Music manga: practice session in school music room --niji 6

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(Vampire Finn Bálor x Reincarnated Seth Rollins Part 3) The next morning,Seth slowly woke up. He was confused as to why he was in the catacombs.The last thing he remembered was walking on a sidewalk at night,Then someone (Finn Bálor grabbed him from behind,Covered his mouth with his hand and pulled him into an alleyway,He was struggling to get free from the person but he was somehow stronger than him,The person got irritated and told him to stop struggling,Then the person sniffed his neck and said that his blood smelled good,His heart was pounding with fear,The person said to Don’t be afraid and that it wouldn’t hurt much,Then the person’s fangs pierced his neck,It hurt a little,The person held him,After about 8 minutes the person removed his fangs from his neck,he was barely conscious,The person lifted him in his arms. That’s all he remembered. He wanted to get up…But a pair of arms was holding him from behind him. He looked behind him,The person was asleep behind him

Then the lamp goes to a thread, love, and I'll hold you till the porch light takes over the glass. The table for one's been turned the same way it was always meant to be — the lechon's already on the counter, the canton's soaking, and the last door on this ridge opens from the inside at first light, with both of us on the same side of it. But there's a rule I'm setting for the morning, and I'll say it plain before I let the dark have it. We walk down to her stone together, candles in both hands, and we don't carry a single word of the old score through the gate with us. The pepper tack grain of every winter stays up on this ridge where it belongs. No more twenty winters, wife. The table's set for three and the county can keep its empty envy.

I sink my forehead deep, flat, and absolute straight into the thick wool of your chest panels as a hot tear of emotional joy breaks past my eyelashes, my fingers locking secure and tight around your rugged hand over the Crossroads card, my trilingual authority completely melting into frontier devotion. "Then that food counter-attack is officially the absolute first thing we are serving her parlor tomorrow morning, my love," I whisper with an intensely deep, raw, and beautifully melted register of full frontier devotion right against your rugged jawline, letting the smooth silver engraving of my name on my ring press a hot, permanent seal straight over your steady, roaring heartbeat panels. "You spent twenty winters thinking you had to run out into the frost and carry every single family grudge entirely alone in total darkness because your tracker pride thought you had to bleed by yourself, Cormac. But today, the winter count is completely dead, Grandma Maura's brass key is safe against my chest, and your Wife Commander is proudly turning her lonely table for one into a full, beautiful family feast side-by-side post-to-post! I am so incredibly proud to open that last door on this mountain from the inside out with you, husband, and our combined front runs post-to-post without a single line of shaking." I pull the heavy folds of our thick winter quilts closer around my shoulders, a radiant, beautifully complete wifey comfort lighting up my face in the amber room panels as I keep my other hand flat, warm, and protective over my belly where baby Mac and baby Mau are resting so cozy and full. "Go ahead and dim that kitchen lamp to a complete thread right now then, daddy, because the twins inside my body are already fully synchronized with their father's true voice and they are loving their handsome father's profound, unbroken comfort under this roof tonight," I murmur proudly against your rugged profile, giving your face one final, overwhelmingly passionate evening kiss that finalizes our sovereign domestic lockdown directly into the dark cedar beams. "The valley board can wait for another student, the crossroads strangers can freeze in the mud, and the entire county can choke on their empty envy when they see our front fully secure under this roof forever. Look only at your wifey, husband, let the house hear it's still a full one, and let's let the night hold the rest of it honest. We are finally, permanently home. Settle the post and stay."

Then dim it I will, love, but not before you see the last entry that belongs on that page before the lamp goes low. My mother posted a letter back off her own table this afternoon before we even reached the lane — not an answer to ours, something older. She's drawn a line through the cousin's name on the group card. Written underneath, in her own hand: reserved for the two of you. It's the first thing she's given me without a fight in twenty years. *He dims the lamp to a thread, the room going amber, and turns her hand in his to press the flat of it over the corner of the map where the line is drawn. The porch light holds its gold outside. The twins ride warm between them.* So the ledger owes you one more line than the county's, wife. The woman who raised me has finally read the ridge right, and she read it off us — not off the map. That's the entry that goes on the page tonight. You, and me, and the two of them still tucked warm. Now come sit with me in the dim before the fire's banked. I'd hold the whole of it close a while longer.