kucha, Juru, Picha, Nichi, Giri.

He doesn’t notice it from the sound of the rain. he could hear the sound all the time.

Jutsu, guchitsu, baki, zuru, gucha...

Maybe he didn't want to realize it. Because it was a realization of Yata's fear.

Baki, Bagi, Goritsu, Boritsu, Jururu.

However, Yata had to face realization. He thought that he had to record it in his own eyes no matter what result he was hoping for.

A trembling light crawls across the ground and follows the bloodline.

"It" was closer than he expected.

He was wearing white clothing, similar to a dress. The word "it" comes from the fact that it was so worn that it was hard to see. The hem ripped like a saw blade and dirt that has mixed in here and there has soaked it. It was probably the dirt that caused the thread to stick to the soles of Yata's shoes.

"It" seemed to turn away from him and crouch like a monkey, shaking his head vigorously. He shook his pure white hair, moving his face further and further, and moving his hands to break something.

Each time, the watery sound from before, resonates.

A familiar giant lay in front of "It"

Kamamoto's eyes, illuminated by the lights, were wide open and were no longer looking at anything.

Yata took a step back, it would be terrible to blame him for being shy. Yata's survival instinct demanded a distance from "it", just as a hunted animal would reflexively frighten. Holding his mouth with his hand, while pouring a fixed stare at "it", Yata tries to leave the room.

There was a dry sound under his feet.

"… ?!"

Yata hastily points the light at his feet.

There were Kamamoto's sunglasses. Stepped on by Yata, the lens of the sunglasses snapped in two.

He looked up from the sunglasses and saw "it", terrifyingly.

The movement stopped, as if it had frozen.

Even arms thin like dead trees and hair white like ceramic remain frozen.

The neck began to turn silently.

Slowly and precisely, like the gears of a machine. Turning sideways, diagonally back, and turning 180 degrees, it "saw" Yata.

Kamamoto's words revive in Yata's mind.

("Why is your neck there?")

Looking at Yata with only his face, with his body facing forward.

"It" moves just a little.

Random blood-soaked teeth were stained with a speckled pattern of yellow and red.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaah!"

When he noticed, Yata was sprinting down the hall of the building.

Screams of flight and senseless came from his mouth, the eyes had shed tears incessantly. He is not sure where he is going. However, he wanted to get away from that kitchen as soon as possible.

Yata slipped and fell, trying to turn the corner of the hall at full speed. He crashes into the wall and stops, reflectively looking at the darkness from which he ran.

He couldn't find the figure for "it."

However, only sound was heard.

Regularly echoing sounds and footsteps approached Yata from the other side of the darkness with a speed that shook fear.

Yata got to his feet and started running. His brain made a full rotation. Remembering the layout of the building, He try to find a way out.

As he ran down the hall, he saw a familiar sight.

This is the entrance hall he saw when he first entered the building. A ridiculously huge chandelier and a portrait of Daikaku Kokujoji on the wall of a huge staircase. Yata immediately took the door that led to the outside of the left door.

No matter how much he pushes or pull, it won't open. Even if he turned the key like crazy, kicked the door, or slammed it, the heavy door would not stubbornly move. Full of irritation and anger, Yata says, "Come on! What's this? Open up! Open up!"

However, the screaming, almost crying, stopped immediately. The footsteps were getting closer.

Hita, Hita, Hita, Hita.

Yata let go of all his emotions and ran like a ball. He refused to be there putting all his physical abilities that he refined as an idol.

Yata, who was running like the wind, soon found a bath.

When he enters, it was divided into several private rooms. He pushes open while checking with the PDA light and it slides inside.

When the lights went out, the bathroom filled with a darkness that seemed to crush him.

Yata supports his head as he shakes on the toilet seat.

("What is that, what is that, what is that?")

Did "it" eat Kamamoto?

Anger at his partner's murder swelled through his body, but much more than that, fear of the mysterious monster in front of him. The monster crawls out looking for him at this very moment. Just imagining it makes his skin rust.

After doing it for a while, Yata suddenly came up with something.

"I have to ask for help..."

Of course, the reason the idea that was taken for granted didn't come up until now is because his brain was engulfed in fear. Yata tapped his PDA with his shaking finger and first tried to contact his most trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

At that moment, he heard a voice from the depths of the darkness of the hall.

"Yata-san, where are you? Please answer."

Yata stops his finger and raises his face as if flipped over. The cold, sweaty expression shone with wonder and joy.

"Kamamoto...?"

"Yata-san, please help me. I got hurt."

Without a doubt, it was Rikio Kamamoto's voice.

It has been delayed, but it cannot be wrong. Yata stood up in the bathroom of a private room and sharpened his ears.

Kamamoto's voice seems to come and go right outside the bathroom. Or maybe Kamamoto, who was lying at the time, was still alive. Perhaps he escaped from the monster and came to ask for help.

("Here! Kamamoto, I'm here! We will run away together!")

Yata hastily shut his mouth when he was about to scream.

Not out of self-protection, it was out of doubt.

Is that really Kamamoto's voice?

There is no reason. The questions equal to intuition, however, get louder and louder as he hears Kamamoto's voice.

"Yata-san, Yata-san, where are you? I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I don't care, I want to eat soon."

He had goose bumps.

No matter how much it is Kamamoto, in such a situation, he couldn't think of making such a loud voice and worrying about food.

Yata sat back on the toilet seat. He keeps his mouth closed with watery eyes to prevent any sound from escaping.

Still, Kamamoto's voice continues to call him by name. "Yata-san, where are you?"

Suddenly, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

"……"

Yata blinked. A tear drop was shed. He wondered if he was gone.

There is no way to confirm it. There is not an iota of courage to get out of there. Yata took out the PDA again and started the message app. He absolutely did not want to talk. First he would call Kusanagi, then Kusanagi would call the police.

Yata's PDA sounded with a roaring guitar solo.

"Eh?"

Suoh Mikoto's guitar solo, which he is more intoxicated with than anyone, now sounds like a devastating call from the devil. Yata hurries to look at the PDA. While cursing the idiot who made a call in such a situation, he looks at the screen regretting not having put the silent mode.

His spine froze.

The name "Rikio Kamamoto" was etched on the screen.

He hung up the call and turned off the PDA. As he did so, he thought.

He couldn't think optimistically that Kamamoto was alive. The voice from before was definitely not Kamamoto himself.

So the current call was... that "thing".

That "thing" took Kamamoto's PDA and called it, to find out where it turned on.

About the same time, he was convinced of that, there was a sound of footsteps.

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. He has regular intervals and gradually but surely approaches Yata.

Can't bear it. Yata decided to reject the reality in front of him.

He closed his eyes tightly. He covered his ears with both hands. Even if death falls from above one day, try not to look directly at it.

Yet in the dark, Yata thinks.

A feeling of strangeness.

A person can stop his movement of his own free will, but he cannot stop his will. The feeling of strangeness that was born in the dark grew in Yata's brain, because there was nothing else.

Why does he hear footsteps?

The floor of the building is completely strange. The kitchen was really different, but the hallways and bathrooms were filled with crimson delicacy.

The heavy boots would make steps. But that step is barefoot. No matter how fast he run barefoot, the sound should be absorbed by the relief and disappear.

So it's "it".

At that moment, there was something that shone like a revelation.

Can't stop thinking. The discovery cannot be ignored. In that sense, Yata must have been more human than anyone. Even if that means ruin, to confirm his own conscience, he opened his eyes and turned his face away.

On the bathroom ceiling, "it" was stuck.

His palm with dirty claws, every time it sticks to the ceiling, makes a "thump" sound. That was the true identity of the "steps". When he turned his head upside down, the ragged white hair was tousled. Stuck to the ceiling on all fours, "it" had bright red eyes that glowed negatively, exposing turbulent yellow and red teeth.

In the form of a predator who found Yata with no escape.

"No, aaaaaaaaaaah!"

Yata screamed with all his soul. At that moment, Yata's sight turned white.

++++++++++

"Hey! It was amazing!"

With such a voice, the door to the private room was opened.

Behind the door, the film crew, illuminated by electric lights, waited. Kamamoto Rikio holds up the camera, and a man in sunglasses and a red helmet holds a sign that says, "Don't miss it!" The man in the sunglasses looked a lot like Yata's trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

"……"

Yata was watching the scene with all faces dead.

Kamamoto, who should have died, looks at a man who looks like Kusanagi while holding the camera.

"Kusanagi-san, this is…"

"I don't think there will be a reaction. So again."

He hit the sign in front of him.

"Yata-chan? Are you really okay?"

"……"

Yata cannot react.

When the man who looked like Kusanagi sighed, he left the sign to Kamamoto and entered the private room.

"Sure! The idol has a fluid face during the tea ceremony!"

Gently tap Yata's head.

"Ah! Eh, that? Kusanagi-san? Why?"

Kusanagi shakes his head at Yata, who drips confusion as is.

"That's why I told you about it for a while. It's a shocking show! The target is Yata-chan, and the tricks are us, 'Homura Performing Arts Office'."

At that moment, a figure fell from the ceiling. That monster with a shabby dress and white hair.

From "it", the horror was completely lost. She pulled her false teeth out of her mouth, tucked her white hair back, and turned her red eyes to Yata. "It" he breathed through her nose, giving a feeling of fullness to her young face.

"How was it? Was my performance terrifying?"

"Oh, you did it perfectly, Anna!"

"He was scared of you!"

Look at the friends who are raising their thumbs.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?!"

Yata screamed as loud as he did before.

Ten minutes later.

Yata was angry at the entrance of the building, which was fully lit.

"What's that? It's terrible, Kusanagi-san! Please tell me in advance if you do this kind of thing!"

"Ahaha, Yata-chan, don't talk nonsense. If I told you, you wouldn't be surprised, right?"

"Kamamoto, you were an accessory too! I really thought you were dead!"

"Well, it doesn't matter how much food you eat there, doesn't it?"

Yata struck Kamamoto's head with all his might for the first time in a long time, gathering in his fist all the reaction of fear and anger that he had suffered.

With Kamamoto crouched on his back, Yata turns his resentful eyes on Anna.

"And Anna... even you..."

Anna suddenly looked away, perhaps uncomfortable.

"Because it was work.", Anna muttered.

So everything, it was something that had been organized from the beginning.

The place where the program will be broadcast is "Shirogin Deluxe" remains unchanged. However, it was not actually a visit to Kokujoji's house, but rather a project presented by the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

After seeing it, "Idol King" Isana Yashiro said, "This looks interesting!", And this project received the full backing of the "Tokijikuin Agency". Small dark vision cameras were installed around the building, rabbit costumes rented, and a recreational facility that was no longer in use. The words, actions and reactions Yata has done so far are said to be fully reflected.

Everything to give the Yata lens the greatest fear and obtain the best recordings.

Kusanagi happily explains.

"You know, Yata-chan has become popular lately? He's been featured in entertainment magazines and online, and some people call him 'The Red Prince'."

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"So, I wonder if that's a little different from Yata-chan's politics. I brought this project to highlight Yata-chan's original charm here."

"Eh..."

Honestly, he's not sure about politics or appeal. Yata entered this path longing for Suoh. He really hadn't been aware of how others saw him.

Such a production was the work of Kusanagi at the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

"Thanks to that, I got a good photo! Anna did a good job, and two birds with one stone."

Therefore, it would be nice if Kusanagi were satisfied with his work, although he is not yet convinced.

However, Yata looks at Anna with concern.

"Well Anna, how did you do that?"

Anna shook her head.

"Eh?"

"I see, that... was it glued to the ceiling?"

Anna turns to the side. Look at the hallway wall, put both hands on it, and climb the wall while making noise.

Yata opened his mouth.

Anna asks, glued to the ceiling and looking at Yata upside down.

"What about this?"

"No... that... how...?"

"Expert."

Anna said it with a calm face. Yata watches her like he's looking at something incredible. No, the idea occurred to him that it would be impossible to practice or that she was ignoring the laws of physics, but he felt that even doing it was unsophisticated.

"Well then, what about that? That way of turning the neck."

"This?"

When Anna's neck began to twist, Yata hastily stopped her.

"Wait! Stop! Stop! You don't have to show it!"

Anna returned her head to its original position. Looking at Yata upside down, with a smile.

"Special training."

"No, it's amazing, right?! Kusanagi-san, okay? What are you doing as an idol?"

"Yeah, well it's a subtle thing to say if it's an ant or a pear, but... Anna did her best, so ant!"

"Sweet! Are you really sweet to Anna?"

"Haha, okay, this is also an art style. Wasn't Anna's threatening role in the hallway quite realistic?"

"Yeah, well, I thought my heart would stop..."

Yata muttered that.

Of course, the rage at being cheated continues to smoke.

However, it was even stronger than that, and relief filled Yata's heart. He really thought that Kamamoto was dead, and he really thought they were going to kill him. Rather, he even remembered to praise the production team that created such high quality.

"Well I'm excited about this too. Yata-chan had a good reaction too!"

"Ah…"

When Kusanagi hit him on the back, Yata gave a dry laugh.

"The event has been completed! Please go ahead!"

A staff member who was in charge of the location car outside the building called him out. Kusanagi and other members of the "Homura Performing Arts Office" follow suit and get into the car one after another.

The rain had completely stopped and the light was shining through the clouds. Looking at him, Yata suddenly called to Anna in the seat next to him.

"Hey, Anna, you were on the second floor when we entered the building, right?"

"Eh?"

"No, you know. I saw you by the second floor window."

Anna looks at Yata saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kusanagi, who had either heard or accosted him before, said with a bitter smile.

"Yata-chan, don't say weird things. No one went up the stairs."

"Ah…"

"I had no plans to use the second floor in the first place. No one should have gone."

The relief in his heart changes fast and cold.

So what did you see at the time?

Yata's neck was twisted back, as if it were a physical law. While he thought it was something he shouldn't see, he wanted to make his own discoveries, simple human curiosity.

The exterior of the desolate building. The windows on the second floor open in black at regular intervals. At one of the windows where sunlight enters after the rain, a girl dressed in white was smiling and showing her yellowish teeth.

#k #k project #k six idols #idol k #yata misaki #k stories #k fan clan

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d3-iseefire · 3 years

Text

Nevermore Chapter Three

As a child, Bilba’s favorite game had been a fantasy RPG where she’d spent her time exploring a massive world filled with all manner of amazing creatures and beautiful landscapes.

It had also been filled with wolves. Not normal ones, but massive creatures known as Dire wolves. She’d used to complain endlessly about them, especially in the early parts of the game when her character was low level with poor weapons and armor.

Her ire with them had not been improved when her father, who adored random trivia, informed her that the creatures were based on an actual, extinct wolf species that had once roamed the earth. Closer in size to a lion than any wolf currently in existence, the animals would have been apex predators on their own, let alone in a pack.

The wolf looking at her right now reminded her of those old drawings and descriptions, except she was pretty sure he was bigger.

He was lounging in front of a tree with his back legs vanishing under a large bush. His fur, thicker and shaggier than a normal wolf’s, was a golden brown, darkest along his back and lightning to near white along his legs and sides. His eyes were a brilliant amber that almost seemed to glow with their own light, and studied her with what felt like an unusual level of intelligence.

Bilba really hoped it was the sort of intelligence that suggested not eating the girl who’d broken up his majestic lounging by using him to break her fall. The tree behind him would have hurt had she hit it, but probably not as much as being eaten by an Eldritch god would.

The animal was strangely calm, which Bilba took as a good sign. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed frozen in place, but it was long enough that her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out. Whether this was because her nerves had genuinely settled or she’d moved past sheer terror and into catatonia.

She started to give what she hoped was a reassuring smile only to cut it off as she realized that baring her teeth at a wolf might not be seen in the positive light she intended.

Actually, now that she thought about it, how long had she been making direct eye contact with him? Wasn’t direct eye contact with a predator a VERY BAD THING?

She dropped her eyes, only to find them naturally locked onto his paws. His very enormous paws, with curved claws wider than her fingers and probably twice as long. Bilba swallowed, or tried to past the enormous rock suddenly lodged in her throat.

There was literally nothing she could do. Move or don’t move, slow or fast, in the end it would all depend on whether or not the wolf chose to let her live.

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She risked a quick glance and saw the wolf’s ears perk up. “Sorry for rolling into you. I’m going to try to scoot away now, okay? Please don’t eat me.”

Her voice dropped to nearly inaudible on the last few words. Be a nice wolf, she thought desperately. A nice wolf like -- oh, crap, she couldn’t think of any nice wolves in media. What did that mean? Even bears had the Care Bears or Yogi or a whole host of others. She could think of friendly snakes, lions and even a shark or two, but not a single friendly wolf.

That was such a bad, bad sign.

The wolf caught her eyes and then, in what seemed an oddly deliberate motion, turned his head to where his feet vanished under the bush. He shifted and Bilba heard the distinct rattle of some metal object along with the clink of a chain.

The wolf’s eyes turned back to focus on her, steadily.

Trying to avoid any sudden movements, Bilba walked her hands back until she could ease herself into a crouched position. The wolf didn’t seem to mind, so she slowly braced her hands behind her and eased her body into a seated position. Her body protested the action, but nothing felt broken or seriously injured, simply bruised and sore.

Her new position put her near the wolf’s hind legs. The wolf caught her attention and then deliberately repeated its earlier action, a slow, deliberate look toward its hind legs followed by a shift in movement and the rattle of metal and chains.

Bilba nodded shakily and scooted back a few feet closer to the bush. An uncontrollable tremor started to run over her, and her stomach was in knots but, overall, she still felt strangely calm. Perhaps she’d finally snapped, and gone insane.

She leaned over and brushed back some of the branches of the bush. Silver glinted off the jagged teeth of a small trap locked tightly around one of the wolf’s paws. A thick chain led off the trap to a metal stake set deep into a rock jutting out from the roots of the tree.

Even in the shadows under the bush, she could see how deep the teeth had dug into his foot. Blood matted the fur, and coated the ground underneath. From the pattern, it appeared he’d spent some time fighting to pull himself free by brute force.

“Ouch,” she murmured, before mentally kicking herself at the inane comment. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the wolf’s breathing was fast, sides heaving in a near pant as though he’d run a marathon, or was in extreme pain.

Bilba shivered as her mind conjured just what it must feel like to have those metal teeth ripping through her foot. If she wanted, she could probably leave. The chain was short. If she gathered herself and lunged away from him, it was likely she’d take herself out of his range. She could get up and...only have the one threat to deal with instead of two.

She could do that, and leave him here to suffer...or she could help and risk him killing her as soon as he was free.

As if reading her mind, the wolf let out a low whine and laid his head on his front paws, eyes fixed on her.

Bilba sighed. “Fine, you can put the puppy eyes away.” She leaned in to look closer at the trap. “I really hope I don’t regret this,” she mumbled to herself. She had enough regrets to last her a lifetime.

At least if helping did end up being a mistake, it’d be a very short lived one.

The thought was not reassuring.

She spotted the release lever. She’d have to push it down, forcing the teeth farther into the wolf’s paw, in order to release it. “This is going to hurt.”

He gave another whine and then, to her surprise, thumped his tail on the ground. Bilba frowned, could he be someone’s lost pet? It would certainly explain his behavior.

She refocused on the trap, and a strange exhilaration ran through her, slicing through the apathy and fog that had shrouded her the last five years. The thought of helping another living being, of mattering to another living being, if even for just a moment…

It made her feel alive again. A being that existed in the world, instead of a shadow merely watching it pass her by.

It was growing darker, and the gloom gathered under the bush was growing nearly too thick to see through. Bilba got her phone out and thumbed on the flashlight app, bringing the trap back into sharp relief.

“Here goes nothing.” At the very least, if the wolf killed her, she’d die with the satisfaction of knowing just how truly pissed Lotho would be that she’d finally escaped him.

Thinking of Lotho dashed some of her exhilaration and the gray pall began to settle over her once again. Bilba grimaced and, desperate to get her mind off it, braced her phone against a few branches of the bush and grabbed the trap. She took a deep breath, got her balance settled and then squeezed on the trap.

She didn’t immediately die, so that was a good sign. Hopefully.

The wolf made a low, groaning noise and she clenched her teeth in sympathy. “Sorry.”

The teeth of the trap sank lower into the wolf’s paw, blood bubbling up from the jagged wound. In order to release, the lever needed to ratchet further than she had it so, with a mumbled apology, she rose onto her knees and leaned forward to get her full weight behind it.

The wolf groaned again and Bilba shivered at the thought of how much pain she must be causing the animal.

The lever slipped into its final position and, with a sharp click, the trapped popped open. Bilba pried it off the wolf’s paw, and he drew his legs in to lick at the wounded appendage. He showed no interest in harming her, and Bilba sighed and slumped in relief.

“Hey Girlie! Where’d you get off to?”

Bilba’s heart leapt into her throat and she sucked in a sharp breath. She scrambled for her phone and shut off the flashlight. Darkness fell about her and her eyes widened. She hadn’t been paying attention to how long she’d been there, or how fast the sun was setting. There was still a little light left overhead, past the tree canopy but, underneath, it was fast approaching full dark.

“Come on, now,” the man from the parking lot called. He sounded closer. He must have gotten tired of waiting and come after her. “You can’t stay in there forever. Come on out.”

Beside her, the wolf gathered itself and lumbered up onto its feel. If Bilba had thought it was enormous lying down, it was nothing compared to him when he was standing. He was like a freaking mountain, rising over her. It elicited an instinctive, primal desire to close her eyes, and curl into a fetal position.

“You’re starting to piss me off, girl! Get out here, now!” The voice was even closer, and it wasn’t dark enough to fully hide her if he should happen to look down the incline. She pulled her legs to her chest and gripped her phone in her hands.

She really wanted to go home, even if home was hundreds of miles away and five years in the past.

The wolf limped past her. Bilba watched as he scrambled up the slope and vanished, leaving her alone. The temperature seemed to drop, and the darkness grew heavier. Overhead, she could hear crashing in the undergrowth and she held her breath, desperately praying the man wouldn’t look down and see her.

“Damn it, Bitch,” she heard him say, “where the hell--”

His voice cut off in a sudden yelp and Bilba flinched in surprise.

A low, rumbling sound reached her and she struggled to identify it. Something in her subconsciousness seemed to understand what it was and, again, that primal urge ran through her. The same desire that, as a child, would have her diving under the covers to hide from the thunderstorm raging outside.

Not that hiding under her covers did any good.

Hiding at all had never done her any good.

The sound came again and her mind finally registered what it was.

Growling. Deeper and fuller than anything she’d ever heard, a deep, vibrating thrum on a frequency so low it was almost more felt than heard.

The wolf.

The man gave an almost inhuman scream, and then she heard thrashing heading back toward the parking lot. The wolf snarled, a sound that froze her blood despite knowing it wasn’t directed at her, and new thrashing started as it apparently gave chase.

The distant noise of a car engine started, followed quickly by squealing tires as a truck fled the parking lot.

Bilba shuddered. She was cold, in pain, and nothing stood before her now but a return to her life, or what passed for it. For a brief second she’d felt normal again, like she’d belonged somewhere, but the feeling was gone now and there was no getting it back.

She started to get up, but paused as the burning in her ankle registered. She remembered feeling it earlier, but hadn’t been in a position to do anything about it. She tabbed her flashlight app back on and pulled her sock down to check her ankle.

The light from her phone fell on her ankle, and lit on a small, glowing mark just above the bone. Specifically, the linked, geometric shapes that had appeared when she’d turned eighteen. The ones that had been dark until this very moment when they’d begun to glow a bright, golden color.

Her ankle wasn’t burning.

Her soulmark was.

Her activated soulmark.

And the only person she’d met since the burning had started was the creep from the parking lot.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

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skadventuretime · 4 years

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Shadow Crowns

Welcome to Chibi!Reverb 2020! This is my piece with the incredibly skilled @drowsystar, who not only came up with this bomb-ass idea but drew incredible things for it, too. I only wish I could have written you the proper 70k fic this idea deserves.

Rating: T

Warnings: Cursing

Read: AO3

Art: Link

“Another glorious day for his majesty the shut in.” Star yanks the curtains just a bit so that a sliver of late afternoon sunlight shines directly onto Kid’s closed eyes.

The bedroom is cavernous. Stone walls and floors hold a damp chill in the air that no number of thick carpets or tapestries can really dispel, and wrought iron bookshelves line all of the room’s circular walls. They’re filled to the brim with well-cared for leather tomes of all shapes and sizes, but mostly their slightly acidic scent makes Star want to sneeze.

“Ah yes, my faithful knight, ever at my beck and call,” comes the prince’s muffled voice.

The curtains snap close and return the room to its former pitch darkness. Star feels the slippery tendrils of the prince’s shadow magic slide over his wrists, his back, his throat, a not-so-subtle reminder that his life could just as easily be snuffed out.

It was kind of hot, not gonna lie. Too bad business and pleasure don’t mix.

“I will remind you not to disturb my slumber again,” the prince says. Star assumes he rolls over because that’s the sort of arch thing he’d say as a way to end the conversation, but he hears the muted sounds of feet hitting carpet instead. There are still no candles lit nor magelight summoned, but that’s because the crown prince is a master of shadow magic and likes to flaunt his perfect dark vision whenever he gets the chance.

“You shouldn’t be slumbering so late in the day anyway, your elevatedness.” Star inches back towards the curtains because if the prince thinks he gives up that easily, he’s got another thing coming. The sliver of daylight at the edge of the thick fabric cuts off abruptly, like the shadows were thick and solid. Whatever; his princeliness is probably just standing there to be stubborn. A little light will clear things up—

Sunlight stabs him in the eyes as the blinds fly back open. “How unusually perceptive of you,” says the prince, now across the room on an overstuffed low couch, a book cocked at an obnoxiously relaxed angle in one hand. He’s fully dressed and there’s not a trace of his night clothes; maybe that’s what all the dark was for. “What brings you here at this unusual hour? Isn’t it time for you to pester the palace guard about sparring matches again?”

Star waves his hand. “I got bored when nobody could disarm me. Hey, let’s go to the market today — there are supposed to be fireworks in the plaza after sunset.”

The prince looks up from his book with an eyebrow already bent at precisely ‘are you an idiot’ degrees. “The main plaza? In the center of the city?”

“Yup.”

“The one with traders from all over the world?”

“That’s the one.”

“With huge crowds and unlimited rooftops for an assassin to spy from?”

“For the crown prince, you sure are pretty stupid about your own kingdom, huh?”

The book closes with a crisp smack. “For a bodyguard, you sure are an idiot. Do you really think you could keep me safe from the literal hundreds of possible angles a potential assailant could reach us from? I know father hired you on your merits as a swordsman, but he clearly didn’t give your head close enough scrutiny.”

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fine. You haven’t left this room since I was assigned to you three months ago. You need a little sun, get some fresh air.”

The prince exhales and recrosses his legs, a tell Star has learned means his patience is running thin, but in all honesty he doesn’t seem to have much to start with. “Ah yes, the shadow mage needs sunlight. Truly your minutes of education trump the years I’ve spent honing my craft.” To punctuate his words, the room fluctuates between grey scale and daylight, but each flash of the former has contorted figures that get closer in Star’s peripheral vision.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a prodigy or whatever,” Star says, blinking away the grotesque afterimages. “But seriously, you really stay in here all day?”

“It’s for my safety,” the prince replies, his voice heavy with something Star can’t quite place. “I’ve told you this before. It’s why you’re here.”

Star walks over to the window and looks down at the city below. Neat stone buildings unfold like nesting dolls from the castle’s fortified walls, on lower ground than the castle proper. Another wall encircles the central part of the city on even lower ground, and in the distance straw covered roofs make up the final, outer ring. It’s on that level that the festival is taking place this evening, far from the imposing iron and tomb-like stone of the castle.

It’s also where, if everything goes to plan, the prince will die.

“Exactly, it’s why I’m here. You’ve been safe so far, no one’s tried to kill you at all since I’ve been around!”

“I never leave this wing of the castle.”

“Which is why you need this. Come on, they’re going to have all kinds of great food and entertainment and—“ Star lowers his voice, “I heard that the work of that brainiac scholar you’re always crying about will be sold there.”

The prince stands up abruptly. “Eibon’s work will be there?”

“Yeah, that guy. Heard it from some of the organizers themselves at the pub last night.”

He hadn’t, really. Star just knows that the prince will do anything to get his hands on work by the contemporary scholar Eibon, something to do with shadow and light magic protection. It’s all above his attention span and pay grade.

Pain seizes his chest and a snarled HURRY UP BRAT rings in his ears for a split second. Though he knows it’s invisible, Star can feel the rune etched into his soul. The only reason he’s free at all, alive even, is because his loving father saw fit to give him one last chance to redeem himself in his family’s eyes. But like any dog, Star has to be kept on a leash, and over the last few weeks these intermittent pain reminders have gotten more common. Papa dear must be getting impatient despite the regular correspondence.

Star tunes back into the prince giving him a critical look. “Sorry, indigestion. You know me and those firecracker skewers.”

The prince curls his lip. “Naturally. All right, if there’s a chance to procure more of Eibon’s writings, then there’s nothing else to be said. Meet me here in one hour with everything you need to be stealthy but effective in a fight. I’ll weave a shadow disguise of course, but the ones I’m worried about will be able to see through it. Am I clear?”

“As a mountain spring,” Star says. He leaves before the prince can add any other fussy demands to the list and walks along the stark stone hallway towards his chambers on the other side of the prince’s.

Well, he finally did it. It’s taken months to get to this point, but tonight’s his first real shot at completing the mission and being freed from his father’s grip. It took him weeks of painstaking deception to lie his way into the right circles to get a pulse of the city’s underground, but it was worth it to become part of the whisper network of assassins. There will be a group of shadow mage trained assassins at and around the market tonight, and he already has an ironclad alibi lined up.

It should be a happy occasion, but instead he feels antsy, like he didn’t do enough pushups before his morning run. Whatever, it’s probably excitement, even though excitement doesn’t usually leave him with a sense of dread.

Star splashes some water on his face from the shallow bowl next to the bath for just that use, and spends the next hour sharpening and cleaning his sword. And daggers. And throwing stars. Sharp edges are a man’s best friend, after all.

The sun is just dipping below the horizon when the two of them set out. Because the prince is technically not allowed to leave the castle, Star has to play lookout while the prince weaves a very complicated piece of shadow magic that allows them to pass the various entry guards without detection.

The magic feels cool and slippery on him, like he’s veiled in silk. It’s strangely intimate, too, with echoes of the prince’s soul woven through. Magic is like a sixth sense, an extra way of knowing, and Star quite frankly doesn’t want to know anything else about the man whose assassination he’s recently planned. That his magic tastes like packed snow, for example, or makes Star’s own shadow magic crackle at his fingertips eager to be unleashed.

“Stop thinking so much, it’s unbecoming,” the prince whispers from a pace behind Star. Star makes a rude gesture over his shoulder and walks a little faster; whatever else this magic does, it’s a little too close for comfort.

They have passed the most heavily staffed guard towers and just slipped past the mid-tier gate into the lower circle. The crowds are heavier here and the buildings more tightly packed, leaving plenty of narrow alleys for them to slip into should they decide they’re ready to become visible again.

“Hey, do you know where you’re going?” whispers the prince.

Something in his tone makes Star turn around. The prince’s eyes are wide and glittering with the reflected light from the many torches lining the street. He’s looking with such rapt attention that it’s almost like--

“Wait, you’ve been here before, right? Like before there was a bounty on your head?”

The prince blinks and it’s like a door closes. “No, of course not. I wasn’t allowed out of the castle proper. I was just making sure you knew because you have the attention span of a small rodent and I didn’t want us straying far from the event. Remember, we’re going in, getting some scrolls, and coming out.”

“Yes, your supreme nitpickyness.”

Star leads them down an alley a few blocks further in so the prince can undo his magic. They’re both dressed modestly in simple cotton cloaks so they don’t attract attention, and the prince has modified his features enough to look like a bad caricature of himself. Anyone without the ability to detect shadow magic will be none the wiser.

Most of the crowd is gathered near a huge bonfire a few streets down at one of the openings to the market square, where scores of merchants and stalls are lined up. Star can hear faint music of at least three different varieties playing, and the smell of frying fat and savory spices hangs heavy in the air. A quick scan of the buildings around the square doesn’t reveal much, but his night vision is already ruined by the bonfire and a trained assassin wouldn’t be so easy to spot, anyway.

Not that it matters, he reminds himself. The whole point is for the prince to bite it.

“So where is the scholar with Eibon’s writings?” The prince has his cowl up despite the illusions he wove and looks distinctly out of place.

“Beats me, these sorts of things are never very organized. We’ll just have to find it!”

The prince wrinkles his nose. “Fine. But let’s be efficient. We should start from the west and comb east, with the bonfire being the center point.”

“Ugh, do you ever relax? This is a festival, lighten up, go with the flow, have some fried food.”

“I have never once in my life ‘gone with the flow.’”

“And it shows.”

The prince throws his hands up. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Lead on, I cannot wait to see what unnecessary trials we must endure and how much ground we recross with your barbaric method.”

Star grins. “Now we’re talkin’!”

He leads the prince past the bonfire and into the market proper. The music is louder here, and the merchants manning the closest stalls begin to call out to them about the superiority of their wares.

“Now we begin looking for your fancy ink on paper.”

Star knows the exact writings aren’t here, of course, but it’s strangely fun to lead the prince around like this. He’s like a baby goat, all leg and headbutts, but also kinda cute.

“Come with me this way,” the prince says imperiously. A booth with a giant mallet and a man asking to see who is strong enough to ring the bell has caught Star’s eye though, so he says, “One sec, let me just do this real quick.” He tosses a coin to the man, rolls his shoulders, and grabs the mallet.

The bell makes a satisfying ding when the slider hits it. “That’s right, I’m amazing. Hey pri--er, hey Kid, did you see that?” Star looks around for the person he’s ostensibly body-guarding to no avail. “Hey, where are you?”

He heads back down the closest stall walkway and scans the crowd -- nothing again. He does the same for the other two closest walkways and feels something like panic burning in his chest. Did the assassins get him already? Is his job over? Why does he hate the thought of that?

“There you are, you oaf,” calls a familiar voice from behind him. Relief floods his system; the prince is safe.

“Where did you go?” Star says, rounding on him. “You’re supposed to stay by me for protection, remember?”

“You’re not doing a very good job if you can’t even keep track of your charge,” the prince replies archly. “Here.” He extends a skewer of steaming, dripping meat that smells faintly of chilies.

“Uh.” Star accepts it and looks from it to the prince and back again. “You went and got…?”

“Firecracker skewers. Didn’t you say you like them? Unlike you, I remember what people tell me.”

Oh. Oh no. The baby goat brought him meat on a stick. This wasn’t in the assassination manual. “Yeah, I uh, I do. Very tasty.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the prince replies and holds up a skewer of his own.

“Wait, that might be a bit--”

The prince removes the top chunk of meat with a neat bite. He chews for a moment, swallows, and then starts coughing. “Pain--water--why do you like this?”

Star dashes over to the nearest food stall and gets a huge pocket of fried dough. “Here, take a bite of this, it might help.”

The prince pulls Star’s hand closer and takes a bite without grabbing the dough for himself. “Why would you subject yourself to this?” he gasps after a few more bites of fried dough. “I mean, I suppose the after burn is somewhat pleasant, and the flavor is acceptable once you can taste again, but really, there are more elegant ways to season meat.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not up to your impeccable palette. Come on, we got scrolls to find.”

Star leads them around the western half of the market, laughing at the prince’s obvious fascination with it all. They try a few more food items and look at a few more booths before the hairs on the back of Star’s neck begin to stand up. He might not have done the kinds of hardcore training he was subjected to growing up recently, but his instincts are still on par. They’re definitely being tracked; looks like the fun is over.

“Hey, let’s look at the east side of the market,” Star says, his chest getting tighter. The east side has a few more quiet alleys the prince could be grabbed in. Better to get this over with quickly.

“Okay,” the prince says, and that simple word almost stops Star dead in his tracks. They’re having a civil conversation! The prince listened to him! The doubt in his gut twists his insides up.

They lightly browse a few stalls on the other side while Star becomes more and more conflicted. The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t want to kill the prince after all, consequences be damned. But what about his father? What about this thrice-damned soul window his father inflicted on him? If he can’t deal with that, he won’t be able to hide his treachery for very long anyway.

Any further deliberation is cut off by a cry of, “Scrolls! Scrolls! Get your scrolls here!”

The prince perks up and heads over immediately, making Star have to almost jog to keep up. The merchant is at the edge of the square, half wreathed in shadow, and -- oh shit, they’re walking right into an ambush aren’t they.

“You said you had some scrolls?” the prince says.

The merchant gives him an oily smile and says, “Yes, right this way, sir.” He gestures to a chest at the opening of an alley.

“I don’t think we should--” A hand comes around Star’s mouth and cuts him off. He reflexively bites down and slams his elbow back, freeing himself while his would-be captor grunts in pain. “Kid, look out!”

The prince jerks around just in time to see another man emerging from the alley behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he binds the man in coils of shadow and tries to jump away from the merchant, who has now revealed a wicked dagger.

“Don’t worry, this will all be over soon,” he croons before lunging at the prince.

Another coil of shadow stops the attack and it looks like the prince is in the process of doing something more complicated when his entire body goes rigid and the merchant snaps free.

“Another shadow mage,” gasps the prince. Star knows he could leave right now, escape himself and leave the prince to be murdered, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. It was the damn meat, he tells himself.

“I’m on it,” Star says, reaching in and down into his own shadow magic. Dark flames wreathe his blade from hilt to tip, blowing in a wind not from this plane. He focuses and sees the thin threads holding the prince in place. But before he can act on it, a third mage appears and begins preparing something nasty.

“Do something,” wheezes the prince, and if that isn’t a challenge, Star doesn’t know what is. He dives into a roll to dodge a thrown dagger and cut the first thread imprisoning the prince. This puts him in range to kick the merchant in the chest and send him flying.

“Chill out princess, I got this,” Star says with the cockiest grin he can muster. He dials up the intensity of his shadow flames and sends them in an arc to push back the two mages in the alley, and on the end of that stroke cuts the remaining threads binding the prince. “You good now, or do you still need me to do literally everything for you?”

There’s that glare that can boil ice. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.” The prince’s eyes seem to get blacker and the alleyway flickers in and out of grey scale.

“No way, you’re not getting all the glory for this one.” Star leaps back in to punch one of the mages across the chin before the prince’s terror magic makes the others run screaming away from them.

“Well, that could have gone better,” the prince says. He sounds shaken, even though he doesn’t look like he has any big injuries.

“Yeah, I think it’s time we got back to the castle. Had enough fun for a week or so.”

“Remind me never to listen to your idea of fun ever again.”

“You say that now, your royal meat-on-a-stick-ness.”

The prince rolls his eyes and begins to reweave the invisibility illusion. “Shut up and lead us home.”

“See now you’re talking sense, because I won’t lead us into an obvious trap.”

As they bicker on the way back to the castle, mostly in whispers and unconscious shadow magic pulses, Star’s worries about what will happen to him fade. He’s never been one for thinking too far into the future; for now, he’s got a grumpy prince and a belly full of meat, and there will be plenty of time for the rest. Later. Much, much later.

#soul eater #deathstar #reverb 2020 #madi tries words #they're idiots and i love them

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shewantedtobeasecretgirl · 4 years

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The Backstage Pass (Out)

Hey everyone... this is still not an update of Do You Wanna Dance? but another pathetic attempt of me to provide you with PJ-related reading material... Sssooo, there was this post of @gardenofstoney... and I’ve always taken tags verry seriously. I felt addressed since the situation she described sounded absolutely like a perfect fanfic material so I ended up playing with the idea. One thing led to another and a Stone Gossard one-shot happened, which I hereby share with you (with her and @mookiebaelock’s consent). Disclaimer: may contain traces of Jeff Ament!

Ps. I solemnly swear I get Judy out of the shower soon.

„Are you sure you don’t want to move towards the side of the stage? These Vedder-fanatics seem pretty dangerous, I’m not sure I want to be here when they go wild…” Mel asked fidgeting with the setups of her professional camera.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m fine here…” Maggie answered leaning her forehead against her arms that were resting on the barrier. She was dog-tired; she and her best friend, Mel were cueing the whole day to get there at the show of their favorite band, Pearl Jam. Actually, Pearl Jam was their second favorite band but it was the rock group that brought them together. They saw each other’s introduction in the “Pen Pal Wanted” column of Footsteps, the band’s fanzine and the rest was history... And finally, they were there, standing at their precious front row places, waiting for the show to begin…

They agreed on standing in front of the center of the stage since they both had different preferences… Mel was dying to make close shots of her bassist crush (and maybe steal a few smiles and glances from him), while Maggie was interested in the other side of the stage… to be more accurate, in the person who regularly ruled it. Stone Gossard. The absent-minded, aloof alien who played the rhythm guitar parts and who, unfortunately, wasn’t the most responsive member of the band. He was said to be a sarcastic, hilarious and nice guy but at shows he just… didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He was usually absorbed in the songs, following the rhythm with his entire body, marching to the beat or just bobbing his head… but that was all. No interaction, no communication, just the chords. If Maggie had been alone there, she would have picked his side and stayed there as if she had been pinned to the ground… but Mel wanted to stand near Jeff so they made a compromise. Of course, Mel tried every kind of dirty trick to lure her closer to Mike’s and Jeff’s territory and Maggie begged desperately with her irresistible sad puppy face to move in the other direction, after all, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad… and Jeff would bounce around, anyways, she argued. But neither of them could convince the other one so they were stuck in front of the place of Eddie Vedder and they knew they would have to fight hard to be able to keep their position.

“You will defend me, I know.” Maggie cuddled to her friend, letting herself be pulled in a bear hug. She was short and slim, the top of her head barely reached the level of the tall Mel’s chin, that’s why they often joked about themselves being two dogs coming from different species but being allies and best friends forever.

“I’ll defend you just… not now, oh my god, ohmygod, they’re here, that’s him!!!” Mel suddenly let her go frantically taking one picture after another of her main target.

“Okay, I can’t win against Jeff Ament…” Maggie shook her head with a forgiving smile only to discover the object of her admiration appearing on the other side of the stage, walking around with a deadpan on his face. She couldn’t help chuckling when she noticed he was wearing a black socks-dress shoes combo... with light brown shorts. She’d already got used to these weird testimonies of his terrible fashion sense but he always managed to surprise her with a newer unacceptable outfit.

When the singer finally showed up too, the crowd moved forward, pressing the girls against the barrier… and from that moment on, they only had some rest during the slower songs. Not that they wanted to complain, they were singing along the lyrics, screaming, laughing, crying or just squeezing each other’s hand making sure they were not dreaming, they were finally together, having the time of their life, really living their favorite songs. Mel was overly contented with seeing the bass player’s manly moves in the tight tank top he was wearing and the passionate solos and dazed-off moments of Mike pleased both of them too, even if they were within the spitting range of Ed. But as time went by, they both started feeling the depressing thought that this would be over soon, even if they tried to fight against it by bouncing and screaming twice as intensely as before…

When Stone started playing the opening chords of State of Love and Trust, the crowd went completely nuts and Maggie had to tighten her grip not to be drifted… the pressure behind her eased for a second but at once, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and lost the touch with the outside world…

***

Mhmmmm… what are these bright lights? I must have died and got in that shining corridor about which people who experienced clinical death always tell…

“Jesus, I go blind…” I mumble… or am I just hearing my own thoughts? Shit, this splitting headache, I’m definitely alive, I must have fallen asleep after taking in my migraine pill.

“Do you prefer low light?” a nasal male voice asks and as I look around, I find myself lying on a couch but I’m not in my own apartment, I don’t know this place. Oh, so I’m in a dream, nice, let’s see where it’s going…

“Yes, please!” I groan covering my eyes.

“Clouds roll by… sorry, bad joke, here, is it better his way?”

I take away my hand from my eyes and let them adjust to the pleasant half-light provided probably by a standing lamp somewhere out of my sight. When did I learn how to change the setting of my dreams? Cool… The owner of the voice takes place opposite me only to make me realize, I’m in a Stone dream, moreover, this time it’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” he’s checking me with the inquiring but still expressionless stare of a toad.

“More or less…” I mumble helplessly. Interesting, I’ve never had such a vivid dream about him, it’s somehow different, like I was in charge, I’ve never felt like this before while dreaming… Familiar melodies provide the musical accompaniment, I have to listen for a few bars until I recognize Yellow Ledbetter… but he’s here… and the music comes from…?

“Are we… at a show?” I ask suspiciously, I’m afraid that despite the realistic surrounding, it’ll turn into an incoherent screenplay written by my subconscious.

“Yes, we are…”

“But how come you’re not playing? You should be on the stage with the others…”

“I don’t feel like playing… I mean in that song, I have basically not much to do, I strum the same chords as Mike, it’s boring. At sound checks, sometimes I beg until I can play the drum parts, I’m a desperate drummer but I love it. But the rhythm guitar part is just… nah. Plus, I had to pee, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” I snicker. He’s such an awkward dork, even in my dreams. “Well, that happens if a musician is too busy with drinking beer at gigs instead of playing”.

“Excuse me?” he startles offended. That’s my favorite thing in dreaming, I can do and say what I’d never dare in real life.

“Do you think we don’t notice when you’re just fudging, walking around with the guitar and use the change of amplifier setups as an excuse to take a few sip of your booze? That doesn’t really count as musical contribution.”

“Ugh, busted. I try not to drink before the show though. Right as soon as I get onstage I start drinking. But come on, I never belch out of key, what’s this if not musical humility?”

I snort shaking my head and keep grinning from ear to ear. If he’s such a hilariously funny guy in my fantasy, how adorable he can be in the reality… I know he used to be an annoying, sarcastic little shit but when PJ got really successful, he mellowed down and made himself to the main target of his irony… The mixture of this down-to-earth humbleness and calm confidence was one of the main reasons why he became my favorite member in the band; in the band that only consists of great, relatable people, by the way.

Maybe I should use the occasion to have a chitchat with him, I could ask him questions about stuff I’ve always wanted to know… even if the answers are only the products of my mind…

“Do you see the world in yellow?”

Okay, maybe that’s not the best start but the colored lenses of his spectacles somehow distracted me and it just slipped out. He reacts with that short, amused eyebrow twitch I love… good job, Maggie.

“It’s a good question! It’s funny, nobody asked that before… but to answer it, I do, it’s like being trapped in that moment of sunset when everything is glowing in that golden light… but to be less poetic, it makes everyone look as if they were Lego figures, they have yellow head, y’know…”

The mentioning of my favorite toy brings back old memories about the times when I was building my own town with eclectic houses that served as the scene of the made-up action stories crafted by my cousin and me.

“I you were a Lego figure, you’d be a bad boy.” I remark with a timid smile and try to ignore the fact that my cheeks are in flames.

“Only if I were a Lego figure? That’s offensive. I was the member of the gang Newton Street Boys. We were the most dangerous guys on whole Capitol Hill, we terrorized the district by taking protection rackets from kindergarten pupils. They were scared to death when we showed up riding our bikes, I liked the banana-seat ones with the high handlebars - maybe a card in the wheel could have been part of it.” he chuckles playfully. “Anyway, why a bad boy?”

“It’s because of the scruff.” I giggle and reach out to pinch his neck but he leans away.

“Please don’t touch me.” he grunts.

Hey, brain, we had an agreement: if I behave decently enough in real life, you won’t throw any obstacles in the way of my naughty tendencies at nights. So if I want to touch Stone’s perfect neck, I’m gonna to do it. Period.

“I said no!!!” he repeats this time angrier when my fingers approach his skin again. What the hell???

“Sorry. I… I just wanted to say that there were those bearded figures… and you could get them mostly from the pirate or the police station series.”

“You mean they had an attachable Lego beard?” he inquires confused and excited at the same time; I’m sure he’s already forgotten the embarrassing intermezzo and is now desperately trying to recall the look of the little yellow dudes.

“Haha, no, it was just painted on their face. There was the moustache, the regular beard and the scruff that basically meant black dots on their face. And the scruffy guys always played the role of the bad boys in my stories. You know, the bank robber, the fleeing prisoner…”

“… the fucked-up musician… we should definitely have a Lego party once!”

“We should…” I repeat and we’re smiling silently at each other for a few seconds… I clear my throat and swallow hard since my mouth got completely dry, shit, it must be that damn gum-shield I have to wear at nights to prevent myself from gnashing.

“You want some water?” he asks walking to a fridge standing at the door.

“Fuck, yes, I’m dying of thirst.” I moan and I mean it.

“Here.” he hands a small bottle to me while he opens a beer can. I rather don’t make any remarks, the show is over, after all… But now that I think into it, maybe the other band members will show up too… I can’t wait!

I lower my head and press the ice cold bottle against my forehead. It feels incredibly good, that blinding pain is still pulsing in my head. As I direct my gaze onto the ground, I can’t help laughing again when I spot his dress shoes and the black socks tucked into them. The hem rolled down around his left ankle making the socks look like they were unmatched.

However thirsty I am, I can only take small sips since I’m already snorting at the next part of this weird vision.

“Anyway… before the others would arrive, there’s one thing we have to discuss.” I begin when I finally manage to force my facial muscles into a serious expression.

“Something that stays between us? Like a dirty little secret?” his face lights up with a boyish smile.

“Kind of, if your socks are dirty…” I roll my eyes. “It’s the footwear.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Of course yours, mine is normal. Matching boots, a totally adequate choice for a rock concert. But yours is just… criminal.”

“Don’t be rude with my shoes, they look good and they are comfy as fuck!” he circles with his feet comically.

“They do but man, look in that mirror!” I point at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You look like the mixture of an elementary school boy and a bachelor dressed by his mother. Shorts with dress shoes? How? Why? It’s an obvious no-no!” I scream.

“I have only these ones, sneakers and flip flops with me, which doesn’t leave much variation.” he shrugs briefly.

“You should have chosen the sneakers… as for the “f” word, I’m not even willing to pronounce it.”

“I always wore hiking boots in the earlier times, they were the most comfortable choice but they weren’t compatible with the heat on stage. And then, I got introduced in the magical world of orthopedic sandals but the band somehow vetoed them, I don’t really understand why... I was only allowed to wear them between shows and at soundchecks but at gigs, I had to wear the boots… Once, before a show, maybe in Atlanta, I can’t remember exactly, the sole of my boot separated so I could only wear my sandals… the guys freaked out about my velvet shorts-sweatpants-white socks-sandals outfit and obliged me to wear Jeff’s shoes during the show.” he recalls but I can barely listen to him, his hand talk and the fidgeting alien fingers are definitely more appealing than the image of Birkenstocks worn with socks.

As my eyes are glued to him, I involuntarily start playing with my hair but my fingers land in something sticky. I check them and glance at him helplessly, as if he could help me find out why blood is the next nonsense feature in this scene.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re bleeding?” he shouts and rushes to the fridge.

“Because I didn’t know…” I mutter and can’t form further coherent sentences since he steps back to me with an ice bag and presses it to the back of my head… and he keeps standing opposite me with his arms laced around my neck. I’m desperately trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and the four walls at the same time, anywhere but him…

“This is too embarrassing, I want this to finally end… this is terrible.” I whisper in pain, fixing my gaze on the ugly shoes and working on calming down my hyperventilation with all my nerves.

“Hey, I just wanted to help! Just for the record, we don’t often let passed-out fans in the backstage, you were in bad shape and…”

“No, I mean, thanks and all but this dream… it’s going nowhere, it was funny but you entering into my personal space creates a tension that needs resolution, like a hug or a kiss or anything, this makes just no sense!” I blurt out, basically arguing with myself, the director of the movie.

“What? That doctor could finally arrive, you must have a concussion!” he gently tries to push me back onto to the couch but I shake his hands off me.

“What doctor... wait… the pain… the blood… is this… real?” I flail still hoping he doesn’t exist and suddenly disappears or turns into my real crush or Edge from U2 or whatever.

“You got hit with by a half-empty beer can and you passed out so the security personnel fished you out of the crowd. Since I came back anyway, I suggested that they should lay you down here until they get a doctor. You got a backstage pass by passing out. A backstage pass out.” he tries to ease he situation with a pun but I’m not really in the mood.

“No… the scruff… the shoes… the ki… I can’t believe I said all this bullshit, this is worse than a nightmare…” I bury my face into my palms completely mortified and stumble back towards the couch dizzily. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice… Mel!!!

***

“I’m not going to repeat this again, my best friend is in that room so if you won’t let me in immediately, I’m going to fuckin’ sue you!!!” Mel pointed with her index finger outraged at the huge guy standing in front of the door of the dressing room. Actually, instead of suing, she wanted to headbutt him in the chest but she knew it would feel like running into a concrete wall. She’d already been arguing with him for like fifteen minutes but the guy was just standing there with folded arms, stoically bearing the threats and the various spells casted on him by the furious girl.

“Hey, Ernie, I think you can let her in, her friend has just woken up, it’d be better if she’s with her when the doctor arrives…” a top of a head with ruffled hair peeked out of the door. The security guard obeyed and silently stepped aside.

“Maggie!!!” Mel shouted and tossed the young man in the door away to get a free way to her friend. “I was so worried about you!!!” she captured her into a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m… I’m okay… Stone took care of me…” Maggie mumbled against Mel’s chest trying to point at the guitarist under her friend’s arm.

“Stone???” Mel screamed making both of them turn around without breaking the hug.

“Yup.” the guitarist waved clumsily with one hand at her, digging his other hand deeply in his pocket.

Maggie managed to tiptoe enough to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, which allowed her to saw the door opening… only to recognize the other members of the band arriving back from the stage. The small group was guided by Jeff who stopped at the door exchanging a surprised look with the embarrassed guitarist standing in the room.

Maggie started silently shaking of laughter because she could already imagine what’d happen next…

“Uhm… Mel… I’m choking… please let me go…” she acted patting her friend’s back a few times. “I think you should turn back… slowly…” she recommended biting her lips to hide her amusement when she pulled away to see the girl’s reaction.

“Why… what…?” Mel looked back over her shoulder and… due to the bassist’s excellent reflexes, she didn’t land on the ground but in his arms. Jeff stared shocked alternately at the unconscious girl and the other ones, begging for help with his eyes.

“Jesus, not again… “Stone sighed facepalming.” She’s yours, I’m out.”

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

Note

“I locked the keys in the car.” CatRaf 😘

Jo! This was very fun as it is early stages of their relationship so please enjoy.

There was nothing Cat hated more than having an early morning after a late night. It should always be one or the other. It shouldn’t have even been her making this drive either, but someone just had to have a full night with their resistance boy toy. John was just lucky she knew how to keep her mouth shut and feign ignorance to his exploits. Not that anyone cared about what she knew or thought about things anyway. She didn’t even want to go to whatever performative service was to be held on in the Whitetails, but someone had to.

Having to attend the night service already was leaving a bitter taste for the whole situation. “‘Oh I just don’t feel very good’ he says. ‘I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me’,” Cat mocked as she drove down the long stretch of road, “‘Just go without me. Take my place please. Be a good little wife.’ Maybe you should be a good little husband and not sleep around with the damn deputy.” She rolled her eyes letting out a slow breath, “I shouldn’t be upset. I know I should tell him that I know. Should tell Wes...maybe make life a little easier for him. Are we even at that, like, friendship level?” Does he even consider me a friend? Was almost three months enough time to become friends? “I’m just overthinking this. It’s just safer to not know. Turn a blind eye, play the fifties housewife in this situation.”

She was just tired, just needed to get some sleep. The only brightside to this debacle was that she was never expected to stay at the vetran’s center, she could stay at a smaller cabin no one cared to know about. When was the last time she went to it at night though? The road wasn’t looking familiar anymore, did she miss the turn? The car strayed as she tried to look for something to give a clue as to where she was. The groves in the center of the road startled her, jerking the car back into place. Her lights casted shadows, appearing to be a deer in her tired eyes. She once again moved the car suddenly, the front tire kicking up a broken beer bottle. The sharp edge hitting the back tire. The sudden feeling of the car becoming off balance made Catlina hit the brakes pulling over to the side of the road.

“What the fuck!” Her heart raced as she put the car in park resting her head against the steering wheel. She turned the radio down focusing on her breathing trying to calm herself from reaching panic levels. It was just a rock or something. It’s not that bad surely, she thought feeling her pulse slow down. She shut the car off leaving the keys in the ignition loosely, as she stepped out, her fingers brushing over the locking button on the door. The beeping of the car filling the silence of the mountain road as she left the door open.

The light above her did little to show what the damage may have been and the beeping was starting to get to her. The already grating sound was piercing her ears as she went to grab the phone to use the flashlight on it. She growled as she pulled the keys out, putting an end to the sound they created. She took a deep breath looking at the back left tire, the rubber deflated. “Fuck,” she said under breath. She’d need to change the tire but the tools needed to do so had been taken out of the trunk to make room for some boxes the other day.

She looked up to the sky, “I know you hate me but did you really have to do this to me?” She sighed going to sit in the driver’s seat, scrolling through the few contacts she had. John was out, same with Wes, his willingness to help her still up in the air, Lance was also indisposed at the moment per Jacob’s orders. She wasn’t going to call Jacob either, didn’t want to hear what he had to say about her driving. Her finger lingered over the only other number that could help her out, Rafael. The question of whether three months was enough time for people to become friends passed through her mind again. When they’d hang out Wes was always there, never alone, and he was nice enough, though Catlina had low hopes of him coming to help her out. They didn’t seem to be at that friendship level yet.

Not only that she was awkward enough around him with other people around, being alone with him? The image scared her. It’s not like he was someone that would be interested in her like that anyway, this was a one sided school girl crush and that was fine. They were friends….she….she called him a friend. He was probably busy anyway, With what exactly, Cat? “Resistance things. Honing his skills,” she leaned back in the seat, “Some other person he had his eye on.”

She groaned, the idea of that was stupid in this county at the current moment. It was simple, all she had to do was call and ask. Worse he could say was no, you’re shit out of luck. Try not to die out there by yourself. He wouldn’t say that, “Fine yeah he wouldn’t but the worse he could say was no.” She looked back to the screen, “Fuck it.” She pushed the name calling him, it rang twice before she hung up tossing the phone to the seat next to her. Her heart was racing, all she had to do was call him. She picked up the phone, swallowing the anxiety building in her chest, pushing the name once more, “He might not even answer.” Two rings, “That would be the best thing to happen,” Be a damn miracle. Three rings and she felt the car start to close in, “Please go to voicemail,” she pleaded as the fourth ring moved into the fifth. She was calming down as it appeared that he-.

“Hello,” Cat gasped, resisting the urge to hang up the phone at the sound of his voice.

She needed his help, Worse he could say was no, “Hey. Raf. Uh. How are you? Or um I mean are you- are you busy at all?” She placed the phone delicately along the wheel leaving the speaker on, twisting the tips of her fingers.

“No,” he started off curious, “Why? Did you finally burn the kitchen down?” He laughed, This was a bad idea.

Cat scoffed at the notion, “No,” she mocked, “How dare you assume otherwise good sir.”

“Then, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call, Conejito?”

She took a breath, “I kind of sort of have a little tiny bit of car trouble,” she closed her eyes, resigned, “My tire popped and I don’t have what I need to fix it. If you can’t or don’t want to it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about it. I just.” She bit her lower lip, I just didn’t have anyone else to really call.

“Sure,” What, “Just tell me where you’re at.” She looked at the phone wide eyed, Did he just agree to help me? “Conejito,” he called out, “you okay?”

She blinked a few times, clearing her throat, “Right. Right, sorry I’m here. What did you say?”

His laugh filled her car putting a smile on her face, “I need you to tell me where you’re at so I can help you.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. I can’t have my only competition go out like this,” she laughed shaking her head, “It’s going to be me that takes you down. Now just tell me where you’re at.”

She nodded, “Well I know I’m on that main highway road that takes you up towards that big lake in the Whitetails. Like the really big one, that’s on the,” she moved her hands clockwise, “Never eat sour watermelons,” she mumbled, “The one that’s on the West side. Yeah cause I came through the South Entrance.”

“Okay I think I know the road you’re talking about. Do you mean Snowshoe Lake?”

“I think so,” she shrugged. She’d been here almost a year and still had trouble with the names.

She heard Raf sigh on the phone, “Okay let’s try this. Do you see a mile marker near you?”

She peered out the window looking for the small green sign, “Hey question what if-,” she smiled seeing one not that far in front of her, “Oh never mind I see one. Hold on I can’t see what it says though.” Cat got out of the car, pushing the lock button on the door, walking closer to the sign, “It says sixteen point five.”

“That’s perfect I know exactly where you’re at,” she heard some rustling on the line, “Just hang tight I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Cat crossed her arms, turning to face the car again, “Thank you Raf.”

“Of course, what are friends for,” he hung up after that, and Cat felt the blush running up her cheeks.

“He said we were friends,” she hummed walking back to the car. She rubbed her upper arms before reaching for the handle of the door. She pulled, stumbling as the door didn’t give. She tried again, the door unyielding, she patted her pants looking for the keys. Oh fuck, she looked into the car shining the flashlight through the window. There in the cup holder were the keys, she rested her forehead against the car. She thought back to the events trying to figure out how she could have locked the keys away. She was distracted, on the phone with Raf, and she shut the door, her hand must have hit the lock button on instinct. She always locked the door if she was going farther than a gas pump, never wanted to run the risk of someone stealing her car or sneaking in to harm her.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. Sighing she found a place to sit on the side of the road, grabbing a branch. “Only twenty minutes. That’s all. Just wait twenty minutes.”

She leaned against the car trying to keep her eyes open, reciting song lyrics, Pokemon names, facts about her friend’s Dungeons and Dragons characters. Anything to keep her mind occupied as she waited in the dark. He said we were friends, she repeated once she ran out of things to recite. The slamming of a car door had her jumping to her feet, stick outstretched. She couldn’t make out his features with the headlights behind him, blinding her. “Woah there,” Raf’s voice said, his hands raised with a smile on his face, “It’s just me, Conejito.”

“Oh,” she tossed the branch to the side, “Sorry. You scared me.”

She walked closer to him, “Why aren’t you sitting in the car?” His head tilted, noticing her shivering.

She looked down, “Yeah, about that,” twisting the tips of her fingers, “I locked the keys in the car by accident.” She looked up giving him a shy smile, “Sorry. I can get them out if you have a slim jim on you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “You know how to unlock a car but not change a tire?”

“Hey I never said I couldn’t change a tire,” she argued crossing her arms, “I just said I didn’t have the tools to do so.”

He made his way to the bed of the truck, Cat following him, “Well locking the keys in the car Conejito is not ideal.” He checked the chains and machinery in it, “Thankfully for you I brought a tow truck.”

She watched him keeping her arms crossed, “Why do you own a tow truck?”

“I don’t,” he shrugged his jacket off handing it to her, “I borrowed it just in case you had to go far.”

Cat stared at the jacket not moving, “Right you can’t drive more than a certain number of miles on it.”

He nodded, handing the jacket over to her once again, “Here.” When she didn’t take it he placed it over her shoulders, “It’s cold out here,” he went back to setting things up, “The rough roads up here don’t help either with them.”

She put her arms through the sleeves, swimming in the jacket, “So where are we going to go?”

“Home I assume,” he gave a curt nod to the work stepping into the driver’s seat, “Let me pull up in front of you.”

Cat stepped back trying to think of where to go, from what he said the cabin was a no go and there was no way he could take her to any of the other places she had in mind without Raf getting hurt in the process. Raf got to work on hooking up the small sedan to the tow, Cat walked up to watch him, “I can’t go home.” He looked up at her confused, “There’s some stupid public appearance thing and I have to take John’s place. I was up here so I didn’t have to wake up as early to get there on time.”

“I can take you somewhere else then.”

“And risk getting a bullet no thanks,” she paused, “Well risk you getting a bullet I mean.”

He ran a hand through his curls, “Sounds like you’re saying you’d take a bullet for me.”

She shifted avoiding his eyes, “I’d try to. Doesn’t mean it would happen but you know.”

“Thank you,” she met his warm eyes returning the smile he wore. “Okay. Got her all set up. Go ahead and get in the truck.” Cat nodded, jumping in watching as he fully got her car set up, eyes following him as he moved around. She pulled the coat closer over her, its warmth relaxing her. The smell of his cologne mixing with the leather of his coat felt familiar and intoxicating, her head spinning as she tried to commit it to memory with her sleep deprived brain. She jumped with Rafael jumping into the car, “Okay. I know where to take you, because I’m pretty sure I know where you have to be tomorrow.” She nodded, leaning her head against the window.

The drive felt short as the two tried to sing and recite lines to poems, anything to fill the void of silence from the lack of good radio stations. Cat was yawning by the time they approached the small cabin. “What is this place?”

“Home sweet home,” he declared, his eyes taking in her state once the truck was in park. “You should head inside and get some sleep.”

She shook her head, eyes half open, “I’ll be fine. Besides I got to help ya. Least I can do for your kindness.”

He was quick in making it to her side of the truck opening the door, “I got it don’t worry.” He held his hand out to her, “Come on. Let’s get you inside,” she tried to shake her head no again, “You know I could carry you in there if I wanted to right?”

“That’s not fair and you know it,” she mumbled. Cat took Raf’s hand as he helped her down from the truck. He led her inside, the cabin all one room, save for the bathroom that had a door, and filled with bare bones furniture. A table, some chairs, night stand, old wood stove, and a queen sized bed pushed into a corner. “No wonder you’re at Wes’ all the time,” she mused looking around, “Wait. Where are you going to sleep? There’s only a bed in here. No couch.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, pushing her lightly towards the bed.

“No,” she moved in front of him, hands on her hips, “I don’t want you sleeping on the floor. It’s not fair.”

“I won’t sleep on the floor,” she stared him down, until he finally rolled his eyes, “You sleep first while I change the tire, then we can decide on what to do. Deal?”

“You promise?” He drew an X over his heart. She still didn’t like the idea but at least she’d be able to sleep in her car once he woke her up. “Okay. I get some sleep and then you wake me so you can have your bed.” He nodded, helping her into the bed tucking her in. “You better keep your promise Rafael or else you’re gonna pay for it later,” she mumbled, her eyelids closing, his light laugh the last thing she heard.

Her eyes fluttered open to the light blue morning, the clock on Raf’s nightstand reading five fifteen in the morning. Cat shot up in bed, looking around the cabin for Raf, it couldn’t have taken him all night to get her car in order. She turned to look behind her in the bed spotting his sleeping form. He had a different blanket on him, Cat noticing that he slept over the covers of the bed. He lied to her about waking her up but still kept his promise to not sleep on the floor.

She sighed pulling the jacket she still wore closer to her, her car keys on the nightstand. Maybe it was too cold for him to allow her to sleep somewhere else, he was just being nice, the blanket situation proved that. She stood quietly taking the jacket off a shiver running up her spine, “Stop projecting, Cat,” she whispered, “it’s not that deep,” she laid the jacket next to him, “It never will be.” She gave a smirk shaking her head, grabbing the keys and making her way out the door as quietly as she could to not wake him. He said I was his friend and that’s enough.

#x: top chefs #not jeopardy verse sorry #also sorry this accidently got posted at dead hours my bad #brains and disaster

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dzamie-oc · 4 years

Text

Smaugust 06 - Magma

A human wants to accompany his dragon girlfriends on their magma-diving outings, but they don't think he's ready. Yet.

Lily glanced at the clock. "Oh, Verrea," the blue dragoness said, pointing at the hanging timepiece, "it's past two. We'd best get going if we want to return before sundown."

With mumbles of affirmation, her friend in green scales rose and stretched her wings. "C'mon, L, I usually get my trips in three hours."

"I suspect you wouldn't if I stopped letting you eat my rubies." She looked to their other partner, a human named Ben, and gave a sheepish smile full of sharp teeth. "Sorry, forgot to tell you. We should be back for dinner, though."

Ben looked up from his game of virtual alchemy to give the dragons a thumbs-up. "Sure thing, you two. Where are you girls headed?"

"Volcano," Verrea replied casually, "looking for gems. They grow fastest at the bottom."

The blue dragon rolled her golden eyes and huffed, a wisp of smoke trailing from her nostrils. Ben watched it rise and dissipate, hoping that it wouldn't set off the smoke alarm - fortunately, it didn't. "It's not a volcano!" she admonished, "Mount Ternen is a mountain with a volcanic flow inside it."

"Magma stream."

"Lava," Lily corrected.

"It's magma if you go down far enough," Verrea shot back with a grin and a playful flick of her bladed tail. This earned her a forked tongue being poked out at her, to which she retaliated by tapping her muzzle against Lily's.

"Oh, that sounds cool," Ben remarked ("more like hot," said Verrea), "can I come with?"

The dragonesses both shook their heads. "Sorry, Ben, far too dangerous. More a dragon thing, anyway."

"Eh, alright. Have fun you two." He waved at them, letting his gaze linger as the green dragon teased him with a flick of her tail, then tried to get back to his game. But no matter what, he kept thinking about his friends swimming through molten rock. So he gave in and searched for information on Mount Ternan, looking at maps and photos. Sure enough, the maps he found all had a section labeled something along the lines of "closed to tourists," "staff/experienced cave delvers only," or, frankly enough, "lava past here." He printed out one of the more detailed maps of the area and checked for any tours of the caverns... so that, of course, he could avoid them.

Phase one complete.

---

The next day, he was looking at the map over breakfast when Verrea walked up behind him and laid her chin over his shoulder. "Whatcha got there, Ben?" she asked, her breath smelling of bacon and... well, mostly more bacon.

He reached his arm up to pat her head. "Oh, you girls got me thinking about that mountain. I don't think I've been there, and it's only half an hour drive or so, so I figure I would go and walk around. Look at the stalactites, stalagmites, and stuff."

"Hey, that's cool. It's pretty pretty in there, at least for dragons. Dunno what it's like with human vision, of course." The dragoness grinned, Ben catching the glint of her fangs in the corner of his eye, and continued, "hey, if you want something extra to do there, see if you can figure out which stalagmite I use to get off when I visit?"

"Wh-what?"

"She's messing with you," Lily chimed in from across the table. She sent the last of the sausages on her plate to their demise before carefully picking up the plate in her mouth and carrying it to the sink. "And even if she wasn't, she's hopefully not stupid enough to do it anywhere a tour could see her."

Verrea departed from Ben's shoulder to brush her wing against Lily. "So far as you know. The imminent danger of being found out is part of the fun!" she purred, before winking at them, "but no, I didn't. Dirty rocks where who knows how many other dragons and humans could further mess with it? I treat my body well; give me a nice tongue or dick any day of the week. Well, maybe not today, since you're doing stuff. Though, Lily..."

"I JUST ate," the blue dragoness replied. Ben excused himself from the table to get ready and not let on how much Verrea's casual teasing had affected him. A few minutes later, the scaly pair waved goodbye to him as Lily settled down in front of the television, controller in paw, and Verrea sprawled over the couch.

---

"...and as we come down here, you'll see a really cool formation. Us tour guides, we call it the snowman, on account of, well, it looks like a snowman. There it is. See the body, and the head?..." The tour guide's voice faded out as the last of the group walked out of sight around a column. Ben looked around him. Nobody in sight. Moving quickly, he stepped over the chain rope marking the path, and strode swiftly into the dark tunnel beyond. He kept careful track of how many steps he was taking, marking them down on a makeshift map of the... less than publicly available section of the caverns. A wide flashlight beam kept him from stumbling over rough parts of the floor or falling into parts where the floor simply stopped existing as much.

As he pressed on, further into the dark cave, he realized the temperature was rather quickly climbing. What began as rather cool, somewhat stale air had soon become midsummer temperatures, with no sign of stopping. Before long, he was forced to turn back before he dehydrated from sweating. His map proved quite excellent for his purposes, and he was soon able to see the lit part of the caverns. He shut off his flashlight, and waited until he was sure no other tour groups or wayward tourists were around before scurrying back to safety. As he made his way back to the mouth of the tunnel, two conflicting emotions dominated: he could probably do it with some help, and how could he be so dumb as to forget that magma was over 500 degrees Celsius. Well, either way...

Phase two located.

---

Ben lay amidst a tangle of limbs and scales. Lily was purring hardest, Verrea having elected to simply pass out. "Alright, I'll give you that," the blue dragoness said, "that crystal you got is more than a little overkill, but powers excellent heat resistance potions. Good luck convincing Verrea to lay with you without expressing herself in fire again." She nuzzled the human. "Not that I'll be all that much easier, of course."

The human stroked her neck, pressing his fingers in just the right way to get her to coo and nuzzle in against him. "I'm just glad it worked so well. You'd think she'd try the effect out on my hand or something, first, not my dick. And you're not so innocent there, either, miss 'oh good you can handle my deep internal temperature.'"

Lily flopped her head over and gave him the most innocent stare she could muster. "What? You knew I like my throat played with. Just because she's more open about it doesn't mean I can't be a weird dragon with weird dragon kinks."

"Still. My entire arm? I was half-worried you were going to see if you could deepthroat the rest of me, too." He booped her snout; she poked out her forked tongue.

"Aww, you think I'd be able to do that?"

"Yes."

She nuzzled her snout into his neck and flicked her tongue at the sensitive spots. "Good boy~"

They lay in silence for a few minutes before Lily tapped her paw on him. "By the way, magma is roughly twice as dense as honey, and therefore much, much slower to move in than water, so we have to manage our air well when we dive. Or use magic."

Ben felt his heart rate jump. "Uh... why do you mention that, Lily?"

She gently nipped at his neck, teasing him with sharp fangs that never broke skin. "Call it draconic intuition. And, I'm not sure if you picked up on this, but I do like having you alive rather than paying for the mistakes of a lack of research."

"Well... thanks, then. I'll take those into account."

Lily resumed purring, her legs and Verrea's holding him securely between and under them. "Very good boy."

---

A few days later, Ben was watching some speedruns on their TV screen with a blue, scaly pillow and a green, scaly blanket. He could feel Lily's muscles tense under his head as the race they were spectating entered the last level with barely two seconds difference between first and last place. And while he wasn't looking at their girlfriend, he figured she was more watching the two of them rather than the screen.

"Oh, wow, all of them got first try on that wallclip," he remarked. A quick glance to Verrea confirmed that Lily had started tapping her tail rapidly against the green dragon.

"I think upper-right got the best of that speed rule. Gap's closing," Lily said as the goal drew into sight.

Scant seconds later, the results were in. Ben's head sank into Lily's side as she relaxed and exhaled.

"Hey, speaking of time," Verrea spoke up, "isn't two the time you were shooting for, L?" And just like that, a bit of tension was there again. Ben and Verrea got up to let the blue dragoness out, and the green soon joined her.

"Mount Ternen again?" Ben asked, getting nods in response, "Can I come along this time? I finally got all the stuff needed to join you two."

Lily shook her head. "Sorry, Ben. We'd love to take you along, but still not yet."

Ben quirked an eyebrow at her. "Still? What am I missing?"

"It's... hard to say, really," Verrea chipped in, "it's like a thing about dragon stuff. Physical and mental, and you don't have it. But hey, you're doing better. And if nothing else, you got us some fun toys for the bedroom."

A blue muzzle tapped a green one. "I love you, Verrea, but do you ever think about anything else?"

"Of course I do! You think I'm that one-track-mind?" she scoffed, "there's so many other places I can fuck you two. Kitchen, living room, a few thousand feet up..."

"I... may have to take you up on that last one, if we can figure out a harness..." Ben said, successfully distracted.

"Mm. Keep it in mind, cutie! Back for dinner!" Verrea waved goodbye with her tail as the two dragonesses left.

---

"Hey, Verrea. It's been a couple weeks. Wanna head out?"

"Sure, I'm running low on smoky quartzes."

Ben got up and grabbed the magical tools he'd acquired about three weeks prior, before they'd previously refused him. Lily watched him.

"Ben-"

"I'm coming." he stated. The two dragons looked at each other for a second, then smiled.

"You sure are. Riding or driving?" Lily asked, ignoring a "phrasing" from Verrea.

"Driving." Ben looked at them. "Was that really all?"

Verrea grinned. "Dragon thing needs dragon mind. Welcome aboard, honorary dragon."

#dragon #smaugust #smaugust 2020 #writing #writers on tumblr #text

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niall-is-my-dream · 4 years

Text

The Dirty Book - One Shot

2k one shot

Not entirely happy with it but I'm posting anyway. Let me know what you think.

Em xxx

This was the life you thought, it was like scene from a movie as you sat curled up at the end of the sofa opposite a roaring log fire. It was made even better by the view in front of you, and you didn't mean the beautiful snow covered mountains outside the window.

You were talking about a certain gorgeous Irishman who was topping up the fire with a few more logs. He was wearing shorts, despite the plummeting temperatures outside, the muscles in his back visible under his t-shirt as he moved. Averting your eyes before he turned around, you carried on reading your book.

Squeezing your thighs together to ease the aching throb that had started, you desperately tried to focus on the words on the page.

"Jessica was panting as she rode Garrett, sex was always fast and hard with him, just the way she liked it."

Same Jessica, same.

Niall took his seat at the other end of the sofa, putting some golf highlights on the tv. He stretched his leg out in front of him, a large ice pack rested across his right knee. His sock covered toes tucked themselves under your blanket, his feet tickling you against your thigh.

"Why did you choose to come skiing for your sisters birthday if you don't like it?" Niall asked smiling and taking a sip of his beer. The day time drinking had commenced, Niall's reasoning was that it was 5 o'clock somewhere.

"I came for the log fire, the hot tub and the wine!" You replied smiling back and raising your wine glass to him. "Why did you come when you have old man knees?!"

"Shut it cheeky! I came to keep Willie company, he was a bit nervous as he doesn't know many of Vicky's friends boyfriends that well."

You had met Niall numerous times in the six months your sister Vicky had been dating Niall's cousin Willie. Pub trips, gigs and game nights at their shared apartment had occurred loads of times. He was easy going and you enjoyed his company. When he had decided to head up to the chalet after an hour or two on the slopes you had jumped at the chance to come back too, skiing just wasn't your thing.

"How's the knee feeling?" You asked, leaning over and lifting up the ice pack to see if it was swollen.

"It's feeling ok. I think I'll put the ice pack back in the freezer actually."

He rose from the sofa and made his way into the kitchen, the heat you'd felt from the contact of his body was gone. A few seconds later he appeared with the bottle of wine and topped up your glass.

"Thanks lovely."

"So how's your dirty book?" He asked you as he sat back down, his body closer to you this time.

"My dirty book?!" You said raising your eyebrows.

"Yeah, your dirty book! Looked pretty racy when I peeked at it earlier."

"It's not dirty or racy, it's just a bit of erotica!" You replied smiling.

"Soft porn more like."

"Is Niall Horan admitting to knowing about soft porn?!"

"I'm a man, of course I know about it!"

"Women can enjoy it to you know." You said.

"Never said they couldn't! Are you ok with me sitting here or are you planning on having some private time while you read?!" He asked wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Private time? God Niall!"

"Hey, it's natural, we all do it!"

"Never said it wasn't." You said giving him a wink.

"So what's your book about then?" He asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Niall..... "

"What?! I'm interested."

"You really want to know?!"

"Yep, tell me about it." He smirked.

He is going to regret asking you, you couldn't wait to get him all worked up.

"Well, it's about this 20something woman who's pretty unlucky in love until she meets this guy who seems to good to be true. He funny and charming and they end up going on a few dates. There's a bit of drama in it to."

"Like Bridget Jones' diary?"

"I suppose so, but there's loads of amazing sex in it." You blurted out.

"Really?" He managed to choke out before clearing his throat.

You could hear Niall muttering under his breath, something along the lines of jesus and fucking hell. Knowing you'd got him all flustered and tongue tied was a good feeling.

"Yep, she has some amazing sexual encounters."

"Like what?" He mumbled, and you could see him blushing.

"Well there's one scene I read yesterday where she's watching a movie with the guy and they're all snuggled up under a blanket, quite like this one actually." You said as you looked down at the cover, running your hands across the fabric.

You looked over and saw Niall gulp.

"And then the guy leans over," You whispered getting closer to him and licking your lips. "And cups her face and.......... kisses her deep and slow."

"And...." He replied, your faces just inches away from each other.

"And then she climbs up into his lap........and grinds her core against him, rubbing back and forth against his erection. Lots of moaning and panting until they both cum in their underwear."

"Um....fuck." He replied clearing his throat again.

You bit down on your lower lip trying to hide the smile that you knew was creeping up on your face.

"You ok over there love?" You asked him, and you could see the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

"Um yeah......I'm good. Hard, but good."

You raised your eyebrows at that information, wondering where to go next with the conversation. But the haze that had covered you both was broken when you heard your sister's voice as she entered the hallway.

"Here, you might need this." You said as you placed a cushion on his lap.

"You're going pay for that later." He whispered as everyone started coming into the living room.

"I hope so." You whispered back.

********

There was an instant connection. His hand creeping up under the hem of your top had ignited something in you both.

What has started out as a few glances and smiles across the table had ended with you pushed up against the wall of the bathroom of the pub.

Not exactly the most glamourous of places, but you needed to get your hands on him. The ache you felt for him had intensified now that you had him in your grasp.

His mouth explored your neck as his fingers found the lace of your bra. Fingers pinching gently across your nipples, working you into even more of a frenzy. It had been so long since you'd been with anyone and you felt like you were going to combust.

Bringing his face level with yours, he nudged your nose with his. The blue of his eyes was bright and he was searching yours for something. Reassurance that you wanted this? You didn't know what he was looking for, but you moved closer and captured his lips with yours.

Your skirt was bunch up around your waist, his slick fingers rubbing you across the front of your knickers, which were already damp with your arousal. When he slid two of them beneath the lace and ran then across your clit, you moaned against his mouth.

"So fucking ready for me darlin." He mumbled against your lips not wanting to halt the kiss completely.

Fumbling with his belt and button, you pulled him hard from his jeans. Your thumb running over the tip as he groaned and pulled your bottom lip between his teeth.

His fingers slid from your warmth as he searched his pockets for a foil wrapper. Taking it from him, he looked up at you once again searching your eyes. Carefully tearing open the packet, you took the condom and held him in your hands. He leaned his forehead against yours as you moved back his foreskin and rolled the condom down his thick hard length.

With your knickers pushed to the side he lined himself up. His cock was sitting right at your entrance as he lifted you up and sank deep inside you. Both of you let out a low guttural moan as the ache you'd felt there was finally being relieved.

Your hands instantly grabbed his shoulders and you ran your fingers up and across the nape of his neck. His mouth found yours in a greedy kiss, the type where teeth knocked each other with urgency.

Bending his knees he fucked you slowly, gentle but precise thrusts and your body came alive. He was overwhelming your senses, you couldn't focus on the things he began whispering in your ear.

Your pants and moans were the only things that could be heard in the confines of the bathroom. The grip he had on your hips was tightening as he got closer to his release, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his voice husky and dripping with lust and heat.

The top of his pubic bone was rubbing against your clit and his cock was tapping against your g spot. Both of you were sweating as you came together, the release much needed.

You were silent for a a minute after, your breathing coming back down, unspoken words between you about the line you'd crossed. Your 'dirty book' as Niall called it had made you look at each other differently. Since your conversation earlier you hadn't thought of anything other than getting him inside you.

It had been a long afternoon in the chalet with all the others, no opportunity to be alone. And you'd both tried. Niall had followed you into the kitchen a few times, offering to help you with dinner but Willie had come to help to. And when you'd all gone to get ready to go out for the evening, you opened your bedroom door to sneak to his, to find your sister there.

But you'd finally got him alone now after sneaking away from the table in the busy pub.

Feeling him turn soft inside you, he dropped your legs down and slipped out. His fingers fumbled with with condom, tying it and disposing of it in the bin. When he passed you some tissue to clean yourself up you finally met his eyes. You could see him trying to hold back the enormous grin he had on his face.

"Happy with yourself?!" You asked him, your face matching his.

"Babe, I've had a semi for about 8 hours after our little conversation. I'm very happy with myself for finally getting my hands on you."

"Well it was kinda your own fault you got yourself so worked up."

Both of you were still smiling like idiots at each other as you adjusted your clothes.

"How was it my own fault?!" He said as he pressed his palm flat on the wall above your head. His face was mere inches from yours and you desperately wanted to kiss him again.

"You were the one sneaking a look at it and asking me about what happened in the story."

"Well, I was just taking an interest in what you were reading. You've had your head tucked away in that book a lot while we've been here."

"Trying to get my attention were you?!" You joked.

"I was actually." He admitted as his eyes moved from yours to hide his nerves.

Leaning forward you kissed him gently, nothing like the hard rough kisses from before. Moving your hand up to stroke across his neck and into his hair, he kissed you back his tongue finding yours.

"You've got my attention now." You whispered against his lips.

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