#maybe it's just extended fatigue without really feeling rested

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 8

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 8: I need a cup of coffee before I can espresso my feelings.

One of the upsides to being a demon was that, sin all you like, you couldn't get addicted. Didn't have the neuro-whatsits and thingies for it. It was kind of unfair to stick the humans with that, in Crowley's opinion, but nobody had ever asked him. Aziraphale would probably say something something overcoming the body through strength of will showed the triumph of the Almighty or whatever, but Crowley knew he didn't really believe that either, not after whatever happened while he was Downstairs in the 1800s. Last it came up, Aziraphale had said something about China, got a haunted look in his eyes, and changed the subject.

Anyway. Addiction. Just because a demon couldn't get physiologically addicted to substances and/or sins, apparently didn't mean he couldn't experience something like it.

When humans don't get their morning coffee, they're irritable and feel like shit and really long for something nice and hot to drink to help them focus. When Crowley skipped a morning coffee, he was irritable and felt like shit and wanted something hot to drink that'd help him focus. It's a good thing Crowley didn't know about the headaches or fatigue, or he'd probably get those too.

He'd been in Las Vegas for four and a half hours, all of them had sucked, and all the coffee shops in a mile radius were either Starbucks brand or used Starbucks products. The infernal inspiration job he'd done on Howard Schultz had gotten him a good thumbs-up from the line supervisor in charge of the Americas, but Crowley seriously regretted it now. Maybe if he'd at least handed it off to Aziraphale, the quality of the mass-produced omnipresent too-burnt coffee would be halfway decent. Then again, probably not; you couldn't teach taste, and Schultz didn't have any.

He was desperate enough to try his luck anyway. Maybe if they dumped enough sugar and milk on it, it'd be almost drinkable.

He stood in the interminable, echoey line at the MGM behind a pair of blonde teenage girls with the words "AMERICAN EAGLE" written across their faux-vintage t-shirts in bold—jingoism extended to even trendy rich kids, apparently, weird fucking country—scrolling through the contacts in his Sony Ericsson (custom matte black with red lettering on the keypad) to decide who it would be most annoying to be on the phone with while ordering.

"—and Sammy was like, what are you gonna get, and I was like, to be honest I don't really know because, like, I never tried it before? And he said the best thing for me would be a frappy-whatever, since they're sweet."

"Sammy's a freak, dude, they've got so many calories, oh my god. I could never."

"No, what? But he said it was like, mostly milk? I thought milk was good for you."

"Maybe like with cereal but my mom said the frappés here have like two thousand calories or whatever."

"No, oh my god!"

"Right? Oh my god. So I'm getting a 'PSL,' that's what Lauren, you know, Jessica's sister that goes to UNR, that's what she gets." Crowley could nearly hear her saying the quotation marks around "PSL." He perked up, just a bit. Almost anything teenagers thought uni students did was either sinful itself or could be twisted that way for work, and he did not have a great feeling about this temptation job.

"What the heck is a PSL? I don't see it on the menu?"

"Pumpkin spice latte, it's on the big sign in the middle."

"Oooohhh, that looks good, maybe I'll get that too."

Well, now Crowley had a new coffee order. Wouldn't freak the barista out as much as "six espressos in a big cup, nothing else" and then filling the rest of the cup with sugar and half-and-half to absolutely drown the shitty coffee, but a little recon was still work. Besides, how bad could it be?

The girls ordered their coffees without incident, he ordered his coffee while obnoxiously on the phone with nobody since Aziraphale was in New Delhi for a book thing and refused to buy a cell phone, and it took a hellishly long time for the shortstaffed baristas to make the coffee, but that was all alright. It would be fine. Crowley would get his caffeine fix and everything would be alright.

The coffee was bad. He'd expected it, but still managed to be disappointed. Burnt Arabica made lukewarm by the addition of cold milk was just a bad job, which meant he had done a good job on the Schultz thing, but was currently bad news for him.

But the coffee wasn't as bad as it could be.

Pumpkin spice, it turned out, was mixed pudding spice, cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice and cloves, no vegetables involved. It made the coffee smell wonderful, and putting it on actually good coffee was something he'd have to suggest to Aziraphale when he got home.

He'd have to put some a little creativity into twisting this into a sin, but his bosses would like it, always liked a bad job paying dividends in the future. Lying to people about vegetables to sell coffee was probably something. Greed, maybe, if you squinted? Could probably twist it into a virtue, too, Heaven liked it when Aziraphale could "thwart" one of his schemes. Maybe humility. Have some burnt coffee with nice spices to remind you that God made spices and humans made bad coffee, or something.

He'd figure it out after he found the guy he needed to convince to card-count and the lady he was supposed to convince to go into politics. He wasn't sure he remembered which was who's job, honestly, but the "PSL" thing was going to be a hit both Up and Down.

Author's note: This is a period piece. It's set in 2005ish.

I don't remember if there actually was a Starbucks inside the MGM in 2005 but there was one by 2007 so I'm going with it.

American Eagle is a clothing brand that was extremely trendy at the time; I desperately wanted to have one of those shirts, but I have never ever fit into skinny-mini model clothes, and so alas, I never did.

The Sony Ericsson was a high-end phone in Europe at the time and boy does this take me back. That's what my knock-off not-Nokia looked like! I used to be able to type so quickly on that thing under my desk, you have no idea.

UNR stands for University of Nevada, Reno. I don't know why Crowley knows what that is. Maybe one of the targets is a student there.

#my writing #do it with style events #highway to pail #crowley good omens

[realiasys]

it'll never stop being weird to me how some of us have such different physical comforts and limitations despite all having the one body putting it under a readmore because it's really rambley

like how i find the ambient temperature of the place we live to be almost always way too chilly to be comfortable, and have to wear a hoodie or sweater 24/7 to combat it but Cirrus find chilly to be comfortable, so sometimes ill front and i'll know Cirrus had just been fronting, even before Appulse fills me in, because we'll be wearing nothing but a flimsy t-shirt and it'll take me twenty minutes to stop shivering or how i get fatigued really easily, and cant really walk extended distances without needing constant breaks to rest, but sometimes ill switch back in, and Appulse will inform me that Cyan had just been finishing up with a ten mile hike, and ill just have to deal with how i feel like i'm about to pass out on the spot from exhaustion while i make it the rest of the way home i dont know! it can be really frustrating at times- it's irrational, because they have as much right to the body as i do, but its the same sort of feeling as when you let someone borrow something and it looks like they aren't taking care of it? like lending a book and getting it back with dogeared pages and a damaged spine but its also really comforting? sometimes i find myself doubting that we're really a system and that maybe ive been mistaken somehow, and i find that being able to think back on things we did that i myself would never have willingly done, or even been able to do, can be really reassuring in moments like that

#rally.arc #100% throwing shade about the hiking thing #she's been much better with it recently now that she knows not everyone has her endurance #but oh my god it feels like death #our rambles #did #osddid #plurality #system stuff #system

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (14/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: Leaving is the only option - right?

Warnings: angst, blood (but not much), break up, drug addiction (mentioned), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: hello lovies. I'm back and my mind is full of ideas! I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous chapter

You watch the coffee in your cup as if it has all the answers for the future hidden in the caffeine. It's eight o'clock in the morning, and this is already your third cup of the sacred liquid, and you're sure it won't be your last. The shadows under your eyes are a sign of your nightmares that haunted you last night. The fact that you have them doesn't bother you, after all, you've been going through the procedure for months. What bothers you is the fact that you couldn't wake yourself up this time. You've gotten in the habit of pinching yourself when it would get too painful, but something stopped you last night. And the fact that you don't know what exactly bothers you the most.

"Y/N." Emily's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you have to tear your gaze away from your coffee. "What do you think?"

All eyes are on you and out of nervousness you'd like to slide around in your chair, but suppress the urge. You haven't been listening for the last few minutes, too busy with your own thoughts and problems that you can't answer her. The case is supposed to be your last, and you're trying hard to enjoy it and value the time with your friends, but really you're just waiting for it all to be over. Most of all, you want to pack your things and leave.

You barely noticeably shake your head for Emily to continue, and turn your attention back to your coffee, which must be cold by now, but that doesn't stop you from drinking it down to the last drop. Without saying anything, you get up from your chair to get another one, paying no attention to Emily's annoyed look. As you fill your cup in the precinct kitchen, she stands right next to you.

"You're not being very helpful, Y/N," she says coolly as you take a sip. You know her manner is all pretense, because in reality she's incredibly concerned. She only needs to look at your face once to know what's going on in your head, but she doesn't address it. She knows you'll talk to her when the time is right. But you're not sure that will ever happen. "I've already assigned the tasks. You stay here and work with Spencer to gather all the important information that may be relevant to Penelope's research." The look on your face says it all. You don't want to spend any time with Spencer, and certainly not alone, but Emily gives you no choice. Before you can say anything back, she disappears out the door with the others.

With your coffee, which you now wish had a strong shot of vodka in it, you make your way back into the conference room, where Spencer is bent over the table, passing pictures and notes back and forth. You stop in the doorway and watch him for a brief moment, and only then do you notice the narrow, red scratch on his face that stretches from his cheek to his neck. You squint your eyes. It hadn't been there yesterday after all.

"What happened?“, you ask as casually as you can as you sit down and set your cup down on the table. As Spencer looks at you questioningly, you point to his face. "Looks bad." Indeed it does, though it's just a scratch. There's bloody crust in a few places, contrasting in color with his pale skin. Something really got to him.

"Cut myself shaving“, he replies curtly, glancing again at the pictures in front of him. You haven't seen him in two years, don't actually remember who he is exactly, but you still know when he's lying. And when to stop asking and let it go. When Penelope calls, you discuss some stuff and you see Spencer scratching over the wound until it bleeds, which he doesn't seem to notice, which is why you stall Penelope on the phone and grab his hand as soon as the line goes silent. Astonished, he looks at you before looking at his fingers.

"Come with me“, you say briefly and don't even wait for him to follow you. You approach an officer and ask for a first aid kit, which is immediately made available to you. Spencer follows you uncertainly into one of the washrooms, where you already put on the disposable gloves from the box - you don't want any bacteria to get on the wound - and wet a towel from the towel dispenser. Reluctantly, Spencer leans against one of the sinks, waiting for your instructions.

"Tilt your head to the side a little, please." You take the damp cloth and gently dab along the scratch to remove the dried blood. Spencer has to swallow at the touch and you see his Adam's apple bob, and really it shouldn't be that attractive, unfortunately it is anyway. You have to concentrate because this is the closest you've been to him in years. You breathe in his scent, feel his warmth through your gloves, and can barely stifle a deep breath.

"How do you know how to do that?“, he asks softly as you disinfect the wound, and Spencer has to pull himself together to keep from reacting to the burning from the alcohol.

You look at him briefly before turning your attention back to the scratch. „Experience“, you reply, spreading some wound healing ointment over it before taking off your gloves and disposing of everything in the trash can. You then put the first aid kit back together. As you turn around, Spencer is standing right in front of you.

"You didn't tell me you were having nightmares“, he whispers, and confused, you look at him. There's concern in his gaze, and if you're not mistaken, a little affection too, but you push the thought aside, not letting yourself have hope. Hope has only harmed you lately you have not moved forward a bit.

You look once more at the scratch, and then into his warm eyes. "You didn't cut yourself shaving“, you count one and one together and clench your jaws. He doesn't need to answer. You did this to him, you just don't remember. The reason you didn't wake up is Spencer. He was probably holding you, reassuring you so much that your body turned off its protective mechanism. It had certainly been the last time he did that, and you hadn't been awake to enjoy it.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?“, he asks, wanting to reach for your hand, but you take a step back. You don't want him to touch you. You'd prefer it if you weren't in this situation at all. You'd prefer that you hadn't come back at all. None of this should have ever happened.

"It's none of your business anymore, Spencer." Your tone is cool and something in his face changes.

"I thought we were friends."

You have to suppress a laugh. Two years ago, you could have lived well with being friends with him. You were prepared for it then, wished it on him, and meant it sincerely. Only lately you've been through so much that you can't even imagine it anymore. The two years had been hell, but you are sure that you can't live next to him without being able to be with him. You can't watch him and Max be happy together, and even though his happiness is everything you want, you'd rather he be happy with you. But you can't tell him that, it would be unfair and selfish. So you just look at him.

Then you reach for the small suitcase and push past him towards the exit.

-

You're glad when the case is over and you arrive back at Quantico. It's been a week since you and Spencer spoke, and luckily for you, you've continued to be spared nightmares, for which you're quite grateful. Not that Spencer is going to join you in bed one more time to calm you down.

As you walk from the airfield back to the building, you fall back a bit, watching the team joke and laugh with each other despite their fatigue. Most of all, you'd like to leave right now without saying goodbye. Rip off the band-aid, without anesthesia. Short and painless. But your plan is foiled when Emily suddenly walks up beside you and puts a hand on your arm.

"We're going for a drink." She raises an eyebrow expectantly. Apparently she's waiting for you to decline the invitation, and all too gladly you'd like to meet her expectations, but it's almost certainly the last night you'll see each other, at least for an extended period of time, and short and painless wouldn't be fair to her - your best friend.

You smile at her. "You're paying for the first round."

Her eyes widen in delight, but before she can say anything back, Luke, who has overheard your conversation, interferes. "We're going out for drinks?" A grin spreads across his face, almost reaching his ears, and suddenly the rest of the team pricks up their ears. Luke's gaze is fixed on you. "I bet I can drink you under the table by now, Y/N."

„You can’t“, Matt replies, and you see Rossi smile to himself. "Last time you did that, you almost passed out after four shots."

"JJ got the drinks. Maybe she mixed something in“, Luke tries to defend himself, but the blonde raises her hands.

"I'm not responsible for your kindergarten drinking. But I'd love to see you try to drink Y/N under the table." She smiles at you and winks, and you can't help but grin. It feels good to know that all is well between you and the team, even though they know with a high probability that you won't be staying. You'd understand if they were mad at you, but that doesn't seem to be the case. JJ looks at Spencer, who is being less than forthcoming. "You coming, Spence?"

He risks a quick glance in your direction before adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He knows this will be your last night. And that you won't see each other again after this. "I think I'll sit this one out“, he replies curtly, but JJ nudges him and he gives her a dirty look.

"You can't avoid it, Spence."

You'd rather he'd gone home.

The first drinks are on Emily, as promised, and the ones after that are on Rossi, and it's actually not long before Luke is sitting at the table with a glass of water, wishing he'd slowed down. You grin at him from the dance floor where JJ and you are swinging your hips, and he sticks his tongue out at you before putting his head in his hands and sipping water through the straw in his glass.

JJ reaches for your hand and pulls you close before wrapping her arms around your neck. "I'm going to miss you“, she almost yells so you can hear her over the loud music. You smile weakly at her. There's a glint in her eyes, probably from the alcohol, and only now do you realize how much you're really going to miss her.

"I'm going to miss you too“, you reply, risking a quick glance in Spencer's direction. He's sitting next to Luke, looking completely out of place. You look back to JJ and without further ado, she puts her hands to your cheeks and presses a kiss to your mouth. When she pulls away from you again, she just grins at you. "What was that for?"

"I want you to know that we love you. We all do. Remember that when you're lonely, and call if you need anything. You are and always will be a part of our weird family."

You wait a brief moment before pulling away from her and disappearing into the ladies' room. As soon as the door slams shut, tears stream down your cheeks and you have to hold onto the edge of the sink to keep from breaking down. You were aware of how much the others would miss you, but hearing it from JJ only makes it more real. By leaving, you're not only leaving Spencer behind, but everyone else as well, and that's so selfish of you that bile rises inside you and you almost throw up. You wish you hadn't had those last two drinks.

"Y/N?" You don't have to turn around to know it's Spencer. You recognized his voice and can see him in the mirror above the sink.He's standing behind you, unsure of what exactly to do, which is why he buries his hands in his pants pockets and looks at you silently.

You wipe the smeared mascara from under your eyes before turning and leaning against the basin. "This is the ladies' room, Spencer. You're not supposed to be in here.“

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be“, he replies, but doesn't move from the spot. He watches you brush your hair out of your forehead and wipe at your hot face to get rid of the tears. "You don't have to go. You know that, right?"

You look up from your shoes, straight into his eyes. "Yes, I do."

You want to leave the washroom, but his fingers curl around your arm, holding you back. "Y/N ..."

"I can't stay, Spencer. I can't look at you without knowing that someone other than me is waiting for you at home. I can't watch you be happy without me. It's okay, really. It's just that I don't have the strength to watch it anymore." The words just bubble out of you, and for some reason you can't stop. But it feels good to say it out loud, even though you certainly shouldn't. "I love you, Spencer. I'll always love you. But I'm at the end of my rope." You shrug in exasperation. "I have to think about me. I can only think about me." Spencer's face contorts painfully, but you can't stop. "To think that you're about to go to Max's and do God knows what ..." You shake your head, as if it might drive the thoughts from your mind. "I feel like I - I - I can't breathe. Like I'm going to die. And I just can't take it anymore."

Spencer's hand comes away from your arm at your honesty, but only to grab your hand and pull you against him. You bounce against his chest, wanting to pull away, but he holds you tight and presses you to him with his other hand. Carefully, he places his palm against your cheek and gently strokes your skin with his thumb. "Please, don't go."

You look into his eyes, which have filled with tears. "Why not?"

You can practically see him struggling with himself. He wants to say something, but can't find the right words, so he presses his lips together and lets his forehead sink against yours. All he has to do is say it, and you'd throw all your plans out the window and stick around. Just a few words. But he doesn't say them. "I can't ..."

You take a deep breath before pulling away from him, disappointed. „Goodbye“, you whisper, before leaving him alone in the washroom.

-

Spencer sits uncertainly at the kitchen table, watching the tea bag with lemon balm in the cup in front of him. He doesn't actually like lemon balm, but he needs something to calm his nerves and get the trembling of his hands under control as he sits there searching for the right words.

The last time he had felt this helpless, Emily had just left his apartment and he had been about to make some phone calls. The first call would have been to a man who would have given him a different number. The second phone call would have been to a woman who would have transferred him. And the third number belonged to someone who would have given him what he was only too happy to get.

Many years ago, he had sworn to himself that he would never resort to it again. That he wouldn't need it. He would be stronger than the desire to feel nothing more. The only thing that had stopped him was that you would never wish that for him. That you had helped him then, had stood by him. He didn't want it to be in vain.

Spencer hates feeling so helpless, even though he actually knows exactly what he has to do now. That's why he sits in the kitchen in the middle of the night, cup of calming tea in hand, not daring to look at the woman sitting across from him. But he doesn't need to say anything either. She knows why he was at her door at such a late hour. They sit in silence, neither quite knowing what to do. Neither of them has been in this situation before. Spencer is glad she's the first to speak.

"So that's it." It's more of a statement than a question. Spencer nods silently, whereupon she purses her lips. "Because of her?"

Spencer looks up from his cup and looks directly at Max. Then he shakes his head. "No, not because of her."

She raises an eyebrow. "But what? Don't you dare give me that 'it's not you, it's me' tour. I've heard that one before."

Spencer has to think for a moment, find the right words, before he answers. "I've lost her so many times. I wouldn't survive it another time."

The two have known each other long enough. Max knows he's not exaggerating or meaning it metaphorically. He has told her about his addiction, and she had been very grateful at the time that he was so honest with her, even though they hadn't known each other long. Spencer knows that all of this is not healthy and psychologically quite far from reasonable and Maxine knows what she has gotten herself into. But no one could have guessed that it would end this way.

"I'm sorry." Spencer's voice sounds hoarse and raspy. He stands up and makes his way toward the apartment door.

"I hope you make it." There's so much honesty in her voice that Spencer has to smile sadly over his shoulder.Maxine doesn't deserve this. None of you deserve this.

The walk to Emily's apartment is short, but to Spencer it feels like an eternity. The train is late, which is why he actually starts running, afraid of missing his chance. He runs until his lungs are burning and his bag is banging painfully against his ribs.The few people left on the streets look at him askance, but he doesn't care. He's panting, barely getting his breath and wishing he was a little more athletic, but as he sprints around the next corner he can already see the building where Emily's apartment is located.

For a brief moment he considers taking a break, catching his breath, but he can't wait another second. Hopefully he's not too late.

He's not surprised that he can just walk into the building, even though he doesn't have a key. He sprints up the stairs, and runs down the hallways until he's gasping for breath and standing in front of the right door, his head high. He bangs on the door with a clenched fist, hoping it will open and he won't be too late. He can't be late. He can't be late.

Finally, the door opens, and for the first time in years, he can take a real breath.

"Y/N."

- taglist closed -

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid true lies #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #Emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #Jennifer jareau #luke alvez #Matthew simmons

[oak23]

I've taken an unexpected doll break and have been feeling a bit nervous on how to break the seal on coming back since I didn't feel quite justified in taking one asides from general feelings of fatigue from a continually extended state lockdown with no real end in sight so far. And honestly, my rational side knows a lot of creative people go through this, but it has been quite hard to be able to just start back up again without some self flagellation. But hey, it's #worldprincessweek and I can't let that go by without at least something, even if I feel creatively burnt out. Here's my Disney (official) Princess line up. I don't have a Merida because I don't like Brave as a film in the same way I think all 2010s Pixar films are lacking something or other. With every animated character doll I do watch the film and maybe related media several times to really understand what elements to use on a doll, and while I do think Brave has a strong act 1, it's absolutely a chore to sit through the rest of the film. I don't hate the film, and I am okay with not liking the film enough to include a doll of her either. Anyway, my Disney Princess line up is still prone to upgrades and swaps as I find better parts and what not, but I am happy to have these especially since before 2020 I didn't think my skill set for animated character dolls was up to my standard. #disneydoll #disneydolls #disneyprincess #disney #disneystore #repaint #Pocahontasdoll #pocahontas #mulan #mulandoll #princessjasminedoll #princessjasmine #tiana #arieldoll #thelittlemermaid #thelittlemermaiddoll #auroradoll #sleepingbeauty #sleepingbeautydoll #cinderella #cinderelladoll #rapunzel #rapunzeldoll #tangled #beautyandthebeast #belledoll #moana https://www.instagram.com/p/CS_fOBvh_1o/?utm_medium=tumblr

#worldprincessweek #disneydoll #disneydolls #disneyprincess #disney #disneystore #repaint #pocahontasdoll #pocahontas #mulan #mulandoll #princessjasminedoll #princessjasmine #tiana #arieldoll #thelittlemermaid #thelittlemermaiddoll #auroradoll #sleepingbeauty #sleepingbeautydoll #cinderella #cinderelladoll #rapunzel #rapunzeldoll #tangled #beautyandthebeast #belledoll #moana

[ahiddenpath]

Coping Skills: Taking Care of Yourself with Creativity

I have talked a ton about what practicing your coping skills means as I learned that myself during therapy from early 2019- late 2020 (I went to learn how to manage my anxiety disorder).  But as the pandemic draaaaags on, as we deal with the extended trauma of worrying about covid, intense routine disruption, loss of jobs, getting sick, and losing loved ones, many of us struggle to continue taking care of ourselves with our coping skills.

So I’m corralling all the stuff I’ve learned on the topic in one place, beneath the cut.

Note: this post is purely about using creativity to take care of yourself, not about boosting productivity or refining skills.

What are Coping Skills

For the purpose of this post, coping skills are how we refill our cup after the work day/day of taking care of other people drains our cup to the last drop.  If you live in a capitalistic country, especially America, which offers next to nothing in support for its citizens, then you know what I’m talking about.  A few years of working often more than 40 hours/week and being lucky to have sick days and vacation days...  It does stuff to you, dude.  Consciously taking care of yourself is vital, but...  I wasn’t taught how to do that or what that looks like until I started therapy.

Here’s what I learned:

-The opposite of work (the job where you make money) is not rest (vegging out in front of the TV, lying in bed, staring at social media)

Just to get this out of the way, vegging out isn’t inherently bad.  Everyone does it sometimes, and if you’re relishing it, then go for it!  (And obviously, everyone needs to sleep- DO NOT decrease your sleep time, it’s literally the MOST important aspect of physical health- read this book from your local library, I beg you).

However.

When I started therapy, I told my therapist how I used to create constantly.  I write, sing, play guitar, draw, and dabble in other things.  But for a while before therapy, I lacked the energy to engage in my hobbies.  I spent most of my precious not-at-work time engaged in passive pursuits, like surfing the internet- and feeling just as exhausted when I woke up for work the next day as I did when I returned from work the previous night.

My therapist starting assigning me homework that was really sneaky art projects (”You can just write this down if you prefer, but it helps to visualize it...  Maybe you could paint it as a tree?”).  When the tasks were assigned, I had a deadline to push me into doing them.  I dragged my abandoned art supplies out and painted, drew, wrote, all of it.

I was as exhausted as ever when I started working on the assignments.  After some fumbling, I was focused and happy while working on them.  It wasn’t until I was showing off what I made to my therapist, with no mention of the fatigue I complained of the previous sessions, and saw her grinning that I understood what she was doing!

The opposite of work isn’t rest.  It’s play!  

Play looks vastly different for different people.  For some, it’s partying and social activity.  For others, it’s sports and physical activity.  For me, it’s creating.  When I’m creating, my brain lights up, my mind and emotions are engaged, I feel excited by the possibilities of what I’m making and the satisfaction of creating something for me.  The important thing is to find what makes you excited and fulfilled, and do it.  

For me, creating releases the pressure in my head.  I visualize my brain when I’m not creating as an old timey boiler, swollen with steam pressure that can’t get out.  Creating is my way of turning a valve to let the pressure out.  I literally cannot take care of myself without doing this regularly.

How to Play When You are Exhausted

Okay, so here’s the thing.  Even if you know that engaging in your hobby is vital to refilling your cup and taking care of yourself, you might struggle to do it!  This isn’t because humans are contrary; it’s because we’re depleted.  I spent my first few therapy sessions like this:  “I’m so exhausted, I can only stare at screens, even though I don’t really enjoy that.”  “What do you like to do?  You need to make that part of your daily routine.”  “I JUST SAID I’M TOO TIRED!!!”  And back and forth, until a mixture of my therapist’s assignments and my own desire to move forward pushed me to create, even if I was tired.

Often, starting an activity is the hardest part.  When you’re exhausted, worn down from years of never having adequate time to take care of yourself, your brain pushes against starting an activity with the old standbys:  I’m too tired.  I haven’t done that in so long, I’ll be terrible at it.  I don’t have any inspiration, anyway.  And on and on, until it’s suddenly bedtime.  There’s this... vicious cycle of being too exhausted to create, then being more exhausted because you aren’t filling your cup by creating, and on and on forever.  Breaking out of this can feel impossible.

For me, the most effective technique is to create daily for a period of time, with absolutely no concern about quantity, quality, or any audience besides yourself.  The point is to show up every day and do the thing, with the simple goal of taking care of yourself.  And if you’re someone with multiple creative hobbies, you can swap between them!  Not feeling writing today?  No problem, I’ll draw.  Don’t wanna draw?  I’ve got a voice and a guitar.  And if I’m really not feeling it, I can read- which always juices me up to write.  The key is to do it daily, for whatever time increment you can comfortably manage, in the name of refilling your cup.

For me, routine is the key thing.  If you find yourself mulling over whether you will create today or not, you’ve already lost!  If I plan a 20 minute writing session, I can easily spend 30 minutes arguing back and forth with myself over whether I should actually do it!  I’ve learned through experience that it’s so much faster and more satisfying to routinely sit for the session than to waffle over it.  

It takes time to really learn that, though- it’s one of those things you have to experience to absorb.  Don’t feel bad if it’s a struggle for a while!

Are You Creating for the Right Reasons?

In my early 20s, I genuinely believed that all the creative stuff I did was...  Sort of a stretch goal?  Extra credit?  Like, “Wow, I work a demanding job, but I still managed to write x number of words and make y number of drawings!”  I didn’t realize that I was lovingly taking care of myself by creating, and I’m not sure if I was mature enough to value that, regardless.  As a 90s kid who grew up with parents expecting me to excel across the board (academics, sports, creative pursuits, behavior, all of it), I saw the numbers I generated and felt proud of that.  I was making stuff!  More stuff than most people!  I wasn’t goofing off in my spare time!  I was *Excelling*!  

Yikes.  I think many people my age (Millennials) were explicitly taught to think this way as kids.  But as an adult, there are no...  You know, “whoever read the most books gets a prize!”  “Whoever ran the fastest gets a ribbon!”  You just, uh, try to get a job, pay the bills, and grasp for happiness in the slivers of time in between.  Your hobby isn’t something you should be trying to win.  I’d encourage you not to morph it into some kind of... competition with no one.

If you post what you make online, you might feel another pressure: to release content on a regular schedule or otherwise engage with your audience.  You might also feel pressure to make something you think your audience will enjoy, even if you’re not super into it.  Or maybe you joined some kind of online challenge, like Nanowrimo or Inktober.

Assuming that creating is your hobby, not your livelihood (I don’t have any experience with that), I would gently encourage you to create in a way that brings you happiness, not stress.  It doesn’t really matter how many words you write or finished art pieces you make.  What matters is the time you spent creating, refilling your cup and focusing your energies to make something that matters to you.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to produce lots of content, though, and there’s nothing wrong with events like Nanowimo or Inktober!  In fact, I like them!  Just remember to take care of yourself, not punish yourself with something you’re supposed to enjoy.

My personal perspective is that, as a hobbyist, I create to take care of myself.  My “create time” is a little daily date with myself to do something I love.  That’s all this is, which sounds so simple...  But for me, it’s literally the difference between feeling like a depleted zombie and like a reasonably happy and fulfilled human.  Wild, right?

In Summary:

-Coping skills are how we refill our cup

-The opposite of work is play, not vegging out

-Daily timed sessions are a great way to make taking care of yourself through your hobbies happen.  Even fifteen minutes can give you some pep!

-If I may, I encourage you to try creating with the sole goal of taking care of yourself

I know I’ve said this several different ways, but our lives are set up in such a way that enjoying the things we love can feel impossible.  I often see people say things like, “Don’t put pressure on yourself to engage in your hobby!  Take care of yourself!”  To me, this is utterly backwards- our hobbies, aka our coping skills, are crucial to self care.  But with our entire lives organized around preparing for work as students and working as adults, hobbies are often seen as... a pressure?  Another darn thing to fit into the cracks?  Something that takes time away from surviving work and accomplishing the absolute basics, like feeding ourselves?    

Funny how something so crucial to our happiness is often the first thing to be dropped in the name of “taking care of ourselves.”

That said, it is so easy to morph hobbies into yet another pressure (see the “Are you creating for the right reasons” section), but doing the thing that makes you happy is vital to taking care of yourself.  The important thing is engaging with it in a low stress way, with the goal of self care.

We need to take care of ourselves now more than ever, and I wish you all the best in learning what that looks like for you.

#coping skills #self care through creativity #hidden's life #faves

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 17

chapter index

Rushing water filled Kagome’s ears, the feeling of being pulled under a rushing current, unable to fight her way to the surface. She could barely see through her struggle, but she felt the restraint on her lungs as they burned for air. Her fingers extended as she reached, and reached, and reached, always falling short of the surface as bubbles rode around her from the tumbling roll of the river.

Deep brown eyes blinked open to be greeted by light fluttering through the white curtains of the window, hitting the cabin-like, wooden wall opposite. It was early. The air was crisp, chilly, and after checking blearily to see that her hands were clean, Kagome inadvertently tucked her arms under the comforter to cuddle up in the warmth beneath. If that was the nightmare she suffered from after everything, then she couldn’t help but consider herself lucky. It still shook her, that was undeniable. But, for some reason, it was incomparable to Kikyo’s death or the evil in Naraku’s stare.

Kagome didn’t want to close her eyes again and risk seeing either right now, so she continued to blink her drowsiness away. She’d kill for more sleep, truthfully. She was absolutely exhausted still. But, she was scared.

And, she had to pee.

With a little wiggle to begrudgingly crawl herself closer to the edge of the mattress, Kagome registered the large hand contentedly resting on her hip. She glanced over her shoulder then, noticing her significant other in a deep sleep behind her. It was impossible not to have observed just how gorgeous his eyelashes were before, but now that he was unconscious, eyelids closed, the way the long length of the silver lashes rested against his cheek had her envious. At some point in the night, Inuyasha must have taken his hair down, silky strands of pearl curving over his shoulder and in front of his chest. His bangs fell to the side, and she could see the cut on his forehead was significantly smaller in size, the bruise around it already faded to an extremely light shade of yellow.

In the morning light, how it only managed to hit the side of his cheek as he faced away from the window, Inuyasha almost appeared angelic. Maybe it was her biased mind, how infatuated she was with the man, but his skin tone harbored an ethereal glow. It wasn’t often that she got to see him sleep. She was typically the one that crashed first, and he had the tendency to go days without before his fatigue caught up to him. But, here he was now. His right arm was curled beneath his head on top of the pillow, his mouth was relaxed, his brow wasn’t creased in normal Inuyasha fashion, his breathing was deep and rhythmic, and a heavy palm protectively laid on top of her hip. Suddenly, she was incredibly apprehensive to wake him.

Kagome moved as carefully as possible, removing his wrist from her body and ever so gently placing it to rest on the bed. Slowly, she scooted herself to the edge, feeling she was in the clear to remove the blanket from her body and sit up, but the moment she lifted to an upright position, her entire torso flinched. Holy crap, she was so freaking sore. Kagome had tensed rigidly enough to prevent her audible gasp, but the jolt, itself, was what she worried about disturbing Inuyasha with, so she slowly turned around, holding her breath, noticing his state hadn’t changed. Thank goodness.

Every motion had Kagome wishing she could just lay in bed like a starfish. Can’t feel pain if you’re not moving. Her muscles burned with each step she took, and she wanted to groan like an old man as if it would release some of the stress she was under. It had to have been her struggle to swim in the river. Logically, she was putting all of her strength into her efforts to get out, so it made the most sense.

Instinctually, her hands were cupping her bare breasts. She was still nude, the air was nippy, and she was overtly aware of how naked she was in the open, so Kagome looked around for some clothing. Inuyasha’s discarded shirt from the day before lay not too far on the floor, but it wasn’t in the best condition. Otherwise, if she wanted an easy route, her towel was near the wall, but it only made her lip curl in dissatisfaction. Her only other option was to dig in her bag for something.

As quietly as she could, crouching down in front of the sack, Kagome opened the top pouch by loosening the drawstring, cringing with each little noise she made and peeking over to the hanyou to make sure she hadn’t woken him up. Inuyasha hadn’t moved, nor had the rise and fall of his chest changed. She was still good. Reaching in, Kagome grabbed the first thing on top, unfolding it to quickly see what it was and noticing it was her boyfriend’s shirt. With a little, pleasant wiggle, Kagome pulled the baggy garment over her head, letting it tent over her.

Perfect.

No pants necessary. No underwear necessary. His shirts were like wearing a dress. A very short dress, but a dress nonetheless, the bottom hem landing just above mid thigh.

Kagome snuggled into the sleeves, picking herself up to stalk off to the bathroom, enshrouded by his familiar, woodsy scent. After relieving herself, she took a look in the mirror. Her long, raven hair was in total disarray; tangled, poking up at the side, fly aways having a field day of their own, and waves looking as wild as a cluster of forest vines. Inuyasha was a lucky, lucky man, that was for sure.

She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing when they snagged in ruthless tangles that she had to carefully crawl through so she didn’t risk ripping chunks out of her scalp. At least, that was what it felt like. As skillfully as Kagome could manage, she shook out the stiffness of her waves, hoping it would help them relax a little and flow better. Already, she was looking much more presentable. Until she noticed a dark, circular bruise near the base of her neck.

Leaning forward, Kagome pushed her tresses behind her shoulders to get a better look, finding a few others in similar size. They just weren’t as dark. Quickly inspecting the other side, she noticed one, but it was quite light, broken blood vessels dotting the area just beneath her skin. Truthfully, Kagome couldn’t even blame Inuyasha for getting carried away last night, nor be upset about it. She liked it. Loved it, actually. It was just a little embarrassing, is all. Only a scarf would be able to put these bad boys away, and since she didn’t have one, Kagome was left to flaunt the evidence of their recent love making session. Cool.

Back home, she never really grimaced or got grossed out whenever she saw hickies decorating Miroku’s neck. She didn’t care one way or the other, but it was fun to laugh at him when he came back in the evening with a bright bruise right on top of the thinnest portion of skin near his shoulder, because more often than not, he didn’t even know it was there yet. A hobby she’d found for herself though, was flicking Miroku’s hickies. It was always light, but it was almost like a sport to sneak up on her cousin and flick his neck right on the purple mark while he was eating breakfast or, generally, minding his business. For a while, she was able to get away with merely walking past him and doing it, but once he’d caught on and learned to clap his hand over it in the nick of time, it become something akin to a game for her. And, for the first time, she was incredibly grateful Miroku wasn’t here. She could only imagine the field day he’d have right now.

Inuyasha sighed out, feeling sort of like his brain was rebooting as consciousness flooded back over him. It was as if he could practically hear the shift of the gears as they began to move once more, and life tingled into his veins and muscles, causing his fingers to twitch in response. He was discontented by the way he felt the bedsheets crinkle beneath his hand. Clearly, it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, most likely having moved in his sleep, so Inuyasha blindly reached forward. A deeper sense of dissatisfaction made home in the hanyou’s belly then, patting the empty spot where he felt the lingering warmth of the body that used to be present. Had she rolled away?

With a hazy blink of his drowsy eyes, Inuyasha saw the blurry, empty spot Kagome should have been in. An unsettling sensation trickled into his chest, one he couldn’t fight off in his lethargic state, and he pushed himself up onto his forearm to force his mind to further wake. It was still warm, so she couldn’t have gone far, but did she leave the room? She better not have left the fucking room. He was going to rip her a new one if she did, that idiot. To err on the side of caution, and maybe even administer a little patience, Inuyasha gave a studious inhale of the surrounding smells.

Nope.

False alarm.

She was still there, just in the bathroom.

The hanyou plopped his body back down onto the bed with a heavy exhale of mild relief, rolling over to his back and allowing his muscles to grow heavy again. If he’d just waited another moment before letting his mind overreact, he would have heard the bathroom door open, followed by the soft patting of Kagome’s feet.

He glanced over, arching a lazy brow as he spotted his girl in his oversized shirt, the unwelcome, anxious feeling that had appeared in the fear of her disappearance abruptly washed away by the single, powerful thud his heart just did. Kagome in the morning. Kagome in his clothes in the morning. Kagome in his clothes the morning after making her his.

“Awe, you’re awake.” She muttered, her tone small. It was too early to use her full voice, she felt. “I was trying to be quiet. I’m sorry.”

Inuyasha only managed to shake his head, slumber still wafting over his brain like a thick fog. With a grunt to force his arm to work with him, he reopened the comforter to urge her back into bed, pointing to the spot beside him so there was no mistake as to what he was trying to communicate.

With a giggle, Kagome ambled right over to him, crawling on top of the bedsheets to slide her legs beneath the blanket. Inuyasha rolled back over to his side, his eyes closed once more, and with heavy limbs, he grabbed hold of her, pulling her firm against him as he nuzzled his face into her chest. Well, this was new. A side to Inuyasha she’d yet to be fortunate enough to see until now. He was a big, cuddly baby in the morning. Kagome relaxed down against the pillows, placing a kiss on her hanyou’s head while she played with his hair.

Her fingers found their own way up to his ears, and with a light drag of her finger, she stroked the triangular appendage. So soft. So cute. And, Inuyasha nuzzled closer into her, making her wonder if he could even breath.

Inuyasha could feel the pull of sleep yanking him under again, harder so when she delicately traced his ear. Not a single soul had been allowed to do that before, but god, he discovered he really fucking loved when she did. Add that to her comfortingly sweet scent, and it was like a cocktail for dozing off. Until he heard the deep grumble echo through her stomach.

Oh no.

Amber eyes snapped open, and he hastily pulled himself into a sitting position, accidentally startling the conjurer. “Alright, I’m up. I’m up.”

“Hey, wait.” Kagome whined with a present frown. “Where are you going?”

“Food.” Inuyasha said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he scooted himself out of bed, picking his pants from the floor to shove his legs through.

“What?”

“I never fed you yesterday.” His voice was husky, a rumble hanging in the depths of it from fatigue and it sent a few butterflies fluttering through Kagome’s belly.

“But, I didn’t say anything.” Kagome objected, propping her head up with the heel of her palm as her elbow planted into the mattress.

“Which means, you’re passed the point of hunger. I know the warning signs. I’m short on time until you get hangry, and I am not dealing with hangry Kagome today.” Inuyasha chuckled as his body woke up some more. “Your stomach just growled and you didn’t even notice, babe. That’s dangerous. You may feel fine at the moment, but I’ve been with you twenty-four-seven for quite a while now. I know that it’s like a switch with you. Soon, you’ll get all tired like all the energy is drained out of nowhere, and then boom. Evil.”

Her jaw dropped in incredulity but tipped in a humored smile at the same time. “Excuse me, I am not evil.”

“Kid, you gave me the silent treatment for twenty minutes one time because I stepped on a stick and made it crack too loud. You only started talking to me again because I bought you a snack when we took a detour through a village.” He deadpanned. Leaving the top of his trousers open, he looked on the floor for his shirt, realizing it should really be washed before he donned it in public again.

Kagome dropped her face into her pillow, laughing. Yeah, she definitely got an attitude when she was hungry. She shouldn’t even be trying to play that off. She was fully aware that her mood did a complete one-eighty when she got to that point, but the moment she took her first bite of food, all irritability dwindled away with her notorious food dance.

She felt Inuyasha’s weight rejoin her on the bed from behind as he leaned over her and placed a lingering kiss to her temple. “Up, please.” He whispered.

“Want me to come with you?” Kagome smiled happily, turning her face as he kissed her cheek next.

“No. I need my shirt back.”

“You have another.” She grumbled, brows furrowing to convey her displeasure at his request.

“It’s filthy.”

“You have another another.”

“You mean, the one I was stabbed in and threw away weeks ago?” Inuyasha laughed again, kissing her pout.

Kagome huffed out a small puff of air as she took his hand to help her sit up, flinching sharply at the way her muscles protested.

“What? What’s wrong?” The hanyou quickly reacted, concerned.

“Sore. Very sore.” Kagome grimaced deeply, trying to sigh out some of the tension.

“What’s it from?” He asked sympathetically, waiting her out as he soothingly pushed some hair behind her ear. “Last night? Was it me?”

She shook her head, a calming smile finally replacing her discomfited frown. “I think from the whole river debacle. Small body, heavy current, big ouch.”

“Where’s it hurt?” He chuckled from her light humor, letting his shoulders drop.

For a moment, Kagome pondered her answer, pursing her lips. In a large gesture to her entire frame, she said. “Right here.”

Inuyasha’s laughter grew heavier. “Even more reason for you to stay in bed. Lift your arms.” He instructed, curling his fingers below the hem and slowly pulling the garment over her head.

Her cheeks had flushed mildly, and Kagome pulled the blanket up to cover her naked chest. His vision of her was only obscured for a moment while he put the shirt on his torso, pushing the end into his pants before buckling his belt.

“You’ll get this back when I return. Until then, I want you waiting for me just like this.” He said with a gruff tone, warm eyes drifting down to the curves not entirely hidden from his view.

In an attempt to fend off her heating blush, Kagome puckered her lips for a kiss before he left, an upset pout forming when he shook his head and shifted to walk away.

“No, because you’re going to pull me down for more than one, you greedy bastard. And then, next thing you know, grumpy Kagome will be here.”

“But, I want a kiss.” She tried arguing.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Kiss me.”

He chuckled dismissively, heading for the door.

“Kiss me!” Kagome demanded playfully.

“Shut up.”

She whined loudly, the cry transitioning into something short of a dramatic groan. “I need a kiss!” Kagome dropped herself onto the bed with a heavy thump, still pinning the blanket to herself. “I need a kiss or else I’ll die!”

Inuyasha stopped as he opened the door, his jaw dropping in shocked amusement while he leaned against the doorframe to watch.

“I’m gonna die! I’m dying! I can feel it! There’s the light!” Kagome extended her arm toward the ceiling to reach for the empty space. “Goodbye, cruel world! If only a kiss could save me from this doom!”

She heard the door click shut, and with a sudden sink of disappointment, Kagome perked her head up with a sad squeak to see if he’d left. Her smile swiftly reappeared as she noticed Inuyasha standing in the doorway, feigned annoyance written all over his grin as he licked his canine tooth.

“It is way too early -“ He began at a leisurely stride, but quickly shifted to rush at her and pounce on the bed. “- for your bullshit!”

Kagome gave a high-pitched giggle, ducking down so their heads didn’t collide as he jumped on top. He was mid-crawl to properly position himself over her when he pressed a hungry kiss to her lips, silencing her laughter quickly as he gave her exactly what she wanted.

“There. Are you gonna make it now?” Inuyasha chuckled, hovering just above where their noses barely touched. He watched her eyes bounce up as she went to think, wrinkling her nose adorably. “I know, I know. One more.” The hanyou beat her to it, rolling his eyes and kissing her smile away.

—

He was only gone for twenty minutes at the most, but as Inuyasha entered through the door of the inn room they occupied, he was glad he’d chosen to keep quiet. At some point in his absence, Kagome had fallen back to sleep. The comforter was pulled up to her mouth while she’d curled up on her side, her top arm poking free, and her hand weakly holding the blanket. The girl wasn’t even on a pillow, too exhausted to care about basic comfort, and Inuyasha grinned softly.

He placed the food he bought on the table in the corner, sauntering her way and gently sitting on the edge of the bed. Kagome didn’t seem to notice, lost in her dream, and for a moment Inuyasha allowed himself to simply watch the expansion of her exposed ribcage while she breathed deeply. If he didn’t know for a fact that the conjurer needed to eat, he’d have opted to let her remain like this. She clearly needed that too, but he’d just coax her back to sleep afterward. Knowing her, all he’d have to do was play with her hair for five minutes and she’d be out like a light.

Lightly, Inuyasha grazed the backs of his fingers over Kagome’s cheek, pushing hair from her face in the process. He repeated the motion a few times, barely getting a response from her, so he leaned down and kissed her side. Gradually applying pressure, the hanyou slowly rubbed her arm until those dark brown eyes blinked open.

Kagome seemed confused, registering where she was with a tiny furrow of her brow, and when she slid her hands into view, Inuyasha glided his own up to grab one.

“They’re clean.” He tenderly assured, hoping his voice would help bring her back to the present. Her fingers curled around his, and for a second, she closed her eyes again, sighing out.

“Hey, baby.” He greeted in a whisper as she turned her head to look up at him, granting him a lazy smile and half of a wave. “I brought you some food. Come on, you need to eat something.”

Silently, Kagome went to push herself up, struggling slightly, so Inuyasha aided by grabbing her arm and leveraging her to sit, rubbing her back when she hissed from her body’s soreness.

“Here.” The hanyou offered, pulling his shirt from his torso and handing it over to her so she wouldn’t feel obligated to struggle with keeping the blanket over her chest the whole time. Her movements were sluggish and sloppy as she thanked him with a little hum and slid the garment over her head. Her arms slipped through the baggy sleeves, and she let the rest fall down her sides, pulling the length of her hair free from the collar.

In front of her lap, he began to sort out the items he’d purchased; bread, fruit, some treats from a shop in town that specialized in chocolate, and warm pastries that were fresh from the oven.

“Wow. I could get used to service like this.” She said, suggestive eyes wandering down his naked chest.

The hanyou arched a brow, though his smile only grew. His voice was husky as he commented, “Pervert.”

Unsurprisingly, his girl reached for one of the warm pastries, tearing off a piece to nibble lethargically while Inuyasha crossed the room at the foot of the bed to crawl back in with her.

“What time do we have to leave?” She asked.

“Tomorrow. Maybe the day after.” He replied. “Koga’s right, we should lay low. Plus, you’re hurting and I don’t even remember the last time I was this tired. All I know is, we aren’t going anywhere today.”

“Thank god.” Kagome threw her head back in an appreciative groan. “Your human night, isn’t that coming up.”

“Soon. We’ve got a few days.”

“So, that means we’re…”

“Yeah.” Inuyasha confirmed, knowing where she was going with the incomplete question.

“Oh.” She sighed, her head slightly drooping.

“You don’t need to think about it yet, kid. I want you to relax for now.” Inuyasha kissed her shoulder comfortingly.

“Easier said than done. I’m never not thinking about it.” Kagome admitted. “But, this isn’t about me. I’m worried about -“ She paused, thinking of the proper way to phrase it, but gave up with a feeble emphatic. “That.”

“I get it.” He nodded, reaching for a pastry of his own. “I still don’t want you rehearsing the conversation in your mind at the moment. Don’t plan out the scene just yet, we’ve got a while. Try to keep your brain occupied for now.”

Inuyasha was right. Kagome was only going to end up dragging herself under if she obsessed over having to break the news to Kaede. The details could wait, and though they’d already begun to sort themselves out in her head - what she was going to tell Kaede and what she’d exclude - Kagome exhaled a deep breath to try and tear herself away from that mode. Not right now. For the moment, even if she had to force it upon herself, Kagome was going to rest.

It wasn’t long after they’d filled their stomachs that Kagome cleared off the bed and was snagged by strong arms to cuddle back into Inuyasha. He was on his back, his head on the pillows, long, free hair splaying out beneath him while she laid between his legs, trailing her fingers over the soft ridges of his abdomen. The scar Moryomaru had left him still had a little color to it and Kagome tickled the thick skin with a light graze of her nail, feeling her boyfriend tense a little.

She didn’t know what to acquaint this feeling with, but when Inuyasha sighed out, his stomach deflating slightly, eyelashes fluttering shut, and his claws very gently playing along her scalp, Kagome felt scared to ever have to let him go. To let this contentment go. There was no danger around them, no threat that told her she may or may not lose him, and nothing in her brain was sparking into fight or flight. There was no irrationality present in her fear. It was more that, Kagome didn’t know what the future held. If they survived this battle, if they succeeded in taking down Naraku, what was their next move? They were going to stay together, right?

But, Inuyasha was a wanderer. He went where the money took him, he’d once said. What if he was happy doing that, and it was what he wanted to go back to? Kagome needed to go back home when this was all said and done. Maybe not forever, but she needed to reassure her family that she was alright and Naraku was no more. And, after that, she felt she’d deserve a breather, and depending on the state of her town, would maybe help everyone come together in a way they never had before. Maybe she and Inuyasha would visit each other every once in a while? It would be unfair to expect him to drop his life and come live with her in her rustic village that didn’t even have entire paths made out of cobblestone. In the same regard, she couldn’t make the commitment of immediately packing up and heading out with him, either. Kagome wanted to see her mom again, her brother, her cousin, her best friend. She wanted to visit her papa’s grave and tell him what she’d accomplished, imagine his proud smile and fatherly pat on the top of her head while she bowed before his headstone.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kagome began. If it was weighing on her mind this heavily, maybe it was something she should plant in his so that Inuyasha had some time to consider his answer, too. It wasn’t like she needed to know right now. She just wanted to know what he thought, and maybe eventually work to being on the same page about their potential future. When the hanyou gave a grunt in response for her to carry on, she did just that. “When we beat Naraku, what’s gonna happen to us?”

With her palms placed on his stomach, and her chin propped on the backs of her hands, she was able to watch his brows furrow deep enough for lines between to appear, his eyes opening as he glanced down at her. “Huh?”

“What’s gonna happen to us?” Kagome repeated.

“In what manner? Are you worried about what might happen to us in the battle? Because -“

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head, feeling some of the stiffness in his muscles decrease. “I was talking about you and I. Together.”

“Oh,” Inuyasha shut his eyes again, relaxing the exact way he had been.

He didn’t seem bothered in the least anymore, and while it was comforting to Kagome, it was also confusing.

“Remember what I said, kid? I go where you go.”

“Wait,” She sort of picked herself up a little. “You didn’t just mean that in this scenario?”

“What scenario?”

“Involving Naraku?”

“It was a general statement.”

“What do you mean, a general statement?” Kagome sat up to her knees, bringing Inuyasha to peel an eye open in annoyance at her missing body heat.

“To cover all scenarios.” He replied.

The information was processing to Kagome and she chewed on her bottom lip, running her fingers over his thighs.

With a curious smirk, Inuyasha rose to his elbows. “Why does it seem like this is just now catching up to you? I said it a while ago.”

“Well, because we were talking about whether or not to team up with people, and the whole Koga argument, so I correlated your statement to that.”

“Okay,” He bobbed his head and shrugged, completely understanding the disconnect there. “Well, just so you know, I meant it for, like, everything. More so now than ever.”

“But, you have your own life.” Kagome reasoned, wanting to make sure he’d really thought about this enough.

“I can still have my own life, Kagome.” Inuyasha chuckled. “Just because I want to be with you doesn’t mean I’m selling my soul. I mean, I haven’t had a huge opportunity to really think about the details, but I imagine I’ll still run jobs, make money, but ultimately, come back to be near you in some way, shape, or form. Maybe even eventually live with you. If you want that. Do you want that? What’s on your mind, kid?”

His expression had twisted into one of uncertainty, and Kagome was afraid she’d made him doubt himself, so she urgently jumped to explain to try and comfort him. “Well, yes of course I want that. I just wasn’t sure what you had planned to do, is all. I didn’t want to make an assumption, because you know what they say, I’d only make an ass out of u and me.” She giggled nervously, repeating her father’s wise words to her. “But, I also wanted to respect the life you had before I so rudely jumped into the picture and uprooted it. I mean, I know I said, ‘where you go, I go’, too, and I really did mean it similarly to the way you did, but I also kind of wanted to see my family again before I did anything else. It would be stupid to expect you to come back with me if you didn’t want to, and I totally understand if you don’t. Just know the invitation is always there. My mother would love you. But, like, overall, I just really wanted to see if you still wanted to stay with me after the battle. Like, be with me. Just like we are now. I didn’t know if we’d plan visits, or sometimes you come with me and sometimes I go with you, or if I should even be thinking about this right now, or - oh no. I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Her face fell, the hands she’d been bouncing back and forth to convey one scenario to the next dropping back down to his legs.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” Inuyasha asked, pinching his lips to try and hide his amusement.

“… Or if I’m being stupid.” Kagome finished in a low tone of humiliation, eyes falling as she pursed her lips. “There. I’m done.”

“You’re not being stupid.” He chuckled, sitting all the way up. “It’s perfectly reasonable to be curious. But, why would you think we’d break up just because Naraku’s dead?”

“I don’t know.” She half shrugged, eyes still sunken. “We want different things?”

“Okay, now you’re being stupid.” Inuyasha was laughing at the grumpy pout forming on her shy expression, but also out of horrible disbelief. “I threw a fit yesterday thinking I’d lost you, or did you miraculously forget about that?”

“Yeah, but -“

“So, how and why would you think I’d be okay just letting you walk away for any reason?”

Kagome didn’t answer that one, but her expression said it all. Her eyes twitched up to him then blinked off to the side, and her body gave a subtle fidget while her teeth worried her bottom lip. That wasn’t quite what she’d been thinking.

“Ah.” Inuyasha bobbed his head, holding no malice whatsoever in his tone. “You’re scared that I’d be the one to walk away. Do you know how much worse that makes this?”

“I know.” Kagome shrugged lightly.

“How does that even make sense? Are you serious, babe?”

“Well, I know I wouldn’t be the one to make that choice, but I don’t know what’d be on your mind if we weren’t able to meet halfway.”

For the second time that morning, Inuyasha deadpanned. He’d literally broken down less than twelve hours ago at the realization that he could have lost Kagome for good. Wrapping his head around her thought process right now was nearly impossible. He could grasp wanting to know where they were going, but how could she possibly worry about separation after everything they’d been through?

“Why are you being so insecure right now?”

“I don’t know.” Kagome groaned, dropping her head in her hands for a moment. Her embarrassment was only growing worse by the second. She’d never meant to come off so needy or unsure. Taking a deep breath, she peeked through her fingers at the frowning hanyou, ultimately dropping her palms to her thighs to clear the air. “Okay, so the thought occurred about what would happen to us in the future, but it really wasn’t backed up by any sort of emotion like this. I was honestly just wondering. I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t want you to feel obligated to drop your entire life for me. So, I thought bringing it up would help prevent that, but then I rambled and threw myself off course. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m used to it. It’s cute.” Inuyasha shrugged, sighing out in preparation of his response. “Alright, dummy, listen closely while I break this down. Since you just brought it up, I’ll start with this: you didn’t uproot my life. My life never had fucking roots. Not since I was a kid, and even that was flimsy after my dad died. It’s not like you coerced me into killing Naraku with you, because that was one of my plans all along. So, get that idea out of your head. Immediately.”

“Wait, but -“

“I’m not done.”

“No, this is related. I’m not trying to argue, but don’t you have a home somewhere? I sort of feel like the moment I entered the picture, you had to drop everything.”

A small upturn pulled at the corners of Inuyasha’s lips. “I will admit, the second you appeared, the ball certainly got moving a lot faster, that’s for sure.”

“See!”

“But, it really didn’t make a difference. Aside from me picking up jobs less. That’s fine, though. I’ve mentioned before I’m well off.”

“And, your home?”

“Ah, yes. That. I’ve definitely got one of those. A cat, too.”

Instantly, he felt awful for being facetious. The conjurer’s eyes widened so dramatically, and her jaw dropped in horrible dismay.

“A cat!? You have a cat!? Has the cat even been fed!? Is your cat dead because of me!? Oh no!” She almost collapsed backward in her fit before Inuyasha scrambled to catch her, snickering. “Oh no!”

“Baby, baby, baby, baby, please!” The hanyou pulled her face into his hands, his heart aching when he saw tears brimming in her eyes and her bottom lip jutted out sadly. Bad time to use sarcasm, he should’ve known better than that. “I lied! I was kidding! I thought you knew since I frequent Kaede’s! I don’t have a home, and no cats have been harmed by your sudden appearance in my life. I promise.”

“No cat?” Kagome repeated, her voice so small and sad but on the edge of hopeful.

“No cat.” Inuyasha confirmed.

“Are you sure?”

He hesitated on that one, because the poor girl was such a mess that the question didn’t even make sense. “I’m - I’m positive.” Inuyasha chuckled.

“You don’t have a home?” Kagome’s doe eyes seemingly grew larger in a sympathetic manner.

“Not in the way you’re thinking. Not like what you’ve got, no. I’ve never really cared about that sort of thing. So long as I had a place to put myself away during my human night, I was fine, and even if I found myself far away from Kaede’s for some reason, I still managed. It wasn’t important to me, Kagome.” He explained, sitting back against the pillows. “My father died when I was eight or nine, and my mother died when I was fourteen. Didn’t have extended family, so my options were to sit around and sulk while wishing for what I couldn’t have, or get my ass up and go. I kept myself busy, taught myself trades, got through the bullshit, and never really cared about too much more than that. So, wipe that look off your face. This isn’t some sob story, and you know it.”

Inuyasha reached for Kagome’s chin to give it a soft rub with his thumb as she acknowledged his statement with a smile.

“As for my life before you, I don’t have much of an attachment to it. Hence the no roots thing. I never had big plans saved for after killing Naraku, so seeing about eventually planning something out with you is -“ Inuyasha paused as he briefly stole a glimpse at their future years from now; walking through the door to be greeted by her smile, comforting her when she was upset, chasing her around the room when she was in one of her playfully annoying moods, making love to her in front of the fireplace, staying up late just for a quiet moment of peace with each other. He smiled, pinching his lips together to subdue the dreamlike visual that he wanted to keep just for himself for the moment. “- Something to look forward to.”

He watched as she grew slightly bashful, but her eyes glimmered with the warmth he currently felt. Kagome bit the side of her plush lip, rubbing her hands over the pants dressing his thighs, the heat of her palms sinking through.

“What do you say?” Inuyasha carried on, his tone dying to a gruff and desirable whisper. “Does that sound good? You want to eventually make plans with me, Kagome?”

She answered with a steady nod, her happiness unhidden through the flush she wore. This had to be the luckiest Inuyasha has ever felt in his life. In the most inopportune moment, under the darkness of waring smoke, he found a romance to help encourage him to see through to the end of it. He found empowerment that somehow made him stronger than when he’d began. Kagome’s presence was a boost to his prowess, and her hand in his was motivation to stop the world from turning into a monster. And, when his heart was pounding from overstimulation, when his mind was in overdrive with no sign of a comedown, this person he got to call his, stronger than him in every way, only needed to brush his cheek with the most tender of touches and Inuyasha would once more be at peace.

How lucky.

How stupidly lucky.

So lucky, in fact, that Inuyasha was convinced not a soul on Earth could ever possibly understand this feeling that currently swam in his chest. Light, and warm, and serene, while also slightly terrifying.

The hanyou leaned forward in his seat, curving his fingers around the side of Kagome’s neck so that he could kiss her. The smile she pushed into the kiss tasted sweet. Better than the chocolate he was thankful he’d surprised her with earlier.

With a slight adjustment of his bottom, Inuyasha went to lay down again, pulling Kagome back on top of him. She moved slow, accidentally pressing her bruise against his hip and flinching, but recovering as smoothly as she could. Just as she cuddled down against his abdomen, the hanyou set to work at massaging her scalp. Gradually, he felt her growing heavier, her lashes tickling his stomach when her eyes fluttered closed.

This. This was what he wasn’t willing to let go of. It wasn’t just Kagome. Kagome, as an individual, was the embodiment of hope and he loved her so dearly. But, they’d created a bond with one another. Sure, he’d learned to trust a few people over the years. It’s just never happened on this level. He’d almost thought it was too quick as well, but Kagome and he were pushed into a situation where they literally spent endless days with one another. It was survival instincts at play, and fate that orchestrated it. They had to trust each other in order to work well together, but somewhere along the way, a pin on the map that Inuyasha wouldn’t even be able to mark, it stopped being superficial. Their hiccups almost seemingly aided in their progress, and before he knew it, he cherished Kagome for everything she had to offer. Their bond was deep. They could laugh with each other even through sensitive moments, they could rely on each other no matter what was going on, and to see the beauty in that was what Inuyasha would fight tooth and nail for.

—

Four days later, Kagome was standing on a distant hill, looking down at the town she’d visited twice before. They had to be careful traveling here this time around. Her body still wasn’t completely recovered, and her quiver was so empty that the single, surviving arrow knocked around whenever she jumped, bounced, or jogged. It wasn’t a good time to run into trouble or pick a fight with demons, given the responsibility of their success would primarily fall on Inuyasha’s shoulders, so they treaded cautiously and kept vigilant.

The sky was adorned in patches of clouds that shadowed parts of the village as they drifted with the breeze, carrying a little chill that Kagome hadn’t expected for late afternoon. The ambience was fitting. Both she and Inuyasha were just standing there, feeling impossibly heavy with the burden they shared.

Steadily, she slipped her hand into Inuyasha’s empty palm, entwining their fingers. As he fastened his grip, Kagome lifted the back of his knuckles to her lips to place a gentle kiss of solace. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t know Kaede well enough to guess how well she may or may not take this information. Inuyasha, on the other hand, was close friends with the innkeeper. His silence was enough for her to comprehend that this wasn’t going to be easy.

With a tender squeeze, Inuyasha sighed out and led the way down the path and through the cobblestoned streets, their boots making a mild clap on the rock with their strides. The market area they passed was still alight with people, and conversation seemed, for the most part, joyous and friendly. When the inn came into view, a thick, murky feeling began to settle in Kagome’s abdomen. She was anxious. Even Inuyasha’s muscles were stiffening, the swing of his arm growing less fluid. He hadn’t said a word in hours, nor she. But, surprisingly, his bravery never slowed him down. So, Kagome kept up right next to him.

He opened the door for her, and they sauntered toward the reception desk with a clear view of the nearly-empty tavern of the inn. There were a couple men working their way through a large glass of beer, minding their business in their stools, but otherwise it was surprisingly quiet in the bar considering how lively it was the last time Kagome had been here.

Just a small moment later, Kaede made her way around the distant corner, her lips tilting upward in welcome. “Hi!” Then her sight fell down to their held hands. “Hi.”

“Don’t start, Kae.” Inuyasha rolled his eyes, his voice gruff.

The innkeeper didn’t even try to put away her suggestive expression, leaning against the corner of the countertop. “So, I take it you wont be requesting separate rooms this time around?”

“Goddammit.” He groaned, lolling his head back just as Kagome tucked herself behind his arm to hide her embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, but do you know how much money I just won?”

“You placed bets!?”

“You expected me not to?” Kaede shrugged innocently. “Oh, please. You’ve been soft for Kagome here since the first moment I saw you two together, and that was after you tried to kidnap her and sell her off. It was only a matter of time until one of you made a move.”

The couple stiffened, their expressions matching as their lips pressed into flat lines. With a tilt of observation, Kagome turned to Inuyasha and he felt his anxiety spike, cautiously glancing down at her from the side.

“Oh, yeah. You did try to do that.” She dully mentioned.

Quickly, he shot Kaede a warning glare, and the innkeeper slapped a hand over her mouth in weary apology.

“No, I didn’t try to sell you, kid.” Inuyasha insisted. “It was a fleeting thought, is all.”

“Right. Because, if there was a bounty on my head, you weren’t gonna give me up.”

“I let you go a few hours later! I protected you!” He defended.

“Because, you were soft for me?” She asked flatly, the very subtle hint of a smile pushing at her lips.

With a sigh of defeat, Inuyasha lolled his head again. “That what you want to hear?”

“Mhm.”

“Then, yes. I was soft for you.”

“Thank you, I feel better now.”

Kaede giggled lightly, bringing out her guest book. As per usual, she’d already reserved a room for Inuyasha, and she checked to make sure she had their room number right in her head. The two seemed a little out of sorts today, maybe exhausted from their journey. Although they contributed to playful banter, it wasn’t as spirited as it could have been. It wasn’t the typical Inuyasha and Kagome fashion that she’d witnessed before when they’d eaten in the tavern, so it seemed best to stop picking on them while she was still ahead and get them up in their room so they could rest.

Giving Kagome’s hand a firm squeeze, Inuyasha communicated that she needed to prepare. He was going to initiate the topic, and with a clear of his throat, he leaned in a little closer.

“Hey, you got a moment? We need to talk.”

Kaede’s brown eye bounced up to him to see his hard look, amber eyes glowing with a concern she’d rarely ever seen. Then, she glanced over to Kagome, noticing she was having a difficult time holding eye contact at all, her darker irises remaining downward. Looking back up to Inuyasha, she said, “Uh-oh. What happened?”

“In private, preferably.” Inuyasha added.

He wasn’t using any of the codes she’d long established at her business, so she knew it wasn’t urgent in a detrimental manner. But, given his tone and both of their body languages, Kaede understood that it had to be urgent in another.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“But, isn’t it almost time for -“

“No, that’s not until the sun sets.” Inuyasha admitted. “We’ve got a few hours.”

Something wasn’t sitting right in her stomach. Why was she worried? Why was she suddenly apprehensive to hear what was riddling them right now? “Should I have alcohol for this? Because, you’re scaring me.”

“You might want it.”

“Alright,” Kaede exhaled stiffly. “One second.”

It was only a minute later that Kaede came back, the handles of two cups efficiently supported with the fingers of one hand, a third in the other, and the loop of their bedroom key hooked around her pinky. With a demand that she wasn’t drinking alone, given how stressed the two obviously looked, she slid two of the ales toward the couple and then guided them into the hall, up two flights of stairs, and to their room.

“Before you say anything, Kagome, are you hurt?” Kaede began, locking the door behind her.

“Uh,” The conjurer paused unsuspectingly. “No.”

“You’ve got a little limp.”

“Oh, no.” Kagome quickly brushed off to reassure her. “I’m just a bit sore is all. I fell down and got a wicked bruise on my side, but it’s nothing to worry about. It’s way better than before.”

“And, Inuyasha? What’s your excuse?” Kaede pinned him with a stare.

“We’ve been through hell, Kae.” He confessed, sitting on the edge of the mattress as he took a healthy gulp of his beverage. “Kagome’s right, you should have seen us a few days ago. And, I’ve got a feeling we haven’t even seen the worst of it.”

“Shit.” She all but hissed in sympathy. “What the hell happened?”

“We ran into Naraku. His puppet, actually, but a form of Naraku.”

Kaede’s expression widened, her mouth hanging slightly agape. “No way.”

“Yeah. Fucked us up. That’s not exactly what we’re here to talk about, though.” Inuyasha said.

Stiffening further, which brought her to stand a little straighter, Kaede nodded in acknowledgement. Both Inuyasha and Kagome looked remorseful. It wasn’t exactly the emotion she’d expect from two people who’d just faced a version of the world’s enemy, but nevertheless, if they were here to ask for her help in some manner, which had to relate to her abilities with enchantments and made the most sense, she was more than willing to see what she could do.

“Okay, what do you need from me?”

There was a bout of hesitation as the hanyou licked his lips and glanced up at Kagome, watching as she put her untouched drink down. She didn’t even want it right now.

“We need you to sit down and listen.” He answered.

Suddenly, Kaede felt like she was put on the defense. What was wrong? A huge part of her wanted to play obstinate and continue standing until Inuyasha dropped the act and just told her what was up, but considering the look in his eyes right now, she felt it would be better of her to just comply. So, she took the cushioned seat in the near corner of the room. This had to be serious.

How did he even begin? How do you touch on a subject like this? The one time they’d spoken about her deceased sister, Kaede couldn’t even utter her name. It was like it was stuck on her tongue, a name that wouldn’t roll off smoothly, alternatively creating more pain if she’d chosen to force it. He’d heard the vague retelling of her version of the story but had been holding onto the side she’d never been able to know before. But, it was reopening that wound that was troubling for him.

“Kaede, your sister,” Inuyasha begrudgingly started, setting his own drink down beside Kagome’s. Immediately, he watched Kaede perk uncomfortably, bringing her ale to her lips and holding a finger out in pause while she took a few gulps in preparation. As she lowered the glass, he could tell that she was incredibly perplexed, but as ready as she’d ever be. “Her name was Kikyo, wasn’t it?”

Nope, she was wrong. She wasn’t ready. It had been a long time since she’d heard her sister’s name spoken, and it sent a twitch down her spine. “How did you know that?”

Kagome received her cue from the side glance Inuyasha bounced off of her, so she inhaled as steadily as she could. “Kikyo was my friend.”

“Okay, look, I’m sorry but if you’re just here to talk about some friendly, childhood memories you had with Kikyo, I can’t hear it.” Kaede went to stand, unable to meet their eyes, and slightly red in the face from evolving agitation. “I’m sure you mean well, sweetie, but this conversation is not on the table.”

“She said she loves you.” Kagome spoke quickly so she could catch Kaede before she began to walk away, a lump growing in her throat from the cold flash of the recent conjurer in her arms. “And, she’ll meet you under the willow tree.”

Kaede halted, her shoulders tensing from the familiarity of that statement. There was a moment of silence. A moment of silence that the innkeeper hated. “Explain.” She said, her tone on the direct side. “Now.”

“Kikyo didn’t die when you think she did.” Kagome said, uncomfortable from the stare she was receiving from Kaede, and she was about to continue but was cut off by the innkeeper’s quick response.

“If you know anything about that, then you know she was eaten alive. Right in front of me.” Her voice came off a littler harsher than intended.

“Right. Y-yes.” Kagome stammered slightly.

“It was faked, Kaede.” Inuyasha added assertively, only to keep up with his hot-headed friend’s nature. “Kikyo faked her death.”

“What!?” The innkeeper hissed incredulously, planting her cup heavily on the side table beside the chair. “How can you possibly fake something like that? Where are you getting this information from?”

“Kikyo, herself.”

“This is a joke. A cruel joke. I don’t know who’s behind it, but it’s fucked up, and it’s fucked up of you guys to bring it to me.”

“Kaede, sit down.” Inuyasha said.

“No. I’m not doing this.”

“Kaede, sit your ass down!” He demanded that time, his tone hard and gruff. “You may not know Kagome very well, but you do know me. Am I one for practical jokes? Am I one to unprecedentedly rub shit like this in peoples’ noses? You think this sounded like a fun conversation that we were looking forward to having?”

“My sister is dead, Inuyasha.” Kaede stated sternly, as if he needed the reminder. “There was a demon attack on my village and she was killed. You know this.”

“Yes, and up until meeting Kikyo myself, I believed that. She explained a different story, though.”

It seemed his words had gotten through to her a little. He could see them sinking in as her shoulders gradually dropped and the center of her lips parted in befuddlement. “You - you met her, too?”

“Yes.”

“What does she look like?”

“You.” He answered. “Her hair’s a bit darker - on the black side - brown eyes, pale, thin.”

Kaede sort of wriggled her arms. Almost like she was fighting a nervous fidget. Reluctantly, she sat back down in her seat, looking back over at them to carry on.

“Take another drink. You’re going to hate the rest of what we’ve got to say.”

“Ah, shit.” She grumbled, grabbing the handle of her cup with more aggression than necessary and gulping down the rest of what she had. “Alright, go.”

“When you were a kid and Kikyo was still around, she was actually in a relationship with Naraku.” He couldn’t ignore her blooming grimace of skepticism. This was, no doubt, outrageous to her, and he couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t suspected this sort of reaction. “I know. Just bear with me, Kae. For the benefit of your safety, I’m not going to tell you much about him. Do not ask. We wont tell you anything more than what you need to know, so don’t bother.” Inuyasha felt it was important to preface the major part of their conversation with that. Kaede shouldn’t know that Naraku was a human when this all began and now sat as a half demon. It would put her at risk if she ever decided to pass the word along to others. Additionally, he didn’t even really want her knowing what he looked like. He never wanted her sister’s murderer to taint her mind as he had Kikyo’s, or his, or Kagome’s.

He continued. “Long story short, he tried corrupting your sister. She’d revealed what she was to Naraku, so he��d assigned her to learn magic from a dark conjurer. Essentially, he wanted to drag Kikyo along with his plot, thinking a demon and a conjurer together would be unstoppable. She rebelled, killed the dark conjurer, and that was the beginning of their real feud.

“She’d never introduced you to each other for a reason. I’m sure you didn’t even know she was seeing someone. Kikyo was trapped in that relationship, and leaving him was a sentence on its own. She had no choice but to make the decisions she’d made. The demon attack on your village, Kaede, that was Naraku trying to take everything from her. Your eye, that was Kikyo. She took it to show Naraku, to make him think you’d died so he would never go looking for you again. Her death was something she’d produced with the dark conjurings she’d learned. It was fake.”

Kaede justifiably appeared stunned. It was a lot to process, he knew, but they weren’t done yet, and his stomach sank further.

“I met Kikyo a year ago.” Kagome said, joining back in. “When I’d first met you, I thought you two looked alike, but you said your sister was dead, and Kikyo and I had never really had much of a meaningful conversation before that, so I felt it wasn’t my place to bring anything up - especially being as unsure as I was. She’d taken the liberty of confirming it herself, but it was after the last time we’d seen you. Kikyo and I were sort of trying to work together in this fight against Naraku. Considering their past relationship, she couldn’t be the hand that struck, but it’s a conjurer’s place in this war to take him down. That’s why I’m involved. Unfortunately,” That was where she’d hesitated, finding it hard to put the words together. She was stuttering with her increasing nerves, trying so hard not to fidget with her sleeves too much. “You see, she’d made herself sick. Like I had that first time around. Except, hers was worse. From the moment she disappeared from your life up until just recently, she’d been fighting. Kikyo had been giving more than what she could to a battle that just wouldn’t end. It got to a point where she couldn’t keep up anymore. Last week,” Kagome took a deep breath, curling her fingers into steady fists. “Last week, she died.”

Kaede’s hand had sort of balled in front of her mouth, an elbow braced on the arm of the chair as she listened intently. After a moment, she finally spoke, and some emotion she’d attempted to swallow remained evident. “Was it him? Did he kill her?”

“Indirectly, but yes.” Inuyasha admitted, though it tasted sour on his tongue to confirm. “He’d ordered someone to do it for him.”

“But, he basically got the satisfaction of winning.” Kaede nodded bitterly.

“No, please don’t say that.” Kagome objected. “In the end, Kikyo was liberated. If he truly wanted to win something, he would have kept torturing her by keeping her teetering on the edge, but she didn’t have to fight anymore. She was happy.”

“You - you were there?” She asked melancholically, licking her anxiously dry lips.

Thickly, the conjurer confessed. “Yeah. I got there too late, though. I couldn’t save her. I’m so sorry.” Kagome trembled, but she tried shoving her feelings aside. The last thing Kaede needed was her guilt on top of this information.

Kaede’s eye fell, replying with a very slow and steady nod, one that Kagome would have missed if she weren’t paying close attention to her body language.

“Wow,” The innkeeper breathed. “This is the truth, huh? Lost my sister, got her back for a second, then lost her again. I’ve gotta admit, it’s almost surreal. How did she go?”

Both Kagome and Inuyasha recoiled into themselves slightly, neither able to immediately give her the answer she was looking for. Kagome bit the inside of her lip and Inuyasha’s gaze fell to the bedding he sat on, both obviously struggling with what the right thing to do was; protect her or give her honesty.

“Come on. When I was fifteen, I saw her eaten by a demon. I can handle this.” Kaede tried reasoning.

Kagome looked over to Inuyasha to make sure it was really alright. She should just take Kaede’s word for it, and didn’t want to offend her by asking someone else for permission, but she worried Kaede was being slightly irrational. Much like Kikyo, it seemed Kaede didn’t show deeper emotions to others. That didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling anything that they just couldn’t see. The hanyou gave a nod to go ahead, so Kagome reluctantly turned back to the innkeeper with the event on her tongue.

“Kikyo was dealt a very deep wound to her chest and shoulder area. She bled out from it.”

“Oh.” Kaede’s voice was small, and she failed to meet either of their eye contact. Instead, she was staring at the wood beneath their feet, a frown she tried fighting playing with her lips.

“I want to reiterate that Kikyo was happy when she died, Kaede.” Kagome continued. “I know it’s hard to believe, but she really did feel relieved that she didn’t have to fight anymore. And, she’d said it herself: Naraku didn’t win. She was merely set free. I held her so she wasn’t alone, and talked to her the whole time. I told her about you. She’s really proud of who you are and what you’ve accomplished. And, I’d promised her that I would pass on her message.”

“That she’ll meet me under the willow tree.” Kaede quietly echoed.

“Yeah.” Kagome could only whisper.

Kaede pinched back a listless grin, taking her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “How long ago did you meet Kikyo, Inuyasha?”

He was hoping that question wouldn’t come up, though he remained straight forward with his answer. “Immediately after we left the last time. A month ago.”

“I wonder if I would have been the one to have held her as she died if I would have had the privilege of knowing she was still alive.” Inuyasha couldn’t tell if there was venom in her tone. Her expression was almost blank and he couldn’t see her eye to tell what was behind it, but he couldn’t help but feel cautious of the condemnation she may have been throwing their way. “How far away were you when you got all of this information? Could you have turned around?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Inuyasha tried. “Kikyo was adamant about you not finding out in the first place; I was the one that made the decision to tell you no matter what. I refused to agree to her request to keep you out of it. Whether you knew or not, Kikyo was going to make sure you never found her, though. Not until Naraku wasn’t a threat anymore, at least. You knowing she was alive would have only hurt you more, and at this point, I’m glad we never turned around. It would have been worse to give you hope then come back a month later to take it back and say, ‘never mind she’s actually dead now.’”

“I deserved the chance.” She stated more firmly this time.

“I agree. You did.”

“If anyone was going to hold her while she died, it should have been me.”

“I get it. I do. She’s your sister, and you wanted to be there for her. Logically, how would that have worked, though? I wasn’t even with Kagome when it happened. I couldn’t even protect her, I had no idea what was going on, so what makes you think we could have brought either of you together in time? If we had turned around immediately and told you Kikyo was still alive, would you have closed down your business on the spot to travel with us? You don’t know how to fight. Not the way we do. You wouldn’t be able to fend for yourself the way we have to. Not to mention, we had no way of knowing where Kikyo was until it was too late.”

“Don’t bring logic into the picture, Inuyasha.” Kaede huffed, rising to her feet. “I should have known.”

“Again, I get it.”

“No, you don’t!” She stomped. “I just found out a huge portion of my life was a lie! What the hell do you know about that!? Why did she have to fake my death!? Why couldn’t she have just faked her own with that stupid, dark magic!? You want to bring up logic, let’s start there! And, if she was going to die anyway, she shouldn’t have had to seek comfort through another just to hear stories about me! This whole thing is so fucked up!” Kaede yelled, storming past Kagome so fiercely she’d nearly shoved the conjurer out of the way, heading toward the door.

“Kaede!” Inuyasha called, standing to head after her.

“Back off! I’m closing up shop, so leave me the fuck alone for a while!” She demanded, slamming the door behind her.

The room was left with a riddling amount of sliceable tension, making it hard for either of them to breathe. Truthfully, if Kagome was going to expect any sort of reaction, it would have been sorrow. Tears. Not this. She definitely wasn’t equipped for such powerful energy. So much so, that it caused Kagome to grow silent and timid, though given what she’d learned about Kaede, maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

“You okay?” The hanyou asked her as he dropped back down to his seat, bringing Kagome’s attention to nearly snap his way.

“Me? Are you?” She replied earnestly.

“I,” He started, sort of wagging his hand uncertainly. “Don’t know how to feel.”

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like hurting people you care about.” Kagome’s brows curved in empathy, and she finally shrugged her belongings off of her shoulders and to the floor before crossing the few feet to her hanyou. Gently, she cupped his jaw, caressing her thumbs over his smooth skin. “Call me biased, but I agree that you decided on the right course of action. It would have hurt Kaede so much worse if we’d restored her hope just to tear it away a few weeks later.”

Inuyasha hooked his fingers behind Kagome’s thighs, giving her a soft tug so she’d climb on the bed and straddle his legs. Wrapping his arms behind her back, he pulled his girl close, relishing in the comfort provided as Kagome tied her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Just don’t think she blames you, kid.” He said. “Don’t take her reaction personally. That was a lot to take in after pouring salt into an old wound.”

Kagome nodded in agreement. “No, I know. I’m not offended at all. Actually, as horrible as it was, I’m glad it was me that held Kikyo. I know Kaede thinks it was her right, but I can only imagine the emotional and mental damage it would have done to her. Having to watch your sister die once is hard enough. Being covered in her blood after the second time is an entirely different story.”

Inuyasha tightened his hold on Kagome. He knew how much she struggled with the trauma dealt by Kikyo’s passing. Every morning, she still checked her hands. Talking about it wasn’t easy either; he could always hear when her voice hitched a little deeper from the difficulty to get out the words, but she pushed through. Knowing that Kikyo’s death haunts her but she’d still willingly accept that over Kaede having to feel that sort of pain had Inuyasha remembering just how deep her compassion went.

It was hard to concentrate on anything after that. Inuyasha and Kagome laid side-by-side on the bed, silent, basically just staring at the ceiling for hours. The sun had set, it was dark in their room, and there was no way either could even consider trying to sleep at a time like this.

Kagome felt awful. Absolutely horrible. What was Kaede feeling right now? How was she doing? If she had a better relationship with the innkeeper, she’d have followed after her by now, but something told her she should mind her business. Kagome felt like she was probably the last person Kaede wanted to speak to. It wasn’t that she thought Kaede was upset with her, but it was more that she could understand the sore spot present when considering she got to know Kikyo when Kaede, herself, couldn’t. She could imagine how hard that was and how thick that feeling would swim in her chest.

It didn’t even matter that he was in his human form right now. Inuyasha couldn’t fucking stand this. Before he’d transformed, he’d honed in on his senses while he could. Not a soul was downstairs in the tavern. Kaede really did close up, and that caused an icy sensation to crawl over his flesh. She never did that. She was always available to everyone no matter what, but she was so distraught that she locked the doors and shut herself into her own quarters. It was a good thing, he knew that. It was better for her to take care of herself, and she couldn’t properly do that while tending to shitty, drunks. Still, he was growing restless. He was worried. Kaede was alone right now. She certainly wasn’t going to confide in the old man that helped her out; Totosai was indifferent toward everything sentimental. This couldn’t possibly be easy on his friend, and leaving things like this just wasn’t sitting well with him. Especially, given his human heart was in full control right now.

“I’m gonna go check on Kaede.”

“You should go check on Kaede.”

Inuyasha and Kagome spoke at the same time. Swiftly, they turned to each other in shock that they’d been thinking the same thing, and he observed a sweet smile developing on Kagome’s plush lips in the darkness his eyes had long adjusted to.

“I won’t be long.” He promised quietly, grinning himself.

“Please, take your time.”

With a soft kiss to her forehead, Inuyasha sat up, adjusted his messy ponytail of dark hair, aggressively shoved aside his nervousness that someone other than Kagome was going to see him in this state, and pushed himself to his feet. He took the room key with him so that he could make sure Kagome was at least protected behind a locked door, the heels of his boots making a gentle clap on the wooden floor as he wandered downstairs to find Kaede’s quarters. In the very back, he could see firelight creating a warm hue beneath the crack of her door.

His knuckles rasped against the wood, and with intent listening, he could hear a little shuffle within the room. “Kaede, open up. It’s me.”

There was a moment of apprehensive silence then, one that made Inuyasha lean against the doorframe as he practiced patience.

“Do I have to?” He heard, and her voice was on the aggravated side.

“No. You can tell me to go away.” He shrugged. “But, I’ll probably just end up standing here all night.”

With a groan, she abrasively complied, her stomps heard coming his way. “You would, too.”

Kaede swung the door open, eyeing her friend just outside as he casually picked himself off the wall to stand up straight. She’d almost jumped at the sight of him, expecting to see the traits she’d only ever observed him with, but was alternatively greeted by a nearly different person. The silver hair she’d come to know was now black, no longer reflecting the orange hues of fire as beautifully as it once had. His eyes, too, were dark, but she couldn’t quite grasp if the color was charcoal or brown. His dog ears had vanished as well, replaced by normal, rounded, human ears at the side of his head.

“You look weird.” She said with a distasteful curl of her upper lip.

“Thanks.” Inuyasha replied dully. “Let me in.”

Another groan was bequeathed before she stepped aside, allowing the hanyou-turned-human to enter her living quarters.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to play bestie and hold me while I cry.”

“I had no intentions of holding you.” He admitted, stealing the chair by the fireplace as his own. “If you need any sort of physical affection, a one-armed-side-hug is the best I’m willing to offer.”

“Ew, don’t touch me.” Kaede grimaced, taking a seat of her own across from him. After a moment of awkward silence, she finally tried to swallow her annoyance, huffing out, clapping a hand on her thigh, and then anxiously standing again. She crossed to a tray at the far end, pouring two glasses of deep red wine, handing one to him as she ambled back over.

“Where’s Kagome?” She asked, taking a large sip when she sat down again. “Don’t you two came as a pair now?”

Inuyasha smiled skeptically, taking a sip of his own. “Not at all. She’s in the room. She wanted me to come check on you, too.”

“Oh. I’m just surprised she didn’t want to come, is all. She’s kinder than you are, so I figured she would have been all over it.”

“I think she’s worried you’re holding some animosity toward her and wants to respect your space.”

“What!?” Kaede gasped, her expression widening. “No! Oh, goddammit! Shit! Fuck! Dammit! Fuck! Shit! I overreacted! I didn’t mean to be mean to her!”

Inuyasha laughed at her string of repetitive curses. “You didn’t overreact at all. It was expected.”

“Did I hurt her feelings? Go get her right now so I can hug her!”

“No.” He laughed a little harder. “Kagome’s fine. She totally understood. Knowing her, I think she was just considering our relationship and didn’t want to make you talk to her if you didn’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m making her blueberry pancakes in the morning.” Kaede groaned, slumping down in her chair.

“Seriously, dude. She’s fine. She’s just worried about you. So am I.”

The innkeeper took a deep, steadying breath, sighing it out as she forced herself to sit up straight. After another sip of her wine, the color subtly staining her lips, she spoke. “I’m okay. It was just a shock. A huge shock. I’m sad, sure, but you’re right. It would have been substantially worse if I had known she was alive prior. To me, Kikyo had been dead for more than a decade already, so this wasn’t like I had actually gotten my sister back or anything. I’m more upset that no matter what, her end was still tragic.”

Inuyasha remained quiet, allowing his friend to stare at nothing on the wall while she sat with the weight of her newfound knowledge.

“Naraku, huh?” She asked. “Kikyo really loved him?”

“So she said.” He answered. “She was also capable of admitting that she realized it was a volatile match. It was just too late by the time she’d understood.”

“What can you tell me about that?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“Positive. I’d rather have the insight than open-ended shit where my brain has the freedom to wander.” She confirmed resolutely.

“Alright,” Inuyasha took another gulp of wine, letting the bitter liquid sit on his tongue for a second before swallowing. “Well, I guess it started off sweet but ended up transitioning into something toxic and controlling as Naraku got a taste for power. It’s hard to imagine a more compassionate version of him, and honestly, I refuse to believe one ever existed. Kikyo said she was about seventeen when they’d met, and he was a lot older, so you can see where they couldn’t possibly be on the same level of maturity. I think Naraku was trying to train her into obedience. The younger they are, the easier they fall into line. Or, so he thought.”

Kaede winced, but tried not to make it noticeable. She didn’t care for sugarcoating, and didn’t want her friend to think it was necessary just because this was a sensitive topic. She wanted the truth, and the truth wasn’t always something that would sit lightly in your stomach. Sometimes, the truth made you feel sick and discomfited. This was one of those times where it was going to take days to properly digest it all. But, that was something she was willing to accept.

“Like I said before, Kikyo intentionally never introduced you two. I guess she and Naraku had been seeing each other for a while, but she felt inclined to keep you out of her affairs until she was comfortable enough to know things would last for the long haul. Considering the guy never knew what you looked like, I think that was why it was a lot easier to fake your death when the going got tough. Kikyo took those lessons with the dark conjurer, and I forgot her name already, but it’s irrelevant anyway since she’s dead. She ended up using that magic she’d learned against Naraku, but she had to wait for the right moment. She wanted to leave him, but felt a sense of responsibility for his uprise. I think she blamed herself for letting him get so out of hand. Thus, the start of her lifelong battle against the fucker.”

“I had -“ Kaede shook her head, now staring at Inuyasha in disbelief. “I had no idea. So, why did - wait, I’m sorry, I just don’t understand - why did she end up telling you all of this?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell me.” Inuyasha clarified with a small grimace. “She was telling Kagome. I was just there. Kikyo didn’t like me at all, and didn’t want me there to begin with.”

“What?” The chuckle Kaede released was more of confusion than amusement, but it was still nice to see somewhat of a smile on her mouth.

“Yeah, Kae, she was pretty blunt about that. She wanted to speak with Kagome in private, but we both refused. I mean, Kagome was just gonna come back and tell me everything anyway, so when she said no, I backed her up, and your sister didn’t like that.”

“Her way or no way.” She sighed with a playful roll of her eye. “Nice to know that never changed. So, she and Kagome had a relationship of some sort?”

“If you can really call it that. This is where it gets confusing, so I’m going to give you the extremely dumbed down version.” Inuyasha prefaced, finishing off his wine. “You believe in reincarnation?”

“Uh-oh.” Kaede frowned.

“Kagome’s sentiments exactly.” He chuckled. “Apparently, there used to be a conjurer around named Midoriko. After she died, her soul was split in two. About thirty-percent went into Kikyo, the rest went into Kagome. They had a soul connection.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please don’t make me go into detail. I don’t even think Kagome fully understands it, so you think I do?”

“Alright, alright. Continue.” She relented.

“Anyway, Kikyo had been sick for a while and essentially needed help pulling the trigger against Naraku, so she tracked down Kagome. It makes sense now that they absolutely couldn’t travel together. Naraku was hunting your sister, so it would’ve been two birds with one stone, and Kikyo wanted her to remain undiscovered as long as possible. Kagome wasn’t lying, they had never had a meaningful conversation before this entire ordeal. Kikyo would use her dark magic to sort of send oddly vague messages to Kagome, which got Kagome on the road, and the first time she got any sort of tangible information was when I was with her.”

“She wanted Kagome to remain undiscovered? For what?”

“A better chance at another conjurer sneaking up on Naraku, I presume.”

“But, you said you faced him the other day.” Her brows furrowed.

“His puppet, but yes. We did. We ended up killing a demon he’d created himself a few days prior. That was how he’d found out about her. The puppet was sent to kill Kagome.”

“No.” She gasped, her stomach sinking.

“She said she fell and got a bruise on her side.” Inuyasha stoned, clenching his jaw at the memory. “The truth is, he threw her off the side of a cliff.”

“What!?”

“She landed in the river. Koga showed up and pulled her out.”

“Fuck.” Kaede breathing stiffly. “Is she really okay?”

“Hah,” He scoffed sullenly. “She’s fine. The girl can get messed up as all hell, and the only time I’ve ever really heard her complain was when she fell on her ass and hurt her tailbone. It was me that wasn’t okay.”

“Inuyasha…” Her friend didn’t speak for a moment. He merely responded to her unwavering sympathy with a shrug of his brow, shifting his human eyes her way. Kaede had softened considerably since the start, taking the moment to finish off the last of her wine. It was different to see such a typically tough man who wore disinterest on his brow like an accessory so incredibly wounded by the remembrance of almost losing someone he evidently held dear. While she’d already held a sense of respect for him, this view of who he was beneath the surface was a nice change.

“I know I threw a hissy fit earlier, but I truly am grateful Kagome was there for my sister. No matter what, Kikyo didn’t die alone.”

“We buried her.” Inuyasha said. “One day, when this is over, I’ll take you to her grave.”

Kaede stared at the wooden floor, an appreciative grin appearing. “Thank you. For doing that. Thank you. In the meantime, I’ll visit our old village and put some flowers at the willow.”

After saying goodnight to Kaede, allowing her to grieve in peace, the hanyou-turned-human made his way back to their room. It had been a few hours, having decided to change the subject and distract his friend with mild and meaningless conversation, so he wouldn’t have been surprised if Kagome had fallen asleep at some point. He also wouldn’t have been surprised to walk in and see her awake. Kagome had the tendency to be kept up by her thoughts, and given she was worried about Kaede’s emotional condition, she was most likely in the same spot on the bed, same position that he’d left her in.

Just in case, Inuyasha was quiet as he entered, twisting the lock behind him as he ambled toward the bed. Kagome was curled up on her side, her hair spread out behind her as she cuddled into the pillow, fast asleep. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. She looks so tranquil right now, positively gorgeous.

He sat on the chair to kick off his boots, trying to be as silent as possible, but as he rose, Kagome groggily shifted to look at him, blinking blearily.

“Hi.” She greeted in the smallest tone.

“You’re not even under the blanket, you dummy.” Inuyasha commented.

“I fell asleep.” Kagome rubbed her eyes.

“No duh.” He chuckled lightly, crawling on the bed as she opened her arms for him.

Inuyasha snaked an arm of his own between her waist and the mattress, wrapping around her as he pulled her in close and sighed out against her neck. Her giggle was lethargic but still so sweet, her fingers gentle as she took her time working out the tie in his hair that kept it up at the crown of his head.

“How was she?” Kagome asked, running her hands through as soon as the length was all free and massaging his scalp.

“She’s holding up.” He whispered against her skin. The way his hot breath bounced off inadvertently attracted his lips down, gently planting kiss after kiss to her shoulder.

“Is everything okay? Or, is that a stupid question to ask? Is she upset?”

“She’s not upset, baby. Kaede was just caught off guard. Her sister is a sensitive subject, so to hear all of this sort of threw off her reality. Seriously, she’s going to be fine. You don’t need to worry too much.” Inuyasha planted another kiss to try and distract her, clutching her tighter when she giggled again.

“Are you sure?” Kagome tried, wriggling against him when he pushed his hands inside her shirt, softly stroking up and down her spine.

“Mhm.” He murmured in reply, nuzzling into her. “You smell good.”

“Wait, baby, that tickles!” She laughed, trying to be careful with the way her knees jutted against him. It was impossible to fight back her small squeak when Inuyasha playfully bit her shoulder. “Excuse me! What is up with you?” Kagome giggled harder, barely trying to fight him off.

“You taste good, too.” Inuyasha added, nibbling again.

“No hickies!” She swiftly objected, giving a little tug to his hair. One she hadn’t realized sparked something in him as he swallowed his pleased grunt. “That big one is just now fading.”

“You didn’t seem to dislike it while you had it.” Inuyasha claimed, moving up to steal a kiss from her lips. “You never once complained.”

“You - taste -“ Kagome spoke between deepening pecks. “Like - wine.”

“Mhm.”

“And, you called me a lightweight. Guess, you can’t hold your alcohol when you’re human, huh?” She observed teasingly.

“Not drunk.” He grunted in reply, moving back down to her throat. “What’s the verdict? I didn’t hear you counter me.”

“No hickies,” Kagome repeated lightly. “There.”

“There?” Inuyasha arched a speculative brow, a devious smile slowly growing. Grabbing Kagome’s waist, he shifted himself beneath her, her thighs now straddling his hips as his hands were now allowed to wander. “Then, where? Here?” Inuyasha asked, trailing his fingers over the portion of her blouse that covered her breasts. “Here?” He went further, gently rubbing his hands over her abdomen. “Here?” His hands went between her legs, caressing over the softness of her inner thighs.

“All good.” Kagome tried confidently replying, though her shyness was beginning to get the better of her.

“Ah, so you want me to mark you. You just like it more in private. So, that you can have the evidence of my territoriality while others are kept out of our business.” Inuyasha steadily observed, his fingers squeezing into the outer portion of her legs now. “I can respect that.”

“And, you?” She asked, brown eyes flickering down to his lips for a second. “How do you feel about hickies?”

“Hate ‘em.” He lied. “So trashy.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Disgusting.”

“And, if I gave you one?”

“I would never allow that.”

Kagome leaned down to shut him up, taking claim on his mouth, and her boyfriend moved to bring her impossibly closer, grabbing her ass and yanking her against him. She led the kiss, slipping her tongue inside to tease him before softly raking her teeth over his bottom lip. It was like he was in a trance, following her guidance, letting her do as she pleased. His palms remained on her bottom, rubbing over the curve of her, holding her to him, and she utilized the moment to kiss her way over his jaw and down his neck.

Honing in on her spot, Kagome sucked down hard, implementing her teeth, jolting Inuyasha out of his reverie as he stiffened with a laugh.

“Hey!” He shouted, trying to yank her off. “What did I just say, you heathen!?”

Kagome laughed as he pinched his fingers against her ribs, jabbing her tickle spot and rolling her off of him to take up his new position. She was trying to struggle, but he’d easily pinned her, playfully biting into her shoulder with a feigned and feral growl.

“You’ve abused your privileges for the last time!”

—

Inuyasha tried to muffle his groan, but he’d forgotten to pull the curtains shut the night before. The morning light was shining through the window and hitting him right in the face, the intrusive sound of birds chirping rudely disturbing his slumber.

Kagome was in front of him, facing away, but she had the right idea. She’d curled up into a ball and tucked her face beneath the blanket so the rays of the sun couldn’t tear her from her sleep. But, he would. This arrangement was not suitable for him in the least.

With sluggish movements, the hanyou scooted himself a little closer to her, finding her arm and pulling her to roll over. At first, she was heavy, resistant, but he was stronger and would definitely win - half asleep or not. Kagome responded to his silent request with a little groan, finally unfurling from her ball as she poked her head out of the blanket, following his pull with her eyes still obstinately closed.

“C’mere.” Inuyasha groggily mumbled.

“Sleepy.” She whined quietly, but eventually rolled over to her side to face him.

“Don’t care.” He replied, grabbing her lifeless arm and wrapping it over his shoulders while he tucked himself into her naked chest. Lazily, he planted kisses over the exposed skin, Kagome taking it upon herself to hook her top leg over his bare hip so that they cuddled closer. Perfect. So fucking perfect. Tangled beneath the sheets with Kagome, engulfed in her warmth and scent, feeling the pattern of her breathing while he nuzzled into her, it was perfect.

“We have to get up soon.” Inuyasha eventually murmured.

“If you love me at all, you’ll give me five more minutes.” Kagome grumbled in response.

“Two more minutes.”

“Five.”

“Two and a half.”

“Five.”

“Three.”

“Five.”

“You don’t know how to negotiate.” He chuckled, kissing a mark he’d left on her breast the night before.

“Not in the morning, I don’t.”

Fair enough. Even though he’d relented to her request, she was still a monster to drag out of bed. He’d figured it was more for sport than the fact that she was actually tired, though. Kagome wasn’t very good at stifling her amused giggles when she played dead weight as he tried pulling her off of the mattress. With the promise of breakfast, his girlfriend was up, dressed, and ready to head out in a matter of fifteen fucking minutes.

Inuyasha was actually surprised to see the dining area of the tavern bustling with people. It wasn’t packed, and there were still pretty good options for seating, but he was more shocked that Kaede had gotten up and opened this morning considering the preceding night’s events. Inuyasha grabbed Kagome’s hand to guide her through the business, leading her toward an empty table in the back before he felt a jerk stop him. Looking over his shoulder at Kagome’s gasp, he saw Kaede had ran over and grabbed her other hand, pulling her away.

“Gimme! I want to borrow her for a second!” Kaede demanded, giving Kagome another yank.

Glancing at Kagome to make sure she was okay, he released her hand at the sign of her nod, sauntering over to claim the table by himself.

Kaede led Kagome around the counter and through to the back, stopping in the food pantry, turning around, and pulling Kagome into a strong hug. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“What? You have nothing to be sorry for. Did Inuyasha tell you -“

“No, Inuyasha swore you were fine. I just felt really bad for the way I had reacted.”

“Kaede -“

“Hush. Don’t interrupt me. Let me love you.” The innkeeper squeezed her arms around Kagome’s shoulders tighter, smothering the conjurer’s giggle so it was hardly heard. In her ear, Kaede whispered, “Thank you so much for being there for Kikyo when I couldn’t. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

Finally, Kagome relaxed, nodding against her as she accepted the gratitude. “I was happy to.”

“Do you prefer pancakes or toast?” Kaede asked, leaning back and rubbing the conjurer’s shoulders kindly.

“Pancakes! Always pancakes!” She answered elatedly, following the innkeeper out of the pantry and back up toward the front where they continued to talk, Kagome temporarily occupying a stool.

“So, what’s on the agenda today? Taking off, or staying an extra night?”

“Nah, Inuyasha wants to set out soon. We need to stop by the market place and stock up on arrows since I’m down to one, but after that we’re back on the road.”

“Are you sure you’re rested enough?” Kaede inquired, taking a quick glance around the dining room to make sure no one was beckoning her for something.

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Ever since the incident several days ago, Inuyasha and I have been taking it pretty easy. We’re definitely okay now.” She confidently answered.

“Okay, well I have a few things for you. Inuyasha told me you guys were running a little low on disinfectants and healing salves. I put together some of my own making, and -“ Kaede paused, her head cocking to the side slightly as she spotted a woman she hadn’t often seen frequent her bar speaking with Inuyasha at the far end of the room. Unfortunately, Kaede’s suspicion wasn’t inconspicuous in the least, and Kagome intriguingly followed the direction of her line of sight, turning around in the stool to see the woman, too.

“Who’s that?” She curiously asked.

“Not sure.” Kaede shrugged as Kagome swiveled back around to face her. “It’s not abnormal for people to try and get Inuyasha to do a job or two if they hear he’s in town. Maybe word got out and she’s trying to get him to do something for her.” It really wasn’t all that odd. There was just something about the woman’s body language that Kaede couldn’t place, and that was what had caught her initial interest. But, then she witnessed the woman tenderly trail her fingers down Inuyasha’s arm, and Kaede pinched back her shocked laugh. “Or, to her.”

Again, Kagome turned around, playing witness to the flirtatious woman’s antics. Who in the goddamn hell was this chick? Inuyasha had pulled his arm away, the look of utter impassiveness, almost annoyance, written on his face, but the woman merely laughed it off, leaning over the side of the table to push herself closer to him.

Without a word, she slid herself off the stool, crossing the tavern with intent.

“Hi, you’re - you’re Inuyasha, right?” A woman’s voice spoke, bringing the hanyou to glance up at the unfamiliar tone. She was young, maybe early twenties, tall, curvy, and her brown hair was long and straight. Her eyes blinked with shy interest, deep blue in color behind dark lashes. “Oh my god, it is you.”

“Uh, hi?” He apprehensively greeted, a little put off by her starstruck demeanor.

“You wouldn’t happen to remember me, would you?”

“I wouldn’t, no.” Inuyasha admitted with a small shake of his head. “Should I?”

“I guess that’s not surprising. It was a few years ago, and we barely got to talk afterwards, but you saved me from a demon attack.”

“I sort of deal with demons often so that’s not really going to narrow anything down for me.”

“Oh wow, you really don’t remember?” She came off as playfully disbelieving that time, her blush growing. “It was a goblin-looking thing. Kidnapped me while I was harvesting vegetables and took me away for a forced marriage. Then, you came heroically swooping in and saved my life.”

“Ah.” He absorbed her tale with minimal interest. She was being weirdly giggly, and it was only making him uncomfortable.

“So, you remember now?”

“No.”

With a slightly defeated sigh, she hung her head an inch, recovering with a smile nonetheless. “Well, that’s alright. Look, the reason I came over here was to thank you for that day. You were so quick, in and out, and I was shaking madly from the entire thing that I never got to express how grateful I was. I’ve wanted to see you ever since, but you’re always on the move, one job to the next. Now, here you are. Years later, and we’re finally in the same place at the same time.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” He carelessly shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“Please?” She batted her eyes.

“Ah jeez. Okay, fine.” Inuyasha tried to hide his uneasy grimace. “If it means that much to you, get it over with.”

With a satisfied grin, she leaned in a little closer. “Thank you, Inuyasha.”

“Sure.” He leaned away.

The woman stood, but just as she turned to leave, she stopped. There was an air about her that told Inuyasha his discomfort was about to climb, and as she looked over her shoulder at him, he stiffened. Something new, sultry, adventurous was behind her blue eyes, and he knew he needed to shut that down fast.

“I apologize if this is too forward, but I’ve thought about you everyday since you saved me.”

“Okay.” Inuyasha responded flatly.

“It would mean the world to me if I could thank you with a payment.”

“Call me presumptuous, but would your payment happen to be of monetary value?”

The woman licked her lips, leaning against the table as she playfully pinched the folded portion of Inuyasha’s sleeve at the curve of his elbow. “Tell me, Inuyasha. Am I your type?”

With a weary grunt, Inuyasha moved his arm so she’d stop. “See that girl at the counter? Long, black hair? Grey shirt?” He waited for the woman to follow his pointed finger and look in Kagome’s direction. “That’s my type. And, I’ve gotta tell you, getting me killed is no way to thank me.”

“You’re married?” She asked, turning back to him.

“No, but -“

“Oh, then it’s fine.” The woman chuckled, as if her point of view was common sense. She began trailing her fingers over the muscles of his arm, disregarding when he pulled away again. “She doesn’t own you.”

“Not interested.” He stated once and for all.

“You said I could thank you, Inuyasha.” She promiscuously leaned forward, exposing her cleavage as her hand stroked his forearm.

A loud clank directly next to her had startled the woman, bringing her to tense rigidly. Even Inuyasha looked afraid, pinching his lips in a flat line of apprehension. Kagome had stolen a set of utensils off of a table she’d passed, tossing it between the two so the metal clapped loudly against the surface of the table.

“Inuyasha doesn’t much like people touching him.” She dryly said, stepping the rest of the way over. Steadily, she picked up the woman’s wrist to remove her hand from her hanyou, dropping it away as if it were a dirty rag. “Neither do I.”

The woman said nothing, blue eyes bouncing away from her as she looked to the hanyou then around the room to see if anyone had seen. With the hint of finality, Kagome waved her hand dismissively. “Shoo.”

“I told her about you!” Inuyasha hastily fired in defense just as soon as the woman left and Kagome’s eyes transferred to him.

“I know.” She grumbled, taking her seat across from him. “I heard you say you weren’t interested.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?” He cautiously proceeded.

“No, of course not.” Kagome said, though she still seemed peeved. “What did she even want?”

“I guess I saved her from a demon a few years ago. She wanted to thank me.”

“She needs to learn how to use her words.”

“Oh, she used her words just fine. I think it was something else she was -“

“Stop!” Kagome winced agitatedly, her scowl deepening as she held up her hand to silence him. “No! Do not finish that sentence!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Inuyasha gave in, trying to hide his amusement. She was cute as hell when she was this sort of jealous, and now he almost felt obligated to thank the woman for revealing this side of Kagome to him. He knew the version of her when she got somewhat jealous enough to grow flustered and ramble, but angry? So long as it was aimed someone else’s way, it had to be one of his new, favorite things.

“Maybe I really should have given you a hickey last night.” She muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And, what would that solve?” He grinned.

“She’d know you’re taken.”

“She knew I was taken. I pointed right over to you and told her.”

“The disrespect.” Kagome pouted, bringing Inuyasha to fold. He laughed, reaching across the table to force her arms to uncross and take her hands.

“Babe, stop. You’ve got nothing to be jealous about, I would have never let anything happen.” He tried reassuring.

“Oh, I’m not jealous, Inuyasha.” Kagome denied, leaning forward to look him straight in the eyes with obduracy. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference.”

The hanyou stiffened pleasantly, his jaw dropping an inch as he arched a single brow. He swore, his heart did a fucking flip in his chest, and his stomach erupted in a wild flurry of gleeful butterflies. What the fuck had just come over him?

“Kagome, baby,” He nervously started, feeling his demeanor faltering. “We have to head out today. And, if you say that again, I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere. So, please, please…”

His voice trailed off as she took on a more tempting, challenging, torrid expression, shrugging a brow in reply. Inuyasha had almost lost the battle instantly. The vixen in her was coming out full force, and it felt like a crime to shut her down.

“We don’t have the time!” He adamantly argued, trying to keep his head in the game.

“Says who?” Kagome asked, her voice low and smooth. “Don’t we make our own schedule?”

Inuyasha had covered his mouth with his hand, leaning into it as he felt his willpower quickly depleting.

“We never checked out right?” She gave a one shouldered shrug, her eyes drifting down to the table as if she could see straight through to his hips.

“I hate you.” He breathed.

“No, you don’t.” Kagome returned in the same, nonexistent tone.

Feeling a heat shoot through his veins, Inuyasha admitted defeat with grin, his tongue swiping over his canine tooth. “Upstairs. Now.”

Kagome smiled, biting her lip triumphantly as she casually stood from her seat and set off before him. He was fucking done for.

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#inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfiction #monster #akitokihojo

[ahkaahshi]

2:09 AM [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gn reader

genre: angst with a fluffy ending; comfort

warning(s): mild swearing

word count: 1.8k

overview: sakusa makes an uncharacteristically late night call that finds him right back in the arms of one of the few people he’s learned to trust

It’s 2:09 AM when Sakusa finally accepts that he seems to have difficulties sleeping without you. He’s spent the entire evening tossing and turning, his mind too restless to allow him more than a few minutes of peace. There’s a lingering discomfort in the pit of his stomach that swells each time he glances over at one of his team sweaters resting atop the desk at the other end of the room. It’s still neatly folded, as it had been by your careful hands, left undisturbed since the arrangement in which you’d returned to him.

He feels sick at the situation he’s gotten himself into. At how he’s sleeping by himself instead of at your side. At how he pushed you away. At how he made a decision for you that you might not have made yourself—and how wrong he was.

It had been a week since he’d broken up with you, and he’d spent a week regretting it.

He often told himself as consolation that the concept of right or wrong decisions in gray areas such as this was ridiculous. That they were only choices that lead would lead down different paths, neither more correct than the other. But this… this felt wrong. The error of his ways seeped into his gut, clouded his mind, and pounded against his head on nights like these when sleep evaded him. But he wasn’t quite sure how to remedy the situation.

How could he be sure you wanted him back when his words had shattered the calmness of your expression like a storm does the glassy reflection of an otherwise still lake? When you’d come to his apartment to drop off his sweater and a few stray items he’d left behind with just a “Here you go,” and nothing more? When he was the one who had broken your heart?

He was sure you’d never want to see him again, so he hadn’t tried to see you again, in spite of his need to fix the mistake he’d deemed selfish.

There’s a haunting, smothering quietude to his room. No sheets whisper against your skin as you shift beside him to readjust your body in your sleep. No gentle sighs pour onto his shoulder from your drift into a deeper slumber. No quiet murmurs escape between your lips while you respond to your dreams. Just his heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage and his shaky breaths, then the heavy dragging of his phone against the wood of his bedside table when he picks it up.

Your name is on his screen in an instant, and he wonders if you’ve changed his name in your contacts yet. Before he can even process what he’s doing, the gentle buzzing of the dial tone pierces the silence. Fuck. Is he even ready to have this conversation now?

The phone you feel to have been staring at all night lights up on your own nightstand, breaking the darkness and brings you to alertness with its quiet but shrill chimes. Upon picking up the device, you’re met with your ex’s name and face, making your eyebrows furrow both in anger and confusion.

What the hell’s he thinking, calling me at two in the morning? You let it ring once.

Why’s he calling me at all? What does he want? You let it ring twice.

Maybe something’s wrong. What if something’s wrong? You pick up on the third ring.

“Hello?” Your greeting isn’t met with a response. “Kiyoomi…?”

“Hey.”

His voice sounds as heavy as your heart feels. “Uh…” you mumble, unoccupied hand moving to grip your other wrist in an attempt to ground yourself, “Is… everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” He could never lie to you, even if he wanted to—but the desire never crossed his mind. “(F/n), I…” he drifts off, his jaw clenching as he breathes out a quick sigh of irritation with himself. He clearly wasn’t prepared to make this call, and he hates that he’s disturbed you at such an early hour out of his own selfishness.

In the silence that follows, three, distinct words plaster themselves at the forefronts of both of your minds. They’re those each of you wants to speak but they’re not the same ones. With each second that ticks by filled with anticipation, marked by lips parted as they wait to voice your desires, you find yourself growing more desperate to tell him your three words.

But he speaks his first.

“I fucked up,” he whispers, the soft timbre of his tone a far cry from that of the commands you’ve heard him shout across the court.

Raking his fingers through his dark curls, he continues, “I self-destructed, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I tried to save you by speaking for you, telling you that you were better off without me. But I shouldn’t’ve done that.” You take your lower lip between your teeth as tired eyes sting with tears. “You’re strong; you can speak for yourself. You don’t need or want me to do it for you, especially not when I’m wrong.”

“Kiyoomi…”

“I’m sorry.” A nearly inaudible, shaky breath falls from his lips. “If I could take that moment back so you never had to feel that kind of pain and doubt, I would. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t expect anything, not with the way I pushed you away even after you’d shown you’re the person I can always trust the most.”

The truth behind his words makes your fingers curl tighter around your phone. 

He’s right. 

Earning Sakusa’s trust hadn’t been easy, initially, but over time, he’d let down his guard. Laid his head on your chest to let your heartbeat lull him to sleep rather than turn away from you. Spoken to you about what was really bothering him rather than giving you a superficial overview or dismissive response. Let your shoulder be the harbor and safe havens for his emotions when he couldn’t hold them in anymore. All because you’d accepted him each time he chose to step under the blinding light of vulnerability, where all his most intimate thoughts and feelings were exposed without any darkness in which they could hide. Because you’d loved him for who he was, because you love him for who he is, because you will love him for who he becomes in the future.

Sadness brings tremors to your lips and beckons your fingers to your eyes to brush away a few stray tears. Him turning his back on you in a time of need, choosing to fall deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself rather than into your outstretched arms ready to catch him had hurt you the most. The suddenness of his cold behavior had shocked you, and the moment he’d walked away from you had replayed itself in your mind on an endless loop the entire week. But his honesty with you now, admitting to his mistake rather than moving on and away from you, shows you he still loves you—that he never stopped, rather.

After swallowing thickly, the ball of emotion in your throat making it hard to do so, you let your three words be known.

“I miss you.”

His response is almost instantaneous this time: “I miss you too.”

Your lips form a relieved smile though they carry a subtle taste of salt.

An invitation extended to him to come over finds him at your door no more than a half an hour later. The fatigue and stress he’s been experiencing is evident in the darkness beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, but he has no qualms with standing in the entryway for a few minutes longer while the two of you hold one another in a tight embrace. His warmth and the faint but ever-present scent of his favorite laundry detergent lingering on his clothes lifts the fog that has been clouding your mind, and you can feel his body melt into your arms as his head comes to rest beside yours.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, “I won’t let my thoughts get the better of me like that again, okay? I’ll talk to you, and I’ll be here for you.”

You reply, “I love you too,” and feel his grip around you tighten when you add, “You’re safe with me.”

When the two of you pull away, he follows you along the familiar path to your bedroom and sets his backpack down in the same spot as always—right by his side of your bed, next to the nightstand. It’s only been a week, but things have felt so different without him around that watching him follow the same routines, such as the way he methodically adjusts your pillows to just the right angle and height before peeling back the comforter and sheets, gives you immense comfort. Crawling into bed beside him brings your bodies close once more, and your fingertips find his face out of habit, tracing over his handsome features and moving stray curls away from his weary eyes.

His nose brushes against yours moments before your lips meet in a tentative kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. Your fingers pressing into the nape of his neck to keep your mouths connected pulls him beneath the surface, and he allows himself to get lost in the depths with you for a bit instead of questioning where you’re going. He doesn't feel the need to.

It’s both lazy and fervent, the way your lips meld together, and your kisses reflect a yearning for each other that eclipses your exhaustion—for a few, blissful minutes, at least. You hum gently when your mouths part for the last time as sleep takes its hold on you. “You need to rest,” you suggest, “Can we talk sometime after you get back from training tomorrow?”

He nods slowly, head heavy with a week’s worth of fatigue, and answers, “Of course.” Beneath his dark fan of eyelashes, Sakusa’s gaze follows yours while you turn on your side away from him, glancing over your shoulder as a silent request for him to take up his usual spot behind you. His arms snake around your torso and the bed dips, bringing your back flush against his chest. Your fingers interlace with a set of his that you naturally hold close to your chest, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, planting a gentle peck against your exposed skin.

With you, there’s a peaceful, weightless quietude. He hears your legs shuffle beneath the covers as they readjust and the gentle sigh that leaves your mouth as you drift off to sleep. Feels your heartbeat against the back of his hand while he basks in the familiar warmth emanating from your body that fits against his so seamlessly.

His warm breath cascades over your skin when he exhales deeply once more, and finally finds solace in the slumber that comes to him almost instantly.

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when night falls taglist (send an ask to be added!)

@why-aminot-dead, @yamagucji, @toutorii, @shibayamasbae, @tsukkisbean, @devlovesiwa-channn, @captain-shittykawa, @ghblh, @postsfromthe6, @omibaby, @deerixiie, @oikawoahh, @stormlights

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #x reader #reader insert #hq x reader #hq fanfiction #fran writes hq!! #ahkaahshi//wnf

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 5

Neil x Reader

Chapter 5: After rain

(see chapter 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: you learn to cope with the new situation, but you aren't the only one struggling

warnings: 18+, angst and pain, explicit language and other things

author’s note: This part of the story's been with me for... oh, so long. I just hope I did it justice. ✨6,1k words.✨ I don't even know.

Hurt/Comfort.

The song for this part is Dermot Kennedy - After rain

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

Your hands clenched on the bed’s frame, its coldness felt like the only real thing your drugged mind could process.

Doctor’s words were filling the room, but they were muffled as if they were coming from behind a barrier. Falling from such height...extreme luck...no broken bones…head trauma...internal bruising....

Was all that talking really necessary? Yeah, you were battered, all right. And it seems that even with painkillers the weird throbbing, like a morse code from your bruised cells, was about to stay with you for a little while.

...just like the darkness.

The more the doctor spoke, the more it became clear that they didn’t have any definite answers for you. Seemed like the day spent on being prodded, stabbed with needles, and tossed into various machines resulted in nothing more than a verdict: optic nerve injury.

As for what were you supposed to do now--

“Let me get this straight, doctor,” you said, slowly losing patience. “Your only solution now is: let’s wait and see what happens?”

Drumming fingers against a piece of plastic, followed by a sigh.

“Yes. There is no effective treatment, we could try a high dosage of corticosteroids, but there is no evidence that it’s gonna make any difference, really. And as some recovery may spontaneously occur within days or weeks--”

Weeks.

A cold shiver ran down your spine and you swallowed with effort.

And that was a maybe.

You just wanted to go home.

“Grand,” you cut in, “please tell me I can wait for that possible joyful occurrence anywhere else but here.” You aimed for a lighter tone, but every word coming out of your mouth was dripping with bitterness. Grimacing at your own attitude, you forced a weak smile to appear on your face. “No offense, doc.”

“None taken,” the doctor said with a snicker. “I get it.” A short pause filled with a rustling of paper. “With all the tests done, I don’t think we need to keep you here for observation any longer, but I’d recommend you weren’t alone for the next few days. Do you have anyone to take care of you after we discharge you?”

“I don’t need--”

Neil’s firm voice overlapped with yours.

“Yes, she has.”

You huffed, startled. And a bit annoyed.

You almost forgot Neil was in the room, but to be fair, you were quite sure he’d never left your side since you woke up. His initial nervous chatter got replaced by a silent presence, always ready to jump in should you needed anything - no matter if it was a glass of water or an arm to lean on. It was all comforting, endearing even, and you were so grateful to have him around, but the thought of having Neil in your apartment triggered an irrational panic.

Instead of dwelling on the roots of the anxiety, you decided to over-talk it.

“Neil, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay, and you surely have better things to do than babysitting me.”

“I don’t.” Was that a hint of hurt in his voice? “Doctor, can you discharge her even if she is gonna be alone out there?”

“I’d rather she spent at least one more day here then.”

Unbelievable. You rolled your eyes, hoping it would make the same effect as always, and groaned. “Fine, you win, only because I want nothing else but to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Excellent,” said the doctor cheerfully, “I’ll get the forms and come back to you soon.”

“Thank you, doc,” you sighed, hanging your head in defeat.

After spending enough time with a person, it was always easy to recognize them by the way they walk. That’s how you knew it was Neil who approached you, ever so hesitantly.

And only because of a brush of his fingers against your hand you realized you were still clinging onto the bed frame.

“Hey, I’ll just help you set up everything you need there, all right?” he said quietly and you felt him sitting down next to you. “You’re gonna have all the space you want, and as soon as you decide it’s too much, I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.”

He must have noticed that little panic of yours, huh?

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to form a coherent thought. “It sounds good though, thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Neil shifted slightly. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged and grimaced. “I don’t know, but either I’ve slept through the best high or these drugs they gave me are kinda lame.” Hearing Neil’s light chuckle, you cracked a small smile. “Honestly? I’m knackered.”

He hummed with sympathy.

“Is there anything I can do for you now?”

The softness in his voice was more than your tired and dazed mind could handle. You leaned to the side and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just… take me home,” you asked, forcing the words past your clenched throat.

Neil exhaled sharply and carefully wrapped an arm around you, pressing a cheek to the top of your head.

“Of course.”

------

“Welcome to my crib.”

“Thank you, it’s...” - Neil hesitated as he closed the door behind you - “...cosy.”

Patting the wall to your right, you located a small hook and hung the keys on it.

“That is certainly one word for it,” you snorted. “Why, what did you expect?”

“Frankly? Considering you’re such an... acclaimed locksmith, I imagined something… well, bigger, for starters.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he stumbled on words, trying so hard not to sound offensive in any way.

Grinning, you put on your most snobbish tone. “Ah, sorry to disappoint, all my gold, glitter, and general pizzaz got moved to one of my many summer houses as my spacious lair worthy of the most infamous thief is under renovation, so I was forced to retreat to my humble family place in this ghastly neighborhood.”

“Such a shame,” he said and a smile brightened his words. “I like it, though. Matches your vibe, somehow.”

“Because it’s small, detached, empty, yet somehow messy?”

Neil sighed in a way you were absolutely sure he was rolling eyes at you, then helped you with the coat. “It’s gonna take more than putting words in my mouth to make me want to leave you here all by yourself, you know.”

You were quite sure a dirty joke was hiding in there, but it eluded your tired brain.

“Damn, need to up my game then,” you giggled, leaning against the wall to take the shoes off without losing your balance. “Nah, I’m messing with you, I’m grateful you got me out of there. Can’t wait to rinse that hospital stench off of me.”

“Do you want me to run a bath for you?”

You mused over the idea for a moment, “Thanks, I’ll take a shower - two minutes tops and I’d end up asleep in the ‘tub.” Probably even faster, considering that you already were running on fumes. “Anyway, make yourself at home, gonna grab some fresh clothes.”

Neil was not willing to give up.

“I’ll get you--”

“I’ve got this,” you uttered, instantly hating yourself for how harsh it came out, so you quickly added, “But would you please put the kettle on?” sending an apologetic grimace along with your words.

“On it.”

He seemed happy to have something to do. Or at least sounded like it as he took the crackling grocery and takeaway bags to the kitchenette.

You walked across the room with confidence, your hand reluctantly extended ahead on your waist level just in case you miscalculated the route to the bedroom. When you reached the door frame, you smiled to yourself. It wasn’t that hard, was it? Almost like going to the bathroom at night, not willing to put the light on to avoid waking up, right?

And exactly then, your shin hit the edge of the bed footboard, the impact sending a searing wave of pain up your whole leg. You bit your knuckle to stifle a groan and a curse that was bound to follow. Every. Goddamn. Time.

The noises coming from the other room stopped, but luckily there was no question. Nor a hero coming to rescue you from the sudden and vicious attacks of furniture.

Finally, the closet. Your fingers ran through the folded clothes. Clean underwear. A soft t-shirt. Comfy pj pants. The fatigue was so severe that the term dress to impress didn’t even cross your mind. Not that Neil cared, right? But before you stepped back from the wardrobe, you hesitated, sliding your hands down to one of the bottom drawers. All that boring into nothingness was straining, and keeping your eyes closed all the time felt wrong, somehow. Might as well, you shrugged, pulling out a silky blindfold. Maybe this would trick your brain into thinking it was just a game. A temporary thing. Nothing serious.

...but what if--

You took a shaky breath and slammed the closet shut. Swallowing with effort, you took the clothes and limped out of the room, then followed the wall to the bathroom.

Neil’s concerned voice reached you halfway there.

“You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said and flashed your teeth in a strained grin.

“Let me know if you need anything, all right?”

A change of strategy, then. You certainly didn’t mind, at least this way it didn’t trigger the unnecessarily rude reaction. And you had a feeling that you were going to need a pair of eyes to take care of those bruises of yours.

...or you could just follow the radiating ache and slap some gel where it hurts most, but at this point, as the painkillers were slowly wearing off, it would probably be easier to just pour the whole tube on the tiles and roll over in it.

“Will do, thanks.”

You closed the door behind you and sighed. The undressing required an accompaniment of grunts, hisses and curses, and when you finally got into the shower (hitting yourself only once while doing so) you were all sweaty and panting as if you’d run up twenty flights of stairs.

You winced as the warm water poured over your body, but you couldn’t wait to get rid of the lingering smell of antiseptics. Using soap uncovered the injured spots with a burning precision, but you gritted your teeth and soldiered through it, changing position slightly so you wouldn’t cause more damage with shampoo and conditioner. Condemning your past self for choosing a matching set of hair products, you were forced to guess and pick one to pour a little bit of it on your hand to judge which is which based on the texture of the fluid. Why did you even bother…?

When you were done and more or less dry, you put on the panties and wrapped another towel around yourself. A slow thumping in your head was growing stronger by the minute, but it was still bearable. As for taking care of the bruises… you realized you didn’t even know where the arnica ointment was. You’d bought one on your way just in case, but that meant--

You groaned and rubbed an eye with the back of your hand. Help it was, then.

“Neil?” you called out, cracking open the door.

A sudden rumble of a chair made you cringe, but a corner of your mouth twitched.

“What is it?” he asked as his rushed steps carried him closer.

“Could you help me with putting something on the most banged-up spots, please?” - a sheepish smile crept on your lips - “I thought about just mixing some cream with my lotion and rubbing it all over, but--”

He scoffed as if the idea personally offended him. “Jesus, please don’t. I’ll be right back.”

Your legs seemed to weigh a tonne, but also started to shake as though they were about to give in any moment, so you sat back on the edge of a bathtub with relief.

Neil came back after a while and muffled clanking suggested he brought a full medkit with him. You waited as he washed his hands thoroughly, and you stifled an amused giggle at the dedication, even though it was nothing more but common sense.

Neil’s soft voice broke the silence. “I’m gonna take a look at those wounds first, but for that, I need to touch you, is it okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you shrugged. “I imagine you can’t do plenty without that, huh?”

A light chuckle. “Fair enough.” And featherlike touches that followed.

Careful fingers examining every bruised inch of skin, starting from the freshly hurt shin, scraped knees, going up your thighs until they met the edge of the towel. Then, ghosting over your hands, unhurriedly moving up the forearms…

You realized your breath got shaky.

He tucked a still quite damp strand of hair behind your ear and his fingertips glided over your forehead and down your temple, traced your jawline up to your chin. His knuckles grazed your neck, then moved across your collarbones, but when they met the towel again, Neil hesitated.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” you joked playfully and untucked the corner of the towel, letting it slide down your body.

A sharp inhale and a slipped-out curse.

“Christ…” uttered Neil, and you were quite sure what he was referring to. Your hip pulsated with dull pain in the place where the oxygen container had been, or rather where it must have moved to during the escape, bruising the hip bone and surrounding area at the impact.

You forced a crooked smile to your face. “And here I was hoping it looked better than it felt.”

“I can always lie to you if you want,” he offered, aiming for a lighter tone.

Shaking your head, you nibbled on your bottom lip. Somehow, the sole thought of him lying to you seemed like a certain heartache.

“No.” Your voice sounded weak, but maybe that was understandable, given how powerless you felt overall. Or maybe you could stop being so pathetic any moment now.

You closed your eyes, and while you tried to parley with your brain to give you a break, Neil started meticulously treating your wounds, focused on not causing any more discomfort than it was needed. You switched all your attention to his ministrations, grimacing slightly from time to time as he was tending particularly sore spots. Neil’s warm fingers contrasted with the cold ointment, all the different sensations fought a merciless battle to take precedence over one another, making even more of a mess in your tired head.

You heard Neil shifting in front of you as he was about to move to your injured face. Acting on an impulse, you spread your legs to allow him to come closer, and so he did, positioning himself on his knees between your thighs without a word. Quite a concentration, you thought and smiled fondly to your memories of the times you’d seen him so committed to a task. Slightly furrowed brows, blonde strands falling into shining blue eyes, with a bottom lip tugged between the teeth...

A brief touch on your temple brought you back to reality and you gasped, reaching out to hold on to Neil to keep your balance. As you rested your hands on his sides, he gently cupped your face and continued with taking care of the bruises. It felt as if the warmth radiating from him was mending you whole, even more so when it got combined with tender, soothing brushes of Neil’s thumb against your cheek. You melted into his palm and exhaled slowly, dropping your shoulders and relaxing.

Before you could stop the words from spilling out, you said under your breath, “It was just a fall, I don’t know how it got that bad,” voicing the thought that’s been on your head all day.

Neil pulled back abruptly and the tranquil moment shattered like glass against the bathroom tiles.

“Are you being serious right now? Just a fall? You’re lucky you’re alive, goddamnit, let alone able to walk!” Disbelief mixed with anger in his tone, taking you aback. And to your surprise, it felt like yet another wound, inflicted right at your chest. “Y-you hit the wall before you crashed on the ground, you--” his voice broke and Neil sighed. You heard him packing the medkit, simply tossing things inside before he moved away.

“Oh,” was all you could say, reaching for the abandoned towel to wrap it over your shoulders, in a sudden and desperate need to cover yourself. In every way possible. “Remind me to tie a cat and a buttered slice of bread to myself the next time we do this.”

He didn’t respond to your poor attempt at lighting up the mood, instead, you heard the door handle, a deadpanned “I’ll heat up the food” and he was gone.

You had no idea where his reaction had come from. Normally, you’d have followed him straight away to confront him, but right then you felt so exhausted and helpless you just slouched in your spot, with your hands fisted on the towel, and sat like that for a while, leveling your breath. You mustered all the strength you had left, found your clothes and put them on. Then, you tied the blindfold, letting a piece of sleek material bring a shred of comfort and hide a pitiful glimmer in the corners of your eyes.

You joined Neil in the other room and sat at the table. He didn’t comment on your attire nor the choice of accessories, hell, he barely even spoke to you when he put the plate in front of you, as well as through the whole meal.

Even though you’d picked up your favourite comfort food on the way, it tasted bland, and with your stomach tied into a knot, you couldn’t force more than a few bites into your system. Judging by the sounds - or rather the lack thereof - coming from across the table, Neil’d lost his appetite too.

Finally, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence. “I think I’m full,” you said and stood up, grimacing slightly.

“I’ll do the dishes, go lie down,” he said quietly. “Please.”

As if he anticipated an argument. You really had no energy for that.

“Thank you. Are you--...” you stumbled on the question, but Neil chimed in.

“I’ll be on the couch.”

...maybe it was for the best.

You nodded and turned on your heel to fetch a spare pillow and a blanket while Neil was occupied with the dishes. The ever-growing headache was becoming unbearable, but you hoped that the sweet arms of Morpheus would bring a much-needed release soon. You brushed your teeth quickly and mumbling “‘night,” you disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door half open for god knows what reasons. Perhaps to make you feel less alone.

The plan of sleeping off the worst pain looked good on paper but proved to be too hard to execute. That bloody awful feeling of being tired beyond comprehension and still unable to doze off, right? You tossed and turned (although carefully), trying to find the most comfortable position. After a while, you took the blindfold off and curled on your side, staring into the nothingness again. Listening to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Forcing every breath through your clenched chest. Trying to focus on anything other than neverending soreness.

You heard Neil’s footsteps and how they stopped right at your door. Stalling.

And you didn’t even try pretending you were asleep. Waiting.

“Hey... I wanted to check if you need anything before I turn in for the night.”

The softness of his voice was tainted by something as if he was holding back. But you were so glad to hear it anyway.

“Actually,” you said, propping yourself on the elbow and wincing, “could you bring me one of those fancy painkillers, please? I thought I might do without for a little while but-- ...yeah, not quite.”

“Of course, coming right up.”

When Neil was back, you sat on the bed, allowing him to hand you a glass and ...a shot glass? You shook the latter slightly and something rattled inside.

“Ah, okay, smart,” you smiled with recognition. “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me you thought it was vodka?”

A hint of amusement in his tone made you snort.

“I can’t say I would mind,” - shrugging, you swallowed the pill and washed it down with cool water - “but this is gonna be more efficient, I guess.”

You shifted in your spot to put down both glasses on a bedside table. Neil was there to make sure you actually placed them on top of it, pushing your forearm gently when you were about to create a mess.

That light touch brought a lump back to your throat. As if the awkward silence wasn’t suffocating you enough.

“If that’s all…” said Neil quietly, taking a step towards the door.

But you reached out into the darkness and found his hand.

“Neil…” you squeezed his fingers, desperately trying to convey words that eluded you. Your plea was barely a whisper. “...stay?”

The pulse pounded in your ears as the stillness that followed seemed to last forever.

Then, Neil squeezed your hand back.

“I will,” he choked out, and his thumb grazed over your knuckles. “Be right back.”

You nodded and let go of his hand, not even sure that he could see your gesture, then moved to the other side of the bed. The held-back breath escaped in a shudder as another wave of pain overrode your senses, leaving a trail of cold sweat down your spine.

A faint tock of the light switch in the other room, then footsteps and a pillow landing next to yours. Neil snuggled down, keeping his distance, and you curled again in your spot, hoping that his proximity will calm you down enough to fall asleep. But as you said your goodnights and Neil’s breath leveled and got deeper, you still waited on the pills to start working, getting more and more lost in your own head and thoughts you’d managed to keep lidded on until now.

Because if only you’d cracked that safe faster. Or maybe if you’d discussed that escape route beforehand, somebody would have found a better path through the roofs. No, scratch that, the plan was tight, and it was your goddamn fault that you’d gotten distracted by a sodding rain, of all things. And that jump? Bloody amateur hour. Should have seen that coming, stepped to the side, or caught onto anything. You’d been granted a second chance at that wall. But no, you’d had to panic like a bush-leaguer, as if it had been your first fall in your life. And now you were lying there, feeling sorry for yourself. Abso-fucking-lutely pathetic.

What if Madame Karma finally decided to make you pay? What if you were never going to get your sight back? A warm tear trickled down your face slowly. No more free runs and adrenaline rushes while taking shortcuts through the most obscure places. No more lying on the rooftops to observe how the sky changes colours through the night. No more sitting on the hill and watching how the sun reflected in the river. How it danced on that messy blonde hair. You would never see his blue eyes lighting up again--

Your chin trembled as the tears stained your pillow. It felt as if you were nothing but pain, fear, and heartbreak. Pressing your lips together, you stifled a sob that shook your body mercilessly. You were nothing.

“What’s wrong?”

You wanted to brush it off, to tell him you were okay and he could go back to sleep. But instead, you sniffled and whimpered, unable to pass any word through your tightened throat.

Neil gasped and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, come here,” he said softly as his fingers pressed lightly onto your back, urging you to move and you shifted into his embrace, clenching your fists on his t-shirt, struggling for every breath. “I’ve got you, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed, wrapping the arms around you gingerly. A much-needed reassurance whispered over and over again like a plea to anyone who could be listening.

Weeping quietly into Neil’s chest, you sought refuge in his closeness, clinging onto him as he held you and stroked your hair, waiting for the worst to pass. Soon, you ran out of tears, and there were just sobs, convulsing you whole like a heart-wrenching hiccup. Neil hugged you a little tighter, placed a small kiss on top of your head, and started humming, a melody barely more than a murmur. It felt familiar, but why?

By and by, the song and a steady heartbeat against your cheek weaved together and calmed your racing mind. Enough to finally let you drift off, with Neil’s soothing voice and warmth enveloping you, bringing comfort and hope for a better tomorrow.

-----

You should have known better than to expect something to be different when you woke up. Swallowing down the disappointment and resignation, you dug yourself up from under the covers. The pain dialed down, but was very much there, especially during sudden moves.

Maybe you would feel better if you washed your face, still a bit puffed after all that--

…oh shit.

Your brain halted, torn between making you cringe and spreading the warmth through your chest. If you were to survive the day, the key was not to think about what happened last night. At least you didn’t have to look him in the eyes, huh? Armed with a smile, albeit a bit sour, you grabbed some clothes on your way out and ventured into the quiet living room.

“Neil?”

For a split second you were sure he was gone, but--

“Over here.” Judging by the sound of it, here was somewhere near the couch. “How are you feeling?”

Concern. Obviously. He’d seen you at your worst, so there was no point in hiding your state.

“Like I’ve spent some time inside a cement mixer,” you sighed. “But better, thanks. What time is it?”

“Almost 3 o’clock.” A faint thud of a book being put down. “Are you hungry? I was about to fix something.”

It was a good moment for your insides to growl in confirmation, but at least this time your body decided to spare you. Although your stomach was pretty much cleaving to your backbone, all right.

“Oh yes, please.” You smiled with appreciation and raised a hand with a bundle of clothes. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

That minute took a little longer, as your mobility was still pretty lacking, but fresh as a (beaten-up) daisy, in a comfortable outfit and a blindfold, you followed your nose to the kitchenette.

“Smells delicious.”

A soft chuckle came through the sizzling. “Hope it tastes good as well, wanna try?” When you nodded, you heard Neil walking up to you. “Open your mouth, careful - it’s hot.”

You recognized the rich flavor as some variation of the Napoli sauce, perfectly balanced, and you could only hum in approval. Where the hell had he gotten those herbs from?

“It’s amazing,” you said, but couldn’t resist a little smirk, “or I’m just starving.”

Neil scoffed lightly. “Might be that.” There was a smile and a hint of pride in his tone, and it made you beam a little wider. “Come sit down.”

When you did, and a bowl of pasta landed in front of you on the table, your mind involuntarily went back to last evening. That tension. Sudden distance. Everything after that. What was worse, it seemed like you weren’t the only one thinking about it, because the silence that fell between you now grew heavy with unresolved issues lingering in the air.

But maybe you were misreading the room and you were fine.

“Listen, about yesterday--”

...or not.

Instead of letting Neil finish, you panicked, and before you could stop yourself, you used his moment of hesitation to blurt out, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I was exhausted and everything hurt and--” you frowned and hid the face in your palm. The shame felt like a tightening ring around your chest, making it hard to breathe. ”I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Wait, what?” huffed Neil, his voice filled with consternation. ”Jesus, no, that’s not what I meant, I--” he faltered and groaned, then added more softly, “Why are you even apologizing for that?” And when you shook your head, unable to find the right words, Neil gently touched your arm, rubbing it up and down slowly. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

Your heart clenched with fondness as you palmed over his hand.

“Thank you for being there for me.”

A twist of the wrist and a light squeeze on your fingers.

“Of course.”

Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After a moment, you asked quietly, “If it isn’t about that, then what?”

A loud buzz cut through the air, the unexpected noise almost making you jump in your seat. Impeccable timing.

Neil picked the vibrating phone from the table. “It’s work, I have to get that.” His hand was still holding yours, reluctant to let go. “If I’m not done by the time you finish eating, two words: bed rest.”

“May I make it a couch rest, doc?” you grinned, and by the resigned sigh you could tell Neil definitely rolled his eyes at you.

“Just make yourself comfy and horizontal, all right?” A final brush of his thumb against your fingers and he was up, walking off from the table. “Hi, what’s up?”

Whatever they needed him for, it took so much time that you finished your meal and obediently moved to the couch. That unfinished talk left you anxious enough to nervously pick at the edge of the blanket, but as Neil was still lost in a hushed conversation, and the aforementioned blanket was way too cosy, you slowly drifted off into a dreamless nap.

You weren’t sure what woke you up - a shift on the other side of the couch, or a heavy sigh, one of those signaling the weight of the whole world on somebody’s shoulders. Hearing the latter was enough to wipe the remains of sleep from your system and you sat up, grunting slightly.

“What is it?”

Another sigh.

“I’m an idiot.”

You puffed your cheeks and shrugged, a corner of your mouth twitching in a nervous smile.

“Before I let out a purposeful no and kick you - why are you saying that?” Silence. “...Neil?” When the answer was not coming for too long, you moved to your knees, reaching out until you touched his shoulder. No reaction. Trying to keep a rising worry at bay, you urged him quietly, “Talk to me, please.”

Neil inhaled slowly and he finally spoke, his voice barely there.

“I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” you asked, knitting your brows together as you brushed your hand down his arm only to find his clenched fist, tightening even further under your touch.

“For yesterday, for letting it out on you, when you were just--” he paused to swallow audibly, and then continued, blurting out one strained word after another, “and all of that while this whole mess is my goddamn fault because if I hadn’t hesitated out there, we both would have made it in time--”

“No, no, no, you can’t do that to yourself,” you said, crawling into his lap and nestling between his legs, wrapping yours around his waist. “It was a perfectly normal reaction.” The pulse thumped in your ears when you placed one hand on Neil’s chest and the other one travelled up along his neck to cup his face. Then your thumb glided over a wet trail on his cheek and it felt as if your heart shattered into a million pieces. Oh please, no. “My darling...” you whispered, but it was as if Neil barely acknowledged you were there, trembling and lost.

He pressed his forehead to yours and continued, traces of dread ringing in his hollow tone more and more with every choked-out sentence.

“When I turned back and I saw that--….at first, I thought you’d been shot, then you fell and-- suddenly all I could think was if your oxygen container was intact, or--... I called the Cavalry on the way down but I was so scared I was too late, I thought--” his voice broke and you felt him frowning as he shuddered, struggling to carry on. “I thought that you were gone, and I didn’t--”

His heart raced under your palm while you kept stroking his cheek, consoling him softly, “Neil, I’m here, it’s all right, I’m here.” But when that didn’t seem like enough to bring him back to you, you reached to his neck to pull him closer and kissed him, desperate to make him stop spiralling down. To make him stop hurting.

A muffled whine against your lips. But then you felt him melt and he kissed you back, still helpless, wrapping his arms around you carefully as if he expected you to fall apart under his touch. Not quite there. You deepened the kiss purposefully, burying your hands in his hair, tugging at the strands as you pressed yourself to him as much as you could in your position. You didn’t care about your own pain or discomfort. If any of you were meant to be lost in any way, it might as well be this. Neil gasped and lifted you up so you properly straddled him, then tightened the embrace, clinging on to you for dear life as he captured you in another kiss, and this time it was his turn to try to convey the unbearable mixture of despair, relief, and immense longing. All of that poured into this simple act of devotion until there was nothing but pure need. To touch and to be touched. To hold and to be held. To be close. To be wanted. To be found.

A breathless moan escaped your mouth and Neil pulled back ever so slightly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, his fingertips gliding over your features.

Oh, how much you missed looking into his eyes.

The fact that he cared, without simply going ahead with it, made your chest clench with fondness. At this point, you trusted him beyond reason, although it was still nice to hear it.

“I’m not made of glass,” you huffed, nuzzling his nose.

A low hum and a trail of kisses along your jawline. You shivered when his lips reached a spot just below your ear and then smiled against your skin.

“Are you sure?” his husky voice was playful, but you knew he was double-checking.

“Try me.”

That moment was not about chasing the high. It was about feeling each other. Being with one another. As close as possible. That couldn’t wait, and neither could any of you, tugging at the clothes in random order with urgency.

Neil looped his arm around your shoulders, settling you on your side in his embrace. Keeping you steady. Safe. Close. And even though his kisses were desperate and leaving you winded, his touch was gentle, and you knew the blue eyes were watching you attentively, ready to react to the smallest sign of discomfort. But also to any encouragement to go further.

A hitched breath. A leg hooked on his hip. Fingers dragged across his back.

He was ready to give you everything and take whatever you were willing to offer. And you wanted to do the same for him until everything else lost its meaning and it was just you and him, and the fire that burned inside you. Searing every nerve. Cleansing the doubts. Numbing the pain. Lighting up the darkness. And, in the end, bringing resolution as you both came undone, moaning and gasping for air only to be comforted by hands cupping cheeks and yet another kiss. Slow. Tender. Full of admiration.

When Neil drew back and shifted slightly, you whined in protest, wrapping your leg around him tighter to keep him in place.

“Where are you going?”

A quiet chuckle, followed by a feeling of a soft blanket sliding over your naked body. And a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You sighed with content as Neil pulled you closer again. The light stubble scratched your fingers as they studied the impossible angles of his face unhurriedly.

“Good.”

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #long nights

[elriel-oblivion]

I think it's been three days? Dunno, I don't keep track of day or night like I should lol but here's part three 😁 Next part up in five days so I can waste even more time before writing part six pft 😅 Thanks to all who interacted with the last post 😊🥰🤗

Word count: 3K. Lemme know if you'd like to tagged/removed 😊

Shoutout to @julesherondalex @verifiefangirl and @queen-of-glass for picking up on my fave paragraphs in the last part 😁😭 Can anyone do it again? Maybe I should make this a thing lol, shoutout to anyone who can find my faves. I think there are only two (or technically three?) this time 😅

Also, I'll prob put this up on AO3 this weekend, thanks to @acourtofcouture for reminding me 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part III

__

Warmth soaked into Azriel as Elain poured a jug of water over his head. His throat loosened as that warmth fluttered through his body, pulsing against those frozen veins and humming under his skin. Goosebumps tickled his arms.

But it was nothing compared to the sheer bliss that rippled through him as her fingers delved into his hair. It was an effort to restrain the groan reaching through his throat, so he let out a light sigh instead. He didn't think it prudent for Elain to hear him moan under her care. She was so kind to do this for him; he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Two more jugs of water followed.

'Is that nice?' she asked, as though it could be anything but. It felt almost exactly like his mother's hands when she'd wash his hair in those so few minutes he was allowed to see her every week. Gentle and tender and pleasant.

He could fall asleep here if he weren't so aware of Elain in the room with him. Touching him. As it were, that warmth pulled deeper into him, loosing his muscles, thawing his bones.

'It is.' His voice sounded thick and he cleared his throat.

She was silent as her fingers worked, and after a minute or two, she rubbed soap into her hands. The scent of lavender filled the air. She massaged his scalp and lathered his locks, her touch so comforting it almost broke him.

Cauldron boil him, she was so much like his mother, right down to the scent of the soap she used. Her touch had just the right amounts of care and force as it worked across his scalp, relieving a knot of tension at the base of his skull.

His blood was now a soft thrum under his skin, that warmth guiding him further from consciousness, like he was wrapped in his shadows, safe from expectations, safe from judgement, safe from the world.

'Azriel?' came Elain's voice.

He jolted, eyes snapping open. 'Huh?'

She let out a light laugh. 'Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.'

Indeed, his shadows swirled around him, thickest by his eyes. 'Sorry,' he murmured, leashing them back in.

'Don't be. You can close your eyes again.'

As he did, he noted how soft her voice had been, the sombre touch to her words. She hadn't stepped away from his shadows. They must've been cold on her skin, but she'd made no comment. What did she think of them? It irked him not to know.

She continued her work, occasionally adding more water to his hair. Her fingertips rubbed his scalp, the cool night air touched with that lovely lavender.

Behind his closed eyelids, his mother smiled at him. Her smile was so sweet, so radiant and inviting, so homely that he wished he could freeze time to extend that one hour into eternity.

'You're so beautiful, my boy,' she whispered, her voice tender. Her arms were extended and he ran into them, savouring the comfort he found there. It was astonishing that he could experience this warmth after those long miserable days in that cell.

Those days. They often blended into each other, dark and dank as the cell itself. When he'd be taken to see his mother, light through the windows was painful as it pierced him. It was always too bright, the sun. Always too penetrating, like those rays sought him out to display all his wrongness - especially his shadows, a frenzied, wild and unchained beast before he learnt to control them. Terrible, dark magic not born of the Mother, his father constantly claimed.

And oh, how dark those shadows looked in the sunlight.

But then he'd be reunited with his mother, and her light was mellow. Soft like a caress, serene as sunset, always calming his hurricane of shadows. She bathed him in her light, let it wash over him with her smiles and kind words, ever flowing in their hours together.

He regretted most the little time he had with his mother growing up. Resented it, for it was neither of their faults. It was always too fast, that weekly hour, and when he was finally thrown in the Illyrian camps without a clue what his culture truly meant, it was eternities before he could see his mother again and bask in her soothing glow. Those times were long and cold, even with his found brothers by his side.

His mother's image faded into darkness as something soft touched his eye. 'Mother?' he rasped.

'No, it's Elain,' whispered Elain.

Elain? As he opened his eyes and blinked, his murky vision cleared and he found her staring down at him in her dim bathroom, brow creased. His shadows were everywhere but one of her hands held a fresh towel; the other hovered by his eye. He dispersed his shadows into clear air. What did she make of his address?

And was that salt he scented?

Cauldron, did he - did he cry?

'I asked you to lift your head but you'd fallen asleep,' Elain said. 'I didn't want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you'll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.' She frowned.

When had he fallen asleep? And how could it have been so sound a sleep that he didn't feel Elain finish? There must be magic in those fingertips of hers to relax him so deeply.

'Right,' he said, slowly sitting up. His neck was stiff and Elain reached behind to hold it as he pulled it forward. Water dripped down his temples, off his head, some drops pattering on the floor.

Elain patted his head with the towel, wiping his neck and forehead. She brushed wet strands away from his face, her focus so intent on his hair. He dropped his heavy head, and she gave the back a more thorough dry. A few minutes of ruffling his hair around, during which she pulled the towel from his neck, and she seemed satisfied. She raked her fingers through his hair, flattening the spiky mess he was sure sat atop his head, and a ripple of comfort descended through him. She discarded the towels on her bathtub.

As a thin breeze breathed over his wet head, he noticed the plants resting on small stools around the tub. How did he not see them earlier? Exhaustion, he supposed.

Blooms and vines overflowed their small pots, cascading down in bursts of bright colour. Three hanging baskets of what he smelled as rosemary lined the wall, wild green clusters of stems trailing over the edges and hiding the ivory stone behind. He wanted to touch all those soft petals and velveteen leaves, feel the depth of Elain's care through their touch.

He made to stand, but she held his shoulder. 'Wait,' she said. 'I want to clean your face, too.'

He'd forgotten about all the dirt she'd found there earlier.

She wet a cloth and knelt by his side, touching the cloth to his cheek, right above the gash that rogue Illyrian had opened earlier.

He winced, the skin tight where the mud had dried.

'Sorry,' she said softly, pausing.

With a smile, he gave her the same response she'd given him earlier: 'Don't be.'

Elain breathed a laugh and dipped her head. 'That cut does look very bad, though. I think I'll have to clean it with alcohol too.'

'Let's crack open that wine, then.'

She laughed again and blushed. 'Not tonight, Azriel.' And she patted his cheek again, rubbing off the dirt and blood.

The sound of his name on her tongue heated his blood. It wasn't that pleasant warmth as she'd washed his hair; no, this was something more charged. Something that settled his weariness into a quiet hum and left him a little more awake.

He drew in his shadows, sending them through his veins. The cool they delivered wasn't nearly enough to pacify his rising heartbeat. Not with Elain so close. If he moved forward just a few inches, there'd be no space left between them.

He didn't usually think of Elain like this. Think of the feel of her mouth on his.

He blamed the exhaustion, even as it hunkered down.

And - she was so lovely. And he was Azriel. He should be disgusted that he was here, letting her tend to him, making jokes with her, imagining them kissing. That was enough to tame his heart a while.

But Cauldron boil him. How would he sleep with his mind teeming with so much conflict. The dead girl and her family, his mother. Elain too now, whether he liked it or not. He'd hoped his physical fatigue would win over his crowded mind. That he'd get some proper rest and deal with all the rogue Illyrian troubles and whatever else later.

Apparently not this night.

As Elain stood and washed the cloth, he let out a deep breath through his nose, then shifted on the seat, hoping to put more space between them. Distance - even an inch - might be helpful.

Not that he'd make the first move.

He never did.

Elain knelt down again, wiping the cloth across his jawline, nose, cheek. He faced her to give her more access, but she kept her gaze intent everywhere except his eyes, as if cleaning his skin required her utmost focus.

Look at me, he almost said. With her so close to him, it was maddening not to share even an accidental glance.

She abruptly went to close the window, a heavier silence settling over the room, then moved to the cupboard by the door, pulling out a small bottle of alcohol. Her petite frame looked so delicate, yet a tautness relaxed from her body in the way her shoulders loosened. It was probably just her defence against the cold, though the temperature was nothing but mild to him.

She poured a few drops onto a clean cloth and took her place beside him. She cringed. 'This'll hurt.'

He smiled faintly. 'It's all right.' He doubted he'd even feel it.

She delicately touched the cloth to his cheekbone and he clenched his jaw, the alcohol harbouring more ire than he expected. Mother above, that was a deep cut.

Elain creased her brow and patted along the gash. 'Are you all right, Azriel?' Her voice was subdued.

The truth would be more painful to put out. 'I'm all right. Are you all right, Elain?'

'I'm fine.'

He doubted her just as she probably doubted him. The dark circles around her eyes were faint but still there. But theirs was a friendship of mutual respect and boundaries. If she didn't impose on his, he certainly wouldn't do so on hers.

But oh, how he wished she would feel comfortable enough to truly confide in him right now. It wouldn't be the first time she'd done so; he just needed to be patient. But he'd do anything to relieve the tension humming behind her eyes. From her manic visions, pain he knew lurked under her skin and in her mind, general exhaustion from keeping up appearances - he would swallow them all in his shadows and dispel them on the highest wind if it meant she would be all right.

They were silent as she finished up. When she washed the cloth, he turned in the seat and spoke. 'You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.'

She beamed at him and her eyes finally met his. 'I know.'

He stood, holding her gaze. Something was very off about that smile.

Her hands fiddled to turn off the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers. Her body faced his, and her smile fell, brows rising slightly. She cleared her throat. 'We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It'll be warmer there.'

In an instant, they were wrapped in shadows, her wrist in his hand, and the great living room came into view. A thin sheet of moonlight through the windows was the only illumination. Just as their feet found the floor, Elain bent to put three logs into the fireplace, lighting them after a few tries. 'Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren't they?' she said.

He huffed a laugh and rested a forearm against the mantelpiece, crossing a leg over the other. 'They can be.'

The blaze flared out and she stepped back, looking up at him through that shadowy amber glow. 'Just a few minutes now and we'll be warm.'

Her eyes didn't leave his. And how stunning they were, soft and subtle in the dim light. The brown looked richer among the warm tones of the fire, something like dark chocolate - or rosewood, perhaps, with a mahogany undertone.

'I think you'll need a bandage for that wound,' she said.

'I'll be fine without it.'

'It's quite deep.'

'Not a match for my Illyrian healing.' He smirked, trying to relieve whatever pressure thrummed in the air between them. He hadn't even noticed it come; one moment the air was clear, the next it was pulsing a steady beat. What the hell was this? Did she feel it too? He wished his shadows would just devour the tension, if only to reduce his own shame.

Her eyes flicked to his wings behind him, and they rustled, spreading a bit. He straightened. The heat in his blood turned to a simmer and he knew in his bones it had nothing to do with the fire. Why couldn't he control this? She met his eyes again.

He'd wanted to see her eyes on his, but now they were just too focused, and if she didn't stop looking at him like this, like she could see the blood beginning to bubble beneath his skin -

She cleared her throat and scanned his face, likely checking she hadn't missed anything. 'Oh,' she said, raising a finger to his temple.

Her touch on his skin sent his blood boiling. His heart was pounding a loud rhythm and because his mind was so muddled from the fight and the blood and his childhood somehow entering his conscience, and the lines between the past and the present were so blurred tonight, and this heat was just searing - he grasped Elain's wrist where it hovered by his face.

Her breath hitched, eyes snapping to his.

This was wrong, this was so utterly wrong, but he couldn't let go. What had he done?

She stared at him, through him. 'I can hear your heartbeat,' she choked out.

Through the crackling fire, she could hear him.

He was silent. His body tensed.

'And it's a beautiful sound.'

His pulse spiked like his heart sang out to her, called her name. Did she - could she - feel the same as he?

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

The air was stifling. Cursed flames. Every thought in his head narrowed to the girl before him. Her eyes glistened.

He wasn't sure he was breathing.

Was she?

Her eyes swept his face. They stopped at his lips.

'Are you going to kiss me?' she whispered.

So focused on her plump, rosy lips, he almost didn't hear the hiss of a log as it tumbled further into the fire. His throat bobbed. Maybe - just maybe this could be okay. Maybe if she wanted it as much as he did, he could put aside his own self-loathing for a moment. Elain was different, an essence of light in and of herself. Her core radiated brilliance; it'd take more than just a few of his shadows to snuff out her glow.

And damn the consequences anyway. The Azriel of later would deal with them. If he didn't burn alive here first.

He swallowed. 'Only if you want me to.'

'Yes.'

His chest tightened at the resolve in her tone. Yearning and compunction warred within. He craved her touch, yet disgrace corded his heart. How could he even think this could be fine? She would be poisoned, made impure by his mouth.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

She trusted him. He wasn't sure why, but she trusted him. What could he give in return? His scars? He lowered his gaze, her wrist still soft in his hand. He felt his arm move like a dead weight, but it was only the feel of her thumb on his brow, smoothing out the crease there, that mollified him, that unravelled and burned away that cord of disgrace. He released a long breath.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

And it was the clarity in her voice, the pure stability that had him leaning down - slowly, so slowly. Doubt flickered along his bones but he couldn't savour the anticipation enough. This moment would change their path for ever.

His heart thundered with every inch he yielded, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek, fingers setting so perfectly over the delicate plane of her face. Her breath stilled when he was but a whisper from her mouth, and he paused.

Her floral scent fanned him, melding with the smokiness of the flames. Was that datura he smelled? Those exquisite flowers he loved so much, with their large petals curling off in tapered tips so like his own shadows. The first memory he had of them, that conversation where Elain had grabbed his wrist.

He was still holding hers now.

Her doe eyes were so steady on his. 'Kiss me,' she murmured.

He closed his eyes and removed the space between them.

So much for never making the first move.

___

So what's your fave ice cream flavour?

Feedback, constructive criticism welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp

#elain archeron #azriel #azriel acotar #elriel #elain x azriel #acotar

[magalidragon]

Hello! How about 14 in your recent "love in the eyes" universe? Have an amazing day!

Oooh a new universe! 🙌🏻 I tried to make this smutty but it turned out a bit sweet lol. I love these beans! 🥰 Moodboard to come!

14. “Later you will definitely need to tell me where you learned this.”

Love in a pandemic was interesting, to say the least. It was the whole "are you tested" but in a completely different way. Regardless, the answer was "yes" on both accounts, for the both of them, which was how Dany found herself spending the very limited amount of time she had off from twenty-hour shifts at a rural hospital dealing with massive outbreaks and super-spreader events in an area that already had limited healthcare to begin with, hanging out in her extended stay studio not resting up for the next shift, but eagerly awaiting a 'date' of takeout food on rotation of the only three local restaurants that had switched to takeout, and watching movies with one very attractive Westeros Military Captain, who also had limited amounts of time off.

They only had time off three times, where their schedules could align, and honestly she was so exhausted when she finished, she just wanted to sleep for hours. Jon was in the same boat, so-to-speak, until one afternoon her phone rang, after she had just discharged several elderly patients who had come off the tube, their tests negative, and excited to say that they had survived a pandemic, along with all the other chaos that went on Beyond the Wall.

So she was in a really good mood, answering excitedly. "Jon!"

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"Depends, what do you have in mind?" She caught sight of one of the Northern nurses, Kari, who rolled her eyes at her and smirked, knowing full well she was on the phone with 'The Handsome Crow', as the 'wildings' up North referred to Jon's regiment.

"I'm thinking of a place with no masks."

"Oooh, talk dirty to me," she teased.

He laughed. "I'll pick you up at your place. Leave hte dragon behind, aye?"

She mocked his accent back to him, gruff and rolling. "Aye, aye Captain!"

That had been hours ago. Shift ended, she rushed to the studio extended stay, showered, brushed her teeth, quickly shaved her legs, shimmied into the only matching pair of panties and bras she brought with her-- and the panties were also not her comfy cotton briefs she wore under her scrubs but the only truly 'sexy' pair-- a red bikini set-- even if the bra was also cotton and not lacy silk and satin. It would have to do, and honestly, she was probably reading too much into the sudden date that was different.

But no, she did not.

Because while dating in a pandemic was weird-- flirting without even seeing his face had been surreal-- it was still dating and some rules still continued to apply. Like the fact they'd been on three dates, had even fallen asleep on her bed together, but all he'd done was chastely kiss her goodnight when he woke up-- to her disappointment-- it was still three dates in, which meant naked time was now officially on the table.

And she had been itching to see his face that entire five hour flight to find out if the rest of it was as attractive as his soulful gray eyes, his messy curly hair, and the strong body she could see hiding not so much under his drab black fatigues. How right she had been and also how wrong. The moment he pulled off his mask, she felt every nerve ending light off like fireworks, his jaw chiseled, covered in dark scruff, and his lips full and pink, shyly smiling over a set of white teeth that were adorably crooked in the front. It all fit, every bit of him, and she hoped that she had been the same delightful surprise to him too.

Jon picked her up on time-- quite punctual, he was a military man after all-- drove her from the hotel on their first outing and even as she asked him where they were going ,he said it was a surprise and ended up taking her pretty far out to Hardhome, where he surprised her with a dinner at a dockside restaurant, just the two of them, a favor that his friend Tormund had called in for him.

It was wonderful to actually eat out for once, like a proper human being, and then he surprised her further by indicating that maybe if she were so inclined... "Would you...do you want to go back...I got a hotel room," he blurted out.

"You mean not the dingy studio with the brick mattress and scratchy sheets and comforter of unknown origins?" she demanded.

"Um...it's an inn...supposed to be nice."

She'd kissed him immediately, sighing. "Take me there Jon Snow, I beg of you."

They'd sped through the mostly deserted town to the inn, barely got within the door of what she quickly surmised was a quaint log-cabin decor style with flannel sheets and a roaring fireplace, and...yowza.

Their first kiss had been sweet, on their second "date", when he left her to return back to the makeshift barracks he had been staying in near the hospital. They had been nervous about it, shifting on feet as she didn't want him to go quite yet, but he had a curfew. "Need to set an example, I'm the boss," he sighed, clearly annoyed by it.

"Well alright then...talk to you tomorrow?" She asked him hopefully, and he nodded, and then smiled, shifting and moving in towards her, and she grinned, accepting his kiss gently. It had been tentative, both of them a little nervous, and sure-- they were both anticipating getting sick most likely, since they were in and around everyone with the virus-- except she figured she would risk it.

It had begun soft, lips gentle, rather close mouthed. Then it became something else, his hand cupping her head and she grabbed at his shirt, opening her mouth under his, moaning when his tongue prodded for entry and she gave willingly, tasting the beer they’d had and his mint toothpaste and the barest hint of synthetic nicotine. She needed him, groaning and grappling as he stroked his hands over her face. So hot, she thought, not realizing how that felt until he was holding her upright by just her jaw.

Wanting nothing more to invite him back in, she reluctantly had said goodbye, her lips tingling, and his smile dopey when they parted. She waved, watched him leave, and counted down the seconds like a silly schoolgirl with her first crush until she could see him again.

And when she did, they'd kissed some more, like those dumb schoolkids they'd become, barely paying attention to the movie that had been playing, or their dinners growing cold on the table, but it hadn't gone beyond that; they were both exhausted, and to be honest, she wanted to wash her hair and maybe look a litlt enicer than the old college t-shirt and pink flannel pants she had on.

So now, well, now....sigh.

"Later you will definitely need to tell me where you learned that," she panted, staring up at the ceiling, catching her breath, her body shivering from aftershocks. She pressed her palm to her forehead, not at all surprised to find that she wasn't just hot because of her dragonblood, but because she was freaking sweating, like she'd run a marathon.

Beside her, he was in the same pose, laughter rumbling from his chest. "Do you really want to know?"

Since that might mean bringing up the other women who had been on the opposite end of those sinful lips, she shook her head, laughing as well. "Oh fuck no, but gods Jon Snow, who knew you had that talented set of lips underneath your mask? If I'd have known, I'd have jumped you on the plane."

A sly smile pulled over his teeth, those same pouty, now kiss-stung lips flushed from his exertions. "If I recall you did sort of proposition me?"

A tiny blush formed on her cheekbones, not that he noticed, as flushed as she already was. She turned on her side, propping her head on her hand, her other dancing over his smooth chest, where he grabbed it and brought her knuckles to his lips to kiss, their fingers threading together. "Well, I had to test a theory. I am a woman of science."

"What theory?"

"That you were into me." She lowered her lips to brush over his, grinning. It was his eyes; Doreah always told her that love came in the eyes. His had fallen more than once from hers to...other areas. Plus there was the pupil dilation, the intensity there, and the bit of sadness on the edges. It made her desperate to know more. "And turns out, you were."

He smirked, brushing his mouth over hers again, murmuring, "Hard to tell, those pesky masks."

"We figured it out." She settled her head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm draping over hers, knuckles idly running on her upper arm. She closed her eyes, savoring. It had been awhile, she was tingling and sore. It felt wonderful. The good exhaustion that she knew would lead to a good sleep.

Not that she wanted to sleep just yet.

Her finger pulled out of his grasp, tracing his mouth, whispering. "When do you have to be back at the barracks, Jon Snow?"

"Hmm....weekend pass, would you believe it?"

"Coincidentally, I have a day off."

"Whatever shall we do?"

She giggled, nuzzling her nose to his, whispering. "I have a few ideas. Most of which involve that mouth."

He snapped his teeth, wolfish, and pressed his palm to her cheek, pushing to cup her head, her braids tangling around his fingers. She kissed him, smiling so wide their teeth clacked, and devolved her into more giggles, as silly as that schoolgirl he made her feel like she happened to be. It was the happiest she'd been in a long time, that was for sure. He snorted, laughing when she blew a raspberry to his mouth instead of kissing him, and devolved into his own laughter, which she got the impression was quite a rarity with him.

They tusseled a bit, both trying to one-up the other, laughing and giggling, and soon her legs and arms were flying up, brain losing all control over herself as he tickled her and blew raspberries to her belly and chest. "Jon!" she squealed, pushing weakly on his arms. He had her pinned to the bed, and was merciless.

"Never," he replied, in response to her demands for him to stop, and she didn't fight him, both of them kissing again, and this time it wasn't so funny, the kisses becoming deeper, intense. He broke away from her lips and trailed off, her neck arching on the pillow, sighing, and hands falling into his riotous curls again.

She hummed, approving, and shook her head slightly. "Jon?"

"Hmm?"

He tilted his head up to peer at her, eyes black as coal. She traced her finger along his hairline, smiling gently. They'd known each other two weeks, but she was quite certain of how she felt. She nibbled her bottom lip, whispering. "This probably...probably isn't the right time but..." She took a deep breath; just say it Dany. Worst comes to worst, he runs away, and then what? Means it wasn't meant to be. She never took this type of leap, gun shy from previously failed relationships. She closed her eyes, about to speak, when his thumb pressed on her chin, tilting her face to his.

Eyes flickering, she saw he had risen up to lay beside her, intensely focused, and was guiding her face to his, thumb stroking her jaw. "What?" he whispered.

Love comes in the eyes, she thought, and whispered, "I think I love you."

There, she said it. Maybe it was the hormones, the heightened emotions of the time, the idea that tomorrow could be her last, for all she knew. They were working so hard and that was usually all she had, but now there was something bigger.

And to her surprise, he smiled, eyes crinkling, and it was the same look he gave her on the plane, when she first wondered who this cute guy happened to be, and what was his story. He whispered, in return, "I think I love you too."

Dany giggled, accepting his kiss, entwining her arms around his neck, and made a mental note to tell her brothers that the North might not be so bad after all.

Smutty One Liners

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #ask #smutty prompts #but this is not very smutty

[nemycchi]

Enter the Deep Golden Ocean

A Childe X Lumine Fanfiction

Secret Santa gift to Dandeleon from the Chilumi Nation Discord

Tags : Eye Communication, Maskless Delusion Childe

Childe’s eyes, at first glance, seems fittingly dead.

For someone of his profession, Lumine does not wonder why this is so. Perhaps, years of witnessing various immoral deeds have snuffed the life out of them. Really, she is not anymore surprised.

What she is very interested in though, is the fact that even without the sheen in them, his eyes seem to tell a story of a thousand words. If she would describe it in some way, Lumine thinks that the ocean is the best descriptive to use. Deep, dark and mysterious. Precisely—maybe a storm in the sea, with the swirl of his blue depths expressing what he truly feels.

Now, do not get her wrong. She does not make it a habit to go staring at people’s eyes for a long period of time, but for her, it was just too easy to use his as a predictor of his emotions.

“Ojou-chan!”

Ah, speak of the devil and he doth appear.

The outlander turns around and her gaze automatically locks on to his. The sea of turmoil seems absent today. He’s quite… happy.

“Childe, what are you doing here?”

They are currently in Cuijue Slope and it is not common to come across this man in this place—away from his station at Northland Bank.

Lumine takes note of the way the dark blues of his eyes swirl in mirth before it closed and crinkled on the sides.

“No reason in particular, I just want to tag along!” he says in a sing-song voice.

She sighs. There is no purpose to shoo him away— after all, traveling alone can be quite lonely and she must admit that right now, without Paimon—for the little pixie decided to ditch her in favor of Xiangling’s food-filled adventures, she can feel the dredges of melancholy swimming quietly in her body already. Perhaps, things might get a little interesting with Childe around—what with the man’s penchant of bringing some kind of trouble wherever he goes.

“What are you up to anyway?” he snaps her back to reality.

“Oh, I was just about to go fight the Pyro Regisvine. I need some Agnidus Agates.”

She watches as the colors shift again at the mention of fight and she sighs once more. This fightsexual man.

“Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go kick that plant, ojou-chan!”

 

--**--

 

“Say, do you like staring at people this much or am I just a special case?”

Lumine chokes on the half-eaten Jade Parcel in her mouth at his sudden remark.

Picking up her tea, she sips slowly first, patting her chest lightly to soothe the pain from earlier. Upon setting the cup down, her gaze moves up to stare back at his.

There is definitely mischief swimming in those depths, but there’s also a challenge there as he tilts his head to the side as if testing to see if she will lie about her ‘habit’.

Two can play at this game.

The traveler spies the myriad of blue shades pass in a split-second when she returns the look in his eyes with her golden ones as she rests her chin on her palm propped on the table.

“What do you think?”

He obviously tries to fight the smile from appearing on his face but his eyes are a dead giveaway of what he feels right then. Lumine cannot be more thankful that she has learned to read his mood in another way than just his general demeanor for it makes challenges, such as this, way easier to pick up on her end.

“Come on, ojou-chan. How about you just tell me in return since I’m paying for this dinner anyway.” he playfully replies.

You already know, don’t you? What’s the use?

She knows that he knows that it is exclusively a thing she does reserved for him and him alone. The way his eyes regard her in that moment tells her that much.

Again, she is not one to go look directly into other people’s eyes but somehow, in some way, the deep blue ocean of his seems to pull her right in—asking hers to read, to understand that which lies beyond the azure abyss.

And so that is what she does most of the times. Does she like him enough to extend this much effort into knowing him? It is quite hard to tell. Maybe, maybe not. She does not want to put a name to the feeling but watching the way various shades of blue shift in his blank-looking gaze fills her with warmth.

“How about you try to pick up food successfully with your chopsticks first?”

“Ojou-chan!”

 

--**--

 

Yaoguang Shoal has been known to be quite a refreshing place to be in for peace and quiet and so, it is quite a surprise to Lumine when she finds Childe there, lying on one of the jutting rocks on the beach, holding a starconch to the sky in his hand.

Noticing her arrival, he sits up and acknowledges her presence with glee.

But his eyes tell a different story. He’s… conflicted.

“Hey there, ojou-chan! What brings you here?” the turmoil in the blue depths betray the smile on his lips.

Seeing that he isn’t about to share whatever the cause of his distress is with the way he greets her, she decides to drop it and not pursue it at all. The shadow of gratefulness for her avoidance flickered in his gaze for a second.

“Just collecting some starconches.” she mumbles, walking towards the closest one to her.

“Oh? What for?” he stands up and walks to her direction.

“No reason. It’s a habit.”

She notes how he slowed to a stop a few feet away from her. Lumine turns around and frowns when he avoids her stare and he instead looks out into the ocean, the pretense of being happy a ghost on his lips.

“Mhm. That reminds me. Aren’t you supposed to be with Zhongli-sensei for the finishing touches to the rite of parting?”

A cold breeze washes across the shore and she closes her eyes, feeling the moment.

“He’s away for some business right now.”

“I see.” his voice sounded a lot closer.

The outlander opens her eyes and was almost taken aback, not by the considerably shorter distance between them, but by the intensity with which his blue gaze regards hers.

There lies a question left unsaid.

“I see, then.” he uncharacteristically reiterates in a quiet manner.

Her eyes of gold unabashedly search his for some kind of understanding and for a reason she cannot quite explain, she feels as if she heard his voice through their connection.

‘When the time comes, will you be able to stop me?’

Lumine does not know what to think of that. Perhaps, she is just trying so hard that her mind came up with the most random explanation for the look in his eyes.

Instead of dwelling on it, she just hums and picks up the almost forgotten shell in the sand.

 

--**--

 

The ground cracks beneath her and she falls down, down, down below.

There she is, in Golden House, facing Childe—no, facing Tartaglia, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, in a battle set to decide the fate of Liyue. She vaguely remembers seeing a flash of purple before the floor collapsed and as she falls, Lumine is oddly reminded of that day in Yaoguang Shoal.

Perhaps, that really was the question hidden beneath his ocean eyes. Will you be able to stop me?

Can she?

She grunts as she slams against the cold, hard ground of the mint.

“Lumine!!!” she hears her fairy companion shout from somewhere behind her as a looming figure clad in an armor of grays and violets lands in front of her.

She abruptly stands back on her feet, sword in hand, as she raises her gaze to meet her enemy. Right there and then, she realizes how much she hates this situation she found herself in—not because of the blood slowly trickling down her arm. Not because of the fatigue thrumming in her veins. Not because of the sorry state of the Golden House.

But because of the unfocused and unreadable look in his stormy ocean depths.

She grips the hilt of her sword tighter, anemo and geo energy bubbling back up in her system. She hates this. She hates this.

With resolve, she charges ahead—a sole answer to a perhaps forgotten question burning across her golden eyes.

‘Childe… I will stop you.’

#genshin impact #childe x lumine #chilumi #genshin impact fanfiction

[soysaucevictim]

“more than ever, hour (work is never over)”

Summary: Logan goes for a run, and hits a snag when Roman seems to have found himself in trouble. Again. (This happens about a year before “Cherry Cola”, to be clear. Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Fluff, Light Angst, Sickfic(?)

Characters: Logan and Roman centric. Janus, Patton, and Remus mentioned.

Relationships: Logince (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Roceit (sexual/QPP*), Background Loceit (platonic)

Warnings: Lots of numbers, Himbro Roman, Roman Is A Disaster, illness, over-training, sleep deprivation, heat exhaustion, (not as bad as what happened in “Cherry Cola”), vomiting (mentioned), Logan Is A Good Friend

-

Logan was running his typical checklists before setting out for another HIIT routine over at the gym. He highly valued maintaining his cardiac and overall health. He wasn’t in the medical field like Janus is and Patton used to be, but he didn’t need those credentials to appreciate it.

Considering he was a 28 year old Homo sapien, his maximal heart rate would be 192 beats per minute. Obviously, he wasn’t keen on achieving nor surpassing exactly that red zone. To say there were diminishing returns, would be an understatement. Remus would take the notion as a challenge… to be sure.

But that value was necessary to calculate his initial target – 65% of that, to be relatively precise. 125, rounded up. He intended to reach that after some warm-up routine and the first lap or two. He would consider this the yellow zone.

Once that holds reasonably steady, his next goal was to go for 87% at the highest intensity. So, 167 BPM. Holding that line for at least a minute. 2 minutes, if he was feeling particularly bold, he was in pretty good shape at this juncture. This would be more of an orange zone.

After the spike in intensity, he would go down to 50% for recovery, or 96 BPM. Rest at that load for 3 minutes, in the proverbial green zone. And then crank the figurative gears back up to the 87% target.

He intended to repeat this for at least 10 rounds. Add more, if energy is willing. Sounded like a plan.

To hit these marks, one of the simpler ways Logan enjoyed were via the exercise bikes. But today, he thought he’ll do some laps around the indoor track. He felt he needed to work in some more devoted arm action, and that would be a reasonable way to hit this workout paradigm. This outline seemed elegant and flawless.

He reviewed all of that while he swapped out his casual shoes for runners, in the locker room.

-

It was exactly noon when he approached the starting line. He popped in some earbuds to his prepared playlists.

He was listening to the mix named “Warm-Up Playlist”. He knew his fellows would jab him for the plainness of it, but the utility simply couldn’t be argued with. It was a selection of songs that started at 50, incrementing up to 100 BPM in tempo. It helped him keep his pace.

He stood to the side, spending a couple minutes doing some preliminary exercises. Ankle circles, leg swings, pelvic loops, arm circles, and hula-hoop jumps. It’s important to keep all the relevant joints stable and readied. Janus would probably congratulate his refreshing fastidiousness, among their motley crew.

After that micro-checklist was completed, he started going toward a brisk walking pace. He was going to check his heart rate after a couple laps to see how close to 65% he was getting.

Halfway into his first lap, he was nearly knocked over by a blur wearing a red crop-top sweatshirt and matching shorts. Roman, clearly not paying attention to what he was doing. Predictably. Logan snorted and rolled his eyes. He had to table his thoughts about his friend’s whole methodology (or lack thereof, as far as he was concerned), or else he’d fall too far out of rhythm!

Roughly a quarter of the way into the second lap, Roman closed in on Logan again, he was going at a jogging pace to a slightly faster walk to match up with Logan. Roman waved and smiled at Logan, “Hey! Didn’t expect to see ya here, Specs!”

Logan thought the voice was Roman-typically cheery. Frankly Logan would be mystified about this man’s energy, if he hadn’t met Remus first. “Salutations.”

“Why are you going so slooow? Wanna race me? I bet I can totally run circles around you!”

“No. I have a plan I intend to stick to, Roman. You know this.”

Roman melodramatically threw up his arms and pouted at Logan, somewhat impressively coordinated to his slow jogging. “Fiiine. I’m off – I want to see how many laps I can get in, like... the next hour. Adiós, for now~”

Roman went from a jog to a run before he could get a response. Logan tutted before refocusing on getting to that 65% - that yellow zone. After the second lap, he drank some water and checked his pulse… hmmm, 55%. It was time to hit a jog. He skipped a few tracks toward that range and worked to match.

By the time Logan completed lap 3, he reached and held at 65%. So, he turned on a 1-minute interval timer and his “HIIT Playlist”, on his phone. Much of the music went at 120 BPM, give or take 30. This phase, he was going to rely on his fitness bracelet to tell him where he’s at, not enough time to do things digitally… rather, manually or with his fingers, to clarify.

He and Remus programmed this thing to flash his percentage progress, freeing up some mental space to not need to calculate that value repeatedly, whenever he looked at the monitor.

He picked up to a run for about another quarter-lap and broke into a full-tilt sprint. Every 20 or so seconds, he glanced at the bracelet, while keeping the majority of his attention to his surroundings and form.

20 seconds, 73%. Not good enough.

40 seconds, 84%. Logan grimaced and pushed his cadence up a bit more.

50 seconds, 86%. For the love of Archimedes… it’s okay. It’s close.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 88%. Orange. FINALLY. Okay, he thought he had a good read now, being consistent for the next sets should be easier.

-

Time to, figuratively, dial things way down. He spent approximately 20 seconds running, 40 more jogging, and BEEP.

He took a couple sips from his water bottle, before spending the remaining 2 minutes going at a walk.

1 minute, 30 seconds, 78%.

BEEP. 2 minutes, 71%.

2 minutes, 30 seconds, 60%.

2 minutes, 50 seconds, 53%.

BEEP. 3 minutes, 49%. Green. Logan sighed to himself, “Margin of error, you have to account for it… anyways.”

-

Round 2.

20 seconds, 76%. Better.

40 seconds, 85%. Almost there.

50 seconds, 87%. Orange, again. Locked on, Logan smiled. Now hold this for 10 more seconds…

BEEP!

-

Second active rest cycle.

Once he got down to a walk again, he observed that Roman was on the opposite end of the track. Still going at what he could only describe as an absurd pace.

Roman closed in when Logan was 2 minutes into this interval. 69%, by the way. Logan groaned, some of Remus’s sense of humor “rubbing off on him”. Why must people ascribe such crudeness to an arbitrary number, he wondered.

Roman was panting quite loudly, shouting down Logan, “Nerd- Nerd’s got some SPEED!”

Logan took a swig of his water bottle. “This is not the first time you’ve seen me manage this.”

Roman looked like he just realized he should have followed suit, smacking his lips and drinking several gulps from his own water supply. “R-riiight.”

“You really should pace yourself. On everything. Honestly.”

“HEY. Only Snakey McSnakerson gets to tell me that!”

“Is he here right now? Am I wrong?”

Roman was back to pouting, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“But you just-”

Roman cupped his hands over his ears, “Lalala – I can’t hear you!”

Roman ran off ahead of him again. Logan could only shake his head.

2 minutes 55 seconds, 51%.

BEEP. 50%. Green.

-

Round 3.

30 seconds, 80%. Not bad if he said so himself.

40 seconds, 84%. Margin of error.

50 seconds, 89%. Overcompensated somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps Roman’s competitive streak was “infectious”, today.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 91%. Orange, approaching red. Yeah, he was definitely overcompensating.

-

Third rest, fourth active, fourth rest, fifth active intervals... hitting his marks, pleasingly and without incident.

He was on his fifth rest, soon enough.

Once Logan was walking again, he thought he was up for extending his active intervals to 2’, for the next 5 sets. Things have been building palpable fatigue, but very manageable.

Roman still appeared to holding up, a short distance ahead of Logan, at this point. Perhaps he was slowing down. It was a few moments before the distance was closed again.

Roman was drenched, so Logan decided to ask him, “Are you quite alright?”

“Might be getting a little tired now, no big deal.”

Logan recalled some things Patton instructed all of them about and he looked at Roman more carefully as they walked slowly. Roman looked paler than usual. “Hmmm, is your head hurting, perhaps?”

“Maybe a little. Didn’t get enough sleep again, it’s probably that.”

“I imagine it couldn’t be helping but-”

Roman got a little agitated, “But what, Egg Head?”

“Are you nauseous?”

“I’m not ready to puke, not just yet, Bro Ham.”

“May I check your pulse? Or rather, how does it feel?”

“What are you getting at!?”

“Cramps? Dizziness?… I think you are exhibiting the signs of heat exhaustion.”

Roman looked like he was going to be short with Logan, but it was clear now that he was starting to get somewhat wobbly. Logan decided to prompt him again, “Here, let us go to the showers, you need to cool off.”

Roman knew he couldn’t fight Logan in his current state, “Fiiine.”

Logan was annoyed about cutting his workout short, but he could always resume later. This was more important, anyways.

-

Roman was lying on his back on one of the benches in the locker room. His outfit then saturated with cool shower water, holding a battery-power fan to himself that Logan let him borrow.

Logan was at his feet, “How are your symptoms now?”

Roman groaned, “You’re not “the doctor” in our group, would you please stop acting like it.”

“I do not wish to see you in the hospital, Roman.”

Roman sputtered a little, “Yeah well, I’m fine.”

“Stable, I suppose, yes. But I know you enough to know you are not “fine”.”

Roman almost shot up to rebut, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. “Look. I just didn’t get enough sleep – mind was running a bajillion miles an hour last night. So many IDEAS to write down. And couldn’t get to sleep until way after… you know what? Nevermind.”

Logan did care and frankly saw a lot of similar tendencies between the two brothers. It disturbed him and made him wish he was able to help them get a better handle on their sleeping and general health habits. It seemed as though they were both at very high risk of something serious occurring. But at the same time, he recognized that this was not his area of expertise. All he could really do was try to be there for them.

“Speaking of which... I think I see my wall… approaching… going to-”

Before Logan could latch onto any inquiries about walls, Roman dropped the fan and started snoring. After a brief moment of worry, Logan was reasonably sure this was simply a nap, not a loss of consciousness. To his relief.

Logan thought idly, “I suppose I should at least inform Janus what occurred. Roman might not be fit to drive for a while longer.”

Logan tapped out a message, “Hey. I’m in the locker room with Roman. He likely had an episode of heat exhaustion, today. He appears to be doing okay right now. But I felt that it was worth mentioning it to you.”

It was not even 2 minutes before Janus responded with, “WHAT!?”

“He’s safe, just taking a nap. I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you took him home.”

“… omw. That dumb ass has some explaining to do. With love, of course.”

“Indeed, I shall see you shortly then?”

“Yeah, ttyl… thanks, btw.”

Logan supposed he should stick around to make sure Roman was safe before resuming his own agenda. He had to admit, like with Remus, he did enjoy seeing them get some greatly needed rest.

#spilled musing #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #(*i think that may be a more accurate label to this AU's Roceit) #(honestly both the twins are complete disaster humans) #(but they're in good company) #gymrat au

[musings-from-mars]

For @a-real-human-person-not-fake’s birthday: Reader x Emerald x Jaune

Reader uses they/them

~~~

You remember getting out of bed that morning and showering. You remember lugging your suitcase down the apartment steps and loading it into the car. You remember getting situated in the backseat and you remember what you ordered at the drive thru bagel place down the road. But you don’t remember falling asleep, and you certainly don’t remember lying your head on Jaune’s shoulder. But that’s exactly how you wake up, with a crick in your neck and cold drool smeared on your cheek.

You don’t remember the sun being up before you had fallen asleep either.

“Good morning.” Jaune’s voice helps you return to consciousness as you sit back upright, rubbing your eyes clumsily with your knuckles. Jaune smiles at you, but you barely notice as you continue to blink your sleepy blurriness and the morning sunlight out of your eyes.

“Did sleepyhead finally wake up?” Emerald asks from her position in the driver’s seat. She had called dibs to be the first in the driving rotation. You three had agreed to trade off driving responsibilities every two hours to avoid fatigue, so you figured you hadn’t been asleep for too terribly long since Emerald is still the one captaining the hatchback. Your vision is clear enough now to be able to tell the time from the dashboard clock: 7:33. You three had been on the road for an hour-and-a-half, and save for the short amount of time it took you to scarf down your snickerdoodle bagel, you’d been asleep that whole time.

“I...think so?” Jaune answers Emerald with a chuckle, placing a gentle hand on your wrist. “You feeling up to driving in a little bit, sweetheart?”

You freeze for a moment when he touches your arm, then you look up at him. You stare blankly at his soft smile for a moment, then glance at his shoulder, which had just been your pillow. “Oh fuck, I drooled all over you,” you mutter, feeling embarrassed.

Jaune just shrugs his shoulders. “Eh, it was worth it. You sound so cute when you snore.”

You relax a bit now that he’s assured you he’s not appalled by you drooling on him. A second later, you realize what he just said, and it just layers onto your already existing embarrassment. “I snore?”

“You do when you’re sleeping diagonally in a moving vehicle,” Jaune says, still smiling at you, still with a hand on your arm. You enjoy the soft contact despite your mild embarrassment. “You can go back to sleep if you want, I definitely don’t mind.”

“Don’t want to be too tired for hiking, after all,” Emerald adds.

You recalled your polycule’s destination, a faraway state park that you still struggled to remember the name off. You weren’t the outdoorsy type, but you figured you could handle some hiking (you’d leave the rock climbing to your partners, though). You even offered to go on some of the more lengthy treks that required each hiker have a gallon of water on hand, so long as your demands were met in return, among them being a proper hotel room (rather than a trailside cabin with no power or plumbing like they had threatened) and a night out together in the nearest city. It was a three night trip, so in a way, you each got to choose how one day was spent: hiking for Emerald, more hiking for Jaune, and some city nightlife for you. It was a fair arrangement, you thought. Plus, it meant you and your partners would get to dress in cute hiking outfits, and stylish urban outfits during this trip. The clothing fanatic within you was very happy with that.

You consider Jaune’s offer for you to go back to sleep, and honestly, if it weren’t for the big wet spot you’d left on his t-shirt sleeve, you’d probably return right to it. You certainly don’t feel sufficiently rested. “I’ll probably sleep some more, in a little bit.”

Jaune looks towards the front of the car. “Well, in thirty minutes or so, me and Emmy are switching, so you’ll have a fresh shoulder to drool on.”

“I would be honored to be drooled on by them,” Emerald agrees, giggling in a way that makes you blush from both embarrassment, and from that usual re-realization of how cute she is.

“But until then,” Jaune begins and adjusts his seating position to turn his body more your direction, then he opens up his arms to you. “Come back over here.”

You don’t even give it a second thought, and you grant his request, scooting closer and leaning into his embrace. You don’t remember a whole lot from sleeping on his shoulder, but the moment your cheek presses again his chest and his arms encircle you, you’re already certain that this is a hundred times more comfortable.

Not much else crosses your mind as your sleepiness begins to return to the forefront. But this time, you fall asleep on purpose with Jaune’s arms securely around you and his lips pressing against the top of your head every few seconds. You smile pleasantly as you drift off, the rhythm of the road and Jaune’s slow breathing lulling you to sleep.

Five minutes or five hours could have passed and you wouldn’t have known the difference. You’re woken by a slow drifting feeling, like a strange stillness is overtaking your surroundings. As you emerge further from sleep, you realize the car has stopped, and the lack of motion feels odd for a few seconds and you lift your head off of Jaune’s chest. You look up at him with half-open eyes, and he smiles down at you and graces your lips with the lightest of kisses. “Time to trade,” he whispers, then you hear a car door open, and you turn to see Emerald getting out of the driver’s seat.

You realize it must be Jaune’s turn to take the wheel, so you lean away from him to allow him to unbuckle and replace Emerald. He exits, and Emerald quickly takes his spot. She shuts the door and smiles at you, and your first thought is that you hope she lets you go right back to sleep in her arms. Instead, she offers you something just as inviting. “Come here, dork,” she says affectionately, patting her lap. “Lie down for real.”

You smile thankfully at her, then follow her instructions, lying your cheek on her thigh, facing away from her body. With her wearing her cute green shorts, your sleepy drooling wouldn’t be getting on anymore clothing, but you could already hear the jokes about you drooling over Emerald’s thighs, which, to be fair, would be accurate. You remembered back to one of the earliest times you three had hung out together, and while playing a game of Q&A, your answer to Jaune’s “What part of Emerald do you really like?” had unintentionally been “Her thighs.” Thankfully, you three were far enough along when it came to comfort level that your answer wasn’t inappropriate, but your boyfriend and girlfriend had yet to let you hear the end of it. It wasn’t all bad, though. Emerald wore shorts like this a lot, and part of you suspected that was an intentional choice. A choice you appreciate, of course.

As Jaune gets you three back on the road, you shift a couple times until settling on a position that felt comfortable to you. Emerald’s skin feels soft and cool against your face, and with the added comfort of her slowly running a hand through your hair, you’re back to dreamland in no time.

You’re woken up again an indeterminate amount of time later, but not for long. You acknowledge that the car has stopped and Emerald has swapped places with Jaune once again, but you don’t pay much mind to anything else as your head settles back into the lap of one of your partners, denim jeans pressed against your cheek, and you drift off yet again without a care.

Later, you wake up to a gentle shake of your shoulder. You groan softly and open your eyes. The car has stopped again, but the sun is no longer beaming through the side windows. You push yourself upright, and after a few seconds of dizziness and grogginess, you recognize that you’ve stopped at a gas station.

“Bathroom break?” Jaune asks you, holding your shoulder.

You look over at him and nod, feeling the need to stretch your arms and legs more than anything else. “And snack?” You ask, immediately realizing your own hunger.

Jaune chuckles and nods. “All the snacks you want, love.”

The car door then opens. “Come on, you cuddle bugs,” Emerald teases, smiling at you both as Jaune shuffles out of the car and you follow close behind.

Once on your feet, you extend your arms over your head and stand on your tip toes, stretching your body in all ways your can think off. “How long was I sleeping?”

“Almost five hours,” Emerald says as Jaune is already heading inside the store, apparently in desperate need for a bathroom break.

You’re momentarily stunned. “That long?” You never imagined you’d be capable of sleeping so long, and so well, in a car.

Emerald nods and laughs. “You were pretty much out of it the whole time, too.”

You blink a few times, still wrapping your mind around it. “Wait, so that means you two have been doing all the driving?” You feel sheepish at having failed to fulfill your fair share of the road time.

“Hey, you needed the rest. And it was worth it.” She surprises you by stepping closer and wrapping her arms around your waist. “You’re so precious,” she says softly, then kisses you.

It’s enough to make you want to sink into her embrace and go right back to snoozing, but at the moment, you feel more awake than you’ve felt all day. Maybe the sleep really did help. Emerald parts from you and leads the way to the convenience store, still keeping a hold of your hand along the way. Sure enough, when you step out from under the gas station awning, you see the sun is directly above. It was already noon.

After using the restroom and gathering up an abundance of snacks (albeit healthy snacks; cheese puffs are unfortunately not the best hiking fuel), you stand with your partners in the short line to check out.

“So,” Emerald says to you, “do you feel up for driving?”

You know for certain that she wouldn’t be bothered at all if you said no, but you can tell from the sleepy lull in her eyes that she could use a break. Not to mention you feel the need to make up for all of your driving shifts that you slept through. You feel awake enough to drive, so you smile and nod at her. “Sure. Meanwhile you two can sit in the back and be cute together.”

Emerald smiles at that, glancing bashfully up at Jaune. “Cool.”

After buying your goodies, the three of you head back out to the car. It’s sunny and warm outside, and you hope it cools down a little before you reach the hiking trails. But you don’t worry about the temperature too much for now. You take your position in the driver’s seat of the hatchback, where you’d have free reign over the AC and the radio. Then again, you figured you’d keep the radio off for now. You suspect that your partners would appreciate the quiet.

The three of you are soon back on the road. Traffic on the highway isn’t too hectic, so it’s pretty easy going. You’re able to just set the cruise control and vibe. After a little while, you glance at the rear view mirror, and you smile at what you see. Jaune is leaning his shoulder against his window, all while holding Emerald in his arms as she lies her head on his chest. Both of them have their eyes closed, but you notice a faint smile on Jaune’s face, while Emerald seems to be asleep, her head wobbling a bit against Jaune whenever the car hits the slightest bump. You focus back on the open road for a moment, the green scenery passing you by on your journey.

You aren’t sure if you’ve ever been this happy before. It’s just you and the people you love, with an adventure of your own making awaiting you.

#rwby #reader x canon #emerald sustrai x reader #jaune arc x reader #topaz #drabble #reader x jaune x emerald

[justalittlepartofme]

3:00 am.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: One month after Loki broke up with you, he appeared at your door at three in the morning. He explains himself and wants a new opportunity.

Word count: 1154

Warning: Angst.

• • • • • •

I hadn't seen Loki in almost a month. It hadn’t been a good time. It was pouring out when we broke up. 

At first, when he appeared at my door at three in the morning, I wasn't sure of letting him in. I even wasn't sure if I was dreaming or if it was real. During the week, I hadn't had much sleep. It was finally my day to sleep in. Or so I had thought.

However, Loki seemed determined. And real. He swore he had something important to tell me.

Loki sat on the couch, in front of me. Leg crossed and hair tied up. He appeared to be anxious. The god looked everywhere but me.

"So? What are you doing here?", I asked while taking a cup of warm water. It felt hot between my hands.

The silence extended for a few seconds between us. The tension was heating up. Palpable. As if Loki was still organizing what he was about to say. It wasn't common to see him like that. But he didn’t look like himself anyway. There were bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. His clothes weren’t as ironed as always. His general appearance was disheveled.

He breathed deeply, and all the words came out at once.

"I don't need you. I can live without you".

It hit me. It felt like a push in my chest. The pain that I felt during the first days that he was gone appeared once again. As if it hadn't been gone. The cup in my hands shook a little so I had to put it down on the table next to me.

"See, I have had a really long week. I'm not in the mood for arguing. And at this hour! If you came here to hurt me-".

"No, no! That's the thing!", he hurried up. Maybe he hadn't thought about the impact of his words. "I thought I was weak because I had fallen in love with you. That I couldn't live without you. But turns out I could. I can".

The warmth from the heater wasn't enough. My whole body was almost freezing.

"At first I was crushed. Getting away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Although it wasn't impossible".

"I don't know what do you expect me to answer. Did you come all the way here to tell me you are over me? What's wrong with you?", I yelled. Every word he said was getting me out of my nerves. I didn't see the point he was trying to reach.

"I needed time to think".

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with that".

Loki closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. His frustration was perceptible. Even though he had always been good with words, he used to struggle with talking about his feelings and emotions.

"I felt exposed to you. Vulnerable. I've never felt like that with someone ever before. I thought it was a weakness someone could take advantage of".

"Who? Which people do you hang up with?"

"The life I have here with you is not the same as the one I had in Asgard", he raised his chin and looked me in the eye. There was no doubt in his look. "I needed to be sure that I wanted to live with you because I wanted to, not because I needed to".

He leaned over to me and took my hand. His skin was soft against mine. He left a kiss on the inside of my wrist, which made me shiver.

"Don't. Just don't... please", I took my handoff. It was easier when there was some distance between us. "I cried a lot, you know? Please, don't make me go through this again."

I wanted to deal with anger. It was best for me if I was mad at him. Sadness and heartbroken? I couldn't deal with those again.

"In my family... We've never been good at talking about feelings. I've never been to. Communication isn't my strength."

"You can't blame your family for everything. You were the one who took that decision. Not me. Not them".

"I'm sorry", he cupped my face with his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I won't make you feel like this ever again. I promise".

It made have been the first time I heard Loki apologizing. Not once since I've met him. But I didn't think he was used to doing it anyway.

I closed my eyes. The only thing I could think of was his touch. It had felt so long since we were that close. My heart was beating so fast I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. A terrible headache was making its way to me.

I let out a sigh and pushed myself up and off the couch. I needed to sleep. My body was about to flatter. That was the only thing that mattered. However, as soon as I stand, Loki's eyes opened wide. He swallowed.

"I'm tired."

"I'm sorry," he got up really fast, almost losing equilibrium. "I will let you. I just wanted to-"

"What do you mean?". My eyebrows furrowed. I extended my hand to him. "Let's go to bed. Come with me."

His body relaxed. All the tension was gone. When he grabbed my hand, I pulled him closer. I have missed him so much. I could feel his heart running as fast as mine. For some reason, it made me feel better.

Loki shook his head in disbelief. My eyes searched for his, eyebrows up in arches. 

"This all is so new to me. I don't know what to do".

"Just kiss me".

In a second, his lips were on mine. His fingers loosen themselves from mine and slipped around my back, pulling me even closer. My fingers ran up lightly along his neck. There’s urgency in the kiss. I’ve been wondering for the past weeks if I have ever been lucky enough to kiss him one more time. When his grab tightened around me, I wondered if he had thought the same about me during the time we were apart.  

When I pulled away to breathe, a corner of his mouth lifted softly. A shadow of a sad smile. His grab doesn’t lose. He looks like he’s trying his hardest not to move, as if he’s afraid that if he does, I’ll bolt. 

I kissed his cheek. His expression softened a little. “Let’s go back to sleep”, I whispered. 

Side by side, hands intertwined, we went straight to my room. He took off his clothes before sliding into bed with me. He hugged me, my head resting on his chest. His heartbeat got back to normal. My breathing synchronized with his. 

My eyelids felt heavy. Gradually, the fatigue got me. He left a kiss on one side of my head before I fall asleep. 

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #sm

[feralrunaway]

A New Day

CHAPTER 1

Summary: Captain Syverson finishes his latest tour and returns to his hometown only to find that things have changed since he’s been gone.

Warnings:  Cursing, Slight angst, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of past abuse, Estrangement

Word count: 1,340

**Hi.  This is my first fanfiction ever, so bear with me.  I don’t know what I’m doing or how to tag things.  Also, I’ve never shared a story before it’s finished, and I’m doing this chapter by chapter and it’s giving me hella anxiety. I’m sorry if this sucks! I don’t own anything related to the SandCastle movie or its characters.  However, this is my original writing and I do not give permission for use of the idea or reposting without credit.**

Captain Jude Syverson looked out over the rim of his coffee mug at the base he’d been leading for the last year.  

Honestly, he wouldn’t miss it.  The sand. The sweat. The shit meals.  He’d made some good friends during his time there, but he was ready to be back in the States.  He was ready for hot showers and Southern cooking.  Some decent fucking beer.  Not that he was necessarily looking forward to being back home though.  

Home.

If you could call it that. He missed the creature comforts, but there were reasons that it hadn’t taken much persuasion to get him on board with every new assignment.  He felt a bit adrift.  Didn’t want to be here. Didn’t particularly want to be there either.  What was “home” anyway?  Just a place to hang your hat, he guessed with an internal shrug. He was going on extended leave, because according to his superiors he deserved it.  He scoffed.  More like he was given a new set of orders to go back to being a civilian for a year.  Some sort of mandatory mental health break wrapped up in a pretty package, he assumed.  

He took another drink of his coffee and sighed.  

“Pack it up boys, we’re trekking out at 0600.”

_________

As his plane neared the airport, Sy tried yet again to stuff his overly long legs into a comfortable position.  He hated this feeling.  Antsy and yet despondent.  He hadn’t bothered to call anyone to meet him at the airport.  

Ten years.  Ten fucking years he’d been bouncing back and forth between missions, bases, and crews.  Sy’s dad had passed a few years ago, a victim of his own bad habits, and his mother was convinced that keeping in touch with Sy was too painful a reminder of the man he looked and sounded so much alike. He had estranged himself from his remaining family with the exception of his little brother, who he only checked in with occasionally.  From the brief messages they had exchanged, Jonah seemed happy enough with his new, very quiet stay-at-home wife and his four-year-old son.  Perfect little small town fam-damily.  

Honestly he was only going back home because he didn’t know where the hell else to go.  Didn’t make a difference, he supposed.  He could find some work, fix up a place, bide his time until the Army saw fit to bring him back for something new.

__________________

After the hour-long drive in the Texas heat to Jonah’s place, Sy was more than ready for that shower he had been lusting after for the last year.  He stepped out of his rental car and stared a bit at the perfectly manicured lawn of his brother’s house.  Not that he’d expected his brother to be a slob, the Syversons were raised to be orderly, but this looked like something out of a movie set.

The front door opened, and his brother stepped out.

“Jude!  Welcome home big brother!” Jonah said, stepping close and clasping his hand.  His brother was smaller in stature than him, but his firm grip belied a confidence he didn’t remember him having years ago.  Jonah stood almost a head shorter than him, dressed in a suit and nice shoes. Sy felt dirty in comparison, standing on the nice front lawn in fatigues.  

“Jonah,” Sy nodded, “Look like you’re doin’ well for yourself.”

“New times, brother, better times,” Jonah said cryptically.  “Come on in, you look like hell big guy.  Marianne just started dinner.  Let’s get you settled and fed, yeah?”

Sy crossed the threshold and toed his boots off next to the door.  A peek at the gleaming wood floors told him his sister-in-law probably wouldn’t appreciate any dirt tracked across her house.  A light clatter from the left alerted him to where the kitchen was located, along with Marianne’s whereabouts.  

“Care to introduce us?” Sy asked.  

“Nah, brother, you’ll meet her at dinner.  Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Jonah’s tone already set him on edge.  In the past, his brother, younger by almost 6 years, had always been a bit meek.  Growing up, Sy had done everything he could to protect him from their father’s drunken wrath, but Jonah had been a quiet sort, more adept at bookish things than Sy. When he’d left for the Army, he’d hoped Jonah was old enough and strong enough to make his own way, but he’d given himself plenty of grief over leaving his baby brother who he’d practically raised on his own.  Seems he had worried unnecessarily, but something about this overbearing, almost-false confidence in Jonah’s demeanor set his teeth to grinding.    

“Yeah, man.  I’d love a decent shower.”

______________

After letting the hot water pound down on himself for probably longer than was necessary, Sy toweled off and changed into a clean set of fatigue pants and a Led Zeppelin tee. He had long since forgone the need for most civilian clothes.  Maybe that was something he would have to get used to again.  He made a mental note to go shopping for some jeans, along with finding a new car the next day, and made his way downstairs to dinner.

The table was set impeccably, Sy noticed as he joined the others in the dining room, again feeling out of place amongst the finery his brother seemed to have developed an affinity for in his absence.  

“Jude, my wife, Marianne, and this is your nephew, Beau,” his brother said, holding a hand out toward each in turn.  Marianne was a pretty woman, blonde, late twenties by the looks of her, clad in a neat blue dress and an apron.  Sy leaned in to kiss her cheek.  

“Oh,” Marianne said quietly, accepting his greeting awkwardly.  “Nice to meet you Jude.  What will you have to drink?”

“No need to serve me, darlin’,” Sy said warmly, “I’ll help myself to some beer if you’ve got it.”

Marianne looked to Jonah.

“We uh..we actually don’t have any alcohol. Just a water for my brother, Marianne.” Jonah said and she shuffled off to the kitchen.

Beau sat quietly at the end of the dining table, staring slightly wide-eyed at his uncle.  

“Beau,” Sy nodded. “You sure as shit got your daddy’s blue eyes don’tcha? Nice to meet ya little man,” he said with a chuckle.

Beau continued to stare, looking unsure.

“Greet your uncle, Beau,” Jonah said lowly.

“Uh, uhm…nice to meet you Uncle Jude,” Beau said nervously.  

“Call me Uncle Sy, little man, haven’t been called by my given name in years, not really used to it anymore,” Sy said with a warm smile. The boy seemed to take mostly after his grandfather, a mop of brown curls on his head and that unusual chunk of brown visible in his left eye, just like Sy’s own.  Sy immediately felt a pit of shame open up in his gut for not having been there to get to know him early on.

“Beau, go wash up,” Marianne said quietly as she set the men’s drinks on the table for them and disappeared back into the kitchen to retrieve the dishes for dinner. Beau disappeared quickly to do as told.

“Seems you run a tight ship around here, little brother,” Sy commented as he sat down and sipped at his water.  

“It’s a new day, brother,” Jonah replied.  “I’ve learned a few things since you’ve been gone.”

Sy sat awkwardly through the rest of dinner.  It was nice to have some fresh, home cooked food, but reintegrating himself with family he barely knew left him feeling drained.

“If y’all will excuse me now, I’m dead tired,” he said, “I’m gonna hit the hay. Lots to do tomorrow.”

Sy said good night to his brother’s little family and headed up to the guest room they had designated for him. He was exhausted after what little interaction he’d had with them and was more than ready to be alone.

Feeling more unsure of his decision to come home than ever, Sy fell into a fitful sleep.

(Oct 11, 2020)

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“You,” his voice died and he cleared his throat, turning back to face her entirely, “you needn’t stay out there.” El smiled, “Are you extending an invitation?” “I,” he shifted from foot to foot, and though she couldn’t see it, she was certain Tyril was blushing, “that is, I don’t mean to,” he cleared his throat again, “I’m sure any of the others would be willing to share their quarters with you, if you ask.” “Oh,” “That’s not to say you’re unwelcome,” he added hurriedly.  Grinning, she got to her feet, carefully tucking her blanket around the still sleeping Threep before crossing the room to stand before him. He looked down at her, the firelight flickering across his face, reflecting in his dark eyes. From this close he looked almost younger, the sharp line of his jaw was relaxed, his eyes soft. She wanted to trace the long line of his neck, to drag her fingers across his now visible collarbone. She nodded to the still open door behind them, “Can I come in?”

El jumped as the windows behind her rattled again, another gust of wind twisting the ancient trees outside. They creaked and groaned, the eerie noise reverberating in the vaulted emptiness of the elven hunting lodge. She sat up, blanket falling from her shoulders as she looked towards the door, which shuddered beneath the gale. Gaps between the door and its frame whistled in the wind, and a rush of cold air sent the leaves they’d tracked in on their arrival skittering towards her across the dusty, cobbled floor.

Despite her exhaustion from tramping about the Deadwood all day, she couldn’t sleep. Her eyes, though heavy, refused to close entirely, watching the door suspiciously for any sign of movement. The rest of the party had retired to their respective rooms, and she felt their absence just as sharply as the blister forming on her heel. Initially, sleeping next to the fire with Threep had sounded pleasant, but now she was having second thoughts.

For one, the fire Nia had conjured had gone out an hour ago, and the wind outside had started to howl shortly after. Yet miraculously, Threep snored beside her, curled up tightly on her bedroll. She glowered at him before flopping down beside him, yanking her blanket back up. 

“For gods’ sake,” she grumbled, rolling angrily onto her side and clapping a hand over her ear, “it’s just a bit of wind.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, curling in on herself and drawing her blanket up to her chin, waiting for sleep to come. She cracked open one eye, looking out at the bleak and empty hall. The darkness glared back.

She’d never slept completely alone before. She and Kade had shared a room her entire life, and for the past few weeks she’d always been within arms reach of her companions. In fact she’d often woken up with Mal curled up on one side, and Nia on the other, all of them unconsciously seeking each other’s warmth in the night. Imtura had fallen right in with them, all four of them a tangled mass of limbs in the morning, though Tyril still kept himself apart. For now at least. Strange how they’d all worked their way into her life so quickly. Each one of them had burrowed into her heart almost without her knowledge. she’d known them for less time than she’d known the entire town of Riverbend and yet now, laying only feet away from her friends, she missed them more than her entire town. The thought made her smile, despite the fatigue that was building towards a pounding headache at the base of her skull. What a strange, merry bunch they were.

Another blast of wind rattled the windows, and the door shuddered. El sat bolt upright, scrabbling for the gauntlet resting near her head. Her heart pounded as her eyes strained through the gloom, muscles tensed and ready to spring. 

When no monsters materialized in the dark, she shook her head and tossed away the gauntlet of pain rather harder than she meant to. It clattered against the floor, the resultant clang echoing through the entrance hall just as loud as the wind roaring outside. She swore and whipped around as a square of light fell onto the uneven floorboards as a door down the hall swung open. 

“I’m sorry!” She groaned, burying her face in her hands. She could feel her own cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, “I’m so sorry! Go back to—“

“El? What’s wrong?”

She looked up in surprise, and her eyes widened even further to see a rather disheveled Tyril standing in front of her, blade drawn and eyes wide. He was devoid of his usual armor, and his dark red tunic hung open and loose at the neck, yet he still looked ready to pounce, eyes flashing about the dark.

“N-nothing,” she stammered, dragging her eyes away from the neck of his shirt and the few inches of now visible, toned chest on display, “I’m sorry to wake you, Tyril, it’s nothing, I just dropped,” she motioned towards the now ridiculous looking spiked gauntlet laying innocently on the soot streaked floor. She ducked her head, hoping the dark would hide the blush on her cheeks. “I uh,” she cleared her throat, “I thought I heard something.”

Outside, the wind howled, and the chimney above her shrieked. She tensed again, fingers clenching into her blanket. There was a soft murmur, a lilting language completely foreign to her, and a low flame flickered to life in the hearth. She looked up at Tyril, the firelight casting his already elegant features into even sharper relief.  She looked back at the fire now crackling merrily in the hearth, then back to him with raised eyebrows.

“Didn’t you just tell Nia not to waste her light?” 

“The cost of magic is much less dear for an Elf,” he said stiffly, and she smiled, drawing her hands up to her shoulders as the flames warmed her back.

“Well, thanks all the same,”

His razor sharp gaze softened, and said, voice low, “The old magic still holds on this place. It will be safe, I promise.”

“Right,” she let out a deep breath and let her hand rest on Threep’s still sleeping form, shaking her head as he let out a gentle snore, “even so, wish I could sleep as easy as him.” 

Tyril eyed the slumbering nesper with a raised eyebrow, “He does have a certain knack for it.”

She stifled her laugh behind her hand, looking up at him with a smile, “Thanks for checking on me, and for the fire. I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”

“Right,” Tyril nodded and turned back towards the hall leading to his still open door. He paused in the doorway, drumming his fist on the door jam before he looked back at her. It was difficult to make out his face, even with the flickering light dancing on the walls, but something about his stance seemed suddenly... uncertain.

“You,” his voice died and he cleared his throat, turning back to face her entirely, “you needn’t stay out there.”

El smiled, “Are you extending an invitation?”

“I,” he shifted from foot to foot, and though she couldn’t see it, she was certain he was blushing, “that is, I don’t mean to,” he cleared his throat again, “I’m sure any of the others would be willing to share their quarters with you, if you ask.”

“Oh,”

“That’s not to say you’re unwelcome,” he added hurriedly. 

Grinning, she got to her feet, carefully tucking her blanket around the still sleeping Threep before crossing the room to stand before him. He looked down at her, the firelight flickering across his face, reflecting in his dark eyes. From this close he looked almost younger, the sharp line of his jaw was relaxed, his eyes soft. She wanted to trace the long line of his neck, to drag her fingers across his now visible collarbone. She nodded to the still open door behind them, “Can I come in?”

Something like relief flashed across his face before he stepped back, holding the door open for the two of them, “Of course.”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” she said, sweeping her gaze across the dingy room. Though she’d meant it in jest, and despite the dust heavy in the air, the grandeur of the place was evident. The four poster bed was larger than the dinghy she and Mal had taken to the hidden cove, and was hung with now rich (and dust) brocade. The exposed beams in the walls and ceilings were ornately carved with trees and other greenery and all of the furniture still stood strong, made of rich, dark wood. The wind howling outside was a distant memory in here. In fact, the entire Deadwood and the world beyond it felt like a memory. Or maybe she was standing in a memory now. She walked over to a wash table on the other side of the room, footsteps muffled by a heavy rug beneath her feet, and wiped the dust off the tarnished mirror hung above it.

“You know,” she said, looking down at the thick film of dust clinging to her fingers, “I forget sometimes how old Morella really is. It’s so strange to think I’m standing in a building from an entirely different age,” she looked up at the ceiling, where a cracked fresco depicted a lush forest with leaping stags, gambling fawns, and a band of elves running alongside them, “it feels even more distant than that. I feel like I’m in an entirely different world.”

“From what I understand, it was a different world,” said Tyril, looking up as well, “magic permeated the very air, and we thrived in it,” he reached up, as if to brush his hand across the ceiling, and murmured something beneath his breath. A faint silvery glow outlined the fresco above them, and El gasped as the deer shuddered, shaking themselves as if they’d just emerged from a river, and leapt free of the ceiling.

 They cantered silently across the air, leaving a trail of silver stardust behind them, and Tyril smiled as El reached out and touched one of the fawns galloping past her. It reared back, an explosion of golden sparks flying from its hooves.

“The old magic wove itself into everything we did,” he said, watching as the deer cantered past him and ran to circle El. She spun on the spot to keep her eyes on them, laughing as the largest stag walked across her outstreatched palm. It brushed against her hand as delicately as a butterfly, warming her skin wherever it touched.

“You mean everything the elves did,” she said with a grin, looking up from the glowing deer to him, “Threep never grows tired of telling me that we humans were basically jumping around bonfires and waving pointy sticks during the Great War.”

“Yes well,” Tyril looked down at his hand, curling his fingers over his palm. the stag on her hand faded, then disappeared in another wink of light, “at least your people aren’t responsible for the destruction of their entire civilization. Their mistakes are the reason we have to go on this impossible venture in the first place.”

“But if it weren’t for this crazy venture,” she said, sitting down on the bed in front of him and nudging him with her knee, “you never would have met us, and what a tragedy that would have been.”

He glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised in clear disbelief. His eyelashes were so long they cast a spidery shadow across his cheek.

 “I think you’re the only member of our party who thinks that. The others barely tolerate me.”

El frowned, “That’s not true at all,”

Tyril raised an eyebrow and she patted the spot next to her on the bed. He eyed the space almost nervously before sitting down a careful distance from her. He was so tense the mattress didn’t even give beneath his weight.

“The others like to tease,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean they don’t respect you. We all know you’re an incredible asset to the team, and besides that,” she reached out and touched his hand, which rested on the bed between them, “you’re a good friend, Tyril.”

He looked up from where her hand covered his, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he glanced away, his face flushing. Yet his hand remained beneath hers, solid and warm.

“It’s,” he swallowed hard, his jaw working silently as he stared at the fire flickering low in the grate, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I could call a friend.”

“Well, now you’ve got four,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “five if you count Threep, which I’m sure he would insist that you do. So how’s that for progress?”

Tyril looked back at her and smiled, two faint dimples flashing in his cheeks. El grinned back, giving his hand another squeeze.

“You really are a marvel, Elaine of Riverbend,” He said, his low voice barely audible over the crackling of the fireplace.  

She raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who just made the decor prance around the room.”

“I’m serious,” 

Her breath caught in her throat as he slowly turned his hand over, still beneath her own, and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He didn’t look up from their now intertwined fingers, but she could see a delicate violet flush rising in his cheeks.

“I’ve been on my own for so long,” he murmured, his thumb ghosting over her wrist, “and even before I started this quest, back in Undermount, it was nearly impossible to find someone who I could trust,” he paused, his hand stilling on hers. He looked up at her, the barely flickering flames dancing in his eyes, shadows curving along his cheekbones and under his lips. Her heart pattered unevenly in her chest, but she held his gaze, and his hand tightened on hers. 

“I’m very glad to have met you, El,” he said softly.

“I’m glad I met you too,” 

The fire was nearly out, just a dim red glow in the grate, and she couldn’t recall how she and Tyril had become so close, shoulders brushing, hands still clasped together. She could barely see him, just a dark shape on an even darker background, and she reached up with her free hand, sucking in a sharp breath as her fingertips brushed his chin.

“Tyril?” she breathed, his name a question on her lips.

“Elaine,” he responded. She’d never heard her full name spoken like that before. Not in reprimand, or annoyance, but something akin to reverence.Her fingers brushed along his lower lip, across his high cheekbone and he leaned into her touch. 

Their lips brushed so softly at first, it could have been an accident. The same feeling as his magic made visible, brushing across her hand, and she shivered as his other hand moved to her neck, cradling her head. He pulled her closer, swallowing up her gasp of surprise as his hand slid down from her neck and pressed against her back, drawing her in. Behind her closed eyes, she could still see the silver glow from his magic and she shivered as his fingers traced up her spine, a shower of stars dancing across her skin. 

She pulled back, hands gripped into the fine silk of his tunic, breath coming in short gasps,

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, “I-I didn’t mean,”

“Elaine,”

His voice was soft, almost pleading, brushing against her cheek just as softly as his hands ghosting across her arm.

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you again?”

“Gods yes,”

The words were barely past her lips when Tyril slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. His lips moved fervently against hers, his tongue brushing her lower lip and she let out a soft sigh as his thumb caressed her cheek. She hitched her leg over his and he pulled her onto his lap, hands gripping her hips tight. She arched her back, closing any semblance of a gap they had between them as she clutched his shoulders, afraid that if she loosened her grip, this would all disappear, that he would dissolve into a shower of silver stardust beneath her hands. He kissed his way across her jaw, and she tipped her head back with a groan as his lips traced her neck. Everywhere he touched burned, heat searing through her veins. 

All at once, his touch softened, becoming feather light. Their kisses slowed, each movement more deliberate and controlled, not the storm that it had been before, until they gradually stopped all together. For a moment they were still, foreheads still touching, hearts thudding in tandem as they both caught their breath.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice just above a whisper, “ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

“You mean the first time when I yelled at you for bumping into me?” She asked with a devious grin, still breathless, “Or the second time when you decapitated a man right in front of me.”

His already flushed cheeks darkened, “I admit it wasn’t the best of first impressions,” he said, his hands skimming her sides. She bit her lip as his hands settled on her hips, his thumb tracing a pattern on her skin.  

“It’s alright,” she said with a smile, “I think you’ve more than made up for it.”

“That’s very reassuring to hear,” he reached up and brushed her hair back behind her ear, letting his hand linger there as his eyes swept over her face, “thank you, El.”

“For what, kissing you? I think I should be thanking you.”

He smiled again and she barely repressed the urge to kiss him again. She settled for brushing her fingers over one of his dimples, smiling when his eyes fluttered shut. He placed his hand over hers, trapping it against his cheek, slowly drawing it forward to press his lips against her wrist.

“You shine as bright as any star,” he murmured, looking up at her, “it’s what I first noticed about you, back in Parnassus. I’m sorry if I haven’t done a better job of showing you that until now.”

“Oh,” she bit her lip as her voice came out almost in a squeak, and instantly she felt heat rise in her neck and cheeks.

“If that was too forward, I apologize, I only meant—“

“No!” She said quickly, placing a hand against his chest, “No it wasn’t, I just,” even the tips of her ears felt hot, “no one has ever said anything like that to me before,” she looked around the room, then back at him, “I’m just having trouble believing this isn’t all a dream, like any moment I’m going to wake up back in my old rooms in Riverbend.”

“Well, if this is a dream,” he said with a soft smile, “I can’t recall the last time I had such a beautiful one, but perhaps we’d better retire now. I’m fairly certain you’ll wake up here.”

“Well that’s a relief,” she said with a smile, clambering off him and flopping back onto the mattress. Tyril shook his head, a smile twisting his lips as he laid next to her, dragging the blanket up over them both. She rested her cheek against his chest, and he curled his arm around her, pulling her closer. She settled against him, his warmth washing over her and she sighed, tucking her chin close to her chest.

“Do you think Threep has noticed your absence yet?” He asked, looking down at her. Her eyes were already shut, her breathing even and deep. Tyril smiled, laying his head back against the pillow, “Sleep well,” he murmured, curling his arm tight around her. 

He couldn’t remember the last time sleep had come so easily.

#tyril starfury #tyril choices #tyril the mage #tyril #playchoices #pixelberry choices #blades of light and shadow tyril #blades of light and shadow #bolas #tyril bolas #bolas tyril #tyril x mc #tyril x femalemc #oc: Elaine