#I’ve had oranges with the same thickness of peel and it was still possible

[admiralmoon]

Woke up with a thought, has anyone ever tried legitimately peeling a lemon? Like what happens? Would it open up the way an orange does with the spherical pulp inside ready for snacking or would it just be a pile of mush and disappointment?

[hansoulo]

lead me to the promised land

part two of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - language, kissing, heavy petting, dom!Boba, gagging/choking, marks and bruises of the Spicy nature, hand and finger kink, allusions to canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/tylowen

A/N: good day gremlins i am not very good at updating but i bring u some fun times as penance pls forgive me

༓ series masterlist ༓

7:00 PM: T-MINUS 14 HOURS UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

You were used to being moved around by other people, poked and prodded and lifted up so that stays could be tied or burdensome headpieces be attached to your head. Shuffled around to smile and be proper, sedated by heavy skirts and perfume. It was a fact of life.

Your dress was unlaced by the mechanical hands of an attendant, the change happening quickly and without fond regard from any party. It was early evening now and the sky peeled itself into a burnt orange. If you closed your eyes, you could almost taste citrus.

“Careful, please,” you whispered with a slight wince as the woman’s thin fingers brushed against your neck, both of your reflections cast warm in the mirror you now stood in front of. They were almost-bruises. Little ghost flower petals. Delicate and pretty, trailing behind your neck and not quite noticeable.

The woman only nodded. Servants weren’t ones to ask questions.

 ⫸ ———————————————————————————— ⫷

3:25 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 35 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The world seemed to tip on its axis, spinning too fast and not at all. It’d only been a minute, maybe two, but Boba’s words hung out to dry in the summer air and there was nothing else to do but wait for the actions to fulfill themselves. It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to let him keep kissing you, but you only broke away to warn in a jolted, harsh whisper when his touch became too sharp. “Don’t leave any marks.”

“Are you commanding me?” Boba sneered, his voice slightly cruel as his gloved thumbs rubbed circles into your hip bones. You didn’t bother opening your eyes to look at him, letting his mouth skid over your jaw. Your answering yes or no wouldn’t make much of a difference. You had the feeling he would do what he liked either way. You had the feeling you’d let him.

It was strange, too fast. Too fast because really, what did you know about Boba? Were you even on first name terms? He’d never called you your name, and you’d never called him his. You’d only known of him for a few weeks. Had truly talked to him for even less than that. Maybe you should stay a capitalized Princess and he should be “Fett.” For the sake of clinicality.

Letting him lift you up and onto his lap was most definitely not clinical. “That depends,” you croaked out after a moment, finally looking at his face in your half-stupor. He’d sat you up to face him and you’d gone with, pliable and keening. Being champagne drunk felt like this; like his eyes coal-black and the way he seemed to take up everything in your mind until there was no room for reason.  You traced over the scar on his forehead with a light mouth, knees bowed to nestle closer and every muscle in your body flexing, tensed as if dripped over with sunshine. “Are you going to listen?”

The smile of a predator was the only answer he gave you.

⫸ ————————————⫷

3:30 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

Men were vile. They had clammy hands that wandered to your thighs at banquet dinners, slimy mouths when they pressed their lips to your hand in greeting. They were all insufferable and you promised never to go near one as long as you could help it. But promises were a boring thing to keep sometimes. They were much more fun to break.

Boba spoke but it was swallowed in your interlocking mouths, hungry and escalating desperate. You were still sitting with—on?—him, too cowardly to do anything more than kiss and let yourself be felt by the strength of a man’s greed. He tasted like teeth and blood and pink flesh. That was the thing that no one had ever told you about kisses; about men like him. They tasted like broken skin. 

You were eating Boba whole. He was eating you piece by piece. 

You were just kissing. Had been just kissing for what seemed like ages but was actually only fifteen standard minutes. Fifteen standard minutes for your stays to be dragged loose, your lips to be bitten plush, and both sandals abandoned somewhere in the slow scramble. It wasn’t so much desperation as it was just a sheer curiosity goading your irrationality, but the end result was the same: a man squeezing the back of your neck, calling you lovely in the same breath he called you naive. 

“Take them off,” you almost demanded, pulling desperately at his gloves as the warm leather dragged against your fingernails. Learned manners were added in as an afterthought. “Please.”

His one-handed grip on your thigh tightened. It would bruise, likely. Raise questions, definitely. You would have to chalk it up to something else. A fall. A bad trip on a set of stairs. Anything besides what was happening now. The words rumbled against your chest and registered vaguely as a threat. “What was that?”

Huffy and impatient, you answered in a much more keening, undignified echo. “Please, pleasepleaseplease—”

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Stuffed was the more apt word. You tried not to think about how he could only fit two of them inside without hurting you. It made you feel temperature-hot, physically burning until your cheeks and your insides twisted into smoldering ash because his fingers breached the alabaster edges of your teeth until they almost gagged you on your own tongue. Boba drew his hand back only when you sighed around it, sedated with fluttering eyes and no longer asking questions. His voice seemed to get deeper, raspier around the unplaceable accent from a place you’d never heard of and probably never would. “Good girl.”

The gloves stayed on. Why they did and why you couldn’t just get him to do what you wanted like everyone else you had no idea, but your frustration quickly ebbed into hazy, sparking pleasure. He called you good. You liked being good. 

Your hips stuttered when they caught on Boba’s trousers and suddenly you were giggling into the thick muscle of his shoulder, quiet and juvenile in your own disbelief. Everything about this was absurd and inappropriate, which formed the basis of your amusement. It was something to play with. Someone. Big and shiny in the most literal sense of the word. 

The hunter let out what could be construed as a laugh but sounded more akin to a growl and two large palms settled again on the soft rise of your hips. “Not here,” he repeated into your jaw, the words that were previously muffled so long ago now clearer. Not here. Which implied a theoretical somewhere other than here where you would possibly, hypothetically be doing more than- “We need to go.”

You should go. You should be pushing him off of you and running and screaming or something equally inflammatory because this was… because his...

“No,” you protested weakly with a slow shake of your head. Your hands curled around his pauldrons and rested there, limp and slightly shaking. “No, they- they didn’t actually need me for anything. My father just had to—oh Maker-” his cuisse plate pressed up hard between the warm softness of your thighs. “—had to send someone out to search for me—” you rutted against his leg once, twice before the arms around your waist tightened again and inhibited any further attempts at movement. You recovered from the loss of friction quickly, instead letting yourself sag into his solid chest as one set of fingertips dragged along your spine. “—’s just a poor look for him not to,” you finished flippantly, barely audible from where your face settled smushed against the creep of stubble on his cheek. “Bad press.”

“I’ve still got places to be, princess. Even if you don’t.”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” you tried replying sarcastically as his mouth flattened against the thin skin of your neck. His lips were soft, but they pressed against you like anything but. You tried rolling your hips again but were thwarted. “Am I in the way of a prior engagement?”

“Something like that.”

“Well then,” you flattened your palms against his chest plate and broke away from the seal of his touch. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t breathe right and looked like you’d been dragged through a sarlacc pit, but he was just sitting there. Watching you. His eyes were hungry though. “Why let me keep you?”  The words were shot through with airy exhales as you were lifted up off the smooth stone. “I was under the impression that you hated me,” you continued into Boba’s neck with hands curled around the dark curls at its nape.

You did think that, before… this. Now you didn’t know what to believe, what his intentions were. Most likely they were the same as yours. Nothing good.

Whatever either of your motivations were, they would have to be paused now. For his mysterious, vague “engagement” and probably for the betterment of your health, because you were certain if you stayed here with him, shielded away from prying eyes and marching men, your heart would burst right out of your chest and through your ears. 

Your legs wobbled slightly when he set you standing on the ground, Boba’s helmet still laying on the fountain’s edge, and you handed it to him with a reverence that belayed the previous minute’s informality. When it was restored to his head you found yourself mourning the loss of his face. You’d been spoiled this last hour. You didn’t like not seeing it anymore.

“I don’t.” was his short reply. What a wordsmith. 

“Aren’t you still my escort?” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell in panted inhales. Wiping haphazardly at your mouth, you leaned over the fountain’s reflection and attempted to compose yourself. The circlet usually pinned neatly to your head lay crooked and loose, glimmering its delicate metals in the daylight as you fussed with it this way and that. The pool of water currently acting as a mirror rippled too much to be of any real use. You pressed your palms to your flushed cheeks and mumbled. “My penitentiary guard, more like.”

Boba turned you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders and you imagined his eyes to still be edged in charcoal embers. The last smudge of lipstick on your chin was rubbed away by a broad thumb and you watched, curious to his intentions and surprised at his actions, when he reached up to right your crown.

“Let’s go, princess.”

You didn’t argue. You’d been sated from rebellion for the time being.

 ⫸ ————————————⫷

4:10 PM: T-MINUS 15 HOURS AND 50 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The mercenary stood by the side entrance watching you. 

“You look a mess!” your mother admonished, harried with the exertion of the day’s events that you somehow managed not to be privy to. Apparently there was to be a dinner with the guests leaving the next morning, and apparently you specifically were asked to be present. Both would be dull pieces of information on the best of days but now, after the events that had just transpired, they were positively brain-numbing. 

The queen consort motioned for you to turn around and you complied with a slow spin as your being was examined for minor casualties. Once the woman assured herself of your being alive and unharmed, barely registering the tall figure that stood mere yards away, she allowed herself more frantic inquiries as she shuffled you down the hallway. “What were you doing out there?”

“Oh nothing,” you answered vaguely, eyes trailing as far back towards the doors as they could go without actually turning your head. There was a flash of green armor. “I just wanted to take a walk, is all.” You turned to her and smiled your best attempt at a brilliant, royal-white assurance. “Clear my head.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Juicy Fruit (Chris Evans x Reader oneshot)

Based on a dare by @hnryycvll and @honeychicanawrites, I decided to write something about my personal theory that Chris is a two-pump chump who cannot last in bed to save his life.  So, yes, this is somewhere between smut and mild bullying.  

Word Count: just under 2k

Warnings: smut (duh), drunken shenanigans, dub con if you want to be totally accurate about the fact that they’re intoxicated but I promise everyone involved wanted this to happen

He struggled to slide the key card through the door, and you tried not to laugh at him as he did it.

When he finally made it work and you both stumbled inside, you took a moment to appreciate the expanse of his suite.

“Your room is a lot nicer than mine,” you blurted out.

“Starring versus guest starring,” he smirked.

“Truly, guest stars are the most oppressed, downtrodden people on the planet,” you laughed.

“You want a drink?” he offered, waving to the minibar.

“I’m already pretty lit,” you admitted.  “So, just one.”

“Right,” he winked, “just one.  You’ll like this whiskey-- on the rocks?”

“Yes, and with a twist please,” you requested.  He nodded and obliged, rubbing the orange peel on the rim before dropping it in and handing the glass to you.

You took a seat on the couch, admiring the view from his expansive window, showing the glittery city lights below.

As he brought his own drink over and sat next to you, you honestly couldn’t tell what sort of “let’s hang out in my hotel room” interaction this was.  You hoped it was the more mature kind… and the way he was looking at you made you think your hopes weren’t so outlandish.

“I’ll admit that was my first cast party,” you said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Well, you pretty much did all the stuff you’re supposed to do,” he soothed.  “Drink, chat, try not to think about how long it’ll be until you see these people again…”

You nodded and looked away.  “Yeah, I’m definitely gonna miss these crazies.  For better or for worse.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, “we’re gonna get renewed.  And we’ll be back together again in no time.”

You decided to believe that, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up too much.  Sure, you believed in this show, but that didn’t always translate by the time it was edited and released.

“And if we get cancelled?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Then at least I got to meet some super cool people,” he answered hopefully.  You smiled.

“Yeah, this is such a great cast,” you smiled.

He bumped you on the shoulder with a finger.  “You’re my favorite,” he admitted.

“You’re drunk,” you frowned.

“Yeah, but it’s still true.  Don’t tell anybody though.”

“Cause you told them all the same thing?”

“No,” he laughed.  “Word spreads fast in this town, that’s all.”

“People would think we were… involved?  If they knew we were friends?” 

“Yeah, definitely.  If I say anything nice about a female co-star, everyone is convinced that I have a crush on them.”

“Ugh, that’s so annoying,” you groaned.  

“Yeah,” he agreed, “especially when they’re right.”

“Oh my god!” you gasped.  “I totally knew it!  You had a crush on Scarlett Johannson, right?”

He frowned.  “I was talking about you, genius.”

You nearly dropped your drink.  “Seriously?  I mean, the girls in makeup were always joking about it, but I never thought…”

“Why wouldn’t you think?  You’re super smart and you made me laugh, like, a hundred times a day.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling our director didn’t care much for that.”

Chris laughed at the memory.  “We ruined a lot of takes…”

After a pause, you took the last sip of your drink and set it down.  “So, is that it?”

“Huh?”

“You’re just gonna tell me you like me and… not do anything about it?”

He gave you a look, and you hoped you weren’t blushing too hard.

“Should I do something about it?” he asked lowly.

You simply nodded, and tried not to grin too hard.

He leaned in and kissed you sweetly at first, slowly.  It was giggly and innocent-ish until you found yourself feeling suddenly desperate, needy, and you grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.  He got more serious then, too, his hands slipping to your back and holding you; you felt so small in his embrace.

“Chris,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he asked, only pulling back from you as little as he possibly could to talk.

“Are we...gonna do this?”

“I really hope so,” he admitted with a little smile.

You kissed him again, leaning forward even more such that you would’ve fallen over if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you stable.

A sober you would’ve thought about not straddling him on the couch, but tipsy and love-drunk you was tired of the damn waiting and was already on top of him, moaning a little at the feeling of his hands running down your legs.

He laughed softly and moved the kiss down to your neck, taking a moment to murmur your name, as if he needed to remind himself who this was happening with.  

The intoxication made your skin warm and tingly, and the arousal made your eyes feel heavy-- or maybe it was the other way around, you couldn’t really tell.  Either way, being held by him felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket, even as your heart raced and your mind was happily supplying anxious thoughts of oh my god this isn’t happening, is it?

You didn’t even realize your hips were rolling against his until you felt what was obviously his erection, somehow managing to rub against your clit just right even through so many annoying layers of clothes.  You heard his breath stutter, and his hands gently guided your hips to do it again.  

As much as you felt like you could just keep doing this and get off pretty quickly, that was not at all what you wanted from this.  

"I need to taste you," you sighed against his lips.

"Aren't you already?"

"I was thinking somewhere a little different," you admitted with a raised eyebrow.

You felt your dress stretch a little as the hand on your back clenched into a fist.

"Fuck," he replied softly, "yeah, okay, damn."

You smiled as you stepped back and dropped onto your knees, pushing his legs apart.  He looked at you with some mix of confusion and amazement as you ran your hands up his thighs and finally reached to unbutton his jeans.  

You bit your lip when your hand reached into his boxers and wrapped around his cock.  It wasn’t even fully hard and yet already so thick and hot in your palm.  Of course, it didn’t take more than a few lazy strokes over it as you pulled it out for it to get entirely hard and oh shit, this thing could take your eye out.

Deciding you’d better get on with it before you changed your mind, you licked the head and wrapped your lips around it.  He moaned and it spurred you to bob down further, loving the way he filled your mouth until your jaw ached.

“Oh god,” he sighed.  He couldn’t seem to decide between letting his head fall back onto the couch, or looking down to watch you take him deeper into your throat.  

You hummed around him in approval.  The whole time he couldn’t stay still, squirming and gasping beneath you.  He was so sensitive; every time your tongue swiped just under the head of his cock, his hips jerked up into you just a little.

“Baby,” he praised with a breathy voice, “so good.  Oh my god, you’re so good.”

It was hard not to smile, but you managed for the sake of your task.

“Get up here, please,” he begged suddenly, “I need to--”

You didn’t even let him finish, pulling off with a pop! and hopping back up into his lap.

“Eager, are we?” you smirked.

“I don’t think I’m alone there,” he chuckled.  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he explained breathlessly, “I’ve wanted you for so long.  God, I’ve thought about this for so damn long.”

“Me too,” you grinned.

“Well shit,” he laughed, “why haven’t we done it sooner then?”

“Let’s not worry about that now,” you decided, pulling him in to kiss you again.  His hands pulled at your clothes and you finally relented, letting him shirk you of your dress.  Before you could worry about what he’d think, he was kissing you again and running his hands over your bare skin.

You felt yourself blushing a little as you reached between your legs to pull your underwear to the side.  You’d never been quite so desperate but you needed him inside you as soon as humanly possible and there was no chance you were going to get up off his lap until you were done.

His breathing stuttered when you grabbed his cock and guided it to slide through your folds.

“Oh,” he gasped as you started to drop your hips down, your eyes fluttering shut so you could focus on the feeling of him stretching you open.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He winced as your hips reached his, fully seated inside you.  You just stayed still for a moment, absorbing the perfect feeling of him before starting to, finally, move.

“Oh… oh god,” he groaned.  He hissed in a sharp breath as you started making circles with your hips, your own moans impossible to stop from emerging.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, attempting to keep yourself stable as you bounced on his thighs.

“Yes,” you hissed, “oh my god, Chris, yes.”

He bared his teeth when he heard you say his name like that, leaning in to lightly bite at your neck.  Every graze of his teeth against your skin made your walls clench around him, and both of you moaned. 

“Baby, if you don’t stop, I’ll-- oh my god-- I’ll come.  Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“I’m not gonna stop,” you promised, “I wanna make you come.”

“Fuck.”

“I want you to come inside me, Chris.”

“Fuck!”

You sped up a bit, leaning in to him so all you had to do was buck your hips and his cock would brush against your clit on its way into you with each thrust.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you ready to come so quickly, but him being on the edge was pushing you over as well.

“Yes, oh my god, yes,” you hissed as pleasure washed over you, and suddenly he was wrapping an arm around your hips and pulling you down onto him as he came inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “baby…”

You stilled against him as you began to catch your breath, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I didn’t last very long, did I?” he whispered.

“Nope,” you laughed.  “Me either, though.”

“I’ll go ahead and blame the booze,” he shrugged, but then he turned his face to look down at you and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“We should do this again sometime,” you suggested, already drifting into sleep and hoping he would carry you to the bed at some point.

“Sober?”

“Sure.”

“After a nice dinner?”

“Or before.  I’m flexible.”

[sebsunset]

Creation, Both Haunted and Holy - CHAPTER 2!

I’ve been working on this thing for weeks straight, to make it as amazing as possible!

As always, I am dragging @muffinlance‘s AUs into my work

this is the angsty one :) yUP, the year-old au!

and don’t worry, i have another one in progress... also using a muffinlance- inspired au- one of the more obscure ones, i think!

Mother Hama is. Suspiciously nice to write, and very angsty

TRIGGERS: Graphic-ish descriptions of wounds and child abuse! Please beware, my dudes! Things will get better soon, but this is really really bad right now!

LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578904

OR, READ HERE :) 

In the moon’s light, an urutau-vulture screeches out its song, pure and eerie grief ringing out in the wind.

And that’s how Zuko’s mind briefly comes back to reality.

Awareness fading in and out with each breath he wheezes through.

With wakefulness, comes the purest of agonies. A mouth open, voice too hoarse to scream out for help.

The hot pain, all over him, the memories tugging at his head, the memories of-

The burning. A cleanse that felt so dirty, like-

Oh, the sheer smell of it-

Of him.

The smell of cooked meat is his.

He wheezes out a cough, remembers the time Mom had no servants to help her, and had asked Azula to light up the fire for them to cook.

He tries thrashing about, to get a good view.

Mom ought to be around there, around somewhere.

(Even if it’s been so long since she was last around.)

She must be there, somewhere he can’t see, maybe in the blurry shade of the trees. She will bring a bucket and cool water, and she will hold him and-

“W-Where’s mom?” he tries asking, to nothing, to no one.

But only one of his ears hear it, the raspy, damaged sound that he can hardly recognize as his own voice.

He tries to ask again, words broken, tear tracks he can only feel in one cheek.

The burning pain he struggles to breathe over.

He doesn’t know what happened, but he can’t move. Can’t do anything, nothing but begging for it to go away.

“Where?” his voice comes out, finally.

The pain in his throat finally registers with the blabbered words, and suddenly he feels like he’s been screaming for all too long.

I’m sorry, Larva, says the feeling of hands on him. I’m so sorry it came to this.

Ghostly hands that don’t quite hurt when they touch his left side.

There is no shadow to hold him, though.

He can’t remember what happened, but the questions come to his mind nonetheless.

Why does it hurt so much? Why is his arm numb, why can’t-

Go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe, little Vessel.

The voice is soft, warm.

And, as the moon sings her song, his brief moment of awareness fades off.

Only one eye closing, as he breathes out again.

Painful, laboral.

His last thought is that he hates it.

The tone in the voice.

It’s all too-

.

.

.

-

It’s in the way the moon sings, as the boy’s skin peels off.

It’s in the way he doesn’t let any infection set in.

Scabbing away as the days pass, as Vaatu tries to heal him.

But there’s a reason the two of them were together. Glued, some might say.

Possessed, united fully.

He is part of Zuko, he is his mind and he is confined, locked away from seeking any further help. Not while the boy is that hurt, not while he can’t be awake and alive on his own.

Were it not a tragedy of occasion, his tendency to lock himself in the tiniest confides would be quite entertaining to watch.

Maybe, were it not happening to him, of all creatures.

Truly, he has been reduced to cowering on corners, to being not much more than a shadow.

Was it selfish, to wish for freedom when he had given it up to save his Vessel?

The two of them had done it.

An Avatar State of their own volition.

A sacrilege against the nature of a human body, a way to twist and bend their souls, braided together into a necklace of rope.

He doesn’t want to tell his boy what happened.

What the two of them had done.

He was too young to know what their purpose really was.

What would happen next, once he managed to get Zuko awake for more than a few minutes, enough time for them to scavenge, to do anything?

But keeping him awake, at that moment, would be nothing short of insane.

Yes, he must change. But this is too painful. Vaatu can feel the pulsing, the infection begging to seep in, to eat away at their flesh.

The way the dead limb hangs limply, charred black. The way the damaged leg attracts flies, like a plate of fruit slathered in honey, only kept away by him.

Blisters that look like they could open into eyes, watch the world for them all.

And so, Vaatu brushes off the sickness, scares away the vermin.

Lets his presence seep through, for nothing can keep him from affecting the world, not even being tied so deeply to his vessel.

The woods grow around them, thick foliage, colorful flowers in the vines.

No other spirit to bless or curse them.

Just the lonesome pocket of the world to which Vaatu and his Vessel have gone.

He is the eye of the shadow, the chaos that lurks deep in that tiny, undisturbed piece of the world.

He is a warning to the creatures.

He warns the world to stay away, lest it feel his disruption. His returning strength, his effect on the world around them finally taking place again.

Now that they are united, he can see that they could easily become unstoppable.

Rotting limbs thrown into any position, blackened flesh still smelling like it's been cooked.

The way it all brews in the two of them is nauseating.

The sickness is in the bursts of consciousness, when the one eye that can close opens up, blurry from tears.

When his head faces up and he sobs, lonesome and in pain.

Vaatu tries keeping the pain at bay, even if just by lulling him to bed.

Their vengeance is yet to be completed.

Disaster will strike again, he will make sure of it.

He tries telling, he tries consoling.

We will come back, he says. Rest for now, their fate is incoming.

But he is just a voice in his head, the feeling of a ghost-limb that can't really pull back hair, brush away feverish sweat.

Even if their Vessel is growing more powerful, Vaatu feels as weak as he can be.

But, as consciousness slips away again, he can’t help but notice the way the world is shifting around them.

The way the rabbit-mice has started chasing the otter-fox.

It is a victory, but it feels wrong.

-

Unsteady feet, weight put all into one as Zuko drags himself up.

The pain is hot and hard, it almost drives away the overwhelming hunger.

He didn’t think it could get that bad.

It could be worse, Vaatu says, but his voice still sounds angry.

Maybe not at him, but angry nonetheless.

(Angry like-)

When coherency slips away from his mind, when the pain is too much, as each of his slow, measured hops grows more and more exhaustive, he feels something in him beg for destruction.

But he won’t.

In the same way that Vaatu won’t bring him food, in the same way he will stay quiet, never saying a word of what happened to him.

Zuko wants to proclaim that he isn’t forgiven, but for the moment, his focus is on the steps.

Barely more than hops, as his one useful hand hangs onto trees.

Bare feet, grass scratching up against the angry, still-bleeding skin.

The question is pressing, rubbing against the back of his mind, as he cries out and whines, intense pain barely dimmed.

How is he alive?

All firebenders are taught about the sheer power of their fire, about the great deeds and prowesses they can achieve.

About how much damage they can inflict upon their enemies, when they chose not to end their suffering.

It should be infected.

I am trying not to let that happen, Vaatu whispers in his head, like it's a secret, like saying it out loud will destroy their chances of it getting any better.

 He isn’t moving in the shadow.

“The left side feels green.” he says, barely noticing he’s speaking at all.

Sunlight streams in through the gaps in the foliage. The moon is going to rise up soon, and the world is orange and it all feels green.

Find help, the voice instructs. You need someone to help you.

“First, food.” he argues, hearing the rumbling of his stomach. “I mean- Where there is food, there are people.”

You make a surprisingly decent point, he says, and there ought to be some farmhouses around here.

Zuko shudders.

People watched back there, people saw his shame burned into skin, his last rite of passage.

His whining sounds pitiful to his own head, but he can’t make his mouth shut up.

Involuntary sounds, flinches and shudders, as he drifts through.

Tall grass scraping against his wound, every touch sending new jolts of it.

The gentle breeze, the falling petals of flowers, blown away by the wind.

All so gentle. The kind pulsing of the world’s fiery heart, a piece of peace in the battlefield of its little nations.

And all so, so very painful.

Maybe this tells more than it shows, but pain is hard to show through words, hard to show through barely coherent thoughts, by the mind of a child who had never been through such great agony before.

A bad leg that can’t sustain his weight much longer.

Tiny complaints amidst panting.

He feels like he is the only source of noise. The world is eerily still.

Holding its breath.

Zuko shudders, tree bark scraping at tiny hands.

He looks down on himself.

A foot half-blackened. White and violent red, all blistered and-

Cooked. Broken.

Zuko doesn’t look at his left arm.

He is all too broken, all too destroyed by the time he’s been through.

You aren’t, says the voice.

Scabs that peel away too easily, like they were never meant to form.

Droplets of blood calling for any animal. He is prey, and the world is so, so very much now.

The disorganization of the world doesn’t manage to feel quite right, quite how it should be.

Like someone’s disrupted it before, like they’ve re-organized the world into something it shouldn’t be.

Something hangs in the air, hidden but never overshadowed by the smell of his tracks.

Yes, deliberate.

They’re onto something, he realizes.

A pike of wood, somewhere from which a scarecrow once stood.

“A garden.” he says. “I think we’ve found a garden.”

Purring at the back of his head, his blurry eye half-focusing around him.

A bush at the entrance.

Calling to him.

Food.

It has to be food.

Overtaken by hunger, he can only see them.

The rest of the garden is just carrots, little beets and a cabbage or two.

Nothing that looks that sweet.

And so, Zuko drops down, hisses in pain and twitches about, before grabbing a handful of berries in his one hand.

Vaatu takes a minute too long to realize they’re the kind used to make rat poison.

-

Her abode is a humble one.

A tiny inn she’s set up, rooms rarely occupied.

Of course, she has other places for travelers to sleep in.

It’s her lair, made of damp wood, of floorboards that creak comfortably under her old feet. Of roofs that leak, of the smell of a harmless old person.

She has a thousand little closets, a million nooks and crannies.

Hidden memorabilia, memories she’s carved back up for herself.

All wheatered by rain and by soot, but kept clean and tidy, far away from the fire.

She didn’t have many clients, but she had more than enough time to tend to the ones she had.

And so she did, for a time.

She kept herself satisfied, working towards her goals day in and out.

Followed through with a routine, day in and day out. Cooked plenty for herself, made sure she had the energy to follow through with her tasks.

That night, she can feel the full moon.

A welcome presence above her, making the world pulse with her divinity.

She has blessed the woman with her presence, and so, that night, she will go…

Watch the moon.

It’s a nice way to talk about the indulgence in her favourite of all things.

When she can make the world malleable around her, when she can dance and sing, pulling at the strings that bind the world together.

She smiles, feels it pull at her eyes.

That night will be formidable, she thinks

With finality, she treks along.

Yet, she doesn’t feel alone.

How can she, when the full moon rises, making the world finally feel alive again?

 The leaves crackling under her feet as she strides, the roots and branches snapping under her like she is a mighty beast.

Remainders of the sun’s warmth slowly seeping out, Tui taking her rightful place in the throne of the sky.

Her court of stars, rising slow and steady in its march.

And the world is silent around her. She knows it ought to be gawking at her, the last of her kind.

“Oh?” comes out of her mouth, before she can even stop herself.

An ear strained out.

“What is that…” she tsk-s in amusement, looks around with a half-absent mind.

Just what poor creature dares it, to choke in her garden, to foam over the leaves of her poison, to die in Hama’s territory?

-

Wakefulness comes slowly.

 His brow furrows in confusion, only half his vision able to focus.

But he doesn’t need to.

All Zuko sees is darkness.

He shivers, suddenly hit with the sheer cold of the room.

It's eerie.

He doesn’t know where he is.

He lashes out, trashes about.

His feet burn. Tied together with rope.

There are no windows, the space cramped. The sickeningly sweet smell of mold, the only sound meeting his ears, his own panting.

Like a piece of bread that’s been left hanging around for all too long.

Something is wrong.

It’s in the way his tongue feels garbled when he tries to talk, it’s in the way he can’t quite move.

It’s in the involuntary twitching of a dead limb, that he can’t stop, even when it hurts.

He can’t sit up, wouldn’t even if the dizziness would let him.

Vessel, are you okay? comes to his head.

Why didn’t you stop me, he tries asking. Where are we? Why are we here?

There are no little hands in the shadows, no feeling of a ghost hand touching him.

But the pain is dulled, pushed back.

Cloaked.

“Where am I?” he looks around. “Va-Voice, where are we?”

Someone brought us here, Larva. Get up,  I’m curious.

“Then move on your own.” he spits. “I’m tied up. Stupid.”

Regret makes him shake his head, but Vaatu is too old to hold up a grudge.

I can’t. We are united now, Larva. We are one in the same, and wherever you go, I go too.

“Chained?” he remembers. Like he is. Stuck, chained.

Chained. But fret not, my Larva, for stagnation will not come back to us. For now, though, you shall recover your energies.

A groan, as he lifts his hand, swipes a bug from his brow.

You sound like Uncle goes unsaid, but leaves the taste of bile on his mouth nonetheless.

Shudders, head shakes. The feeling of strands of patchy hair brushing against his shoulder.

He may not be alone, but there's no armor, no protection.

Zuko shivers, suddenly cold.

A part of him would give anything for that surge of power, for the feeling of the elements at his will, ready to be summoned up, to be harnessed and used as he deems fit.

For anything that can protect him, even with the collateral damage.

He can’t do anything, but he struggles to turn to his side nonetheless, to crawl out of the pile of rags that was his bed.

He can’t get up, so he drags his body along, pulls it slowly.

A trail of blood from his left side, scraped against the floorboards.

Dragged by his hand, whining and growling.

He can’t untie himself, no matter how much he tries.

Some kind of different knot - intricate, woven tight.

Vaatu guides him slowly, words that barely register to his mind.

Nausea, the feeling of ants crawling at the tips of his fingers as he drags himself to the door.

Get to the door - away from the fabric, it burns too easily - and then you can burn through the rope.

And suddenly, he wants to scream.

“I’m not burning myself. Shut up!” he plops onto his right side, drool pooling at the left corner of his mouth.

Beyond his control.

You know how to control the heat. It wouldn’t hurt. It's like pulling a bandage.

“Shut up.” he tries screaming, but his voice comes off hoarse.

… I apologize. I understand your fear, Vessel.

“I’m not forgiving you.”

I won’t let you stagnate for long, but feel free to stand your ground for a few more days.

“I’ll give you a week.” A bit of snark, that comes off soft.

A dry chuckle that breaks through the darkness.

He rolls his eyes, but can’t bring a smile up. He knows it would hurt. It would sting on his face, it would pull at the burns.

He reaches the door, struggles onto his knees, pulls at the handle.

Rattled, shaken, pulled and pushed with the feeblest of strengths.

Breaths growing quicker, as the weight of what he had done sets onto his shoulders.

Oh, what he did-

You should’ve eaten your vegetables, comes out as a light-hearted attempt, falling so very short.

“Shut up.” he wants to yell, because he’s locked in a strange home and oh Agni-

It’s dawning on him, slowly and steadily, just what he did.

Just what happened.

He hurt them.

(He did much worse.)

Falls to the floor. Looks at his one hand.

Now only one. Covered with little burns, old marks of his failures set onto his wrists. Little reminders of hands that were once there.

His breath, puffing out as smoke in the dark, cold room.

And suddenly, tears are falling down onto his hand.

(Father did that.)

No voice to comfort him. Nothing but the oppressiveness of his lonesome state.

Zuko wants to drown in tears, but his left eye refuses to cry, his bony body refuses to shake with sobs just yet.

So he just shrinks in there, holds himself close through the pain, pretends someone else is there to hold him.

"W-why?" He asks, feeling only half of his mouth move.

Words coming out garbled, blabbered through tears.

No answer comes, and he feels all alone.

He is a big boy, he wants to remind himself.

A big boy indeed, and that's why he cries and cries and cries, ignoring how the hollow place of the moon is soon filled by Agni’s eye.

-

The walks back home tend to be a less than exciting ordeal.

Oh, of course there's glee. Catharsis, even.

But lately, there’s some more than that. There’s the weight of the years on her shoulders, the soreness on her legs, the ache engraved deep into her bones.

That’s the vengeance of her people, of the men and women slain, torn down from the inside, overtaken by insanity.

She was meant to do it. It was why the art had come to her, it was why she had mastered it.

To bring down the rain of vengeance.

Nonetheless, that particular walk was made through with a quicker step, with a less vengeful head.

She had spent so long hurting, and the ones who hurt were the ones who learned how to heal the best.

She knew where to make it ache, and she had studied plenty of how to heal before.

(Kanna and her, studying scrolls that would be burned less than a day later, until late at the night.

Listening to the tribe's men sing and dance around the campfire, laughing and betting. Rolling their eyes, t hey healed eachother with little kisses by the moonlight, as Hama listened to Tui's song, to the calling of the full moon.

And with her friend's mittened hand in hers, she closed her eyes and felt the warm pulse of a world suddenly coming to life.

In the night's light, the cold wind whipping against their warm bodies, they danced together.

A dance that would soon turn into brisk movements, into desperate jabs.

But, at the moment and to that very day, the times before were painted with a rose-tinted glass.)

What mattered was that she had a patient, someone hurt as badly as she once was.

A son of ash and soot, a child with an eye burned open, blinded but still moving.

A child whose mere existence, whose life was astounding to her. How could that little thing keep going, how could he crawl to her and lay by her grassbed?

A little creature that proved her either insane or lucky enough to have a spirit in her hands.

He was going to be useful, she had decided when she found him foaming at the mouth, turning and twisting, rubbing dirt all over the open wound.

She’d cleaned him up, she had left him a nice little room, for an ashmaker that had yet to pay her back.

He would be grateful, that was certain.

And she’d seen first hand, how gratitude could destroy a man. Break down his flesh, make him bow and worship like a dog.

(She'd stood, suspended in her cell, watching an affair below.

The guard with bright yellow eyes, a glint like that of golden daggers, pointed towards her favorite prisoner.

A young woman, barely more than a girl.

She was from a neighboring tribe. Beautiful button nose and plump lips, bowing down low, foreign words slipping off her tongue.

She was meant to sing to the moon and the sea, but she sung their tribe’s songs upon anyone’s request. Danced as well as she could, tied up in chains.

A slap to the back of her head, something in the dirty ashmaker's speech.

A correction, two apologies delivered in a low bow.

Forgiveness in the form of a plump bowl of jook and not much else.)

Her garden blooms around her.

What little use she could make of the soil there. Little plants, poisonous berries. Nothing too beautiful or lavish. She was just a humble old woman, afterall.

She’d been nice, asked around the village. Seeds, some tools. She was sweet and defenseless, and nobody ever dared suspect her to her face.

The village had never been a tribe.

And the house she lived in had always been just that. A house. Some might stretch it and call it a lair.

Not quite a home, as much as she tries to keep it cold, to make it feel like one when she closed her eyes, and look like one when she dared open them up.

That place is still a land of fire. Lava below her, the sun all too hot, not a single break in his wicked reign.

She misses the polar winters. They’d always been so good for weeding out the weak and the fiery alike.

Perhaps her glasses are tinted blue, contrasting all too sharply against the blood-red of that place.

But the point still stands in her mind. That place is no real home.

It doesn't have the foundations to be one.

It doesn't have the people to make it one.

There’s no Kana or Panuk or any of the children running about. There is no tribe to embrace her, no new stories to tell around the campfire. No dealings with the neighbors, and no polar-bear sled dogs to lead to the market every month.

There’s only the oppressive loneliness of a single person lost in the sea of snakes.

But for now, she can rejoice in the luxury of a new toy. One that can be mended, sewn and filled up with the truth. A child of ash, all hers.

(Malleable as the water she’d once sculpted into ice.)

Slow footsteps, steady smile. A bit of excitement, despite the bits of a lazy cat in her demeanor.

The doors of the inn, all open and empty.

Until the locked closet.

It’s their smallest room. It’s perfect for someone that small, that frail.

A plant left in a pot too big will soon spread, grow out of control.

If he grows up well enough, if his leaves twist and bend and his roots stretch out as he tries to reach the sun, she will put him on a leash.

Hama had been wanting something to keep her entertained.

-

He sobs and heaves and nearly vomits once or twice.

Snot and bile, no comfort, no caress.

Not a word amidst the fit. Nothing that he can hear, nothing that can make itself noted in his mind.

His body hurts, but there is no infection to take him away, to lend him a hand.

He can’t think straight. Repulse fills his throat whenever he thinks of himself, whenever he opens his eye for enough time to truly see himself.

And he can’t do this, he thinks.

Like any child does, he slips into a spiral, falls down and down.

Thoughts swirling in his head, screams that his throat can't force out.

Until something breaks through, snaps him out of it.

The sound of a door creaking open.

A tiny stream of the morning’s light drifts into the room, so gentle yet so bright, revealing dust that doesn’t quite form bunnies and mold growing on the walls of a cramped closet.

The decrepit coldness is suddenly accentuated, with the gentle warmth that hits his back.

He shudders, suddenly, as the light is taken away.

When he turns, a figure stands, back-lit in the doorway.

Old and hunched, his blurry eyes barely able to focus on anything but her kind smile.

He turns to her, ready to question why she left his legs tied up, why she locked him there, how long he'd been alone, what she wants to do now-

“Are- Are you-” he tries stuttering out a question, but suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t know just what he wants to ask.

She comes closer, looks down upon him.

“Bow down and ask, young one.” she says, gently. “Be respectful of this old woman, won’t you?”

Vaatu growls at the back of his head, and, for a second, he forgets that his friend is simply locked inside his mind, with no real effect on the world once they’re not alone.

So, he breathes in deep, pretends there’s nothing wrong inside him.

And drops down in a rigit bow, so the kind woman won’t burn him.

“I am Hama. Who are you?” a cane pokes his burnt side, the arm that’s no longer there.

Deep breath. He knows who he is, and so will she.

“I’m Zuko. Son of-”

“Nobody.” she says. The harsh word startles him, slipped in such a gentle voice. “Not anymore. Not after what happened to you.”

He tries again.

“Zuko, son of P-”

A poke from the cane, right in a blister. He flinches and hisses, unable to stop himself.

“You are a son of nobody.” she says, her voice sweet as the smell of moldy grain. “After all that must’ve happened to you, it’s better as that. Poor thing.”

That silence lasts for a few seconds, before her voice returns, kinder, to his sight of nothing but fetid floorboards.

 “Now, young one, tell me, what have they done to you?”

He won’t say. He won’t speak out again.

Not when Vaatu hisses, pure in his anger, taking over his head.

“Don’t you think you owe me that, after all I’ve helped you with?” a cane pokes his head, gently thumping against his skull. No real intention for pain, not on his bad side.

He gulps down something.

A single tear hits his lip, salty against the bitterness in his mouth.

Why does he cry? Why do the tears betray his mind, why does his gut feel so raw?

“I- I was burned.” he says.

“That I can see.” she says, gently. “Now come on, darling. I must know your affliction to heal you.”

“I was burned and banished.” he says. Words spilling out dirty and fetid and spat out like falling teeth.

But he tells no more. Hopefully, she won't see any tales of spirits, any curses or blessings to destroy.

(What if she wants to cleanse him, too?)

“Oh, dear.” she says, voice perfect in compassion.

Be careful, Vessel, Vaatu says in his head. His voice no longer a hiss, just a thought at the back of his mind. Do not trust her. Do not.

“That is very unfortunate.” she says. “Then, you aren’t Zuko, are you? As a banished boy, you have no name.”

“I- I still have my honor.” is the only defense he can give her.

And she laughs.

It would be warm, infectious as any other disease, were it not happening at that moment, when he felt raw and when his vulnerability was so easy to turn into anger.

“I am Hama, and you are Nobody.”

This is the point where the scene should end. Here, it should all fade away to silence, to maybe a sob or two, a twitch or whine at his own discomfort, until he is instructed to get up.

But please, remember just who we are talking about.

Nothing ends when or how it should, down here.

“B-But-” he tries stammering out, his heart thundering in his chest. His voice can’t come out as a scream, but it tries.

Maybe, a part of him thinks, his voice will be heard then.

She pokes him again, straight at the ribs.

“Nobody.” she says. “Nobody, with that attitude.”

If only she knew, he wanted to say.

Be nobody, Vaatu whispers, locked inside his head.

Zuko wants to fight. He wants to bite and gnash and destroy, to bend and twist and fall upon that state again, that state that made him-

“Not nobody,” he says. “I- I’ll prove to you. I’m not nobody. I swear on my honor.”

He can feel her smile.

“Son of nobody, then.” she says. “But make good on that promise, please.”

Hissing in his head, he looks up.

Tap, straight at a hollowed-out cheek.

“Stay down.” she says. “The light might hurt your eyes, so keep down low, son. I’ll get you something to eat.”

-

[allycryz]

2. Open your eyes. for either all of the ot6 or just emet-selch x y'shtola.

Surprise, I found a way to do both :D

Post SHB, A Beach Episode With an Extremely Vague KH Reference

Rated: T-ish for implied sex

Y’shtola approaches from behind and lays her hand atop his head, fingers sinking into thick hair. “Close your eyes, Hades.”

He goes still and quiet beneath her. The only sounds are the wind, the waves, and distant shouts of laughter from their loves. She pushes at the limit of her aether sense to perceive them: Thancred and Nerys on Haurchefant and Urianger’s respective shoulders, fighting to knock the other off into the water. ‘Tis late for such games, given the setting sun and the dangerous undertow but…

...There is a reckless quality in all of them that draws her. Perhaps because it means they’ll accept that same trait in her. She has spent a lot of time pondering the forces that draw the six of them together. No easy answers, but many promising theories.

Hades sits on the porch in his shorts and open floral shirt, dark glasses pushed up into his hair. Much of the garment’s pattern is lost to her–she recognizes the distinct aetheric signatures of purple and black dye, vague flower shapes, and gaps the pigment variations are too subtle to catch without concentrated focus (It is rare for him to be understated in his clothes. She suspects a floral print at the beach needs subversion before he will don it.)

She spends a moment assessing the correct point of entry before perching herself in his lap. At once–as expected–his hands seize her hips to steady her.

“May I open them now, darling?” His eyebrows shoot up to the hairline and glasses, but his lids remain firmly shut. 

“Not yet.” One hand continues holding the plate she brought from inside their rented beach house. The other runs over his cheek. The skin feels slightly warm. Hades had been diligent in applying and re-applying sunscreen...until Urianger started a sandcastle contest. 

Nerys was the one to remind him, noting he was getting pink all over. Which sparked a debate about whether the time spent re-applying would be taken from the two-bell time limit. (They ruled against him and also against the use of magic. He still won.)

He caresses her hip, rubbing the fabric of her sarong between two fingers. The other arm locks firm about her waist until her bathing suit top presses against his shirt and bare chest. Y’shtola goes very still, not giving him the slide of bodies he clearly wants.

Hades sighs. “Cruel sorceress, you’ll drive me to distraction.”

“It seems you were doing nothing before I arrived. What could I distract you from?”

“Why…” He leans forward until his mouth finds her forehead. “Watching our lovers of course. It’s cute Thancred thinks he stands a chance.”

“Ah but Thancred need only give one of those smiles at the right moment. And then he can push her into the water.” Y’shtola smiles. “Nerys can only resist such prettiness for so long.”

“I’m aware. How do you think I won her over?”

“I’m certain…” Y’shtola gives her driest tone. “That wasn’t the sole reason.”

“Believe what you will.” His mouth drops down, intent on pressing against hers. She slips the free hand between them, so that his lips press to her palm. Hades huffs a chuckle and slides his tongue over her skin.

“Now,” says Y’shtola. “Eyes stay closed. Open your mouth.”

He gives her a look as best as one can with their eyes closed. But he obeys, full lips parting. There is some type of balm upon them. Possibly darker than the natural shade. If it were more pigmented, the energies would feel different. 

She takes the offering from her plate and presses it to his lower lip. Hades follows the cue and takes it full into his mouth, chewing it slow as he savors it. Juice clings to her fingertips and she offers them in the same way. His tongue slides over, practiced enough to know how to avoid her clawtips. 

“Is this…?”

“Open your eyes.” 

He does, smiling at her and then at the plate. The fruit atop it is so vibrant a red-orange she perceives it as clearly as its star shape and the pith she peeled away in the kitchen. “So that’s where you were this morning. You did remember how dangerous I said the trek would be.”

“Of course. It meant I was well-prepared for the terrain and the monsters. Besides…” She picks up another piece of the fruit. “You knew exactly what you were doing, telling two aetherologists about an aether-rich fruit. And all four of them are hungry for the types of stories you said went along with it.”

“Five of you.” He plucks the fruit from her hand and presses it to her lips. “You cannot pretend you were not captivated.”

She hums and takes the offering, returning the slide of tongue over fingertips. Sucking lightly at the tip of his longest finger. The arm about her waist tightens, presses her nearer. 

“But tell me, darling. Why go by yourself?”

“Because we came here specifically to relax. Not to take quests and errands. I went so that the others can enjoy the…” She wrinkles her nose, realising the unintended pun about to come out. His chuckles says he guesses at it. “So they can enjoy the fruit without the strain. They deserve it.”

“Ah, but don’t you also deserve a reprieve?”

Y’shtola shrugs. “To tell the truth, I found the trek great fun. And I know-” She touches his lips to silence the comment bubbling from his mouth. “That Nerys and Haurchefant would say they also find quests enjoyable. But neither of them know when to pause or relax.”

“Pot, kettle.” He stands, lifting her in his arms. She clutches at him with her free hand, frowning a little at the sudden gesture. (At least she kept ahold of the plate.) “It seems once again, I must save you from yourself.”

"If you drop me into the ocean I will not be held responsible for the consequences."

"Tempting but no, I've something else in mind." He walks into the house, clutching her to his chest.

--

"What have you two been up to?" Thancred asks, poking his head into the bedroom. There is a raucous hubbub below, snatches of Haurchefant and Nerys giggling. 

"Guess." Hades says, drawing his hands over Y'shtola's bare back. She shivers under the touch but does nothing else, says nothing else. For once, she is utterly languid. 

"Room for one more?"

Hades sniffs. "Wash the brine and sand off of you and maybe we'll allow it."

"Spoilsports." But he steps back, just as the other three crowd the doorway. Well. Nerys and Haurchefant do. Urianger hangs back a little. 

"Shtola!" Nerys sounds both awed and stern. "We found the fruit in the kitchen. This morning, were you-"

"She was," Hades answers for her. "Would all of you please go wash up instead of tracking sand into the bedroom?"

"If it wouldn’t make the sheets gritty," she hears Haurchefant mutter. "We could go in now and track sand all over him."

"To the shower," Urianger says. "And then we shall see about the bed."

"Ah Uri, my sweet prince, you are the kindest of us."

"Mayhaps not, for I am sore tempted to vex Hades with my sandy feet upon his person."

Y'shtola laughs, pressing her face to Hades’ chest. The other four move on, voices muffled by the closing of the bathroom door.

"...that shower and the bath are rather large," Hades murmurs. "Do you want to join them?"

"Another time." She says, eyes falling shut again. "I'm resting now."

"I'm pleased to hear it, darling." He strokes the back of her neck and she melts against him, sleepy and content.

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Maybe or maybe not a Naruto/Charsuke hook up mini drabble?🤷‍♀️😅Just thinking how that wouldve happened, i cant stop thinking ab it since then

I finally had time to write it! Tbh i couldn’t stop thinking about it either heh. As for mini drabble, it ended up over 2,000 words 😂 Hopefully you like it 🙏

Rated: M (no full smut, but also they’re kinda in a public place...)

It’s not precisely written to fit in with tswm canon, but it probably works if you squint a little. Set somewhere between Menma breaking up with Charasuke and Naruto and Sasuke getting together. I didn’t have a lot of notes on what i’d planned in that original outline, but enough to figure it was probably supposed to be angsty. So, it’s probably more sad than sexy 😅

                                                          -------

He’s not sure if he should be surprised or not, finding Naruto sitting at the edge of the small dock by the lake. It’s his thinking spot, and he’d come here to curse Menma’s name. Finding his copy wasn’t precisely in his plans.

Sasuke is nowhere to be seen. He hesitantly joins him, pausing behind his shoulder to stare out over the water. He can’t see much with evening fast approaching, no moonlight brightening things, the light from nearby buildings too faint to help. There’s a faint breeze, barely disturbing the surface. Naruto’s got his arms wrapped around his knees, folded against his chest. He looks morose, sort of, not really acknowledging his presence.

“I’m not your Sasuke,” Charasuke greets him with, just in case.

“Obviously,” Naruto mutters, though he doesn’t explain why it’s obvious, considering he hasn’t once looked back at him.

“This is my spot.”

“You can survive without it for a bit longer.”

Heaving a sigh, Charasuke sits down beside him. The water is too cold to dip his feet in, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

“I heard your conversation earlier,” he says, rather than disagree that he really shouldn’t have to give up his spot to Naruto of all people. “Guess you’re not actually together, huh?”

“I don’t want to hear that from you.” Naruto hunches his shoulders even more, tucking his chin into his chest. “At least we didn’t break up.”

It stings, more than it should. A vindictive part of him is pleased to find out that Naruto and Sasuke aren’t the happy couple he assumed, but Naruto looks as awful as he feels, and it drains any urge to snap back out of him.

“Sucks to be us,” he sighs instead, picking at a loose thread on his pants. “I bet he’ll come around, though. You two seem really close.”

Naruto snorts, a self-deprecating sound. Something even sadder, if that’s even possible, passes over his face.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t ended up here,” he mumbles.

“What, it’s our fault you’re now gay and pining?”

Eyes narrowing, Naruto says nothing.

“I don’t think travelling through dimensions turns you gay all of a sudden.”

“I’m not gay.”

Charasuke gives him a deadpan stare. Oh sure you’re not.

“Gay enough to have feelings for him.”

A groan escapes Naruto’s throat, and he lies back to stare up at the darkened sky, running his fingers through his hair viciously. Charasuke turns to look down at him, palm flat against the rough wooden planks separating them from the water below.

“How do you even know that?” Naruto finally asks, exasperated.

“It’s obvious.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and then Charasuke huffs, lying down as well. Despite how exposed this spot it, there’s something so calming about the quiet. Few people pass by the road behind them, and the sunsets are sometimes spectacular enough that he forgets to breathe.

At the moment, breathing is all he can do.

“I wish I hadn’t realized,” Naruto breaks the silence with. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”

“Well, I’m not going to judge you.”

Naruto tilts his head, looking at him. He searches his face, as if Charasuke has ever had the answer to anything.

“At least Menma liked you back.”

“At least Sasuke still cares about you.”

They glare at each other, because any other look would have been too soft, too understanding. He’s so similar to Menma, like this. It would be easy to reach out, to roll over on top of him, to pretend for a moment in the dark.

What is there to stop him, really?

“Do you want to forget?” he asks, pushing up on an elbow. “You pretend I’m Sasuke, and I pretend you’re Menma.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Naruto says, rolling his eyes. There’s something not quite so dismissive in his eyes, though. “You’re nothing like Sasuke.”

“I’m close enough,” he argues, shuffling closer. “I bet I’m better at this, anyway.”

Frowning, Naruto doesn’t move, even when he pushes up to hover above him.

“Better at what?”

He smiles, just this side of devious. Naruto may not be Menma, but he’s got his own appeal. Charasuke won’t feel bad for being attracted to him, not if Menma is so hell-bent on getting rid of him.

“Kissing, for example.”

Naruto blushes bright red, unexpectedly. He quickly turns his head away, crossing his arms.

“Aww, you’re so easy to tease. Is this the first time a guy has offered to kiss you?”

“Shut up and die,” Naruto hisses, still stubbornly turned away from him. “As if I’d kiss you.”

He leans closer, lips brushing over his ear. Naruto shivers at the touch.

“I’m still Sasuke,” he breathes against his skin, lifting fingers to trace the line of his jaw. He’s wearing that ugly jumpsuit, neck mostly covered by the collar. “And I could make you feel so good, Naruto.”

He doesn’t entirely expect the way Naruto bites his lip against a moan, or the way he shifts awkwardly. He’d only meant to tease, really, but the thought of going through with his offer is tempting. He wouldn’t mind peeling the orange fabric off, slowly, licking and tasting the revealed skin.

“You’re a pervert,” Naruto accuses, but there’s no heat behind his words. “I’m not going to do anything with you!”

Unable to help a small grin, Charasuke bites gently at Naruto’s earlobe, hand sneaking underneath the hem of his sweater. He splays his fingers over Naruto’s stomach, feeling his warmth, the shortness of his breaths.

“Well, I’m sure you could easily throw me off if you wanted to,” he says, kissing the spot underneath his ear before leaning back up to meet his eyes. “Or, you could try out all those things you’d like to do to him, and no one will ever know.”

Ah, there it is. Conflict. A rush of something runs through his body – anticipation, maybe? He’s got no particular feelings for Naruto, aside from how unfair it is that he’s so hopelessly devoted to his own Sasuke that something breaks inside him to see it.

“I won’t tell,” he continues, leaning down, mouths just barely touching. Naruto’s eyes are wide, his body tense. Charasuke slides a leg over his hips, caging him in. “I wouldn’t want you to tell anyone, either.”

Naruto swallows. Charasuke feels it underneath his hand, caressing the sensitive skin on his throat. There’s a mess of emotion playing over Naruto’s face, lips parted to breathe heavily.

“I think you want me.”

Naruto doesn’t deny it.

“Well?”

Slowly, Naruto reaches up, fingers combing through his hair. He touches his face, hesitantly. His cheekbones, his nose, traces the shape of his eyebrows. Like he can hardly believe he’s allowed.

“Sometimes, you look so much like him,” he says, voice thick with unnamed emotion. “When you’re just looking at me, like this.

“It bothers you.”

It’s not a question.

“Yeah.” Naruto pauses, wetting his lips. “You both always say what you think, but the things you think about are so different…”

He smiles, a quick quirk of lips. He doubts Sasuke has ever been plagued with self-doubt and heedless anxiety. Or, more importantly, ever considered seducing his ex-boyfriend’s alternate dimension copy just to try and cope with reality.

“Care to guess what I’m thinking right now?”

His smile widens as Naruto huffs, cheeks still red. Before he can think better of it, he dips his head down, pressing a quick kiss to Naruto’s lips. There’s a sharp intake of breath, but Naruto doesn’t move, hand suspended mid-air.

“Again?” he asks, only half-mocking. It’s directed more at himself, anyway. “I’ll kiss you as many times as you like.”

Naruto makes a noise, something small and desperate. His hands grab for him, twisting in his hair and pulling him down, Charasuke easily following. He lets his weight drop onto Naruto, forearms holding him up enough to angle his mouth over Naruto’s.

They meet in a rush of exhilaration, mouths colliding with too much force. It’s easier to kiss him than he’d thought. It’s familiar and strange at the same time; the taste is the same, the shape, the sounds he makes. But there’s a strange feeling to it that makes all the difference in the world.

They kiss hungrily, sloppily, with no finesse or care for technique. It’s not about enjoying things – it’s about forgetting, about pretending.

It’s about something they might never have.

And he wants, that’s the problem. He’s got Naruto underneath him, his body just the same as he rolls his hips down, his moans at the friction identical. His eyes, too expressive. Charasuke closes his, keeps them shut as he kisses Naruto’s jaw and throat, tugging impatiently at the zipper on his jacket. He needs more, but knows it won’t be enough.

Naruto’s hands drag up and down his back, pushes underneath his shirt. There are goosebumps all over his arms, maybe from the cold, maybe from pleasure. His hands are so warm, but they hesitate. They don’t know his body.

“Come on,” he mutters, to himself or Naruto, he’s not sure. “Just– come on.”

Finally, Naruto lets his legs spread wider, wraps his arms around him until they’re pressed together too tight. It’s better like this, breathless with pleasure, giving up on the zipper halfway down and instead cupping Naruto’s cheeks too kiss him deeper. His thumbs dig into his cheekbones, holding him in place. It works on Menma, and it works on Naruto, too. He squirms and bucks his hips, letting Charasuke suck on his tongue until he’s satisfied. They’re probably too loud, out here in the open, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Naruto gasps for air when he releases him for a moment, groaning as Charasuke bites at his lower lip. He dares take a look at him, face flushed, eyebrows knitted together as if afraid to let go. He’s much more pliant than Menma, scrunching up Charasuke’s shirt as he clutches at his back and waits.

“You like it,” he says, voice low and rough with pleasure. “Tell me you like it.”

He shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. Naruto’s eyes flutter open, colored dark in the lack of daylight. He draws in a shaky breath, licking his already wet lips.

“No,” he says.

It’s more of a challenge than denial, and a heady rush of arousal courses through Charasuke’s body. He grins, slowly, watching Naruto torn between being uncomfortable with the unfamiliar sight and turned on at what the smile implies.

He pushes back, sliding down Naruto’s body until he’s level with his crotch. There’s an incredulous look on Naruto’s face, his nerves showing in the way his eyes flicker between Charasuke’s mouth and the obvious bulge in his pants as he props himself up on his elbows.

“I-“ he starts, then clamps his mouth shut.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Charasuke asks him, raising an eyebrow.

He’s probably not doing a good job of acting like Sasuke, but Naruto still shivers.

“Yes,” he whispers, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, choking down a moan as Charasuke all but rips his pants open.

It shouldn’t be strange but it is, that their dicks look the same. And isn’t it sad, that he knows exactly what Menma’s dick looks like? He chases the thought out of his head. Instead he licks a stripe up the length of it, holding back a snort as Naruto’s hips twitch in surprise.

“Relax,” he murmurs, and then wastes no time as he wraps his fingers gently around it and swallows it in one go.

“Fuck!” Naruto whisper-yells, gripping at Charasuke’s hair as he hollows his cheeks and suck.

Flattering, but he winces as the grip tightens. Easing back up, he levels Naruto with a glare, pointedly taking hold of his wrist and tugging at it until his fingers relax around his hair. Naruto is hardly apologetic, too busy breathing with his mouth open, back arching as Charasuke swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. It’s exhilarating how responsive he is, as if he’s never been touched like this. Maybe he hasn’t.

It doesn’t take long at all. He barely has time to get into the rhythm of it, bobbing his head up and down, one hand stroking Naruto’s hipbone, the other teasing the exposed skin around the base of his cock and softly massaging his balls. He knows precisely what Menma likes, and Naruto is no different in that aspect it seems. There’s a harsh tug at his hair and a broken version of his name, and then Naruto spills into his mouth, legs trembling as he finishes.

He avoids looking at him, sitting up and wiping at his mouth. Instead he looks out over the water again, ignoring the throbbing of his own dick, hard and straining against his pants. It would have been nicer if the sky was open, with stars winking comfortingly at them.

Naruto puts his clothes back in order, fumbling and cursing under his breath. He doesn’t offer to return the favor.

It’s probably for the better.

[shotsbyshae]

Living Dead Girl

Warnings: Substance use, knife play, kidnapping, mention of murders

Words: 1.8k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/N: Little Saturday drabble inspired by my favorite time of year...Halloween. 

Song: Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

So beautiful they make you, kill.

The Winter Soldier isn’t just any ghost story.

He is your ghost story.

Something awakens you quickly and the streetlight outside your bedroom window casts a soft orange glow across the features of the man standing at the foot of your bed. Before you have time to scream, he’s on top you – pinning you to the mattress – metal fingers pinching your skin as they wrap around your throat. Your heart pounds in your chest as you open your mouth, trying to gasp for air as he pushes down harder against your trachea.

“Moy,” the Russian word is thick as it slips past his lips, blue eyes staring into your soul. “You are mine.”

Your body jerks upright in bed, a cold sweat drenching your body and dampening your sheets. The air in your room is cool with the scent of the lavender lotion you used after your shower earlier, but you also pick up hints of sandalwood. You know it’s from him – the smell – like a sense memory. The nightmare has haunted you for over ten years now and everytime you awaken from it you can smell the faint traces of cologne.

He had let you live the night he was sent to murder your aunt and uncle in cold blood, but the thought of him coming back to finish the job is never far from your mind.

10 Years Earlier

After the car accident six months earlier, your aunt and uncle, who lived just outside of DC had taken you in. A know-it-all teenager with a smart-ass attitude. All you knew about your uncle’s job was it involved the government, aside from that you didn’t care. You were sneaking in through the side door of the kitchen late one night past curfew when you heard muffled gunshots upstairs. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the Xanax you had popped earlier in the night, but you felt brazen enough to grab a large steak knife from the butcher’s block on the counter and quietly make your way up the stairs. You could hear heavy footsteps coming from your aunt and uncle’s bedroom and you instinctively kept the knife down at your side, tucked against the back of your thigh.

At the top of the stairs you had paused and looked around, no longer hearing anyone move about. You carefully edged your way along the wall until you were close to the bedroom door. Moonlight from the window at the far end of the hallway cast an eerie glow across the dark hardwood at your feet and for a brief moment you chastised yourself, because you were the girl in the horror movies who went to investigate the noise instead of running away.

As if on cue, the door to the bedroom jerked open and you were slammed into the wall by something cold and hard around your throat. The man towered over you as his metal fingers held your neck firmly in place. His long black hair framed his face almost too perfectly and you could see the black stubble along his jawline. Ice blue eyes stared down at you menacingly and you knew it was over. Quickly, your hand had brought the blade up and shoved it hilt deep into his ribs. You felt as the knife ripped through the muscle and tissue just below the metal arm. An overwhelming thrill coursed through your veins as his eyes widened in shock and his mouth opened slightly. He glanced to the knife briefly before he flicked his rage filled eyes back to you.

You were dead, you knew it.

He reached over with his free hand and pulled the knife out slowly as his metal arm released the grip on you. He held the blade up in front of you, now dark red from his blood.

“Moy,” he said the word, tilting the blade back and forth. “Mine.” He turned and walked toward the stairs, stopping for a moment at the top of them, turning to look at you. His face illuminated by the moonlight as he stared at you threateningly, “Stay.”

The smell of blood and sandalwood hung in the air as you had waited until he disappeared down the staircase before you raised your hand up to look at it – the one that had held the knife. There was a smear of blood on your index finger – his blood – and you stared at it curiously for a few moments, the thought of having almost died at his hands at the front of your mind.

Why did he let you live?

Better yet, did you enjoy stabbing him?

You pressed your index finger inside your mouth – the metallic remnants swirled against your tongue – as you contemplated the questions.

The Winter Soldier had been your first taste of blood – literally – and your world hasn’t been the same since. You like to keep your hit list as clean as possible: mobsters, pedophiles, murderers, etc. The basic scum of the Earth types.

After you make your morning coffee you find a large manila envelope lying on the hardwood in front of your apartment door, where it was shoved under the door sometime during the night. You already know what the contents of the envelope are – your next target. You place your mug on the counter and carefully peel back the metal prongs and open the flap, pulling out the file folder. Your heart stops as you open the file – the man in the photo you recognize – the name isn’t what you know him by though.

James Buchanan (Bucky) Barnes

In a box toward the bottom of the page under aliases is the name you know him best by: The Winter Soldier. You stare at the photo a moment before you pick up your coffee mug and raise it to your lips, talking quietly to the photo you say, “Looks like you’re mine.”

***

You watch from the shadows as his head slowly lifts from his chest and he takes in his surroundings. Your aunt and uncle’s house had been left to you, and it’s sat vacant for years. The bedroom is mostly dark, with some moonlight creeping through the windows. You reach over and turn the table lamp on, illuminating the corner you stand in.

His eyes widen at your presence, voice groggy as he speaks, “Who are you? Where am I?”

You notice his voice is different than you remember from that night as you slowly walk towards the dining room chair you have him tied to, “You don’t remember me?” You point to the pristinely made bed with the large steak knife in your hand. “You murdered my aunt and uncle in that bed right there.”

He glances over to the bed and his eyes flash dark for a moment – realization sinking in. A sly smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he flicks his gaze back to you, “You tried to kill me.”

“Bingo.”

“Why now?” He questions you, trying to move his arms against the restraints. His blues eyes fixing on you as he realizes you must have injected him with a paralytic. You can’t tell if he’s angry or impressed.

“Chalk it up to fate I suppose. I only take care of those whose names I’m given, and your name just so happened to come across my desk, so to speak,” you smile coyly at the man as you move closer to him. “Looks as if we’ve come full circle.”

“You’re an assassin?” The realization sets in as you drag the knife gently up the black denim covering his thighs.

“Yup,” the word pops out of your mouth cheerfully as you continue to run the tip of the knife carefully up the front of the dark green Henley he’s wearing. “Just like you.”

“You’re not like me,” he remarks quickly. “I was brainwashed into doing what I did.”

You stop moving the knife, leaving the tip of the blade at his jugular notch, your face tilting close to his, “Then why didn’t you kill me?” You stare into his blue eyes fiercely as he considers the question. “I’ve read your file – you don’t leave witnesses – so why me?”

He continues to stare at you for a beat, “I don’t know.”

“Bull shit,” you spit out. “You and he are the same person. You know exactly why – tell me.”

You watch as he clenches his jaw, not wanting to answer and you run the blade along his collarbone causing small rivulets of blood to roll down his skin, soaking into the green fabric of his shirt. Straddling him in the chair you drape your free arm casually across his shoulder, twirling the length of his hair around your finger, “We can do this all night.”

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment before he sighs, “Your eyes – there was a darkness in your eyes. You weren’t scared.” Blue eyes glance up at you, mere inches from your own. “When you stabbed me, you weren’t scared. Most people would have been terrified – you enjoyed it.” Your eyes narrow slightly as he shifts uncomfortably under you, letting you know there’s not much longer before the paralytic wears off.

Running the knife along his jawline you smile innocently at him before you lean closer and press your lips to the corner of his mouth, his body tensing at your actions. Confusion is evident in his eyes as you lean back, your fingers still wrapped gently around his neck. He waits for you to stab the knife into his side like you did the first night – or maybe you’ll slit his throat this time.

You stand up slowly, keeping your eyes trained on his as you do, “It was nice to see you again Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky watches in surprise as you walk towards the bedroom door, “You’re not going to kill me?”

“Kill you?” You glance back over your shoulder at him incredulously. “I can’t kill you babe – you made me.”

Hours later, after the paralytic has worn off and Bucky is back at his hotel room, he finds a small business card shoved into the back pocket of his jeans. Pulling it out he sees the words typed out in dainty letters The Raven. He flips the card over, the back reveals nothing and he quickly pulls his cell phone from his pocket dialing the first person he thinks of.

“Sam,” he says urgently. “What do you know about an assassin they call The Raven?”

There’s a momentary pause on the other end of the line before Wilson scoffs, “Dude, that’s a ghost story. She’s not real.”

Bucky stares at himself in the dresser mirror, seeing the blood on his shirt from where you had sliced into his collarbone. He knows you’re real, because he had seen you, felt you, and he can still smell faint traces of lavender, as if you’re still straddling his lap.

The Raven isn’t just any ghost story.

You’re his ghost story.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (Chapter Summary- The woes of family getaways and spontaneous vacations might be the key to finally bringing Y/n and Keanu together.) (A/n- The necklace mentioned, if anyone wants to see it.)

Chapter1   Chapter2  Chapter3

Chapter 4

Los Angeles  Family vacations. They were great, they brought siblings together, encouraged everyone out of their comfort zones and all in all, they could be pretty fun. But, they were also pretty hectic; there was always one person who was a bit despondent with the location, another who’d have to join everyone else a day later and finally, someone who was late despite promises for otherwise. That day, the one late person was Keanu, by no fault of his own. 

Okay, maybe some of it was his fault.

For the first time in a long time, he had slept way past the sounding of his alarm clock, jumping awake just as his racy dream slipped though the cracks of his subconscious. After that, Keanu had hurriedly scrambled out of bed, skidding into the walk-in shower and having the fastest shower of his life. Their flight was at seven am- it was quarter to six. Between the length of the ride to the airport and the time he’d have to spend going through security, Keanu would either have hurry up or miss his flight entirely. Hopefully he could do the latter.

With his hair still dripping wet and his skin barely toweled off, he pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans, the closest t-shirt and threw on a coat over his untidy ensemble. As Keanu grabbed his bags from the corner of the closet, he, or at least, he tried to, put his shoes on, nearly falling over. Within fifteen minutes, he was collecting his keys and wallet, and thankfully, before he had gotten dressed, Keanu had taken a couples minutes to call a car. 

Before his watch, which still hung by the band from his fingers could read 6:05 am, Keanu was locking the front door behind himself, activating the security system. The black SUV already sat patiently on the curb at the top of his driveway, the engine humming idly. When he got it, the driver wordlessly peeled away from the sidewalk, speeding up the street, eventually melding into the thin early morning traffic. 

Greece  When Y/n awoke, pressing up from the pillow, tangled in a thick duvet, it took a minute for her to register that she wasn’t at home, the persistent swaying of the boat a little confusing. Though, by the time she sat up, taking in the room, she quickly remembered her location.

The ultra modern, luxurious yacht, which had been on loan by her parents, had been anchored at an exclusive bay, bobbed gently in the water. Warmth filtered into the cabin from the large windows to her left and when Y/n quickly tapped a switch next to the headboard, a series of little bulbs embedded into the ceiling came on at their dimmest setting, the central light source; a sleek chandelier remaining off. 

The familiarity of the room was barely there, but Y/n had stayed in it before; huge and impressive, though not quite as luxurious as the master bedroom that her parents usually stayed in. Hints of navy blue and pale hardwood fixings complimented bright white in a welcoming mix of contemporary design and homey comfort. The cabin was one of two nestled on the top deck, with the other guest cabins being located on the second. 

The vessel was an unnecessarily large one, sporting eight bedrooms as well as a pool, a sizeable kitchen with a large living area and a dining room. And, though Y/n’s family rarely used, “The Heather“, affectionately named in honor of her mother, it was always staffed and ready for guests. The kitchen and bar was kept stocked and the facilities were kept running, presumably for impromptu vacations like the one Y/n was taking with her friends. 

Shaking off the covers, Y/n pulled on her silk robe over her loose, matching nightgown and headed to the ensuite bathroom. It was significantly smaller than the bedroom but its décor not lacking with cream marble floors and walls.

Lazily, Y/n went through her morning routine before joining her friends on the main deck for breakfast on the poolside. Jillian was the first one to greet her, standing from the set table, pulling Y/n into a short hug, “Loving this,” she winked at Y/n’s outfit; a white, chic, strapless, crochet maxi dress paired with braided sandals.

“Thank you!” When they released each other, Y/n reached for the French press and a delicate looking ceramic cup to pour herself a cup of coffee when Catharine quickly hurried over, switching out the empty tea cup for a mimosa with an orange slice wedged to the rim, “Isn’t it too early?” 

“It’s eleven am,” Catharine argued, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she sipped her own drink, grey eyes hidden behind dark designer sunglasses, “And we’re on vacation.”

“And it’s like.....one am at home,” Mathew interjected from his seat at the table, “So really its.....”

“Still early,” Tracy rolled her eyes. There were seven of them, and she was the only one drinking coffee, but considering the fact that there was a bottle of whiskey hidden in the cluster of food and dishes laid out, it was probably spiked, “I didn’t realize you were still a dumbass Matt,” she joked dryly, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Mathew scoffed, stuttering uncomfortably; searching for a comeback, only managing, “Didn't realize that you were still a bitch Trace,”  he frowned and she just snickered.

“I’ve always been a bitch,” she smirked.

“Okay,” Jillian turned to Y/n setting down her slice if toast and taking Y/n’s fork from her hand, “While these two get sexy with the foreplay,” she teased sarcastically, receiving jeers of objection from them both, “We should go see the town.”

“Oh, I’ll go too,” Amanda agreed, excitedly followed by Catherine.

“Sounds fun!” Y/n determined.

It was his first actual day on vacation in Greece, Keanu and his family, despite being barely in time for the flight, had landed just as the sun had set on the previous day. They had slept in late, but the next morning, after breakfast at the hotel, he and his sister had decided to go into the small near by city to look around, though, they had ended up parting ways when she stopped at small boutique, informing him that they could meet back at the hotel

Keanu was strolling through a flea market that had dominated a side street, with booths selling everything from fun clothing items to handmade arts and crafts. The aroma of spices from inviting dishes wafted up and down the mile long street, tickling his senses. Surrounding vendors called out persuasively to potential patrons and sometimes Keanu would stop at an interesting booth, standing under the homemade tents as he picked out little trinkets. 

His eyes scanned the his surroundings, really only looking for possible buys, when he caught a glimpse of someone seemingly familiar. She looked ethereal in a white dress that went down to her ankles. Parts of her legs, the ones he had dreamt of touching, kissing, were visible through spaces between the delicate crocheted pattern. Her hair flowed in soft waves, stopping at her shoulders, highlights more noticeable in the sun. A pair of large sunglasses shrouded her identity, but Keanu thought he could recognize the confidence in her gait anywhere, because even if he had only seen it in person once, it had haunted his dreams every night since then.

At the sight of Y/n, Keanu stood frozen in his place in front of a booth that sold hand-woven baskets, debating his options. Should he call out to her? Approach Y/n and her friends or just pretend that a golden opportunity to speak to the woman who had dominated his sub-conscious for two months was something he could ignore?

Though he went to and fro with his options, Keanu didn’t really have a lot of time to think on the matter, make a hurried decision of even hide like a coward, for, the minute Y/n spotted him in the crowd, she whispered something to the ladies that had accompanied her and then they made their way over to him.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been staring.

“Keanu?” Y/n called as she and her friends drew nearer.

“Y/n,” he smiled despite himself. As she approached, Y/n pushed the sunglasses up a top her head, offering him a bright smile. Much to his surprise, she pulled him into a one armed hug, the other staying at her side, holding her handbag, “I haven’t seen you since-”

“The party, yeah,” she said, her hand lingering on his forearm as they broke. Their stance resembled that of old friends, and Keanu wondered if she’d still greet him with the same friendliness if she knew what crude actions followed the thought of her when he was in private. “What brings you to Greece?” She inquired politely, “Business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure,” and when he said it, her brows raised knowingly, her smile suggestive. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Keanu shook his head, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans, “Family vacation,” Y/n’s mouth morphed into an unsounded ‘oh’ and he nodded. “What about you?”

“Same, I guess. We’re having sort of a spontaneous getaway,” for a couple minutes, they just stood there; he didn’t know what to say and Y/n looked as if she’d prefer whatever she was thinking to be kept just between them. After a breathy, deflated sigh and a falter in her smile, Y/n was the one to speak up, “I guess I should let you get back to your family.”

Chuckling quietly, Keanu ran a hand through his wind tousled hair, “My sister and I actually split up a ways back. I’m flying solo for now.”

“Oh!” Y/n chortled, and barely thinking of her next words, she thoughtlessly suggested, “Why don’t you walk with us?”

Before Keanu could even process her offer, a blonde girl, who Keanu only noticed when she spoke, interjected hurriedly, “Or better yet, Y/n,” she put her hands on her friend’s shoulders, “Why don’t you two walk together? Since you have so much catching up to do.”

At that, Y/n turned back to her friends, wide eyed and tight lipped, “I....I thought we were shopping together. And what about-”

“Shhh,” another woman spoke, she was a little taller than the other three, hair dyed red and cut short in a stylish pixie cut. She could have been a model, or someone that Keanu should have recognized easily, but her face was hard to place, “Just go babe, we’ll see you back at the boat.”

“Are you sure?” Y/n glanced at the only other person Keanu recognized from the party, a young lady who he had mistaken for Y/n’s sister, though, a quick internet session had proved that they were actually cousins.

“Yes,” Jillian encouraged, “Go, just text us if you need anything. And take good care of her,” Jillian turned to Keanu, offering him a warning stare.

“Will do,” he chuckled, making a cross his heart motion over his chest.

After quick goodbyes and cheek pecks, they separated and Y/n and Keanu set out on wandering the street together, their hands hanging at their sides, her shoulder barely grazing his bicep. Neither of them spoke for a while, but when Y/n did, she didn’t seem as cheery as she was before. Her tone was softer and more inquiring, “So, what have you been up to?”

Keanu shrugged uneventfully, looking around, trying to not show the effect that her presence had on him, “Not a lot. Just work.”

“Filming?” She probed as she stopped at a ceramics booth, admiring a painted vase. Her hands were so small, barely able to go completely around the curved neck. Keanu wondered if her questions were building to a point, maybe to a bigger one where she’d confront him about not going to her house, or maybe she was just being polite. He couldn’t tell. 

“No,” he replied, short and brisk, only going into a bit more detail when they pulled away from the booth, the formally admired vase now Y/n’s, secured in a bag. “At Arch, we’re preparing for a show early next year.” Y/n nodded in silent understanding, “What about you?”

“Me?” Y/n returned with a shrug, “I’ve just been working,” her face was turned away from him as they continued, her eyes scanning the products of different vendors. “You know how it goes; booze, boredom and disappointment,” her words seemed so careless and completely unrelated to their dwindling conversation yet they stuck him so readily, as if it were her intention.

Maybe she had actually wanted him to come the day after the party, dare he say she was offended by his decision to ultimately not go. Apologize, he told himself. Though, right before the words could not so readily leave his lips, because, after all, he didn’t really know what to say, Y/n took his wrist, dragging him into a pub that initially appeared to be nothing more than a hole in the wall. “Come on,” she encouraged excitedly. 

“Why are we in a pub?” Keanu questioned, more confused by their location than the fact that Y/n’s fingers still lingered on his hand.

“For the.....what do you call it?” Y/n snapped her fingers, reclaiming her hand, eyes squinted in concentration, “Ouzo! I’ve never had it!”

“Never?” Keanu asked curiously as they sat at a corner table. It was a small one, meant for just two people and she sat on the other side, just an arms length away. They were secured near the curve of the wall, away from the other patrons and the dim lights that hung over head. 

“Nope,” Y/n confirmed. A waitress came shortly after, placing in front of them what they had ordered at the bar; two glasses, the ice water added before serving making the clear liquor turn milky white, and a small platter of meze. “The last time I came here, it was my parents, and I was like ten.”

What was Keanu doing when she was ten? The thought was enough to remind him that even though Y/n sat across from him, looking more beautiful than he remembered, she was still very young. He shouldn’t think of her the way he had grown used to, dreaming of her like that. She shouldn’t have been the object of his arousal; the face that got him off. She was someone’s daughter, and though every other woman was too, it was plainly obvious with Y/n’s age. Twenty-three was too young, it was perverse, he thought, scolding himself.

“Do you like it?” Keanu grinned, after Y/n took a lengthily initial sip.

Her pretty eyes widened with enjoyment, her smile growing, “That was amazing,” she breathed, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth. As she chewed, Y/n’s smile turned to a grimace and when she swallowed, presumably to be polite, she downed more of her drink and part of Keanu worried that she might be drinking too fast. Little did he know, she had started earlier that morning, “That was goat cheese,” she frowned, “I hate goat cheese.”

“It’s not that bad,” Keanu argued, though when he ate a piece himself, he had to scramble to wash it down with half his drink, “That was not as good as I remember it.”

The rest of the afternoon went by and neither Y/n nor Keanu paid any attention to how long they stayed at the pub, or how much they drank, but when the light filtering in from outside started to dim and Keanu suggested they leave, they both stood with a wobble. After a short to and fro about who should rightfully settle the bill, they ended up splitting it before spilling out drunkenly back onto the street. 

The sun had almost completely sunk into the unseen horizon and majority of the vendors had long packed up, with only those selling food still open. More emboldened by alcohol, they joined hands as they walked aimlessly though the picturesque night life of Agios Nikolaos. 

Warm, yellow artificial lighting washed the narrow streets , coming from the homes that sat on top of family owned business. Sometimes, Y/n wondered what it would be like to come from one of those families; the ones who didn’t have thousands of employees, who were totally dependent one each other to keep their livelihood a float. They must have been close, she often thought when looking on at homes like theirs, they’re relationships might have significantly paled the one she had with her parents. Y/n hadn’t even spoken to either of them since she had her friends left a couple days prior.

As if sensing her sullen mood, Keanu slowed their leisurely pace, looking down at her, “What are you thinking about?” He nudged her shoulder.

“Nothing,” Y/n waved off his question with her free hand, “It’s just, this place is really beautiful,” she gestured around them, hoping he’d believe her lie. The small, sea-side town really was a gem though. As they walked further and further, more small business mixed with aged villa styled homes lined the pleasantly worn streets. The place was like a chuck of history or maybe even vintage beauty saved in time, a treasure for those who would choose to look for it. 

“It is,” Keanu hummed in agreement, “I’ve never been to this part of Greece,” he went on absently, “But my mom suggested that we come, and I can’t say I regret it.”

Y/n smiled at the mention of Keanu’s mother, just remembering that he had come with his family. When was the last time Y/n went on vacation with hers? They had stopped travelling together for pleasure when she had gone off to college, and after, she’d only take trips with them for events that her mother had been invited too or business trips with her father. 

They continued in comfortable silence, their frames close together as they followed the road. The air felt cool against her skin and the alcohol flowing through her system was the only thing keeping Y/n from shivering. Keanu’s hand seemed to swallow hers up in comfortable warmth and occasionally, she’d steal glances at him, admiring his handsome profile, quickly turning back when she’d suspect that Keanu would notice.

As they walked, something to her left caught Y/n’s eye, causing her to pull Keanu towards the darkened store front of an antique shop, “Where are we going?” He chuckled, “This place is closed.”

“I know,” she frowned, “But look at this, it’s so beautiful,” Y/n pointed out a handmade piece that stood out among other fine pieces of jewelry; set in dark silver, a sizeable pearl dominated the center with other, smaller pearls around it, and finally, even tinier ones to fill the spaces. The round pendant hung on a thin silver chain that looked as if it were shined daily. The price was hidden in the velvet cushion that it laid on, but Y/n was right; it was gorgeous. “It looks Bayzantinian,” she mused, “I wonder if it’s real, and if it is, what’s it doing here?”

Keanu had recognized the necklace’s historical connection from the minute he saw it, asking himself the same questions she had vocalized, but he was a little surprised with Y/n’ s knowledge on it. Needless to say, he hadn’t expected that from her, “How did you know that?”

It took a minute before she turned to look at him, a soft smile still ghosting her lips, “Huh? Oh, when I was in college I.....knew,” dated, “This History professor. He was also an archeology junkie, and had this kind of stuff all over his house.”

Y/n explanation fell off her lips as if it were nothing, as if it were normal for her to just hang out with older men. Surly this professor in question would have to be one; not a lot of men in their twenties or thirties collected replicas of ancient artifacts - or taught college grade history.

Before Keanu could press the issue any further though, Y/n was pulling him along the side walk again, and he tried to shake off his tumultuous thoughts.

When Y/n and Keanu got to the beach, it was late and most light came from the string of beach houses and hotels a distance away from the shore. Having stopped at several other bars in their attempt to be bar hopping tourists; they were far drunker than they had been before. Keanu thought that his eyes might be playing tricks on him and Y/n didn’t think that she could trust herself to get back on the boat without falling into the water. 

“We go should in!” She suggested excitedly at the thought. Without his consent, Y/n was already pulling Keanu towards the water.

“Okay, but only our feet,” Keanu tried to sound stern, but hadn't realized how slurred his words were. Despite his drunkenness, he faintly remembered that swimming whilst drunk wasn’t one’s safest move.

Clumsily, they hastily kicked off their shoes, cold water reaching their just above their ankles as they went in. A shiver racked Y/n’s body and Keanu felt goosebumps raise on his skin. Still, they stayed in and at some point, Y/n’s hand had slipped out of his and she had gone a little deeper in, until the water was at her knees. “You shouldn’t go in that far,” Keanu warned.

“Oh yeah?” She challenged with a smirk, “What are you gonna do about it?” Without giving him a minute to respond, Y/n bent forward, her hands going into the water, arms rearing back. The whole thing happened so fast that in an instant, a wave of cold, salty water was hitting Keanu in the face, soaking his hair and making his grey button up cling to his chest. 

“That was not funny,” he tried to maintain a serious expression, failing miserably.

“I thought it was funny,” Y/n shot back, splashing him again, “But if its not, then maybe you should do something about it,” laughing, her expression illuminated by only the light coming from at least half mile away, Y/n took another step back. Her dress, by then, had started to billow up in the water, and instead of hanging down to her ankles, it was floating around her, waves shifting it how they pleased. Her chest was wet too, and he could see that the dress, much like the one she had worn to the party, didn’t warrant the need for a bra. It all clung to her skin in a way that was so distracting.....and arousing. After another wave hit him in the face, Y/n drunkenly suggested, “Maybe you should John Wick me.”

Keanu threw his head back in rumbling laughter, “John Wick you? What does that mean?” He questioned, taking a few steps forwards, accepting that ‘dipping their feet’ had turned into something far from it.

Y/n shrugged, her hands threaded the water around her, but she wasn’t moving, “I don’t know. But I do know that he wouldn’t just stand there and let me do that, especially if he thought it, ‘wasn’t funny’,” Y/n’s lips morphed into a teasing pout, “But you’re all bark no bite,” she continued taunting him.

Rolling his eyes, Keanu scoffed, knowing that Y/n was just trying to push his buttons. Again she splashed him and her eyes almost shouted ‘I dare you to make me stop’. Without think about it, Keanu was closing the space between them, tackling her, sending them both underwater.

Instinctively Y/n’s arms went around him, their fronts pressed together. He could feel everything, from the rise and fall of Y/n’s chest with each slow breath, to how hard her nipples had gotten from the cold and the softness of her legs on his calves. There was hair in both their faces and even as they regained their composure, Keanu still held her in his arms.

Swallowing tightly, Y/n reached to tangle her thin fingers in Keanu’s wet hair, urging his face down towards hers. That time, she didn’t wait for the air to push them together, for someone to interrupt them or for things to just happen naturally. No, instead, Y/n smashed her lips to Keanu’s. His resistance was all but existent and in a beat, he was kissing her back, his tongue slipping past he barrier of her teeth. 

It was just a kiss. The kind where his hand slid down her back, holding her close, where she gently tugged on fistfuls of his hair. Y/n melted against him, crashing waves nearly pushing them down, cold, gentles breezes threatening to break the warmth they offered each other. It was just a kiss, but as Keanu groped and kneaded her behind and Y/n moaned against his touch, it was turning into so much more.

********

Tagging- @baphometwolf666  @a-really-bi-girl​  @paanchu786​ @harrisongslimited​

[dianaraven]

jacob/benedict for fairy tale au!!! Kevin/Juniper for friends to lovers!!!! Hope and Grey having a lil smooch good morning maybe? Then Roshan dancing with someone of your choice in the rain!!! Di I love all your ocs they all seem delightful

Thank you vivi <3 <3 <3 sorry this is so late

edit: VIVSS I LOOOOVE YOUUU AND THIS TOOK SO LONG CUZ IT WAS ORIGINALLY PROCRASTINATION FOR FINISHING MY BOOK THEN I PROCRASTINATED FINISHING THIS TO FINISH MY BOOK (you know, as you do) SOOOOOOOOO ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS AND BEING PATIENT I LOVE YOUUUU 

Benedict/Jacob Fairy Tale au (i decided to do a tangled au because it reminds me of the same chaotic energy that these boys have)

"This is all your fault!" Ben grumbled as he pulled himself up and out of the river. Jacob glared at him, wringing out his long hair.

Ben shook his head, spraying Jacob with water, and pulled off his shirt in one swift motion.

"All my fault? You're the one who said we'd be safe!" Jacob snapped.

Ben ignored him. He dragged his hand across his pants to wipe the mud off and winced. He must have cut it on one of the rocks in that cave. When the water had poured in... Ben had told Jacob who he really was and Jacob had-

Benedict raised his eyes to Jacob who was carding his fingers through his long chocolate hair. The magic hair. The hair that had glowed.

"If you hadn't demanded we come on this stupid trip-"

"You brought me to that tavern to scare me!" Jacob snapped. "Don't think I didn't realize that."

Yeah, well that hadn't worked, had it? Benedict thought grumpily. The sun was going down, they'd have to make camp. And tomorrow...

Tomorrow they'd reach Aeon, and the castle. And Benedict would be out of time to convince Jacob to give him back the lost prince's crown.

They found a nice spot to make camp, and Benedict went to find wood for a fire, cooling off as he stomped around the forest. This entire situation was insane. He might have been better off at the hands of his ex-partners. At least they would have killed him straight out instead of him drowning after sword-fighting a horse with his only weapon a frying pan. Absolutely insane. 

Ow. Benedict hissed when his hand scraped across the bundle of sticks he’d collected. Benedict squinted at it in the moonlight but couldn’t see well enough. Once they’d made the fire he would check it again, maybe wash it out. The last thing he needed was to catch a rot. Or maybe, Jacob’s hair will glow again and you can see that way. Benedict shuddered as he thought it. He put it as far out of his mind as he could.

When Benedict returned, Jacob’s hair was spread out across the dark grass and dirt. Good thing your hair’s brown, he thought but didn’t say. He wasn’t in the mood to fight with Jacob again. 

Benedict started the fire, wincing from the stinging pain in his hand. 

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked curtly. Clearly he was still mad. He had one leg slung over the other, and his arms were crossed over his chest. 

“Nothing,” Benedict mumbled. He frowned, and put his hand to the low fire, squinting at it. 

“Clearly its something. What?”

Benedict tried to shrug him off, but Jacob was nothing if not persistant. “Let me see-” Jacob crawled over.

“You’ve done enough-”

“Oh shut up already.” 

Jacob pulled the hand into his lap. “Oh!” He said, surprised. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse,” Ben said. 

Jacob rolled his eyes. He reached for a lock of his hair before freezing. He gave Benedict a sheepish look. 

“Promise not to freak out.”

Benedict was frozen in fear. Those words never preceded something good. "What?”

“Promise me.”

“Why do I need to promise?”

“Please?”

“Fine, I-uh, I promise I won’t freak out.”

Jacob gave him a frown that said he didn’t believe him, which was fair because Benedict was a) a liar, and b) pretty sure whatever new magic trick that Jacob pulled out of his ass (or magic hair) was going to freak the fuck out of Ben, and Ben would, in fact, freak out despite any promise to the contrary. 

“My hair doesn’t just glow.”

Benedict’s belly went cold. Jacob’s fingers were soft and warm. He was sure his hands weren’t nearly as nice to touch--too rough, the skin cracked and calloused. But Jacob didn’t act as if he minded. 

Jacob took a lock of his long hair, and wrapped it ominously around Benedict’s hand. 

“W-what are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”

Benedict closed his mouth, as much as he wanted to scream and run as far away as he possibly could. 

Jacob closed his eyes. He had thick but short lashes. They barely brushed his cheeks, but lined his eyes nicely, Benedict supposed. 

Then Jacob started to sing. 

Benedict watched. Every impulse in his body told him to run. Told him to get away from the rushing glow that trickled first from the part of his hair and then followed the hair all the way down. Circling around Benedict’s hand, swirling down the long winding tresses that splayed across the ground. 

Jacob stopped singing, and slowly he unwrapped Benedict’s hand. 

Benedict looked down, and opened his mouth to scream. 

“YOU PROMISED!” Jacob shouted, covering Benedict’s mouth with his hands. 

Benedict’s hand was completely and utterly healed. As good as new. As if it had never been cut in the first place. Benedict hadn’t felt anything! The entire thing happened unbeknownst to him, but now he didn’t feel any pain either. 

It wasn’t actually that scary, Benedict told himself. No, just a little weird. Startling. But not scary. Not scary at all. 

“I’m not going to scream,” Benedict said eventually, muffled by Jacob’s hand. He was surprised to realize that he believed himself. 

Jacob removed his hand, and winced. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to scream.”

“Oh, good.”

“Does your-does your hair do anything else? Just, you know, as a fair warning.”

Inside, Benedict’s heart shrieked. GREAT FRICKING GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCK HOLY-

“Not that I know of,” Jacob said, giving Benedict a small smile. Oblivious to the chaos in Benedict’s mind. “Just the glowing and the healing.”

“Oh.” Benedict heard himself say. His voice sounded much farther away than it should have been. “Okay. I think I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down.”

“Oh. Good.”

Jacob gave him a nervous glance. “Are-are you sure that you’re okay?”

“All good. Yeah.” Benedict’s mind calmed a little when he looked back at Jacob. Watched Jacob anxiously fiddle with a lock of hair. “Yeah.”

Kevin/Jun friends to lovers

Jun groans and eases the shoes off of her feet. She’s been dancing for so long she thinks they might fall off. The sigh that falls from her lips might border on pleasured, which she is with the way she feels now that her toes are free. She sighs again and wiggles them, cracking them and rolling her ankles. 

“Thought I might find you here,” Kevin says. Jun leans back on her wrists and looks up to him. 

His dress is a sparkling blue, and it swishes wonderfully when he walks. He sits down beside Jun and takes her feet into his lap, rubbing them. Jun lets out a little yelp and would complain if it didn’t feel so good. 

“Alec would not let me sit down!” Jun explains. 

Kevin chuckles. “I’m aware. I tried to peel you away to dance three times. Every time, she managed to distract me.”

“You were dancing too,” Jun accuses. 

Kevin gives her a little grin. Charming and bashful at once. It made something in Jun’s chest flip-flop. But... she shouldn’t be thinking about that. Kevin was her friend. Just her friend. That was all. 

“Like I said, I was distracted.”

Jun lets out a moan as his fingers work out the kinks in the arch of her foot and is immediately embarrassed because woah that’s not a sound you make near one of your friends. It was throaty and raspy and Kevin just smiles pleased with himself. Jun is too annoyed at his smugness to be embarrassed. She does flush though.

“Is every year like this?” she asks, to change the subject. 

“The ball? Yeah, pretty much. Last year Alec and Gray were almost kidnapped, so... that was different.”

Not... what Jun was expecting. “Huh.”

“Yep. I like this better though.”

“The not-having-a-kidnapping? Yeah, I’d like that too.”

Kevin snorted. He put Jun’s right foot down and picked up her left foot. 

“Sure. That and you.” For the first time since she’s known him, he actually looks a little flustered. “You know.”

Jun’s heart leaps. “Oh. Well, I suppose a new person to your... group is-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” So he... he felt it too?

Kevin’s hands stop. He glances up at her through his lashes, his orange eyes glittering in the pretty lamplight set up for the outdoor areas of the Hall. 

“Is that... I mean-” Kevin asks, quietly. 

“No! I mean... no. I-I, um...” Jun doesn’t know really what to say. She presses her legs over Kevin’s where he propped them up to rub them. They’re leaning closer now. Kevin’s maybe a few inches away from her. Too far for them to be comfortable.

Kevin raises his hands (they’re shaking, Jun notices, and it gives her a thrill) hovering above the bodice of her dress. As if he wants to pull her closer. 

“I... uh, I mean, I was just touching your feet... I don’t want to-”

Jun almost laughs because, well, “they’re my feet, I think I’ll live.”

Kevin does laugh. He smiles at her, that cheeky, smug one that gives him dimples. Jun’s heart flutters again. He holds her gently, pulling her closer, arms around her waist. 

“Good,” he murmurs, and then he kisses her. 

So... maybe he wasn’t just a friend after all.

Hope/Gray morning kisses

“Good morning~” Hope hums in Gray’s ear. Gray groans in his sleep and turns over beneath her arm, burying his face further into the pillow. 

“Hnnnn.” 

Hope moves around Gray to slide out of bed and he grabs her arm, pulling her back in. 

“Gray....”

Gray shifts so she’s pinned under him and he rests his head in the crook of her neck, pressing a light kiss there. 

Hope runs her fingers through his hair and snorts. “Gray, darling, I do have to get up at some point today.”

“Hnnnnnn,” Gray groans again, pulling her closer. “No....”

“In fact, you have to get up too. Possibly in an unpleasant way if Alec gets the chance.”

Gray grumbles again. His breath tickles the short stubble the dots the bottom of her chin. He nestles himself further against her. He kisses her neck again. 

“You’re not going to distract me.”

Gray harrumphs into her neck. 

“Yes, I know. But think of it this way, if you get up now Alec won’t come barging in to dump a bucket of water on you. You do know how much she loves to.”

Gray groans and leans back on his elbows. He blinks his eyes open groggily and rubs the sleep from his lashes. He has morning stubble too, and his hair hasn’t been set so its curls stick up. 

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Princely duties can’t wait.”

Gray pouts so Hope raises herself up and kisses him. If her breath tastes bad, Gray doesn't give any hint. Hope slowly draws herself back to her feet, and Gray follows her. When Hope finally breaks away, Gray pouts again and falls to the sheets with a fwump! 

Hope sighs. “If you get up, I’ll kiss you more,” she teases. 

But it works, just like it works every time. Gray bounces up, feet firmly on the floor and wraps Hope in his long arms. He dips her slightly, and Hope’s heart hammers way too loudly in her chest considering that since they’ve been together it’s been a common occurrence. 

When he finally gives her a reprieve he smiles cheekily. 

“Promise?” he asks. 

Hope ignores the flush she knows it probably darkening her cheeks and blows a puff of air into his face. “You’re a menace. I don’t know how you ever get things done.”

Gray grins and Hope’s heart melts a little. “Why, with kisses as a reward, of course.”

“Menace,” Hope repeats, but she gives him one more reward anyway. 

Roshan & Alec dancing in the rain

The rain sizzles on Roshan’s skin when it hits, but she doesn’t mind. In fact, she revels in it. In the the music still in her veins from the tavern and in the booze that’s warming her blood nicely. Her head is a little tingly and though it was hot earlier, it’s cool now with the rain. The door of the bar is still open, and she can see the orange haze of the warm hearth inside. The musicians inside can still be heard from where she stands. The rain soothes the fire from the evening. 

It’s not dark out, not yet. Just barely evening, but the storm-clouds make the sky a light purple. 

Roshan spins. Her hair whips around her in it’s braid, slapping against her head and smelling deliciously of rain. 

It’s been so long since she’s been like this. Since she’s felt safe enough to do this. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she just stood in the rain. Nor the last time she just felt free. 

Well, she knows the answer to that one. She’s never felt free before. Not like this. 

She doesn’t realize that someone has been watching her--so overjoyed by no longer having to hide. Maybe she should be holding onto those prey instincts. Maybe she hasn’t lost them, maybe it’s just the smell of the dirt, the cool of the rain, and the fire in her veins. 

Roshan puts her hands on her hips. Alec stands under the lip of the roof, just barely out of the rain. Roshan almost laughs, she’s never seen it before but because of the dark of the sky and the shadow the roof offers, she can see it now. Alec’s eyes (the color of ice chips, of frostbitten lips, of the poison a queen gives her husband) really do glow. If ever so slightly. 

When Roshan’s dark eyes meet Alec’s light ones, Alec smiles. An ever so slight quirk of her lips. 

“What?” Roshan demands. 

“I’ve never seen you so happy before,” she says, voice raised over the roar of the downpour. 

“I’ve never been happy before,” Roshan replies, a little more harshly than Alec deserves. But Roshan knows Alec, and knows that she can take it. She can take anything Roshan throws at her, as she’s proven again and again and again. 

Alec pushes herself off of the wall and walks into the oncoming rain, not even flinching. 

It’s something Roshan admires about her, not that she’d ever tell Alec. No. Maybe others might--Hope or Gray--but Roshan and Alec know one another. They don’t need such silliness between them. 

“You know,” Alec says, lowering her voice as she comes closer. Her short black hair sticks to her pale face. Thunder rumbles overhead. Lightning flashes. “I don’t remember you dancing much at the ball.”

“I didn’t dance at all,” Roshan says. She’s not ashamed or embarrassed. Back then she couldn’t even let anyone touch her, much less dance. 

Well, anyone except Alec. Alec always seemed to think that the rules didn’t apply to her. 

Alec holds out a hand, giving a mocking bow to go with it. “Then, may I?”  

Roshan rolls her eyes, but she takes the hand. Despite her eyes and demeanor, Alec is warm to the touch. Alec pulls her in close as the faint music of the tavern switches to a soulful ballad and rests her other hand on the small of Roshan’s back. And together, they dance in the rain. 

[akitokihojo]

The Language He Speaks

I WROTE SOME SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!!!!

I’ve been, like, five months smut-free and I never agreed to those terms and conditions, so here we fucking are!

Note: This takes place post canon, recently after Kagome returns to the Feudal Era.

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

Inuyasha's ember eyes bore through her skin, anger seething from him as he inspected a red-sprinkled-purple bruise on her side, just below her ribcage, tapping it lightly with the pads of his fingers. Kagome knew he was waiting for her to wince as he palpated the thickness of the welt, but she held her breath instead, not wanting to pour gasoline on his already-furious flames. The sound from his throat was basically a growl as he moved onto the next wound, examining the depth of the decently-sized scrape flaked with dried blood at the front of her shoulder.

"You should have listened to me, Kagome." Inuyasha said, disgruntled. 

"You've said that, like, twelve times already." She sighed, backing away from his calloused hands so she could wrap her torso within her kosode again. Maybe if he couldn't see the bruises and scratches decorating her upper body, he wouldn't be so angry. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so they say.

"Yeah, and you have yet to acknowledge that I'm right!"

"You're welcome for helping, by the way." She huffed, giving a heavy jerk to the knot of her kosode as she secured it before scooting her way around the hanyou on the wooden floor of their hut to prod the flickering fire in the pit. The air in the room swirled as she practically felt his irritability climb to new heights. 

"Kagome, I specifically told you to stay behind for a damn good reason!" The hanyou barked, grasping her arm as he slid closer, demanding her undivided attention. "Fighting demon's isn't like what it used to be! The jewel was their primary goal the last time you shot your arrow at anything, but now it's just pure hatred fueling them! They may not come half as often as before, sure, but when they do, it's a battle for your fucking life!"

"And the more people you have on your side, the better your chances are!"

"No-"

"Besides, they were out for blood when it came to the jewel too! You'd think you'd consider that more dangerous since, you know, Naraku tried to murder us all on multiple occasions."

"It's more dangerous now because more and more are attempting to be the next Naraku! Psychopaths are coming out of the fucking woodwork to kill whoever they need to in order to gain as much power as possible in case another jewel were to forge. They don't know what they're doing, clearly, but that doesn't change what we're up against!" Inuyasha squeezed her arm between his fingers, finally bringing out a wince from Kagome, so she pulled away with an incredulous stare, immediately causing him to release his unforgiving grip.

"I stand by what I said. The more people you have on your side, the better the odds. Why doesn't that makes sense to you?"

Inuyasha could feel anger bubbling in his gut, burning the walls of his stomach as he willed the temptation to lash out down. She was stupid, so fucking stupid, for running into the middle of his and Miroku's fight after he'd deliberately told her to stay with Sango. She had good intentions, but he didn't give a damn about any of that bullshit. He gave a damn about her.

And here she was, poking the charring wood for something to do, intentionally avoiding eye contact, the bruises on her skin standing out to him as if her clothes were translucent. His dumb fucking wife got hurt in the heat of battle after he'd told her word-for-word, "Stay here. I mean it. I don't want you getting hurt."

What a surprise.

With a final growl, Inuyasha shot straight up to his feet, not even bothering to grab Tetsusaiga, which stood propped along the wall, as he marched toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Kagome asked, more confused than irritated.

"Out."

"Are you really that mad?"

"Yes, Kagome, I'm fucking pissed!" He shot, glaring back in her direction as he threw the sliding door open.

"Why is this such a big deal to you?" She stood up, following him outside, the crisp, night breeze rustling leaves in the treetops above their heads. "I used to fight at your side all the time! You used to tell me you felt stronger with me nearby! Just because we were separated for a few years doesn't mean anything's changed! I'm still-"

"Everything has changed, Kagome!" Inuyasha bellowed, stopping mid stride and turning to face her fully, not realizing how close she was actually following. Their bodies were mere inches apart, their argument leaving both of their chests heaving up and down, but her face- Oh, god, her face- had his stomach plummeting from its spot in his abdomen to the forest floor. There was no anger or resentment. It was fear. He'd startled her. Her brown eyes, shadowed by the darkened sky, were wide. Brows raised. Lips parted. Shoulders noticeably tensed.

And he hated it.

He normally loved the way his muscular frame was easily able to hide her petite body, and how she fit so perfectly into the natural curve of his own when they slept together, but suddenly it felt like he was a beast with the way he towered over her, able to consume her whole. The image of her afraid was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but her eyebrows settled and her mouth closed and she took a step back from him, and he could see it so fucking clearly. Kagome didn't understand what he was getting at. How could she? It was obvious she didn't see things the same way he did. He could only imagine, knowing her, the thoughts going through her head as she tried to figure him out. And while she was giving him an opening to elaborate on his point, he couldn't bring himself to talk anymore. It killed him that he'd caused that look to mar the beautiful features of her face, his hand naturally raising to cradle the line of her jaw as his thumb caressed a small, developing bruise at the bottom of her cheek, the wound acting as a magnet to draw his palm in, but he could still feel the underlying anger swarming through his bloodstream. He couldn't fix this right now. If he kept going, he'd say something wrong. He'd make it so much worse.

So, Inuyasha took his hand away, telling her to get inside with the gruff tone of his voice, and shot up onto the nearest tree branch, racing away to let off some steam.

Kagome turned over for the umpteenth time on her futon, bringing her blanket up to cover her head as she tried to block out the sounds of the crackling fire, the logs snapping and popping under the heat of the flames, the noises seemingly emphasized by a megaphone. The left side of her body hurt from the scratches and bruises she'd gotten from landing roughly during their battle, but that was the side that faced the door. That was the side, no matter how many times she turned over, that she found herself laying on as she waited from her grumpy hanyou to come back.

Their argument had been on repeat in her mind, his statement that everything had changed replaying like a dingy, broken record. She couldn't figure out why he was so upset. She'd been hurt so much worse than this in the past. Honestly, the bruises and scrapes just looked bad. Sure, some were a little sensitive, especially if she kept allowing her body weight to apply so much pressure to her left side, but her feet had literally been burnt in stomach acid before. So, why was this such a big deal?

He had a lot of nerve. If she hadn't have come when she did, he could have been stabbed through. This demon was large. Very large. And had quite the set of claws on his thick, dirty fingers that were flying directly at the half demon who was distracted by Miroku's crumpled form. She shot her arrow and nailed the sucker in the arm, which wasn't exactly what she was aiming for, but at least she was able to save Inuyasha. Sure, it'd been a while since Kagome had been up against any sort of enemy other than the target hung on a tree outside of Kaede's hut, and she was undeniably rusty, but how else was she supposed to get reacquainted with fighting off demons?

Everything has changed, Kagome! 

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

She readjusted her position once more, settling on her back and throwing her arm above her head as she huffed in irritation, her forearm landing rough enough to tug at the long, dark strands of hair that were sprawled messily over her pillow. The wooden ceiling glowed of soft orange, red, and yellow hues, shadows dancing along to the beat of the popping logs in the pit. 

Yes, their relationship had changed. Substantially. They no longer were on a quest for anything pertaining to Naraku or the jewel. That's a change. She lived in the Feudal Era now. Another change. Kagome couldn't quite bring herself to say everything had changed, though. So what in the world could he have been getting at?

There was this strangling thought in the back of her mind, one that had come up the moment he'd shouted his belief, one that brought a dull ache to her chest. With how mad he was, how badly he seemed to not want her in battle with him, it was like Inuyasha didn't want Kagome as his fighting partner anymore. She used to be the person he trusted most, the person who helped him overcome, but apparently three years has shifted everything. Right. Everything.

No.

No, no no.

She was overthinking and allowing these thoughts to make her overly sensitive.

Stop it, Kagome! Pull yourself together!

Slowly, she peeled herself off the futon, giving up on sleep for the time being while she adjusted her parted night robe over her chest and pushed the blankets from her legs, rising to pace the room just as she had done for a good forty-five minutes after he'd first left. Something Kagome could easily point out that hadn't changed, and probably never would, was that she absolutely hated when he stormed off like this. She respected that he needed space when he was angry, but time was simple to lose track of when it was based on the sun's position and they were in the dead of night.

Letting out a deep sigh, Kagome headed toward the door, opening it just enough to see the dense darkness of the surrounding woods. She wasn't great at picking up demonic energy, it was something she'd really have to hone in on in future training sessions with Kaede and Miroku, but that didn't stop her from trying. She was familiar with Inuyasha and the aura he put out. To her, it was masculine, smooth, and soothing. It washed over her like gentle tides of a calm sea, eroding the rough edges she'd developed over the years to become a soft, glistening rock of his ocean. Apparently, he had to be close enough for her to sense it. With how still and silent and unappealing the immediate world outside seemed, Inuyasha was obviously nowhere around.

With a little more aggression than intended, Kagome slammed the wooden slab shut, blocking out the forest grounds that she couldn't see anyway and slumped down next to the fire pit. The flames were dying, but instead of grabbing a new log to feed them, she used her stick to prod the charred wood, forcing pieces to fall apart, allowing the fire to find new territory to claim. She forced herself to watch the bouncing embers, ignoring the door, ignoring her thoughts, pulling her knees to her chest for as much added comfort she could provide herself.

When she'd ran out to help Miroku and Inuyasha, she hadn't done it to upset him. She wasn't doing it solely to defy the half demon. She'd only wanted to help. She'd wanted to make sure he was safe, just as he would have done for her without a second thought.

So, why was that so bad?

Slow footsteps approached the hut, alerting her at the crack of the drying leaves on the dirt, and Kagome's head shot up, waiting for the door to open. She heard a heavy sigh, one released from a clenched throat, just outside of the wooden beams before it steadily slid open with the intention of silence. His golden eyes, meshing with the glowing hues of the fire, collided with hers, his brows pinching together in question before relaxing. He stepped through the threshold, closing the door behind him.

It took a great deal of effort for Kagome to stay put. She wanted to apologize for making him so angry, but what had she done? She wanted to ask what caused him to storm off in the first place, but what if that instigated the continuation of their argument? So she remained seated, allowing her legs to fold to the side, unable to take her eyes from him as she waited for something to happen.

"Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, not moving from his place at the door.

"I couldn't sleep."

He gave a slight nod, his chest rising from beneath his firerat as he slowly sucked in an inhale, his ember eyes shifting to the floor, and then the far wall.

"I'm- uh... I'm sorry. About earlier. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"So why did you?" Kagome asked, unable to bite back the slight confrontational tone she held. So much for not wanting to argue anymore. He looked back at her, pressing his lips in a tight line as she continued. "What's so different from before that got you all worked up?"

"Everything." He breathed, moving toward her, not willing to fight the urge that pulled him to Kagome's side. "You don't get it, do you? You don't get what's at stake here."

As he sat down beside her, terrible, horrible, unforgiving inches separating them, she felt that aura she'd been missing. Felt it warm her blood and send tingles over her skin as it radiated from his being and engulfed her. Kagome couldn't even bring herself to ask what he meant, hoping he'd fill in the gaps that he, himself, had opened, as the sensation of his spirit puddled in her chest, temporarily quelling the uncertainty that had built up over the hours. How did he do it? How did he have such an effect on her?

"Kagome," Inuyasha scooted a little closer, his knee brushing the hand she braced on the floor. "You can't just go back to your time when you're wounded or exhausted anymore. You don't have your world's powerful medicine and bandages to rely on. You can’t afford to get hurt- especially now more than ever."

"We have herbs." She replied, coming out of her reverie. "Just because they aren't already ground up and processed in a tube, doesn't mean they won't work just as well. That doesn't explain why you got so mad, though."

"I got mad because none of this should've happened in the first place."

"Sometimes people fall down, it's not that big of a deal."

"You didn't fall, Kagome, you were backhanded across the field! If you had just listened to me, you would have been fine!"

"I am fine. I don't have any broken bones, or cuts, and I'm-"

"Shut up." Inuyasha drawled, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "Consider yourself lucky."

"Okay, I'm lucky. Are you happy?" Kagome rolled her eyes, mimicking his body language by crossing her own arms.

"Next time, when I tell you to stay behind, I expect you to listen to me." He ordered.

"No! I'm not about to just wait for you to get back while you're off protecting the village when I can help! You never had a problem with that before! In fact, you used to hate when I went home!"

"That was different!"

"Because I was your jewel shard detector?" She challenged.

"What? No! You know that's not what I thought of you!"

"Then explain, because something isn't clicking here! I used to fight demons with you guys in a freaking skirt, and there was never an issue then!"

"You're missing the entire point! Things are different now!"

"You keep saying that, but it hasn't made any sense yet! I can still fight! I can still help! I didn't just come back for a domestic lifestyle; I knew what I was getting into when I crossed through the well that final time!"

"This was the first demon attack since you've been back, and you were injured! You don't see how much that-"

"I can take it!"

"Kagome-"

"No, listen to me! I'm strong! I'm really strong, and I shouldn't have to convince you of this! My spiritual powers have only grown since I've started my training as a priestess, and I want to help!"

"No!"

"Inuyasha!"

"No!"

"Why not!?"

"Because I can't lose you, Kagome!"

Any rebuttal she'd been prepared with vanished completely, her heart giving a painful thud behind her ribcage. His expression was fierce, his lips peeled back in a partial snarl, eyebrows furrowed together, twitching from how fervently the scowl pressed his features. His eyes were a brutal color, like the fire in the pit beside them burned in his irises and illuminated the room.

"Why are you so stupid? Why aren't you fucking getting this?" Inuyasha slammed his fist against the wood they sat on, using the force to push himself to his feet as he walked to the other side of the room, facing the shadowed wall, taking a few, unsteady breaths to gather his wits. He heard the gentle rustling of the night robe she wore as she rose, the airy hitch from her lungs, felt her eyes on him as she waited in his silence. Finally, he turned back to her, feeling the deadly twist of his face, but he didn't care. As long as his point got across, he didn't give a damn about how he looked. "I've lost you once already! I've experienced that pain, and it's nothing compared to anything I've ever felt before! No matter how many times I checked to see if it had opened, there was still a part of me that thought I'd never get to see you again, but I was willing to accept that because at least you were alive and safe on the other side of that goddamn well!"

He stomped back over to Kagome, grabbing her by the outer edges of her shoulders, feeling a rampant, wild, bubbling heat course through his veins, intensifying the way he suddenly wanted to pull her into his chest and never let go, solidifying his adamant refusal to ever allow her to do anything that could jeopardize her safety again. He swore to protect her years ago, and nothing would ever change that promise, but he needed her to cooperate. He needed her to stop being so frustratingly hard-headed and understand what he was trying to tell her. Kagome didn't tense at all, her brown eyes glistening with concern, a slight flush in her cheeks that he was willing to blame on the diminishing fire, dark shadows forming in the curve just above her cheekbones.

"Face it, you made the worst decision of your life by coming back! It's not safe here! I wasn't worth your well-being; nothing will ever be worth that!"

Kagome opened her mouth to speak, to dispute, but he cut her off with a thick, reverberating growl, his fingers twitching as he controlled his instinct to grip her tighter. "I know I wanted you back, but I was being a selfish fool! I know they're only scratches and bruises this time, but what if something worse were to happen? What if you're attacked while I'm away? What if I can't get to you in time? What if-" Inuyasha's argument faltered as he imagined unspeakable things, his voice fading in and out as he tried to continue, repeating what if multiple times before he gave up with a shake of his head, his chest clenching agonizingly as the thoughts flooded every corner of his mind. Her eyes were watering and her lips were turned down, her chin giving a minute quiver that was causing him to feel even weaker. "Kagome, I can't- I can't..."

"Stop." She quietly pleaded.

Inuyasha's hands moved up to cradle her jaw, her skin emanating the warmth she'd soaked in from sitting so close to the pit. "You don't understand how fucking scared I am of losing you. I can't do it. Not again."

"Stop. Please, stop." Tears seared her cheeks as they glided down, pooling where his flesh met hers, irritating her eyes as she continuously tried blinking them away, but she couldn't. They wouldn't stop. Not for a single second did she imagine this was what Inuyasha hid beneath his thick skin. It was obvious the separation was difficult on the both of them, but they'd never gone into detail about it. It was basically a taboo topic everyone knew to avoid. Invisible wounds were left behind, some healed, some scarred, some still scabbing, but she never realized how deep Inuyasha's ran. It was naive of her to think everything was perfectly fine now that they were together again. He's lost people he loved before. That's not the sort of thing that gets easier each time it happens. 

Kagome watched the sincerity, the fear, flicker in the hanyou's eyes, molting with so much emotion she could hardly take it. Like a magnet drawing her in, with the pressing need to help any ailing thoughts fade away, she pushed upward on her toes to close the scant distance between them, gently pressing her lips to his, feeling the heat of the heavy, relieving sigh he exhaled from his nose against her cheek. She pulled back prematurely, still absorbing the effects of his energy colliding with hers, feeling him inch forward so that their foreheads pressed together, his hands trailing down to find her waist, tugging her a little closer.

"I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you worry." She said, her hands curving around the sides of Inuyasha's neck, just below his jawline, fingertips threading into the silver hair at his nape. Her voice was soft and smooth, barely rising above a whisper. "You can't think like that, though. It’s poisonous. You have to believe that we'll be fine, Inuyasha, because we will be. I will never regret my decision to return. The danger of this world was hardly something to worry about when faced with the choice of living a life without you. Don't forget, I lost you too. I know what that pain feels like just as well as you do.”

Inuyasha gripped the cloth of the robe at her sides, the heat of her breath washing over his face and eliminating his train of thought.

"I'm not a delicate girl that needs to be looked after, but if worst comes to worst, I trust you with my life. You know that. I'm not afraid. Not with you here. I fought by your side for so long, protected you, and that's what I plan to continue doing. No matter how roughed up I get. You're just gonna have to get over it." Kagome dragged her hands down the skin of his neck and over his chest, wrapping her fingers in the thick material at the front of Inuyasha's suikan, their mouths moving closer, hovering but never touching.

"I don't like it, Kagome. I won't lose you again." There was a hint of a growl at the edge of his low voice.

"You won't."

"You're so fucking stubborn." His lips teased hers, grazing but not settling.

"You'll get over that, too."

He kissed her, slowly, softly, their lips molding so perfectly to each other's. It started a fire in his chest, one that burned brighter than the pitiful embers they sat next to, and he allowed it to take over, to transform his kiss into something more fervent, more passionate, more powerful, allowed it to sustain the warmth in their little hut away from the village, and ignite the dark thoughts he once had so that they charred into nothing, like kindling. It was easy, so goddamn easy, to forget whatever was happening around them when they touched each other, hands gliding over clothes and skin to feel, to explore, to wander aimlessly until they found an intention. He was lost in her as quickly as his infamous temper swelled on an average day.

The whimper she gave him was tiny, only detectable by ears as sensitive as his, her cheeks still wet and warm. The sound was enough to send a violent flurry through his abdomen and chest, one that he needed to quell, so he pushed her back, using his hand as his guide until he felt the wall beneath his palm, carefully pinning her between his body and the wooden borders of their home.

Inuyasha wasn't good with words. They either didn't work for him, or came out furiously. He was either emotionally stifled, or would say things horribly wrong in a release of his pent up frustration. He was better with his actions. That's how he spoke to Kagome. That's how he'd managed to relay months ago how much he'd missed her, his gratitude, and how deeply invested he still was. He still had so much to say right now, the need for her to understand how he felt growing stronger and stronger with each passing second.

He was so unfathomably glad Kagome comprehended the language he spoke. They had a bond. One that had proven to be unbreakable time and time again, and as he proceeded to crush his mouth to hers, halting their breathing, feeling her cheeks dampened with fresh tears against the tip of his nose, Inuyasha knew his message had been received loud and clear.

He loved her. So goddamn much.

He wouldn't have been so upset, so scared, if he didn't.

There was a brief moment where things began to calm, the air no longer seeming to swirl around the room along with their melodic energies, their kiss breaking as they sucked in a slow drag of breath. Inuyasha could feel Kagome's heart beating erratically against his chest, staring up at him with her big eyes, the beautiful color lost in the darkness of the room but still holding the same effect on him. It took all the strength he had not to crumble to his knees, sensing exactly how she felt through the simple graze of her palm against his cheek.

And all over again, Inuyasha was winded.

How did she do this to him? How had she managed to color his world in the most vibrant hues, making it possible to see exactly what he was faced with without an inkling of light seeping through?

"Kagome, I..."

"I know."

He kissed her again, and again, and again. Over and over. Pulling her into him as he pushed her into the wall, his hands running over her sides, arms, shoulders, neck, and resting at the crook of her jaw. He didn't understand what had come over him, why he suddenly needed Kagome more than air, but there was no chance of fighting it. Not with her fingers gripping his clothes and her teeth teasing his bottom lip. Not with her pushing him to step back but making sure to hold on for dear life, preventing any lost contact, guiding him, walking backward, stumbling slightly over her own feet until they reached the padding of their bed.

"The fire."

"Leave it." Kagome breathed, hating that he broke away. 

"It's dying." He chuckled, hovering over her lips as she desperately tried to reach for them. He silenced the small mewl she gave with a simple kiss, leading her down to her knees.

"Let it die."

"It'll be pitch black in here. You don't like that dark."

"I'm with you." She kissed his jaw. "I know I'm safe.”

Kagome’s fingers trailed down over his clothing, stopping at the knot that secured his robes shut. She only fumbled slightly, using her nails to pull the tie loose, and pushing the red robe from his shoulders. Inuyasha moved to help her, removing his kosode quicker than she would have been able to, his scorching skin now beneath her fingertips. She wanted to touch every inch of him, wanted to reacquaint herself with the way his muscles twitched beneath her touch, and the way his breath seemed to hitch whenever her nails gently flicked over old scars that never faded, feeling as if, no matter how many times she studied him, watched him, caressed him, kissed him, it was never enough. Kagome wanted to memorize Inuyasha. She wanted to feel his thudding heartbeat when they were pressed against each other and the way his chest rose and fell when he needed to slow down for just a second, she wanted to hear his uncontrolled grunts and the breathy way he said her name, but most importantly, Kagome wanted to watch the way he let go of his worries and fears and allowed himself to forget the unforgiving world around him for just a small moment of passion and peace in her arms.

It was impossible to see him, using her hands and lips to guide her, trailing small kisses up his sternum until she arrived at the curve of his collar bone. No matter how many times she’d flicked her tongue over this spot in the recent months, it never failed to make his stomach tense or bring his fingers to grip her where ever he could. And so he did. His nails scraped along the fabric of her robe, controlled, never harming her, the sound sending a thrill to the apex of her thighs.

She reached his chin, bringing Inuyasha to tilt it downward so she could easily find his lips, not the least bit surprised when she kissed him with a feverish, desperate need because he felt the same way. How could he not? Any separation from her was anxiety inducing. It didn’t matter that she was just pressed against him, touching his chest and arms, licking and nibbling at the base of his neck and in the dip of his clavicle. The second she pulled away, he was terrified, and the second she was against him again, he was satiated.

As she kissed him, dancing her lips over his quicker and harder, he found the flimsy knot that barely held her robe shut anymore, undoing it as she wriggled her shoulders and arms to allow it to fall off of her. Finally, her flesh was against his, and he wondered if it was at all possible to be so wholly intoxicated by the experience of Kagome, alone. Was he the luckiest man alive to be able to claim her as his? To be able to mark her, move inside, and make her keen? Did he actually deserve her? She’d say yes. She’d tell him he was stupid for questioning that in the first place. He could practically hear the words coming from her mouth, so powerfully and sincere.

Kagome’s fingers gently swiped at the base of his abdomen, just above his pant line, tickling the exposed skin and bringing a barely-audible grunt from his throat. He knew what she wanted, but he wasn’t done. He hadn’t finished telling her everything he needed to say. Slowly, softly, Inuyasha skimmed the backs of his knuckles from her ribcage to her hips, wrapping his arm around the small of her back for support as he laid her down, pressing himself between her legs. She sighed, accepting his body weight, biting her lip as he rolled his hips against hers, and he thanked whatever god was out there that he had heightened senses and could see through the darkness, because fuck, he absolutely loved the way she reacted to him.

Without haste, Inuyasha kissed down her neck, not stopping at any point to pay attention to tender spots, gliding his tongue over the nipple of one breast and making a mental note that he’d pay the same favor to the other later, kissing and licking his way down the center of her tummy, over the cloth of her panties, and down the inside of one of her thighs. He’d planned to keep going, but the whimper she gave as he nibbled at the thick flesh was too painful to ignore, and there was no way he could go on without hearing it again. Slowing his pace, he moved up her thigh, closer to her core where the skin was a little more sensitive, grazing his lips and sighing out, feeling the way she shuddered beneath his breath. Then, he incorporated his tongue, gliding it over the smoothness of her inner thigh, closing his mouth on the spot and giving a gentle suck. Kagome’s entire body reacted, back arching, legs tensing, her hands flying to the crown of his head, fumbling as she tried not to grip his hair.

He was achingly hard, and the more her breathing became unsteady, the more he found himself pushing away the thought to take her right then and there. Careful of his claws, Inuyasha pulled her underwear down her legs, Kagome lifting her hips and calves to make the job easier. She was bare now, no longer shying from his eyes as she did the first few times they were together, completely comfortable and so fucking beautiful. The fire burning within him became more powerful, more pressing, the blood flowing through his veins pumping faster, and he pressed himself against her once more, feeling her arch her back to mold completely against him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he kissed her hard. 

It was difficult not to match her mewls with his own, letting her know just how easily she undid him. It was wonderful that no matter how many times their lips met, no matter how many times their mouths moved in total synchronicity, their tongues incorporated in smooth movements, they still kissed with so much fervent need you’d think they’d just barely been reunited from their three year gap. Inuyasha would always fear losing her again, but that’s something he could live with. He would always fear something bad happening, but that just proved how much he loved her. That would never stop. Those feelings, all of them, would never die. So long as he had her at the end of the day, the burdening emotions he struggled with would be easy to bear.

“I will always protect you, Kagome. Do you hear me?” The hanyou growled, feeling breathless in his words.

She felt the vibration through his chest, the honesty in the heat of his skin, the skip of her own heart as she allowed the promise to sink in.

“I feel safer in your arms than I ever did in my own world,” She admitted.

Inuyasha supported himself with an elbow next to her head, his other hand going between them to untie the knot supporting his hakama.

“And I want to keep you safe too, Inuyasha.”

It was entirely impossible not to grunt as his erection was finally set free, pushing his pants down as far as he could without removing himself from Kagome’s hold. Using his knuckle, he tested how wet she was, spreading the juices through her folds, going back for more, and then lightly rubbing over her clit, observing the way her mouth opened but didn’t make a sound, and how her chest rose with the inhalation but had yet to fall. Steadily, Inuyasha guided his cock inside of her, completely engulfed in the molting heat she emitted that brought out this husky, deep-rooted groan he didn’t have the chance to bite back. As he settled, allowing both of them to adjust, she finally exhaled, the whine she released so utterly satisfying it almost ended things then and there.

“I am safe,” He slid out, and then slowly back in. “You. Here. It’s all I need.”

Kagome arched her back, taking him in, her thighs tensing against his hips, the friction he provided as his pace began to increase so wholly amazing. She gripped the pillow above her head, never actually fully making it all the way up their futon when they’d began, biting her lip as Inuyasha provided a tantalizing roll of his pelvis and grazed her clit. She could already feel the tingling sensations rising, intensifying, her light moans turning into whining as her muscles began to tremble around his cock.

Inuyasha was whispering in her ear, thrusting harder, pushing her bangs from her face as he planted tiny kisses to her temple. She was trying to roll her pelvis, meet his grinds, suddenly so desperate for release, wanting to beg him not to stop but her voice wouldn’t work with her. She was on the ledge, so close it was antagonizing her entire body, and then he ordered her to come for him in that husky voice she never got to hear enough, forcing her to succumb to the magnificent embrace of her orgasm.

“Give me the pillow.” He said, hardly allowing her a moment to recover, rising up to his knees and holding his hand out. Kagome threw it up for him to catch, lifting her hips when he tapped her side, and settling back down when he was done adjusting the pillow under her butt. Swiftly, he glided back inside of her, reaching deeper than before, and she moaned all too satisfyingly. He loved making her do that. He loved when she made any sound, really, but mostly when it was of this sort. The one where she could hardly keep it together. Where it was obvious she wanted more. Where her hands flew to any part of him, and her nails bit into his skin, and she still tried to stifle it all by biting her bottom lip but it hardly did her any favors.

Inuyasha propped himself on his hands, his long hair flowing over one of his shoulders and to the padding beneath them, bucking his hips in a smooth rhythm. Kagome was touching him however she could, fumbling over his rigid muscles, grasping down on the curve of his hips where she could feel him thrust, occasionally slowing to a teasing grind, gently shushing her as her breathing picked up. Even in the black of night, she could see the grin on his face as he watched her body respond to his. He knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

The half demon bent down, never halting his pace as he licked the curve of Kagome’s neck, feeling the pebbled flesh rise beneath his tongue when she opened up, welcoming his ministrations. He wanted to feel her come again, hear those agonizingly tortured whimpers, and he’d do whatever he needed to do to get his way. Knowing he was pleasing her was all he required in order to be completely satisfied.

Kagome pushed at his shoulder, indicating she wanted him to roll over, but he shook his head. She tried again, pushing up with her hips, bringing a grunt loose from his chest as he managed to go even deeper for a split second, shuddering as she whispered a broken please into his sensitive ear, and he finally complied, wrapping his arm around the small of her back to bring her with him, never breaking their connection. She sank on top of him, adjusting her thighs over his hips as she continued the motion he’d began, only slowing for a quick moment as he pushed and kicked his pants from his legs, finally free from the semi-confining clothing. His hands immediately found her breasts, massaging and kneading, tenderly flicking a claw over her hardened nipples. Even though he was beneath her now, he still exerted control. Inuyasha swayed her pace by either clutching her hips or bucking upward. He decided if he wanted her sitting upright or bent forward so he could lick and suck and tease her breasts, switching between the two to make sure they got equal amounts of attention, taking over when she needed a small break, and then allowing her to feel in the lead when she began grinding once more.

He was getting closer. She could tell by the way his breathing changed and his stomach muscles clenched. He hardly made a sound when he was close to coming, everything so tight as she imagined the heat overwhelming his body. He was holding her waist as she sat fully up on his cock, no longer indicating whether he wanted her to roll or bounce, only watching her body as she brought him closer and closer to climax. She’d been on the brink for too long now, trying to find her release but unable to as he’d held her off, building her up inch by inch, little by little, but never enough. Inuyasha was barely in control anymore, trying to appear put together as he was crumbling to pieces, and Kagome wanted to hear him say her name.

Making sure he was watching, she reached down, parting her lips to rub her clit, the bundle of nerves so swollen and sensitive at this point, a wave of tingles climbed and splayed over every bit of her body. She couldn’t help but rub herself hard, growing greedy from the sensations as she continued to thrust, and buck, and do whatever she could to reach her orgasm. Her muscles began to tremble, clamping down on Inuyasha’s cock as she was overtaken, her thighs tensing against his hips as he uncontrollably slammed upward, squeezing her sides as he came, gifting her with a clenched, “Fuck!”

Close enough.

Kagome collapsed on top of him, catching her breath before rolling over on her right side, watching the way his chest rose and fell, and the way his long eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes. He looked over, propping himself on his side to face her as he recovered, kissing the scrape on her left shoulder that he’d once growled at. He sat up some more, kissing  the bruise on her arm, then gently pushed it aside so he could kiss the large, speckled mark below her ribs.

“Did I hurt you when I grabbed onto it?”

“Not at all.” Kagome smiled, sighing contentedly as he continued to press multiple, pleasant kisses against the marks on her body. As he brushed his lips along the little one on her cheek, she turned slightly, meeting his mouth, hoping to speak his own language as fluently as she could and express just how much she valued his affection.

She would talk to him all night and well into the morning if she could, but as he tugged the blankets over them and pulled her in close, Kagome could feel the fatigue dragging her under. He swept his lips over hers once more, slowly, lulling out the motion in a hazy effect, whispering words she’d never heard before but always knew. And surprisingly, she felt Inuyasha’s body sink into a peaceful sleep before she even had the chance to respond.

[sparklyandchic]

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕-𝕥𝕠-𝕥𝕠𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕖

 ✨ first, a disclaimer! this is a list of things which i have found to subjectively improve my own appearance. i’m sure there’s many more treatments i’ve missed, and you may also feel that some of these treatments aren’t for you- i’ve just included everything which i have enjoyed personally in order to inform you of your options, from which you can make your own decisions on which to take part in. also, little blurb; what society or others think of you doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things and it is not my goal to promote being concerned with these things here. these are meant to help you be more excited about your own appearance every morning when you wake up, and take more time and care for yourself. partaking in these activities should add to your life, not subtract. ur all cute and valuable already ✨

also second disclaimer: i initially tried to make an amazon storefront as i thought i could put all the products i mentioned on one page so you could have access to them easily, but it turns out regular people can only get an amazon affiliation. this means that if you buy anything through the amazon links i provided, i’ll receive a very tiny percentage of the profits. this doesn’t benefit you, nor does it make the price higher for you, but if you’d like to support what i’m doing, it would be cool if you bought things through the links i provided. if you hate me or something, you can just search and buy them through amazon yourself! these are all products that i used and bought from amazon far before i signed up for the amazon affiliation, i’m just genuinely obsessed with amazon but i’m not affiliated in any way with any brand i mentioned.

✨ 𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣  ✨

bleach/dye: personally i am a huge fan of foil highlights! tons of gals look amazing with dark hair or their natural hair color, but i have found that, for me, they really brighten the face and add depth to my hair. you could also darken your hair, do balayage, or tone it a different shade. i always recommend going to an actual well-rated salon rather than attempting to do it at home. they can ensure you’re getting the proper undertones and the correct volume developer for your hair. if you’re getting your hair bleached, look for a salon that uses olaplex or a similar bond builder in the mixture to avoid completely damaging the structure of your hair. at home, i tone my hair to remove gold/brassy tones with either this pravana mask, or a tiny amount of this semi-permanent violet hair dye mixed into my conditioner (you should only leave this in for a minute the first time as it can be very strong). i’ve found most purple shampoos are quite harsh, especially on fragile hair, so i always go for conditioner.

at-home protein treatments: if your hair is damaged from dying or styling it, i highly recommend using a protein mask on it at home once a week when you can to restore the structure of your hair. olaplex no 3 is a popular option but i really like this k-beauty collagen mask for a way cheaper option that works just as well in my opinion! many brands make protein and keratin masks though so feel free to order whichever you like.

cleansing conditioner: if you’ve used every “hydrating” and “repairing” shampoo + conditioner under the sun but your hair is still dry or fragile, i recommend using cleansing conditioner instead! shampoo, even sulfate free ones, can create friction and cause tearing in your hair, but cleansing conditioner cleans your hair without stripping or damaging it! i love this one from renpure and it’s a lot cheaper than other cleansing conditioners like wen, which i found to be less effective and weigh the hair down. if your hair does ever start to feel a little weighed down or oily, use shampoo to clean it more deeply- i tend to use it once every 1-2 weeks depending on how much i’ve been working out. cleansing conditioner will also help maintain a keratin treatment as it won’t strip the treatment from your hair, which brings me to this next consideration...

keratin treatments: keratin treatments are a semi-permanent treatment which help to make your hair quite a lot straighter, and much smoother, softer, shinier, and dry quicker! these help so much if you have frizzy or damaged hair, or your curl pattern is super irregular like mine! curly hair is beautiful too but if your curl pattern is tough to manage and make look pretty, then they’re a great option. a lot of people ask me if they're damaging but i find that they really help with my damaged fake-blonde hair and my hair stylist agrees, but he said to stay away from relaxers or japanese straightening treatments if your hair is fragile as those can be very damaging! if you’re in nyc, i recommend ‘hair bar nyc,’ their treatments are around $100 and last a couple months before they start to fade. i always go for their strongest solution, the 24 karat.

hair growth vitamins: personally i had short hair for a long time and loved it and still think it looks great on so many people! but i’m currently growing it out, so i’ve been taking hair vitamins daily to speed up the process. any brand works, but i love this brand ‘hair anew’ on amazon, or any store-brand which contains extra nutrients like zinc and pantothenic acid (not just plain biotin) as i feel that they work better and also clear my skin. they also help grow your nails longer and stronger, your eyebrows thicker, and your lashes longer and thicker!

hair extensions: these are less common/necessary, but for girls whose hair is much shorter than they want it, is damaged from bleach/dye/heat, or whose hair is quite thin, clip-in extensions can be a game changer. i’ve had tape-in extensions before and found that not only did they damage my hair and thin it out incredibly badly afterward, but they also truly were a lot of work to style and still looked bad after half an hour of trying to get it to work. a pair of clip-in remy extensions should also only set you back $60-100 while any sort of semi-permanent extension is far more expensive. i currently have this brand fullshine from amazon but it may also be wise to find a beauty supply store where you can match your hair to the extensions. this is also a great method of showing your hair stylist exactly what color you want your hair dyed to be! and pro-tip, never ever use shampoo on your extensions if you want them to last more than a month before they’re ratty and you need new ones. only ever wash them with plain conditioner, every couple of weeks!

shower filters: if you live in a place which has hard water, this can make your hair more brittle, dry, frizzy, tangled, and even make your hair a shade of green, due to the dissolved minerals drying in your hair. i installed this water filter in my shower to purify the water. it only takes 5 minutes; you simply twist off your showerhead,  twist the filter on, and then twist the showerhead back on. they also help with acne, eczema, and dandruff! i definitely noticed a difference in my hair softness when i got one.

leave-in treatments: i figure my favorite leave in-conditioners and serums are worth a mention here! i’ve been using the same 2-3 products for several years and i’ve never found anything that works as well as them. the two non-negotiables for me are it’s a 10 leave-in conditioner with keratin, and either biosilk or chi silk infusion. and if and when my hair is very dry or damaged from recent bleaching, i also put some moroccanoil on the ends. 

✨ 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 ✨

brows: at-home tinting is a quick and cost effective way to make your brows more defined! i’ve used henna dyes before, which also dye the skin beneath the brows and make them look extra thick, but i found that lighter colors were always more orange than “light brown.” instead i love and use this brand of lash/brow dye. i don’t buy their developer- i just followed a reviewer’s instructions to mix equal parts hydrogen peroxide and dye, and it works great! and obviously choose the color which suits your hair color. also worth mentioning, the light brown can be quite light or quite dark depending on how long you leave it on so start with 5 minutes and go from there! 

also, of course always keep your eyebrows well-shaped! if you’ve never had them shaped before, it’s a good idea to get it done professionally first and then maintain it at home with tweezers. i’m a big fan of benefit brow bar for waxing! they have stand-alone locations or smaller bars in a lot of ulta’s.

lashes: getting your lashes done is a great way to feel more done-up even without makeup! lash extensions are amazing at defining your eyes and making them look bigger and more awake, but they’re also a lot of money and upkeep. personally i love lash lifts as i have long lashes (from hair growth vitamins woo) but they just don’t curl very well and are super blonde; a lash lift dyes and curls them and lasts far longer than extensions with no bi-weekly touch-up appointments! if you're not opting for any treatments, i’d still recommend hair growth vitamins to grow your lashes longer!

you can also dye your lashes at home! i’ve tried at-home lash lift kits several times and i found them all messy and completely ineffective, possibly due to my lack of skill, but i couldn’t personally recommend them as of yet. i would recommend at-home lash tints though! if i don’t currently have my lashes curled and tinted from a lash lift, i will use this dye, which is the black version of my eyebrow tint, and use the same hydrogen peroxide formula as described above, to dye my lashes black. it’s great if you’re lazy with makeup, going swimming, or wanna look a lil extra cute when you're at home.

✨𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 ✨ 

professional facials are a great option if you want to feel pampered, get extractions from someone who knows how to do it properly, or get an intensive peel or mask. but they can also get incredibly expensive, while some of their treatments can be done entirely at home! 

physical exfoliation: this is pretty important for basically any skin type, in order to remove dead skin cells! you should avoid harsh scrubs, like those with walnut shell, as they can create microtears in the skin. sugar-based scrubs are safe, but personally i use either of these two items:

-facial brushes! i got a clarisonic years ago, and i love it! if i remove my makeup, then wash my face with my hands, but then wash my face with the clarisonic, there's generally still makeup that comes off on the brush. i would recommend a clarisonic but there’s now highly rated much cheaper versions on amazon so i don’t think i’d recommend spending $100-200 on one when this $33 version with similar sonic vibrations is available.

-microdermabrasion is a great, more advanced option, for removing dead skin cells and helping to clean out your pores. the ‘diamond’ tip runs along your skin to exfoliate dead skin cells, while a vacuum pulls off the skin cells and unclogs your pores. they are a bit more expensive- i got this $90 one for christmas and love it, though there are also similar ones which run around $60 and also have great reviews. i only use this about once a week.

chemical exfoliation: this is great for brightening up the skin. whenever my skin simply looks tired, dull, or congested, i opt for a chemical exfoliant. there are tons of chemical exfoliant options, but my go-to has to be these pads by dr dennis gross. they consist of 2 pads- one with the acids which will exfoliate your skin and one with a neutralizer- and only take about 5 minutes total to use! they are an all time favorite, as i see a difference in my skin right away, but aren’t so harsh that i get any redness or peeling afterwards. the ordinary is also a great skincare brand for all kinds of acids and oils for really cheap! they make a peeling solution which one of my friend uses and she loves it, and i’ve tried a lot of their products over the years and loved them too.

general masks: there are tons of different masks to help with different skin problems and skin types. basically, you've got clay masks for oily skin, hydrating masks for dry skin, and undereye masks for when you're tired as hell.

radiofrequency machine: i first found out about this from stephanie shepherd’s top shelf interview. it’s somewhat commonly used in high end facials, and my friend who is going to cosmetology school said they're great for acne and skin tightening! to my understanding, it works by killing bacteria in the skin, and stimulating blood flow and collagen production. the one i have is only $40, which makes it seem too good to be true, but apparently studies have shown they’re effective in wrinkle reduction, and i’ve found it really helpful for making breakouts heal faster.

other products: i haven’t actually found many other products that i think are a “holy grail” item, besidesss the embryolisse lait creme concentre. i have really dry skin, especially in the winter, and actually bought myself the smallest jar of la mer available this past christmas to see if it could help, but i found it to help absolutely nothing. the lait creme, though, has made my skin actually look like normal skin again, when it used to be extremely flakey and irritated. it’s known for commonly being used backstage at a lot of couture fashion shows, which sold me on it initially lol.

✨ 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 ✨

teeth whitening: i use crest whitestrips to whiten my teeth at home! i’ve found them really effective, but i’d recommend using them a bit less often than the instructions recommend. the kind i have recommends using them daily at first but, anytime i’ve used them two days in a row, my teeth were sensitive and in pain for a whole day afterwards. otherwise they’re great though, just space them out a bit!

also, of course, floss and brush your teeth morning and night! i’d also recommend adding a tiny bit of baking soda on top of your toothpaste, to help with whitening. i used to do this daily back in high school and started actually getting compliments on my teeth being white.

lip filler: as many of you know, i’ve had lip filler done, and I've received a lot of questions about them, so i thought i’d include the basic rundown here. these obviously aren’t something that you should feel ugly without. your lips can be beautiful whether or not you’re following this trend. personally, i never thought i would get lip fillers, but last year i did start noticing that when i smiled in pictures, my top lip would totally disappear. i was hesitant but went and got my lips done knowing that it would dissolve in time, and i ended up loving them and feeling totally glamorous with them! i must caution you to avoid getting too much “lip flipping” done if any. over time, my injector started putting the filler around the edges of my lips to flip my lips out and make them appear bigger. it’s okay in small doses, but some injectors start cutting corners and over-doing it, which leads to the “duck face” look, and my lips have started to look slightly pursed even at rest, but are also completely lacking volume in the middle. i’m getting them dissolved and re-done soon, but let this be a lesson to you to ask for little to no lip flipping, and ask for the filler to be more in the center of your lips. before lip flipping, no one ever seemed to notice i had anything done, then suddenly after two appointments with lip flipping, everyone and their mother started asking if ive had my lips done. so i’d highly recommend them, with that caveat in mind.

 ✨ 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 + 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕥 ✨

manicures: okay so you can do your nails at home if you’re doing regular polish, or even if you're using an at-home gel polish set. you should file them into a nice shape (i prefer them round as opposed to square, as they’re less likely to break), push back and trim your cuticles if needed, and paint them. but personally i love getting acrylics or dip powder! i always get tips added if my nails aren’t very long at the moment, and i feel that it makes my fingers look longer and more elegant and feminine. either way is cute though!

pedicures: okay so getting a pedicure at the salon is a great experience, but i also see no reason to get one given that i can just trim and paint my toenails at home. i would highly recommend ordering some peeling foot masks though- these are the ones i have. they’re these little plastic sock masks that you leave on for an hour, take off, and then ~3 days later an entire layer of your skin starts peeling off and your foot is baby soft. if it’s taking a while to peel off, go soak your feet in a bowl of warm water or in a bath/shower and scrub it off. i used to sit with a foot exfoliation machine for like 20 minutes whirring away at my feet but with these you can just chill on tumblr for an hour and then a few days later  your feet are totally renewed.

✨ 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 ✨

self tanner: self-tanning is probably my #1 beauty tip. honestly i’d give up makeup, conditioner, whatever, as long as i could hold onto my bondi sands dark tanning foam. a good tan makes you look so fresh, healthy, glowing, and fit and toned. before tanning, you should try and exfoliate yourself in the shower. i use a scrubby mitt, specifically this one, which also comes with an actual tanning mitt and a mini facial tanning mitt for applying your tanner. afterwards, you’re going to want to apply some lotion on your knees, elbows, and heels, as these areas tend to be dry and soak up more self tanner and turn darker than the rest of your body. then just apply your self tanner all over with a tanning mitt, and blend well. i swear by bondi sands dark foam! st. tropez gives me an allergic reaction personally and a lot of other ones smell bad or have an orange guide-color, but bondi sands smells like coconut and has a really pretty cool-toned tan guide-color. (DHA is the active ingredient in self-tanners- its a clear chemical which reacts with the skin cells and turns them darker after a few hours, while the initial color that you see right out of the bottle is the guide-color. self-tanners will market their tan as “not orange” or something like that, but this only refers to the guide-color, not the tan itself, as they all contain DHA which turns skin the same color. regardless, i love that bondi sands has such a nice guide-color, so even when i’m pale, i can just throw some on and run out the door looking tan!) after a week or two, your tan is going to start getting patchy no matter how many layers you’ve added, so you’re either going to want to exfoliate as much off as you can and do a fresh new tan, or if i have time i’ll apply the bondi sands self-tan remover before exfoliating to get virtually all of it off.

glitter: this is a bit more out-there, but i love love love using shimmery lotions on my body. i feel like a fairy princess, but also it gets rid of that chalky flakey dry look my skin can get in the winter. before swim shoots or the victoria’s secret fashion show, models are always getting slathered in shimmery lotion or oil. there’s a lot of expensive shimmery body oils out there, but you can also just make your own with cosmetic mica and your favorite lotion (i use a gradual tanning lotion to keep my tan looking fresh). cosmetic mica is basically what they use in all the shimmery makeup you buy, and it doubles as an amazing highlighter or eyeshadow!

✨𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕦𝕡 ✨

basic tips: i’m by no means a makeup guru, but i do feel as though my makeup skills have strengthened a lot since i was a little hippie at 16 years old who just wore hemp lip balm and organic powder foundation sometimes, so here’s some tips i picked up since then. i did also take a one-day makeup masterclass in LA with a celebrity makeup artist who has done the kardashians makeup, which is where i learned virtually all these tips:

✰  let your moisturizer sit for a few minutes before applying foundation ✩ beauty blenders tend to be far better for blending liquid makeup into your skin than brushes  ✰  using just one shade of foundation on your face can make your skin look flat. either use a few different shades of foundation, or a light concealer and a darker contour stick, to add dimension to the face. also, use 2 or 3 different blush colors to add dimension  ✰  blend. more than you think you need to. your foundation, contour, blush, eyeshadow, everything. just keep blending.  ✰  don’t make your eyeliner too thick along the entire eye. this makes your eyelids and eyes look smaller. it should be thin until you thicken it at the outer corners of your eyes.  ✰  as for the rest, fill in and brush your eyebrows, wear a lip color that goes well with your skin tone, highlight the inner corners of your eyes to look more awake, use a setting spray if you want to look dewier and make your makeup last longer ✰

if you’re curious about my full makeup routine here are all the products i use:

✰  embryolisse lait creme concentre moisturizer  ✰  giorgio armani luminous silk foundation  ✰  tarte shape tape concealer  ✰  anastasia beverly hills contour stick in ‘mink’ ✰  too faced born this way setting powder ✰  wet n wild blushes in ‘mellow wine’ and ‘apricot in the middle’  ✰  huda beauty rose gold eyeshadow palette (this is pretty but doesn’t blend super well you should probably buy the abh modern renaissance palette)  ✰  stila micro tip eyeliner  ✰  too faced better than sex mascara  ✰  abh clear brow gel ✰  eyebrow powder, doesn't matter what brand but i got tamnova at the makeup course so i use that. thin eyebrow pencils are good for a natural look but my brows are too thick for them lol  ✰  this cosmetic mica for highlighter  ✰  glossier generation g lipstick in the color leo  ✰

makeup bag: a somewhat extensive list of on-the-go beauty products for you to consider carrying with you in your makeup bag:

✰ perfume. you can buy small on-the-go perfume bottles like these and fill them with your favorite scent ✰ lip products, such as lip balm, lip gloss, or lipstick ✰ lotion. i bring a small hand lotion bottle, and also carry a small container of my body lotion and cosmetic mica mixture ✰ mini lint roller ✰ tide stain stick ✰ downy wrinkle releaser fabric spray ✰ eyelash curler ✰ foundation powder ✰ mascara ✰ mini hairbrush ✰ mini dry shampoo ✰ mints, mint gum, or mini mouthwash ✰ mini deodorant ✰ summer’s eve wipes ✰ hydrating facial mist ✰ blotting papers ✰ 

✨ 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✨

no matter how manicured, tanned, and sparkly you are, if you act with jealousy, spite, and hatred, you will never be beautiful, on the inside or outside. live authentically, act with integrity, and be kind ♡

[daedriclorde]

A Thief in Wolf’s Clothing, Part II: Chapter 6, “Dragonborn”

Summary: Kjolti's status of Dragonborn is revealed to Vilkas. Farkas despairs over the thought of Kjolti and Vilkas together.

Read here on Ao3

It isn’t fair. Farkas took another drink. It should have been me. 

The sun had long since stopped streaming through Jorrvaskr’s windows, replaced now by the glow of the central fire pit of the mead hall. While the room had filled up with other Companions, Farkas continued to sit alone.

It could have been me. I am just as talented a swordsman. I am just as strong. Just as capable. He drank. Why him, and not me? The image of Kjolti and Vilkas out on a mission together would not leave his mind. Riding together, fighting side by side. Making camp.

Farkas moaned. They would make camp tonight, or stay at an inn. The proximity was too much to bear. It’s not like their rooms here are all that far apart, he reminded himself. The thought didn’t help. 

He could feel it calling. His blood was heating, begging, clawing at him. Farkas shifted, agitated. An eye twitched.

I can’t. I shouldn’t.

His fingertips absently clawed at the wooden table.

The hunger was insatiable. 

Across the room, Aela observed Farkas’s agitation. She looked around. No one else seemed to notice his obvious discomfort. We may be warriors, but our observational skills leave something to be desired. 

Farkas had already been drinking by the time Aela returned to Jorrvaskr. The man held his alcohol so well it was impossible to tell how long he had been in his cups, or how drunk he actually was. But Aela had a hunch that it was more than he ought to have had.

Aela could see Farkas twitch from across the hall. Again, she was surprised that no one else noticed. Farkas nearly jumped out of his chair. Aela looked closer. Yes, she knew that look in his eye. Knew it well. When Farkas leapt to the door, Aela didn’t have to use her nose to know what was about to happen. Farkas was changing. She quickly got up to follow him.

His heavy footsteps were easy to track through Whiterun. Aela followed from a safe distance. Farkas threw open the large city gates and Aela charged through after him. He raced down the path to the plains and leapt the final wall. Aela jumped after him.

She lost him briefly in the darkness, but soon heard an anguished cry, half human and half wolf. This is not good.

***

“Take cover!” Kjolti shouted as she shoved her helm on. Vilkas rolled behind a boulder as a blast of fire spiraled where he had been just moments before. The dragon spread its massive wings and took to the skies once again. 

“Use your bow!” Kjolti called, already notching another arrow. “We have to get it to land again!”

Vilkas nodded, pale as he was, and obeyed. They sent up arrow after arrow to the beast, with only a few striking the airborne target. The dragon roared and sent another torrent of fire down upon them. Kjolti was able to sidestep the blast.

The dragon began to lower itself to the ground again. 

“Loose! Now!” Kjolti barked. In its descent, the dragon was easier to hit. Between the two of them, they managed to lodge several arrows into its thick hide. But the landing of the beast shook the ground once more and they lost their window to use their bows. 

“Blades!” Kjolti ordered. She switched her weapon as fast as she could. Ignoring the pit in her stomach, she charged at the dragon from the side. She swung wildly at its flank, trying to do as much damage as possible before it took flight again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vilkas charge forward as well. The dragon began to turn.

“Vilkas! Away from its maw!” 

The dragon began to open its jaw.

Vilkas sidestepped the column of flame just in time. 

Frustrated, the dragon launched itself into the air again.

“Always stay away from its head,” Kjolti shouted. “No matter what!”

Vilkas looked at her strangely. Kjolti ignored it for the moment. Not now. I can’t do this now. 

She pulled her bow once again and began loosing arrow after arrow into the heavens. It was dark now, and hard to see the dragon. When its shadowy figure cut in front of the moons, she loosed arrows as rapidly as she could. 

It wasn’t long before the dragon thudded down again in front of her. The moonlight illuminated her foe: jagged grey scales, vicious teeth, and cruel eyes stared back at her. But the light betrayed the dragon. Kjolti could see that it was weak, could see the blood loss in its eyes and painted on its hide. She knew what she had to do.

She had to ignore her own advice.

“Vilkas, stay on the bow and cover me from there!” She commanded. Vilkas continued to send arrows toward the beast.

Kjolti gathered what was left of her courage. She took a deep breath in, and charged toward the beast staring back at her.

“Kjolti, what are you doing?!” Vilkas shouted.

“Keep loosing arrows!” She called back.

Blade raised, Kjolti bore down on the beast. She struck, then stepped back as it snapped its mighty jaws at her. She swung again, and the dragon screamed. Arrows continued to pierce its hide.

Just one more.

The dragon began to open its maw.

Kjolti braced herself. She felt the power surging in her veins, like it had after she slew the dragon at the watchtower. That strange word was forming in her throat, the power of it overwhelming, until it boiled over into a shout.

“Fus!”

The flames stopped before they even began as the dragon was pushed back a pace, startled.

Go, go, go, now is your chance! Kjolti summoned her strength and drove her blade into the beast.

The dragon released an anguished cry, recoiled, and then fell still.  

Kjolti fell to her knees, kneeling in front of the dead beast, peeling her helmet off as she gasped for breath. She could hear Vilkas approaching, calling out to her. No, she pleaded. Stay back, you don’t need to see this—

But it was too late. The dragon’s corpse began to ignite. Scales turned to ash and floated heavenward. 

“Shor’s Bones,” Vilkas gasped.

Then it became visible. The soul, swirling and whirling, lifted itself from the bones that had housed it. The energies gleamed like the stars in the darkness, the orange and purple hues gleaming even brighter. They rushed toward her, filling Kjolti till she was overwhelmed. Unaccustomed to the feeling, Kjolti grimaced as she felt the dragon’s soul become a part of her. 

And then there was silence. 

“Kjolti?” Vilkas whispered, his voice filled with awe.

“Vilkas, I—“ She faltered for the words.

“Kjolti, you’re—“ he swallowed. “The Dragonborn.” He said the word like a prayer.

Kjolti opened her eyes to look at him. “I am.”

***

Aela tore across the plains after Farkas. He let out another pained howl as he raced away from the city. While Aela was fast, she could not keep up with Farkas in his beast form. His periodic howls helped her to track him.

The last two outbursts were in nearly the same location. She ran toward the spot, and could see Farkas’s terrible silhouette in the moonlight. She charged after him. His form was not the only one. Aela could make out a small group of bandits, who had no idea what they were truly up against.

Farkas swiped one away easily and lunged at a second. He snarled viscously as one landed a strike on him. 

Aela was fast approaching. Not caring for stealth any more, she charged noisily across the plains. 

Another bandit lay motionless after meeting one of Farkas’s massive claws. Now within range, Aela whipped out her bow and began to take aim. She landed an arrow in the head of one that began to charge Farkas from behind. He staggered to his knees, and dropped to the ground at her second arrow.

Farkas was encircled in foes. Aela picked them off from a distance, weakening their attack. Farkas seemed to take no notice of her aid. 

Two more fell from Farkas’s mighty jaws, and a third from a well placed arrow. One remained, courageous in his ego. Farkas released a bone chilling growl and dove into him with his razor teeth. Aela lowered her bow.

Farkas mauled the bandit, who screamed in terror as his life ended. But Farkas didn’t stop. He kept at the man, well after his life had extinguished, well after it would have provided him further strength.

Farkas, no, Aela pleaded. She ran towards him.

“Farkas!” She shouted.

He looked up.

“Farkas, its me,” she called softly. “Aela, your friend. I’m here, Farkas, I’m here.”

The werewolf before her heaved. Gasping, Farkas began to resume his human form again. Aela averted her eyes. While she was comfortable seeing her shield-brothers in their beast form, there was always something unsettling about watching the transformation itself.

A moment of silence passed and Aela looked up.

Farkas was curled into a ball beside the body of the man he mauled, clearly distraught.

Aela walked up to Farkas and sat beside him. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his back. He flinched.

“Farkas, what’s going on?” she asked gently. 

Tension hung thick around him. She could tell he was uncomfortable. “Farkas, its okay. Its just me.”

His voice was hesitant. “Sometimes, we come out here. Kjolti and I. To the plains.”

Aela nodded, keeping her hand on his back. “I know.”

“No, you don’t. We come out here to kill. Beasts, man, mer, it doesn’t matter. Whatever there is to kill, we kill it.”

“Why?” Aela tried to keep her concern out of her voice.

He shrugged. “She needs to, sometimes. It keeps whatever haunts her at bay, I think.”

Aela swallowed. “Why do you go too, then?”

Farkas gave no answer but shuddered and dug his face further into his arms.

Aela took a deep breath. “You love her,” she answered her own question.

Farkas made a choked sound and nodded, his wild hair flying.

“Her eyes,” he breathed thickly. “They’re perfect full moons. Hircine himself could not create a more perfect person.”

Aela sighed.

“She’s going to fall for him,” Farkas blurted out. Aela couldn’t see his face but could hear that he was crying. 

“No, Farkas, she’s not,” Aela comforted. “She…she’s closed off. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. Whatever ghosts she carries with her are still too fresh.” She took a deep breath. “Kjolti’s not going to fall for anyone, right now. She’s in too much pain. You must know it too.”

Farkas’s breathing was beginning to return to normal. He lifted his head. His face was weary, his expression ragged.

Gently, Aela cupped her hand on his face. “Come on, now,” she murmured. “Let’s go home.”

[flourchildwrites]

While I still have to read Bound By(sooon) how about a fictober prompt? If you dont have anything planned yet, either "fight" or "trapped" for royai? Thanks! Im loving what Ive read so far!

Witch, Please!  Fictober 2019  (13/31)

A multi-fandom Fictober prompt compilation.  Your wish is my command, but be careful what you ask for.  You just might get it.

For @dvltgr

Prompt:   “Fight” from Writetober 2019 Prompt List

Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types

Relationship/Pairing:  Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang

Genre:  Pre-Canon, Young!Royai

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count:  1,726 words

Read on AO3

Dinner at Hawkeye Manor was a pleasant affair for those who were accustomed to long stretches of loaded silence. After three years of dining in a conversation vacuum, Roy Mustang had gotten used to it.

Berthold Hawkeye took his meals with his nose pressed between the pages of the newspaper while his daughter balanced the checkbook. Clinking silverware and chiming glass accompanied the pungent smell of printer’s ink as the tip of Riza’s pencil scratched against the household’s ledger. The set of the fourteen-year old’s blonde brow spoke volumes about the solvency of the Hawkeye estate, and judging from recent observations, Roy braced himself for another hard winter. He wrote home to his Aunt Chris, asking for sweet treats, a thick pair of gloves and extra blankets to see him through, intending to put the letter to post the next morning before his lessons.

“What are you doing?”

Riza’s voice was not entirely jarring, but the sudden urgency of the question caught Roy off guard. He flinched, nearly jumped out of his skin and pivoted in his chair, staring back at the knock-kneed tomboy as if he had seen a ghost. Admittedly, she had been looking paler lately; the threadbare quality of her clothes emphasized that fact.

“Writing a letter to my Aunt. Why?”

“The one who lives in Central?”

“Yes.” Roy supposed he hadn’t quite explained that he only had one aunt, that he knew of at least, but wasn’t about to start now. “Why?” Roy’s voice carried an edge that he hadn’t quite anticipated.

“Sorry,” he added, apologetically, “I’ve got a lot to do here, and you startled me. Is there something you need, Riza?”

Reluctance was not an emotion that Riza wore all that often or all that well. She fiddled with the frayed end of her baby blue sweater, refusing to meet his eyes as she spoke. “You should go into town to mail that letter this evening so it’ll go out on the morning train,” she said. “I’ll set aside some dinner for you. I’ll even give you an extra slice of dessert. It’s peach cobbler.”

“That will take almost an hour, and I don’t want an extra slice of dessert,” Roy retorted. “I can just give the letter to the postman tomorrow morning. One day won’t make a difference.”

Still stroking the hem of her clothing, Riza’s tone became impassioned. She looked up to meet the gaze of her father’s apprentice. “It might freeze tomorrow night, and the mail to Central could be delayed for weeks. Could you please, Roy? I- I need to talk to my father, and I think it’d be best if you were out.”

Roy opened his mouth to argue but stopped as the puzzle pieces fit together, forming a more precise picture in his mind. Riza needed to speak with her father, which she never did. She’d made Professor Hawkeye’s favorite food, peach cobbler, which they rarely could afford. Riza was offering Roy an extra slice of dessert - possible her own - because it was the only bargaining chip she had to offer.

He’d be an ass to refuse her request at this point. Aunt Chris had taught him better than that.

“Fine,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Roy glanced out the window as the wind gusted through the trees, knocking burnish yellow, brown and orange leaves from the branches. He shivered at the thought of a long, lonely walk down the dusty country road.

…

Roy returned later than intended with frozen toes and cheeks red and raw from the cold. As he stepped into the entryway and stamped his boots against the mat, Roy heard raised voices coming from their small kitchen, the place he usually ate dinner.

“I give you food. I give you shelter. I provide for a first-rate education, and what has that school imposed on us! The clothes on your back are fine as they are, and I should write that school an impassioned letter to protest non-academic endeavors. End of discussion.” Berthold’s raised voice loomed through the wooden walls of the dilapidated country home.

“All the other girls enjoy the cotillion,” Riza stressed. Her tone was high and shrill. “I don’t want to ruin it for everyone, but the nice dress I have doesn’t fit. I asked my teacher if I could help prepare and serve the food again with the lower grades, but she said no. I’m to be judged on table etiquette this year and dancing next year. The cotillion is one-sixth of my overall grade, Father!”

“Table etiquette and dancing!” Berthold scoffed. “I’m not going to allow you to spend a quarter of our monthly budget on frivolities such as shoes and dresses that you’ll wear once. What you have is sufficient.”

“Please, Father. I already tried letting out the seams. See? The hem is too far above my knees, and my chest-”

Roy crept close to the doorframe. He walked softly to muffle the sound of his footsteps against the hardwood and pressed his back against the wall. The apprentice stilled his breath to hear his master’s low, cruel utterance.

“Maybe you should eat less. It fit your mother fine when she was your age.”

There was a beat of silence as the weight of his words settled and wreaked their havoc. Roy’s fists tightened. His teeth clenched, and he heard the soft shuffling of fabric and shoes against the kitchen’s checkerboard floor as Riza darted into the hall.

He caught sight of her as she passed and was surprised to find Riza wearing a lacey white dress gone yellow with age. The delicate layers sat too high on her hips, and the button-up back was taut.  The effect strained the natural curves of her figure in places where the garment should have comfortably fallen. In the split-second their eyes met, she turned away and darted up the stairs toward her room.

As Roy followed in Riza’s footsteps, he stopped off at the small apprentice dormitory to discard his jacket, boots and scarf but caught sight of the dinner on his desk before he could peel the layers from his skin. As promised, there sat an extra serving a peach cobbler and a note thanking him for his discretion. The sight hurt Roy’s heart just as much as the soft sobs coming from the other side of the hallway.

He sat down to write another letter to his Aunt Chris and told himself that he didn’t mind two brisk walks through the bitter cold on the same evening.

…

If the crates stacked in the entryway of Hawkeye Manor bothered Berthold, he paid them little mind. The postman begrudgingly lugged them in from his wagon with sideways remarks about the size and weight that Roy pretended not to hear. It took the young man four trips to carry the wooden boxes to his second-story dormitory and twenty minutes more to recover from his exertions. But the content of crates far surpassed any expectations he might have had when he asked his Aunt if his sisters had a nice dress to spare.

Chris Mustang’s note was, as she, straightforward and to the point.

Roy-boy,

A dress is useless without shoes, coats and accessories. Your sisters have no need of these as they are from last year. See that they find a good home.

Aunt Chris

All that was left was to wait for Riza to return home from school.

…

“Oh, Riza,” Roy called out, pleased as a preening peacock, “could you come here a moment. I have a favor to ask.”

Roy waited with growing impatience for her to turn the corner and smiled like the Cheshire cat when her indignant scowl fell, quickly replaced by a look of wonder. At least a dozen dresses and coats of all colors and styles were laid over the two vacant beds in the dormitory. An entire jewelry box of ornate rings, bejeweled earnings and long strands of pearls sat casually on Roy’s nightstand. And in the corner of the room, a large crate of purses and high-heeled shoes sat, still waiting to be unpacked.

“My silly sisters thought you might be interested in some of their old dresses,” he started. “And I told them that, of course, you wouldn’t want last year’s styles, but they insisted, and here we are. Might you consider taking these off my hands? I’d hate to send them back.”

Riza approached the dresses with equal parts hesitation and fascination, running the back of her hand along the frilly sleeve of a shimmering, soft pink dress and burying her fingers in a fur-lined coat that, Roy realized, once belonged to his own Aunt. Then, suddenly, her awe turned sour as she shook her head to rid her eyes of the marvels before them.

“I can’t accept these, Roy,” she said sadly. “We can’t afford-”

“Oh, please,” Roy interrupted. He’d prepared himself for this particular argument. “No one would be caught dead in these clothes in Central City. And I realize it will be a hassle to take them in, but I’d hate to have to haul these to the post office. It’s so far away, and the weather is absolutely terrible this time of year.”

Roy hoped against hope that, just this once, she wouldn’t be so stubborn, and he was rewarded by a teary-eyes gaze that caught the reflection of the many metallic bobbles glinting in her new jewelry box. Riza gathered the clothing in her arms and looked at Roy with a heartbreaking grin that stretched the corners of her heart-shaped face.

“Thank you,” was all she said in reply.

Through the lump in his throat, Roy grumbled his own response. “Don’t mention it.”

He couldn’t go to the dance with her and probably would not spend another winter under Berthold’s tutelage. Neither could Roy change his master’s mind once it had been made up nor lessen the burden of her lonely life. But if he could play some small part in a brief moment of happiness, the young man decided he would take that chance, if not for altruistic reasons then selfish ones. If only so that when Riza would smile, all decked out in her finery as she departed for the cotillion, Roy would know he was responsible for it.

He would fight for her well-being, even after she herself had surrendered.

A/N:  Thank you so much for the prompt. I hope you like it even though I took royai and made it young!royai.  Today, I woke up thinking about my grandmother and a particular conversation she had with my father about a prom dress.  So, I guess this one it a little for her as well.  Feel free to send me pairing requests for particular prompts (Fictober or original) via my tumblr, and if you read something you like, don’t hesitate to let me know. Your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs make my day!

[nothing-but-kpop-dreams]

Just "Friends" (5.5/?)

A/n: sooooo sorry this literally took forever. My job is hoenstly so crazy and i either dont have time to write or i am too tired.

All Parts

“Three! Two! One!”

The freezing rain was quick to snap you back into reality. The thin soles of your shoes barely had enough traction to keep you on your feet as you ran down the crowded and slippery walkways.

For a dude that you never saw walk faster than a snail's pace, Yoongi was actually a fast runner. You were barely able to keep up with him. It could have been that he was secretly fit or the fact that the rain felt like bullets of ice shooting down on you but the two were back in that dirty alleyway he found you crying at in what felt like ten seconds.

He was quick to usher you past the garbage bins you once hid behind all those weeks ago and pushed open the back entrance of his apartment building.

“We made it!” he huffed, trying to catch his breath from the burst of activity.

You looked up at him. His blue locks were plastered to his forehead and his shirt was completely soaked. His shirt stuck to his body like plastic wrap and the bottoms of his pant legs were a darker shade of blue compared to his thighs.

You on the other hand were only standing in soaked sneakers while the neckline of you shirt was the only other thing to get the most damage. Yoongi’s coat protected you from most of the water and you felt a bit bad that you had it on the whole time. 

“Here you should take your coat back now.” you said, so that he'd at least have something to keep him warm.

He took the coat from you but didn't put it on. “It's alright I’m gonna change out of these clothes right now. Might as well lend you another sweater too.”

“Nah, its ok.”

“I said I'm lending you a new sweater.” he “insisted” kindly as he grabbed your hand again and began to lead you to his apartment.

Second floor, the second door on the left and you were in his humble abode. 

“Okay, warning, I wasn't expecting this to happen so sorry that my place is kind of a mess.” He said a bit late considering you were already standing in the middle of his apartment.

You took a look around. It was a decent sized place, probably a bit bigger than your apartment, definitely cleaner. If he thought this was bad, he must consider your place a landfill by comparison. “No worries, it's cool, but where's holly though?” You asked excitedly.

“Oooh, he isn't here today. My brother took him for a few days”

“Aw, then what's the point of being here?” you whined

“To finish our date with some good ole fast food... or would you rather be out in the rain? Cuz i can very easily kick you out!” He said with a grin.

“I mean if those are my own options, imma get an uber!” You said jokingly.

“Like I'd let you get in some stranger's car.” he smiled more sincerely, very much noticing your cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. “Wait here and decide what you want us to order while I get changed. There's a few take out menus by the fridge if you want to look at those!” His voice trailed off as he went down his hall and into one of the bedrooms.

Very timidly did you make your way to his kitchen and took a "quick" look around for the menus he was talking about. It could have been possible you snooped through the cabinets and drawers, but it was just a thorough look at the place that's all.

The menus sat there by the fridge just as he said. There wasn't too much to choose from

“Burgers, sushi, pizza- oh that doesn't sound too bad right now, ohhh mexican food!” you were getting hungrier and hungrier as you looked through the pictures of the different foods.

“Boo!” A shout suddenly came from behind you and you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders!

You let out a shriek. With eyes closed shut you spun around wildly throwing fists at your opponent.

“Chill!” You could hear yoongi laugh. His hands grabbed your fists to stop you from trying to hit him. “It's just me!”

He had a cute laugh, but right now wasn't the time you were going to let him get away with it. “Oh just you? All the more reason to do this!” you hissed, ripping one hand away and smacked him on the shoulder.

Yoongi only laughed some more. "I had to do it. It's pay back for scaring me at the park.” he justified.

“Ugh, fine. We're even.” You grumbled, taking notice of his new "outfit". Yoongi was sporting a faded orange t shirt that made his towel dried blue hair pop even more, paired with some black skinny jeans.

"And here! This is for you, you scaredy cat." He chuckled, pulling off the black sweater hanging from his shoulder and holding it out for you to slide on.

You rolled your eyes at him but complied.

The black sweater was huge. It was like he draped you with a blanket. It was thick and soft and all around perfect.

"Thank you." You smiled like a spoiled brat.

You looked up at him to find him with the same look he had during the whole movie.

His eyes were locked on you, but his face was a deep shade of pink. He was frozen in a stance where he was leaning in closyoongiyou, but not close enough to break your bubble of personal space. Yet again it was like he was holding himself back from making a move.

You yourself felt your face getting hot. You wondered if he was finally going to make a move or not. 

After what felt like full on minutes of him just staring, he still did nothing. 

Maybe it was your turn to try and get the ball rolling.

Without much thought, you reached out your sweater paws and grabbed his hands, moving him closer to you.

Your touch seemed to startle him, as if you disrupted his train of thought. You couldn't help but crack a smile when his eyes looked back at you with subtle look of shock.

You probably caught him off guard. Up until now he had been the one to make all the advances. He was the one to text first, hold your hand first, and was always the one to ask to hang out. 

It's not that you ever turned him down in any way, but you also never put yourself out there with him. Why? You weren't completely sure. It could be that part of you still saw him as your nothing-but-pure-evil high school bully or that you were traumatized by any type of possible rejection after your drama with taehyung. Regardless, it wasn't really fair to him to not reciprocate anything. 

"So yoongi, I've been meaning to tell you something." You started. 

"Hm?" Was all he was able to get out, suddenly so nervous around you.

"Shockingly enough… I don't hate spending time with you." you confessed.

Yoongi couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "I told you I wasn't that bad." He mumbled shyly.

Silence fell between you two again. Neither one of you knew what to say next. 

"... I-um... y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something... I'm sure it's pretty obvious at this point, but I like spending time with you an-"

"Ay yo! Yoongi!" A voice came from the now open front door.

The two of you looked over at the front entrance and honestly, you weren't too surprised to see who it was. Even with his back towards you due to peeling off his soaked coat, he looked like he hadn't changed a bit since high school. 

"Dude, you need to answer your fucking phone!" His voice filled the empty silence of the apartment. "Namjoon and I were creating such fire, all we needed was-" his blood ran cold when he turned around and saw you standing with Yoongi in kitchenette. "Oh! A girl!"

Jung hoseok, aka Hobi, aka Yoongi's partner in crime all through high school, stood in awe at the sight of you. Hoseok and Yoongi were always together back in the day. Most of the school was convinced Hoseok flunked a grade too just to be in class with Yoongi. And even years after graduation, it seems like they are still inseparable.

"What were you saying Hoseok?" Yoongi's voice was a full out groan now. 

You on the other hand were a but too shookth to even wave him and just stood there like a statue. You weren't trying to be rude, but you weren't exactly friendly with Hoseok in high school, you know, cuz him being Yoongi's hype man in his bullying raids and all (of course now trying to accept the fact he was trying to be more of a wing man back then).

Upon landing his eyes on you, hoseok plastered on a smile and made his way over to you guys. "Oh it's nothing, but who's your lady friend here?" He asked walking up next to the both of you.

By this point you and Yoongi had let go of each others hand, so shy about being put on the spot.

"Hi, I'm hoseok by the way." He said bringing an arm out to shake your hand and not even letting Yoongi answer the question.

"I know." You said smiled awkwardly. " I still remember you from high school."

Now it was Hoseok's turn to freeze. "High school?  We went to high school together?" He was suddenly looking at you more intensely, doing his best to try and remember you.

Suga let out a frustrated sigh. "Do you really not remem-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Hoseok's finger stopped Yoongi's lips from moving, all while having his eyes locked on you.

Immediately Yoongi slapped his hand away

"Oh my gosh" Hoseok whispered. "It's you! Cindy, right? Cindy from algebra 2?!"

Hoseok literally didn't even let you answer his question, he just attacked you with a hug. "Oh damn it's great to see you! It's been so long! how've you been?" He screamed joyously.

"She not Cindy you idiot!" Yoongi said pulling Hoseok off you. "It's y/n. She was a grade below us remember? Fuck, we all ended up graduating together stupid!"

"Whoops sorry! You and the girl I was thinking about look alot alike!" Hoseok laughed.

*You and Cindy, in fact, did not look alike*

"So we graduated together, huh? What's your last name???"

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!" yoongi grumbled. "Hoseok, this is the same y/n i liked back in high school." He spoke in a growl, so frustrated and a bit embarrassed over Hoseok's horrible memory.

Hoseok's eyes opened wide. "Oh…. Oooh!" He froze for a second "Oh you're that y/n." He said under his breath. Again, he stuck his hand out for a handshake. "Well hello again!" He said back in his original tone. "It's great to see you after all these years. You haven't changed a bit!" His tone, although, polite expressed a hint of what you felt could either be nervousness or embarrassment. "Um by the way… why are you here?"

"Hoseok!" Yoongi snapped.

"What?" The questioned innocently. "Last I remember, she hated us."

"I used to." You butted in. "...But now I don't." Without even thinking about it. your eyes trailed over to Yoongi and you couldn't hold back the little smile that formed on your face.

Hoseok very much so noticed the look you gave Yoongi. "So uh- so uh-" he was just waving his hands weirdly between the two of you "so uh what's going on over here then? Hm? Whats- whats a- going on between the two of you?" He asked, his eyebrows jumping mischievously.

"We're on a date." You said blankly. 

Remembering how over the top Hoseok was back then (and seeing how he is now) you didn't want to add any fuel to his over dramatic fire by beating around the bush.

Immediately, his smile widened. His smile was so big you could see all his teeth. The boy was practically an attack on titan titan with the face he made. 

"Say it ain't sooooooo!!!!" He screeched at Yoongi. 

"It is! So now can you let us order some damn food?" A red face yoongi growled.

"Oh food! What we orderin'?"

"No, no,no. Just y/n and i. You want food, then you go out and get some." Yoongi ordered, grabbing Hoseok by the shoulders and attempting to guide him out the kitchenette.

"But it's still raining!" Hoseok whined.

"So?"

"C'mon! Hey y/n don't you wanna catch up with me over some… pizza? How about mexican food?" Hoseok pleaded as he held onto the counter, now from the other side of the breakfast bar. "I'll chip in this time!" He proposed, just as Yoongi tried to get the front door open with one arm while the other was gripping onto the back of hoseok's shirt.

"Nope!" With one swift yank, Yoongi put Hoseok out in the hall and he shut the door in his face.

Yoongi kept himself at the front door for a moment, putting all his weight in case Hoseok tried to come back in. Meanwhile, you were having a laugh attack at the sight of two men in their twenties acting like actual children.

"C'mon man! Let me in! Hoseok shouted through the door."

"No, I won't let you mess up this date!" Yoongi shouted back "And shut up the neighbors will get mad.

"Fine! … but can i at least get my jacket? It's still raining."

Very strategically, Yoongi grab hoseok's coat without allowing the front door to completely open. 

"Bye y/n!" Hoseok shouted "niceseeingyou!youandyoongidonthavetoomu-"

Yoongi yet again cut hoseok's attempt to embarrass him off by shoving the wet coat in his face and slamming the door shut.

You continued to laugh on your own seeing a defeated yoongi place his head on the front door. It was very easy to tell that his best friends had a tendency to do something like this alot.

You both knew any chances of yoongi being cool after this were out the window.

"So…" he sighed, still hiding his probably blushing face from you. "did you figure out what you wanted to eat?"

-Admin Boat

[noradarhkpalmer]

Darhktatom + the day after yesterday’s fic?

Nora fell asleep shortly after Ray had continued typing furiously on his laptop. When she woke again, it was to the smell of French toast. She blinked her eyes open and saw as Ray walked in, a heaping stack of French toast on a tray with assorted fruit and a side of scrambled eggs. There was also a mug of orange juice and a large bouquet of flowers was tucked under his arm.

Tears pricked at Nora’s eyes and she tried to wipe them away just as quickly. She smiled at him as he placed the tray down across her lap and presented her with the flowers.

Nora took them and breathed in their pleasant fragrance then set the aside and beckoned him closer. She greeted him with a slow kiss good morning and smiled as she pulled away.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I want to. Consider it day one of me making up for the three months we lost out on.” Ray sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her.

Nora shook her head. “Ray that’s neither of our faults really it’s okay... I am sad that you missed that moment when I first noticed a bump or her first kick but I can tell you all about any of the things you missed. Besides, you’ll be there for all of that with our next kid I’m sure.”

“You want more?”

Nora nodded eagerly. “I would love to have a full life and family with you, Ray Palmer. I’d love to have little boy with your grin and heart and dimples.”

“So two?”

“Or four. I can go up to even eight if you want.”

Ray laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Four is good.”

“Mmmkay.” She rested her head on his shoulder contently and stared at the mound of food before her. “I think I’m still full from dinner last night. Are you trying to make me gain weight, Palmer?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“No I just want you and our daughter to be fed and healthy. I’m sure a diet of ramen noodles hardly kept you at your ideal pregnancy weight.”

“Yes but...”

“No buts. I’m getting you in with an OBYGYN as soon as possible too. I wanna make sure you all are both the best you can be.” Ray pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I just can’t bare the thought of losing either of you. Especially in a way I can prevent.” Ray swallowed hard and held her just a bit tighter.

“You won’t. I promise. Thank you for caring so much about us. You’re gonna be an amazing dad. You already are.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Thank you for being here.”

Nora smiled and tucked herself into his side and shared her breakfast. Ray adorably tried to feed her and she reveled in the care he was taking of her.

After breakfast, they hopped in the shower (which because they showered together and pregnancy hormones, it ended up being quite longer than anticipated) Nora met Ray in the kitchen where there was a stack of papers on the island in front of him.

“What’s that?”

“I was thinking we could do two things today.”

“Yeah? What?” She placed a hand on his arm and tried to peer down at the papers.

“If you want and I mean you’re welcome to wear my shirts as often as you want but we could go to a maternity boutique on the main shopping strip and you could get some clothes that would probably fit better than my shirts and then these houses are having open house today.”

“You were serious.”

“About buying us a house in the suburbs to raise our family? Yeah. I was. Easiest decision I ever made. Well second easiest.”

“What’s the first?” She smiled up at him as he gathered her in his arms.

“Falling in love with you.” He kissed her softly.

Nora grinned against his lips. “Funny, I could say the same thing.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled against her lips.

“Yeah.”

xxxx

“Ray I just look gross please I don’t want to show you.” Nora sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t feel beautiful and a pregnancy glow she just felt frumpy and ugly.

“I’m sure you look amazing babe. You’re pregnant. But do you want me to go on a hot chocolate run so you can get through some choices without the pressure of me being here?”

Nora peeled back the thick fabric curtain on the dressing room and poked her head out, her eyes red rimmed with frustrated unshed tears. “Would you?”

“Of course! I’ll be right back!” He kissed her forehead and made his way to the exit.

Nora sighed and continued trying on clothes. It was fall in star city. And cold. And that meant her leather jacket only went so far and looked horribly out of place on her pregnant frame. She tried on a couple of jackets but nothing worked. She found some cardigans that she liked but none of the shirts or blouses seemed like her.

By the time Ray returned she was down to her last outfit or two. He handed her the drink through the gap in the curtain and she took a grateful sip. He remembered exactly how she liked it.

“How is it going?”

“I have two outfits left and this hot chocolate is so good I might model one for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and sat the drink down. She pulled on a chunky cream sweater dress with a decorative belt that secured above her bump and slipped on her maternity leggings that she decided she needed in every color and would never wear normal pants ever again because of them. She slipped on the ankle boots she had eyed and finally pulled back the curtain to reveal her outfit.

Ray cried.

“Does it look that bad?” Nora chewed her bottom lip.

Ray shook his head. “No, you look amazing, Nora. I... it just hit me again. We’re having a baby and you’re with me? Me? Are you sure I can be this lucky?”

Nora smiled and walked out to him and placed her hands on his shoulders as he sat on a couch that made him come up to her chest. “Seeing as how every employee in here has been checking you out since you’ve walked in, I’d say I’m the lucky one.”

Ray shook his head. “No, I do believe I am. You’re incredible. And you look incredible.”

“I feel good. It’s nice to have clothes that fit. And a bra that fits.” She chuckled.

“Yeah? You got some lingerie while I was gone?”

Nora smirked playfully. “Yup but that won’t be modeled until later tonight.” She played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Shall I go change and we can get what I’ve decided on?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “And then a stop home so you can change and then open house?”

Nora nodded. “Yes I don’t think I can spend another minute in jeans that don’t fit. I’m living in leggings forever, I hope you know.”

Ray chuckled. “I have no problems with that given how they accentuate one of my favorite aspects of your being.” Ray rounded his hands down to her ass and palmed it.

Nora grinned and kissed him. “Naughty sir playing with fire in a maternity boutique like that.” She winked and broke away, going back into the dressing room to change.

xxxx

An hour and a half later Nora climbed back into Ray’s truck, sporting a dark maroon sweater dress, in the same style as the cream she tried on. She had bought the dress in both colors and even stopped into a makeup shop next door and bought a dark black cherry colored liquid lipstick to match. Ray adored how she looked and it thrilled her (not that she needed Ray’s approval for what she wore. She knew that. But man did it feel good to have him look at her that way.

“Ready to go?” He asked after she was buckled.

The papers for the houses sat between them on his center console and she pulled them into her lap so she could take his hand and looked at them on the way to each respective listing.

“Ready to go find a forever home with you? I’ve only been waiting five months.” She teased and kissed him softly. “Maybe longer.”

Ray grinned excitedly. “I hope we find the house today. You deserve this Nora. A house that will always be full of love and life. I’m going to do my best to give that to you every single day.”

Nora’s throat constricted and she wiped away a tear with her free hand. “Don’t you dare make me cry, Raymond Carson Palmer.”

“So telling you how much I love you won’t help right now.”

Nora let out a laugh through her tears and brought their lips together again. “It won’t but honestly that’s okay. Let’s go find our house. Our home.”

Ray nodded and put the gear in reverse and backed out of the spot. “Yes ma’am.”

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 19 (1/2)

Summary: in which you do some studying and pick a fight. A fire is started.

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 2,220

Rating: T

Pairing: Loki/Reader

*

Chapter 19: Nothing at All Is Hard to Find...

The walk back to the inn is long, and your feet plod mindlessly, suddenly reminded of how tired you are. The scarf, a soft woolen thing of deep green, keeps the worst of the wind’s chilly little fangs from your ears and nose — even despite the wind, your neck is rather toasty — but your fingers are still stiff to aching and your toes aren’t too far behind. It’ll be good to be back at the inn. You’d like nothing more than to take a nice hot bath and bury yourself under the thick quilt of your bed and drift off to the familiar, comforting clicking of the heater, snug and safe and so deliciously warm. Thinking about that makes you move a little faster.

[[MORE]]

And then it starts to rain.

Cold, wet, lashing drops of water come upon you all at once, pattering against the earth and your jacket, and you’re soaked within seconds, gasping like you’d plunged headlong into an icy river.

Loki looks at you with an expression of similar shock, and after a moment, literally frozen, you both begin to run, as fast as you can over the slick grass, skidding, trying to cover your face with your hands to keep the stinging rain out of your eyes.

Lightening slices the sky with flashing fingers, and you run, if possible, even faster, cursing and spluttering in the impossibly cold water tumbling down.

When you reach the inn, you stumble up the steps, immensely grateful for the lip of the roof overhanging your heads, and you clasp the railing tightly, gulping lungfuls of air. You take a moment to just breathe, dripping all over the porch and shivering, and you catch Loki’s eye.

He’s also breathing heavily, teeth bared against the cold, cheeks red and his hair- his hair is plastered to his skull, clumped against it tightly and it-

You laugh.

“What?” he asks, plainly unsure what is particularly funny about being caught in a horrifically cold thunderstorm. Even he looks like he’s feeling it, arms wrapped tight against his middle, jacket saturated, making him seem smaller than usual and-

“I’m sorry!” you gasp, wide-eyed and grinning. “But you just-“ Another peal of laughter escapes, and your sides heave with it. “You look like a drowned rat!”

For a moment, you think he might be offended, and it’s almost enough to make you stop laughing. Almost. But then he crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow, and pointedly looks you over. Right. You’re not looking much better at all right about now.

“I know, I know!” say in emphatic delight, still terribly amused. “I do too. I feel like a drowned rat!”

And even he’s biting his lip, shaking with quiet laughter, until your teeth are chattering too hard to stay outside.

Stepping into the inn feels like stepping into an oven, and it’s almost too hot, but it’s blissful. You stand there a moment, soaking it in, beads of water trailing from your hair down your face and neck.

Loki puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a little push.

“Quick,” says he, “before our dripping floods the floor.”

You giggle again at that, and skitter up the stairs faster than Ratatoskr on his way to gossip with the eagle.

You peel off your jacket once you’re in the room, boots kicked off by the door, and hang it over the curtain rod in the washroom. You grab a fluffy towel and toss Loki the other, and rub dry your face, your hair, your arms, until you’re merely damp, and on the way to warming up.

“That was,” you say, still vaguely out of breath and much calmer now, but smiling, “exhilarating.”

Loki huffs, what might be amusement or incredulity, and pulls the towel away from his face to give you a bemused look.

“That is... one word for it.”

“Don’t tell me it was too cold for you.”

“I thought it was lovely,” he says, and it’s not even a good lie, not at all. But his eyes are mirthful, and so brightly green that you nearly find yourself staring.

“So...” you say, innocent and guileful, “You’re saying you don’t need any hot chocolate to warm you up?”

Loki grimaces, caught in a trap halfway of his own making, and you cannot help smirking just a little bit.

“You know me,” he says lightly, far too lightly, “I would never say no to the finest beverage in all of Midgard.”

“Do you think Kathy will make us some if we ask nicely?” you ask, already turning toward the door.

“I suppose we shall find out.”

***

In the end, you don’t even have to ask Kathy, because the kitchen has little packets of cocoa already prepared, and it’s only a simple matter of heating some water in a kettle before you’re able to inhale the rich, sweet aroma of the chocolate and suck up the warmth of the mug through your hands. Loki, of course, belies his words by opting for leftover coffee from breakfast, although you cannot begrudge him, not when he is holding it close to his face and letting the steam wash over him with a tiny smile.

You shuffle into the main room, with all the patterned couches and organized clutter, and settle in an armchair near the hearth. There’s a soft brown knitted blanket draped over the back of it, and you wrap it around your shoulders and snuggle down with your drink. The rain sounds pleasant and soothing from in here, the rumble of thunder far from frightening at this distance.

Loki wanders into the room a short while later, his hair still damp but looking much less ridiculous, in deep black waves about his face.

“You’re not going back to our room?” he asks, forehead bunching at the center.

“It’s warmer out here. The heater in the room isn’t on at the moment,” you say by way of explanation.

“Ah,” he says. “You’ve been paying attention to that?”

“You don’t find it distracting?”

He shrugs elegantly, and softly walks to the other armchair tucked up close to the fire.

“I’ve learned to tune things like that out.”

“It woke me up the first few nights,” you admit. Loki had slept like the dead right on through. “But I kind of like it now.”

You look into the flames, watching them leap and flicker, ever-changing and steady. The firewood crackles and pops, shifting from time to time and releasing sparking ashes and settling once more. The smoke curls high and out the chimney, and the soft orange glow bathes the area in warm light.

Energy and light, Loki had said. Nothing more. Energy and light and so much potential.

You sip your hot chocolate, feet curled under you and cozy, staring at the fire for a long time.

“Research?”

Loki’s voice pulls you from your trance-like state, and you blink, feeling suddenly quite sleepy.

“Hmm?” You don’t follow.

Loki tilts his head to indicate the fireplace.

“You were studying it.”

The side of your mouth tugs up in a grin.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Figuring it out, more like.

You catch sight of the book in his lap, surprised. One of the leftover ones from the library, which you’ll need to return at some point, come to think of it.

“And you? Why are you still reading that thing?”

“Not research,” he says, folding the book closed with a finger to mark his place, and shows you the cover, embossed leather with gold letters titled A Guide to Runes, Spells, and Potions. “I just found this one rather interesting.”

You nod, and the moment slips into a thick and comfortable silence. Your eyes find the fire once more.

“It’s what lead me to you, you know,” you say quietly, after a long while.

Loki looks up from his book, shadows pronouncing the confused frown on his face.

“What did?”

“Fire,” you murmur, watching the hearth. “The fire Bǫlverkr and Lyngvir lit. I followed the smoke.” You turn your head and watch the dance of the flames reflected in Loki’s wide eyes. You smile softly.

“That’s a lot to attribute to mere happenstance,” he whispers.

“I know.”

***

For all the tenderness in the way Loki had spoken about magic, you wouldn’t have guessed that trying to practice it would have you near tears. You blink viciously, and bite hard at the corner of your lip, willing them away. But hopeless, choking frustration has lodged itself like a burr in your chest, growing bigger with each passing day, each new attempt the same as the last. It’s been weeks, and you have managed to do nothing.

“Maybe I just can’t do this,” you say without inflection, even though the thought makes your eyes sting once more.

“You can,” Loki says immediately, somehow managing to remain calm about this. He sits with his legs crossed, indifferent to the cold ground or the dirt. “Try again.”

You do not want to try again. You want to be done trying, you want to just do something already. And, shamefully, part of you just wants to give up. At least with the books, you had something to show for all the uselessness of the endeavor.

You turn away from Loki, and scrub a hand furiously over your eyes.

“How long did it take you to conjure fire?” you ask, even though you know you are stalling, because you just, just can’t right now.

Loki looks sheepish. He runs his fingers through his hair, tucks a stray dark lock — loosened by the faint breeze — behind his ear.

“A few days.”

“Days,” you repeat, the lump in your throat sinking deeper. “I’ve been trying again for weeks.”

“And you’ll get it eventually,” he says. “I had the benefit of being taught by one of the most gifted magic users in all the realms.” He’s got that wistful sort of look in his eyes again, just for a moment. Then he snorts, cracking a wry grin. “You’ve just got me. I cannot even show you how it’s meant to be done.”

“Easier than explaining it?” you ask with a watery half smile, reluctantly reassured, just a little.

“Very much so.”

You nod, once, and remind yourself to breathe. You widen your stance and lift you arms yet another time.

Fire, you try again. Sparks rising in the heat. The golden waver all around. Changing, resilient, beautiful. Only, something shifts in your mind, and you picture a sharp white-blue flare, gone in a blink, but the afterimage in your mind like you’d stared at the sun. Lightning was fire, was it not? Once it struck, it could engulf an entire forest in an ever-hungry, ever-spreading flood of flames, a wildfire from a single branch. Energy and light and heat, and sound too. The thunder was merely the voice, the echo; the true power was in the frightful streaks of lightning, both deadly, and inspiring a sort of awful reverence. Power, and a soul, and magic.

You hands shake, and your eyes fly open, and for a moment you watch them, waiting.

There is nothing.

And like that, what little motivation, what tiny thread of hope had been renewed, wilts utterly. Cracks. You clench your fists, but they still shake, and you shove them in your pockets so you don’t have to see them.

“Sit.”

You jerk your head up, startled. You’d almost forgotten that Loki was still here. Still watching. Seeing yet another failure. It just makes you feel worse.

You stare at him, torn between irritation and a fragile sort of need, but for what, you’re not at all sure. You don’t understand how he isn’t ruffled by any of this, how he can sit there like you’ve all the time in the world to figure it out, like it’s just a trivial matter, insignificant, and not a way home. Eventually, you’re sure, he will run out of patience. You know he wants to go home as badly as you. To see his brother again. His parents. Eventually, that composure will crack, like day old ice beneath your feet. And that... You wet your lips. You don’t like that thought.

But for now, his gaze is steady, as immovable as the ash tree he leans against. It’s like he has become part of the forest, like he belongs there, among the fallen leaves and moss-flecked rocks, with only his eyes and scarf as vivid contrast to all the brown and grey and dull orange of autumn.

He reaches a hand up toward you, never blinking, and you hesitate only a moment before pulling your own out of your pocket and letting him take it, letting him tug you down beside him so your back is against the strong, straight trunk as well. The smell of leaves is stronger down here, warmed by the dapples of evening sunlight that reach this little glade. You lean your head back against the tree, and your eyes fall shut without you even meaning to let that happen. Some of the tightly-wound chagrin loses its footing.

“I chose this place for a reason.”

You open an eye to give Loki a long, measuring look, but what he meant by that, he does not say.

(2/2)

__________________________________________

*Tag List*

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