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odelschwanky · 4 years ago

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Don’t Leave (Coyote Starrk x Female Reader)

Word Count: 4055

**SMUT**

You sat there looking out at the desolate black of Hueco Mundo. The sand was so pretty, how it danced like gray glitter on the whispering wind. The sky was deep, the clouds moved ever so slowly, and the horizon was just a thin line that you couldn't even decipher. Your hair stirred in the wind, only slightly, as you sulked and stared out at the only place you've ever known.

"Why are you out?"

You turned slowly to see him, and your heart jumped. You smiled softly as you admired the way his chestnut tinted hair swayed, grazing his shoulders. His silver eyes narrowed at you, and he appeared slightly concerned. It wasn't like him to show much emotion. You could see the slight furrow in his brow and the softening of his frown. He was worried about you, even though he wouldn't admit it. You could just tell.

"I wanted to look," you say quietly, turning back to the empty world that matched your heart. You didn't get to see the outside very often, for you were always deep inside the fortress of Las Noches. You were always inside that room. How were you an Espada, one of the most powerful beings in Hueco Mundo, yet so tamed and broken? You never understood it, but that's all you ever knew.

"It never changes, (y/n)."

He comes to your side, not quite standing shoulder to shoulder. You could still feel his pressure next to you. It was... overwhelming. He was always so intense. That intensity made you feel safe.

"I know," you reply because there wasn't any purpose in arguing. It did change. The wind was blowing Northeast today. Well, this time. You couldn't keep track of the days here. All you ever saw was the perpetual night. The only indication to the time was the slow and lonely cycle through full and empty that the moon traversed between. This time it was almost full.

He waited outside with you generously, allowing you to drink in the gloom for a while longer. You grabbed his hand when you were finished, and he took it firmly in his. He was wearing gloves, like usual. You liked the way the leather purchased in your hand, but you liked the way his skin felt much better. You haven't touched his hand in a long while. You thought about the last time, months ago perhaps. You sighed with the longing for it as he walked you back inside.

Your footsteps brilliantly resonated throughout the long empty halls of marble, almost as loud as the silence. You decided to ask him since you didn't ask for permission today. He never liked it when you disobeyed him, but he never seemed to punish you for it.

"Can I look outside again tomorrow?" You turn to glance at him. You didn't know what he would say. You hoped he would let you.

He grunted, running his hand over his neck. You were approaching the room. You didn't want to go back in there. You desperately wanted to stay, at least in the hallway, holding his gloved hand.

"Aizen won't like that," he sighed lazily.

Aizen never liked anything you did or didn't do. Anything that had anything to do with you, Aizen was already disapproving. You didn't understand why he hated you so.

"Then again, he never likes anything." He seemed to say exactly what you were thinking. Starrk looked at the ground and takes a deep breath again. He seemed to be trying to find either an excuse to keep you in or an excuse to let you out. You couldn't tell which. You patiently looked at him in eager anticipation. You loved the passive pout he always wore on his face.

"Maybe. Be good and I'll decide later."

"Okay," you say without protest.

You arrived at the place where you've spent years, maybe more, (you didn't know). You couldn't keep track of time because your monotonous life only had a few irregularities.

He pushed open the stone door you left unbarred when you escaped. Starrk looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and reprimand. You know better than to leave, he seemed to say with his gaze. And you didn't even try to be subtle about it either.

You both enter the dark, cold room. Starrk glances at the back wall with his eyes opened only a little larger than the restricted expression he kept them in. You hoped this meant he was pleased.

"What's this?"

You had done some painting while he was away. You hadn't seen him for a few days maybe. The black ink was now dry on the canvas you had propped up. The work was taller than both of you put together and wider than that. You had finished it before you had gone outside.

"It's something I did while you were gone," you tell him. He hadn't let go of your hand yet. You didn't want him to let it go. You wish he wouldn't leave so much.

"It's a beautiful painting." He said, assessing it. He seemed unimpressed. You sank, despite his compliment.

"Do you mean that?" You inquired this, not taking your eyes off of him.

He nods.

"I painted it for you." You squeeze his hand.

Starrk smiles for the first time in a long while. Seeing it made you happy.

It was strange, what you felt for him. He kept you locked up in a prison, not allowed to see or be seen by others, but you didn't hold any contempt for him. He likened you to some kind of pet, keeping you in a kennel all day, but you knew that he was keeping you safe. He was the only person you were allowed to see. When you think of human interaction, you think of him. All of your memories are made with him. Your life revolves around him. You were okay with that.

"Why?"

You look at him, confused. "What, you don't like it?

"It's not that. I'm grateful." He turned to you, face stone, void of emotion. "Why do you do these things for me?"

It wasn't the first time you had done a generous act for him. Many times you've made art for him. You've brought him things you find in the sand of Hueco Mundo, little trinkets you'd like him to have. You've made food for him on many occasions. You gave him gifts.

"I know you have the capacity to think. Why don't you want more for yourself?"

You did want more. You wanted freedom, autonomy, liberation from this place. You wanted to see a more beautiful world, like the one Starrk told you about when he went away to fight the Soul Reapers. You wanted to be free of this horrid, horrid place but the desire was never enough to light a fire under you and cause you to pursue it. The desire to be at Starrk's side was stronger.

"I... do." You say quietly. You wanted to be more. To him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Did he feel guilty? Sad? Confused? Angry? You didn't want him to feel like this.

"You never wonder why, or who caused you to be this way? Or are you content with living like this?" He walked away from you, pacing about the room slowly, and deliberately.

You did wonder. You wondered about it all the time. Why you kept like bird when you had the tattoo on your front saying you were an Espada? Why didn't you have any knowledge of what you used to be? You didn't know anything except for him.

"Of course I wonder," you reply. You never raised your voice. You didn't have it in you to do it. You were making him upset, but he was breaking your heart.

"Then why don't you ever ask me what happened? Doesn't that matter to you?"

"I would like it to matter... but it doesn't," you say.

It didn't.

Whether you knew about your past or not, nothing was going to change, was it? That's the only thing that you had faith in, was that things would be the same. "You know that, Starrk."

Starrk sighed again, shaking his head. He looked at you tentatively. He wanted to say something, but he decided against it. You could see it on his face. The single stream of light from the tall window high in the room crossed his face with an intense white glint. You could see every strand of hair glimmer, every strand of his stubbled goatee and thick brows.

"You make everything so hard."

"St- Starrk?" The tears pricked and began rolling down your face in one swift motion. He looked displeased with you. What did you do wrong?

The fury in his face wavered for only a moment when he saw you start to cry. As quickly as he faltered, he bulwarked his expression with deep-set brows, forming in a tight disapproving line.

"Don't leave again." He commanded.

Your stomach dropped as he turned to go. You reached out your hand to grab him, but you barely missed him. "What're you talking about?" You called, a lump in your throat.

"You're content with living like a helot. I can't accept that."

This comment shattered you like glass. His tone was full of disdain. He sounded like he hated you. His voice hurt you more than his words. You'd never heard him sound so angry before. Hopelessness filled you like a bubbling pit of tar, causing you to choke up on the hot, black tears.

How dare he be mad at you for that? He was the one keeping you hostage. He locked you away and treated you like a prisoner. How could he be mad at you for not doing anything about it when this was all you knew?

He walked so swiftly away from you, you couldn't bear to see him go. Who knew when he'd be back? He barred the door and was gone. "Don't leave again," you wanted to say to him. Why did he leave you? You were bound to this room with nothing in it, but you were also bound to him. Why didn't he know that?

Defeated, you drug the painting to the corner of the large, empty marble room. You wanted to burn it, but you didn't. It was for him. You still wanted him to have it.

Your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets tucked neatly between two pillars in the center of the floor, looked so inviting. You were destroyed. You just wanted to sob until he came back.

Time passed so slowly. Still, the days had passed. Over and over, the moon fell out of the line of the window, and you were left in total darkness, only for it to come back again. When the moon passed out of view for the tenth or eleventh time, you lit a few candles and placed them near your bed. You lie there, carved out and left empty. You wished another Espada would come to find you, and kill you. That would be the nicest thing they could do. You would ever be so lucky.

The door locked from the inside. You could leave. You could go look outside. You didn't. No desire came to you to disobey him. You couldn't stand yourself. Why don't you care? Why don't you have this desperate need to know your past? Why couldn't you act how he wanted you to? Independent, free-thinking, with a mind of your own.

You didn't know the answer.

You got up and went to the corner of the room, where the silent wall of water for your bathing was. It dripped down into a pool, big enough for you lie down three times over. You shed your clothes and stared at yourself in the solid, unwavering reflection. The number was branded across your chest, down your stomach extending to your hips. What did had it meant before? Why didn't you care? You didn't want to live like this anymore.

Crawling into the water, you lie down in it. Underneath the water, there was more sound than above. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could hear your heartbeat. That was the only way you could even tell you were alive.

You were tempted to breathe in the water. Just to see what would happen.

Could you even drown?

It's been an unbearable time since you'd last seen Starrk. All those horrible things he said to you kept replaying in your mind. He was the only thing you had, the only one you loved. Could you even call it love?

How could you love a man who kept you in a cage?

You opened your mouth and let the water rush in. Your deep breath was a terrible one. Instant regret-filled your lungs, making them burn. Still you took another... but it was too much. Natural instict kicked in and you shot upright through the surface, coughing and sputtering. You threw up the water back in the pool. The retching combined with nausea building up in your gut was too much to take and you began to cry. The silence was broken with your childish bawling. You just wanted something, someone to stop your pain and loneliness.

You wanted Starrk to come back.

After you washed, you fumbled around in the trunk full of the clothes you owned. Most of them were elaborate, white robes with black trim that looked a little like Starrk's. You wore these as an Espada no doubt, but now you just wear them because it's all you have. You managed to find one of the less flashy items, a white shift gown made of satin. You liked to wear it when you slept.

With tears still in your eyes, you crawled into bed and let the feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and dread consume you. Within a few hours, you had finally wept yourself to sleep.

***

"Open the door."

You heard a firm order come from he another side. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in a hurry. The blankets you buried yourself under had been strewn and draped all over your body. You heard the pounding again, more clearly now that you were awake.

"(y/n), open this damn door."

You throw off your cover and walk to the door, trying to wake up. Your bare feet pattering on the floor was the only noise that echoed in your hollow room.

"Did you hear me?" Starrk sounded urgent. You obeyed. It took all your strength to lift the bar on the door. You were weak, tired, sad. But you obeyed.

"(Y/n)!"

"I'm here."

The heavy stone door inched open and there you stood. Your long hair was still wet, your eyes were sunken and dark circles plagued them. You didn't look well at all. Your grief had gotten the best of you. You missed him. You didn't smile when you saw him though. You couldn't smile. He had made you think about all of the things you hated about your life and made you realize how miserable you were. You were hurting. The look on his face let you know he could see that.

"What is it?" You ask slowly. You wanted to leap into his arms and tell him how you felt about him. You were so happy to see him, but you were so angry with yourself for feeling that way.

"Why don't you hate me?"

There was no feeling in his face. His indifferent eyes bore into you and it intimidated you. Your tears showed themselves to him and your lips parted to speak. You wanted to explain yourself but there were no words to explain how you felt.

"Because I can't."

Starrk's lips were on your in a second, and he had gathered you up in his arms. A sniffle escaped from you as you let him have your body. Starrk strode in, flawlessly multitasking between holding you in one arm and closing the door with the other, shoving the bar down with no effort at all, locking the both of you in your private world.

The only assertion you showed was the way you shoved off his clothes. Off came his jacket, then his shirt. They fell to the floor in a trail as he marched you to your bed. He laid you down, cupping your neck gently, but kissing you forcefully. The motivation in his motions was ravenous, as he tore your lips apart with his own. You had trouble keeping up. You tried to get some purchase on his back, but you couldn't find the strength to dig your nails in. Instead, you rubbed sensually on his bare skin. His bare skin...

He worked your gown off in no time at all. You couldn't feel the warmth of his touch. All you felt was leather. You seized his hands firmly and aggressively tugged both of the gloves off and forced his hands to your chest for him to grab. He eagerly obliged with a deep grunt and groped your body all over. Your heat was rising, ascending to something otherworldly. You needed him, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He ground against your hips and you could feel him, gasping through the endless, messy kiss. His pants were hard to move, so you fumbled with them until he barked at you, removing them himself.

You said his name, softly yet desperately as he tried to enter you. It hurt, and you only clutched him tighter.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

He parted from your lips to ask this important question. You couldn't see his face much in the utter darkness of the room, but you could see his pale blue eyes. The met yours with sincerity and intensity. You nod.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Starrk reassures you. He sounded soothing, exact, intentional. He wanted you to know it was okay. You felt like it was. You weren't worried.

You heard a slight slurp as Starrk licked his finger. It slid down your front, tracing the line of your tattoo and arrived at your sex, which wasn't quite as wet as it needed to be. He gently worked its way in, moving in gentle, circular movements that caused your core to tighten. "Talk to me," he commanded. "How does it feel?"

You nodded slowly and murmured your response. "It.. feels. good," you finished with a moan as he slowly, calmly entered another finger. You reached down to feel him. The length and girth of him was much more than his fingers could imitate. You rubbed your thumb across his opening, causing him to curse. Your thumb became a little slick. You continued to handle him, feeling him twitch in your grasp. He bucked into your hand, letting you know he liked it.

"Starrk..." you began. You wanted to tell him you loved him. It wasn't the right time, but you wanted to tell him anyway.

"Yes?"

Your the rustling of the blankets was all that you could hear beyond your voices. He positioned himself at your opening again, not giving your body any time to readjust back to the tightness it was before. He replaced his fingers with himself smoothly, it was like magic. It was easier this time when he pushed his way inside you. You moaned softly as your body gave way. You couldn't formulate the words.

"That's beautiful," he said, pinching your face in his hand. "You sound... Beautiful."

The way he rocked into your body sent chills through you. He filled you up with every stroke and you tightened around him every time. He went deeper and deeper into you until you could feel his hips press into yours. You were stuffed with him, and you didn't know how much more you could take.

He knelt now, back straight up and grabbed your hips. The inside of your thighs gave in to the pressure from his thumbs and you could feel the bruises already starting to form. In and out he went, growing faster and faster. His strokes were still light, like gentle swift kisses that barely swept the surface of the skin. By now you were a mess of whines and cries, but these were not of pain. You wanted so desperately to climax. The building pressure was aching inside you and all you wanted was release. You grabbed his wrists and squeezed them, saying his name over ad over.

"Starrk...please." You begged him.

"Not yet," he huffs.

He turned you over on to your stomach, and your breath caught. A firm hand came down on your shoulder blade, pressing you down into the cushions. You grabbed onto a blanket for some kind of outlet. Your hands clutched and Starrk lay down on top of you, his heavy weight feeling like a mass of stone. His face came close to your ear, and he spoke to you quietly, deeply, as he continued to drive you.

"Just relax," he groaned, making you feel all of him. His front was hot against your back and your sweat had started to mingle, making all his movements slick. You did as you were told, not knowing how much tension you'd been putting onto yourself. You were tightened on your own volition, and when you relaxed slowly, the sex felt better than you could've imagined.

He turned your head to kiss you, deeply, passionately. It was as if your tongues knew each other already, how familiarly they intertwined. It got messy, and soon his spit was dripping down your chin and your hair stuck to your sweaty cheeks and forehead. Your voice was fading with the strain. He had you in a hold and the only way out was to come.

You finished violently, tensing and clenching and crying loudly. Starrk gritted his teeth, the way you felt was too much for him. He came inside you while the two of you kissed, and he rolled over on his side with you still in his arms. He encased you in his grip, refusing to stop kissing you.

"I... don't want you to hurt anymore."

He said this between kisses, and you could feel the genuineness of the statement. It warmed your heart. All you wanted was him. Now that you had him... you were spent.

You fell asleep kissing him. There wasn't much energy left inside you. You had been hurt and healed by the same person. It exhausted you to the point of fainting and soon you were in a dreamless sleep.

***

The guise of the morning came by soft grey light, leaking in through the single window. You blinked open your eyes to see and feel Starrk still around you. His fingers lazily played in your hair and his legs draped over you, keeping you sheltered and safe. You looked up at him, the exhaustion hitting you.

"You're still here?" You sleepily mumble in surprise.

He plants a kiss on your lips and stirs, letting out a raspy groan.

"You're a wreck when I'm not around."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was right.

"Thank you for noticing," you pout, closing your eyes again.

"I didn't know it, but I need you too, (y/n)."

You felt around for his hand, which you found encircling your neck. You wriggled your fingers inside his hold and grasped it softly. "You... need me?"

You were dumbfounded. Starrk wasn't the type to need anyone. He was a lone wolf that didn't talk much to anyone, an apathetic, heartless man. The way he left and went days without coming to see you told you everything you needed to know about that. He couldn't be telling the truth.

"I'm telling the truth. When we're apart, something isn't quite right. I feel... incomplete. I don't like feeling like that."

So he only needed you to clear his conscience?

"But. That hurt on your face, when I came to you last night..." He squeezed your hand. "It looked like you were dying."

You were. You were dying without him. Now that he was here though, you felt better than you ever remember feeling.

"I'm not leaving you anymore."

#coyote starrk #coyote starrk x reader #bleach anime #bleach x reader #bleach one shots

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jincherie · 5 years ago

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florescence | v

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 6.8k+ ❀ — rating: sfw ❀ — warnings: a pinch of angst, some hurt n comfort, and a teensy bit of risque content towards the end.... yay for scenting!! ❀ — notes: There was a fair bit that I changed in this one so part way through i ran into a bit of a block-- gradually, I pushed through!!! here is the next part uwu, I dont have anything written after this so the next update may take a while. (also, for anyone still having trouble with this, I did add a read more)

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 11.03.2020 // masterlist || prev. | next.

When you wake up, you feel so well-rested that you almost completely forget what troubled your heart the night prior. Almost. As soon as you sit up and your gaze flits over the window, weather uncharacteristically gloomy, you recall what has been troubling you the past week and a bit and all of a sudden you can physically feel your mood drop. Right.

Well— you attempt to stop the spiral before it can really begin— today is your chance to make things right. You have the whole day off! That, for one thing, is sure to cheer the boys up a little bit. If they’re still not in the best of spirits, like you feel they might be, then you have the whole day to come up with a plan.

Yawning and scratching your head, allowing yourself a moment of indulgence before you get up to dive into the day headfirst, you attempt to bolster your confidence at least a little. With a little perseverance, you can do this!

You can do it! x x x

You can’t do it.

You thought that you’d be able to keep a cheery mood going, that you’d be able to cling to some optimism, but as it turns out you were somewhat wrong and this situation as it is now at around midday has your glass looking half-empty.

You’d gone about your normal routine after getting up; showering and then cooking and cleaning a little. To your surprise, the boys hadn’t come out to beg and plead with you at all. Even as their behaviour in the evenings changed during the past week and a bit, their behaviour in the mornings never did. So, understandably, this new development filled you with an icky feeling that stuck to the sides of your stomach like tar. You need to figure out what you’re doing that’s actually upsetting them, but attempting to pull the answer out of them is like pulling teeth. And with nothing but the barest hints to go off, you don’t really know where to even begin your online search, either.

So, halfway through the day and already almost at your wits end, you suppose the only way to go now is trial and error.

Off the top of your head, there are only a few things you can think of that might be bothering them.

First, there are the insecurities they have that you’re already aware about. You don’t think this is actually the only thing bothering them, but you have a gut feeling that it has something to do with it. Each day they spent in the labs after their creation, under the technical label of ‘failure’, clearly took its toll on them. They only had each other there, and you know that the men you met while picking them up would have done their best to take care of them but as employees in that institution there is a line that they couldn’t ever cross to really give them the comfort they needed. So you know that Seokjin and Taehyung both were deemed ‘failures’ within their batches, exceptions, and you know that this knowledge has brought forth entire complexes around inferiority and worth within them.

Knowing this, it has you wondering if those complexes are leading the two of them to feel as though they’re being slowly pushed aside, or as though they have become a second thought to you. They most definitely haven’t, but with their background you wouldn’t be too surprised if that is a conclusion they have come to. You really want them to know and understand that they are a part of your home now, but you also know it’s going to be hard to get them to that point.

Regardless, it’s difficult to know what is actually wrong with them without being able to talk to them, and as the morning goes on they prove persistent in their efforts to ignore and avoid you. It irks you and upsets you at the same time, but still you do your best to be understanding. They’re not going to come out and have breakfast for as long as you’re in the kitchen, so you make the slightly wounding decision to return to your room for a while so they have a chance to at least eat. Taking care of them from the shadows it is—you leave some eggs and toast on plates for them before you retreat further into the house in the direction of your room.

You really wish that for situations like this there was someone you could just ask who would have all the answers you want and more—not many of your friends know that you even have hybrids, though, and Seulgi is probably at work still. Plus, she’d probably just tell you to look it up yourse— oh!!

You have the internet!

Honestly you’re not surprised it’s taken you this long to realise you could just look it up instead of lamenting and stewing in your own confusion and worry. Flopped across you bed, you pull your phone up and get to work. ‘hybrids upset with me’ is the first thing you intuitively type, and it brings forth an array of results. As one might expect, about 30% of them are actually relevant to what you want. You open a promising-looking one and begin to read.

“When instilling absolute obedience in wayward hybrids, it is expected that at first there will be a little backlash and they may react in an upset manner. A firm hand and unrelenting—”

Well, you click out of that one faster than you can blink. A closer look at the site name, perfectingyourpet.com, makes you realise you really should have inspected it a little bit more finely before opening it earlier.

Back on the search results page, you skim over the rest of them with a more scrutinising eye. It takes you a while before you actually open one that isn’t a run-around or an instant dead end.

‘Just like their animal counterparts, hybrids can become stressed and unhappy from a number of things that we often don’t think of from a human standpoint. Certain foods, environments, smells—the littlest thing can sometimes impact your hybrid companion’s happiness.’

Now that you’re reading this and really thinking about it, that makes a lot of sense. You aren’t sure how you haven’t been coming to these conclusions much earlier, and feel a little stupid and ashamed.

Chastised, you read a little further, soaking up as much information as you can, leaving the things you think aren’t very applicable for your situation. Towards the end, you admittedly skim it a bit, but to be fair that is just because you’re antsy to get started on fixing whatever has fallen through between you and the boys.

Some of the causes of stress this site tells you about are things you don’t think you have to worry about – yelling, fighting, having lots of guests come through and an always busy house. You definitely don’t have to worry about those. But then, when you read through the others, nothing is really clicking into place like this, this is it. You aren’t sure as to the cause still but at least you have something to go off now, even if it will be a process of elimination and learning by error.

One of the first things the site says, in addition to those you didn’t really think were relevant, is that it could be something in the diet, the environment, or a smell—or any change really. Branching off of that thought has you realising that it’s possible your big faux pas here is that you introduced such a big change – you going to work for a few hours a day – so suddenly and abruptly. From what you’re reading, it’s more than likely unsettled them and made them feel a bit insecure in their positions once more.

So, as your first attempt to make things right, you’re going to do your best to include them all over again. With a sigh you rise from your bed and attempt to steel yourself before making your way back into the kitchen, your fingers crossed that they have at least come out to eat something.

You’re quiet in your movements, and you think that is largely what allows you to catch the two elusive hybrids in the kitchen as they chow through the breakfast you left for them. It makes you happy to see they’re still eating what you make, but still sad to know they refuse to do it in your presence.

“Good morning,” you greet softly, leaning against the doorframe.

You hadn’t meant to startle them, but that’s what you end up doing. Seokjin, who had been looking through the fridge (most likely in search of some juice), jumps in fright, one yelp escaping before he bumps his head on a shelf and another, louder one follows it. Taehyung doesn’t make any noise, but you see him jump in his spot by the bench, whipping around to face you with wide eyes and a mouth full of eggs.

It’s an odd mix of emotions that cross their faces, prefaced by a wash of guilt and then a myriad of others you don’t manage to catch in time. They’re still upset, but clearly seeing you has weakened their defences slightly. You quickly take advantage of it.

“I’m glad you’re up and about,” you say, shooting them both a smile and doing your best to make sure none of the hurt seeps through. “I was thinking we could all do something together today!”

Surprise is what greets you as they stare at you, then at each other. Seokjin voices their thoughts, “You don’t have work today?”

From just behind him, you can catch his tail beginning to sway in cautious anticipation. His ears are slightly lowered, as are Taehyung’s, but they perk up when you answer them with a shake of your head.

“I don’t,” you affirm, feeling slightly bolstered by their response. “So I was thinking we could do something… maybe go out to the park? Or a café? Or—”

Their ears flatten and its obvious they’re not too into that idea, surprisingly. You really thought that would be something they’d love! You quickly backtrack. “Or, we could just cuddle on the couch and watch Netflix…? Seokjin, that zombie show you like had another season added.”

At that, they seem much more enthusiastic. Seokjin’s tail begins to wag a little more heartily, if still somewhat tentative.

“Already?” he asks, eyes wide. “Oh that’s good, they left it on a cliffhanger last season.”

The few moments after he finishes speaking are almost awkward, but you step in before they can get to that point.

“Perfect, did you want to watch that now?” You pose the question, before recalling that you’d caught them in the middle of stuffing their faces. “I mean, after you’re done eating of course.”

“Yes!” Seokjin nearly yaps in his excitement, the mood of the two hybrids seeming to have taken a complete 180 now that they know they have your time all to themselves today. You wonder if the ‘cuddling’ aspect had much to do with it, since you’d noticed their eyes light up when you’d mentioned it earlier.

You turn your gaze to the side, and when you see Taehyung looking just as excited, you offer them a bright smile. “Great, well you guys finish up and I’ll wait in the living room. I’ll get it all set up.”

Both of their tails are wagging as you turn and make your way to the room in question, and you feel significantly lighter than you have all week. You just need to bond with them a little more, assure them of their place with you and that you care for them. You were too dramatic earlier, you can do this!

Going around the living room, you end up setting up the couch like a makeshift nest, their comfort the main thing on your mind. Netflix is on and loaded, and you tidy things just a bit in the extra time you have before you hear the two hybrids approaching the room.

They’re excited, you can tell from the second you catch sight of them. Taehyung especially looks like he’s trying not to smile too big, but his tail is whirring a mile a minute behind him.

Seokjin picks up the remote, before turning to you. “You sit down first.”

Apparently it slipped out before he’d realised, because in the next second his face flushes and he hurries to correct himself at how demanding he feared he sounded. “I mean, uh… please. So we can, um….”

He doesn’t have to finish for you to know what he wants. More often than not, the two of them wait until you seat yourself so that they then can flop down and curl around you. Smiling at Seokjin to let him know it’s okay, you sit in the middle of the couch and wait. Well, you don’t even have to wait—as soon as your ass touches the seat the two hybrids dive for a spot on either side of you, nestling against you, the blankets, and the couch.

Their actions stir up butterflies in your stomach and you have to marvel at yourself—wow, you’ve really gotten quite touch starved because of this whole ordeal, haven’t you? That’s kind of embarrassing…

Seokjin swings his legs over your lap and Taehyung presses his body to your side, head on your shoulder. You can feel his large hands fisting the material of your shirt needily, oblivious to the way he brushes the underside of your breast with the action. You ignore the skipped heartbeat that results and pretend it didn’t even happen. That’s a dangerous rabbit hole to go down if you follow that thought.

“What are we watching?” you ask, reaching a hand up to play with the curls at the back of Taehyung’s neck. His grip on your shirt tightens and he presses closer before the tension leaves his body completely, and he lets out the faintest noise in satisfaction. You’d do the same to Seokjin but his higher level functioning ceases when you play with his hair and you kind of want a response.

“This?” he proposes, eyes on the screen. You follow his gaze and watch the preview that’s played for you. “I added it to the list but haven’t, um… haven’t gotten to watch it yet.”

“If it’s what you wanna watch, put it on,” you reassure him, holding your hand out for the remote. He sees your hand and his cheeks warm—you wonder why before the answer follows, and he places his hand in yours, threading your fingers together.

You don’t even have the heart to tell him that you were asking for the remote, especially now that you feel your own face burning. God, what are these two doing to your heart today?!

What Seokjin chose seems to be some new anime with alternate styling to what you’re used to seeing, the mode of animation different but quite cool. Unfortunately, you only get to watch about a minute of it before something disrupts the peace and content beginning to settle over the room.

Knocking. On your door. It’s light but sharp and very persistent. Seokjin pauses the show, confused but alert.

“Who on Earth…?” you murmur to yourself, regrettably rising from the couch and parting from the warmth of the hybrids. There is an odd weight on your side as you stand, and you don’t realise that Taehyung has risen with you, clinging to your side, until you take a step and he bumps into you by accident.

Endeared by the way he dons a sheepish smile, you accept his company and make your way to the front door, wondering who on earth would even be making the effort to visit you on your day off. Rustling sounds from the couch, but you figure it’s just Seokjin getting comfortable and preparing to wait.

“Just a second!” you call out when the knocking stops, worrying the culprit is leaving. Did you order anything recently? Are you expecting anyone and just forgot? You really don’t think so. Taehyung trails after you, connected only by his loose grip on the bottom of your shirt.

You could have peaked out of the peep hole, but you don’t, going straight to opening the door instead. The figure waiting on the other side makes you halt in surprise. Taehyung shoots ramrod straight behind you.

“What are you doing here, rude cat?” you ask in surprise after a moment, teasing nickname tacked on by default. Changkyun gives you a borderline dirty look, but doesn’t speak for a moment- his attention is captured as he catches sight of the hybrid plastered to your back. His mouth forms an ‘o’, realisation dawning across his features.

“Ah, the unhappy audience….” He murmurs to himself, a glint entering his eyes that you absolutely do not like one bit. Before you can warn him off whatever idea has just entered his head, he turns his gaze to you and offers a bright, if somewhat cheeky, smile.

“Hey, y/n,” he purrs, taking a step closer. You’re suspicious immediately. “You left something at our house last time, and since we were driving past your place anyway the madame asked me to come bring it up to you.”

As he finishes speaking, he pulls something out from behind his back, holding it out to you. You can feel the tension of the hybrid beside you as you reach out and take it, eyes wide.

“Oh, my cardigan,” you mutter, holding up the dark pink article and pursing your lips in surprise. “I did wonder where it got to. Thanks, Changkyun!”

“No problem!” he answers, perhaps a little too easily, He rolls the ring on his bottom lip as he stands in contemplation for a moment. It’s as though he considers doing something, entertaining the thought for a moment before deciding against it. Instead, he offers you a sly smile, beginning to step backwards. “See you next week, y/n.”

You return the farewell, waiting until he is a good metre or so away before closing and locking the door. The second you do, you feel Taehyung pull away from your back. Surprised, you turn in question—the second your gaze falls on him though, you freeze.

You’re not sure if you can describe the current look in his face in just a single word—there are many emotions that seem to flick across his features, but the one that seems to linger the most is hurt.

At the realisation you’re baffled, understandably, and while your brain attempts to put pieces together and figure out why Taehyung is looking at you like that, he pulls away. His brows are furrowed, bottom lip a split-second away from trembling fully.

“Tae?” you ask, tentative. At the sound of your voice though the hybrid shakes his head, expression even more upset than before. It makes your stomach drag down with guilt and a certain sense of anxiety. Taehyung steps back, looking at you for just a moment longer before he turns and flees.

A call of his name is stuck in your throat and you can only watch him go, hearing him pass through the hall and then hurry up the stairs. Absolutely boggled, you almost miss the movement from the doorway to the living room.

You turn your gaze just in time to catch a glimpse of Seokjin as he slips away, following the same path Taehyung laid through the house just seconds earlier. After the sound of him climbing the stairs passes, you’re confronted with the painfully familiar sound of their door slamming closed upstairs.

You don’t have to have seen his face to know that without a doubt, whatever you’d done to hurt Taehyung’s feelings so suddenly, the same applied to the older hybrid.

God—you don’t even know what you did!

This is getting utterly ridiculous and at this point you’re sitting and stewing in your own ashamed juices. You’d just been so close to mending things with them! How had things turned around so quickly?

It’s like a bag of rocks has been dropped in your chest, pushing your heart down to your stomach. You feel very crummy, suddenly. You don’t doubt they feel similar. They’re not going to sit and watch something with you now, and there’s no point in waiting for them to come down because you’ve been with them long enough to know that they won’t.

What are you supposed to do?

Fighting a sudden batch of irrational tears that have risen to sting your eyes and threaten to fall, you scrunch the cardigan in your grip and make a beeline for your room. You don’t bother going to turn off the TV because right now you’re too upset and it’s just going to remind you of how you’ve managed to ruin things, again.

As soon as the door closes behind you and you’re in the sanctity of your room, you let a sniffle escape. The silence that echoes off the walls is all that answers and you throw yourself onto your bed, phone in your hand.

Even though you’re sad right now and want nothing else than to just cry into your pillow a bit and get these horrible, heavy feelings off your chest, `you know you can’t let this go on any longer than it already has. Somewhat sulkily, you unlock your phone and open the browser, returning to your search from earlier. At this point you can only conclude that the problem is you, and that you won’t be able to find anything to help your plight online.

Of course, that’s the last thing you want to be true. And so you return to your previous search, going through all the tabs you opened up previously and rereading to see if there was anything you’d missed or misinterpreted. You’re not all that optimistic, though, and as you read you try not to think about the sneaking feeling you have that you’re not going to find anything to help you fix this new mess you’ve made.

X x x x x

An hour later you’re climbing hastily from you bed, standing corrected. You’d just found the answer and the solution you’d been looking for—the fact that it was in one of the first pages you opened earlier and you didn’t get it until just now is an incredible source of shame for you. At this point in time you’re very frustrated with yourself, but thankfully there are more pressing matters to attend to.

You know what’s been bothering your hybrids and upsetting them so much.

Of course, in retrospect it’s something so painfully obvious that you want to kick the ground and ram your head straight into the wall at the same time. You read earlier about how change and stress can affect hybrids more than humans, but it hadn’t really sunk in the types of changes and stressors they are especially sensitive to. Reading through one of the first pages again had something you missed the first time through smacking you in the face the second time round.

Your hybrids are unsettled because you’re their ‘owner’, and you’ve been going out and hanging around other people and hybrids, covering yourself in a myriad of strange, different scents, when they haven’t scented you yet.

Your face warms as you recall everything you’d read after clicking the hyperlink on that word in the original article. Scenting can entail a lot of things depending on the hybrid, but mostly its innocent, and something they need to feel settled and secure, something instinctive. Which explains a lot of things, honestly.

Again, you feel so stupid.

Now that you’ve… enlightened yourself, you have the decency to feel a little ashamed and guilty for not taking better steps to understand your hybrids and accommodate them. It’s on you that you didn’t know any better because you hadn’t done the necessary research, but at the same time you wish they’d come to you and told you what was wrong. Although, you know that considering their background, it’s probably hard for them. They’re never sure of their boundaries, where they can go and how far they can push—they’re too cautious and worrisome sometimes, you think. You have a feeling that that’s kind of what was happening behind the scenes here too.

Trying very desperately not to give in to the flustered blush that’s trying to heat your cheeks at what you’re about to do, you attempt to calm yourself by going through the motions as you normally would at this time of day. It’s late enough that you can justify changing into your pyjamas, and so you do—and although these are the clothes you usually wear to bed, the fluffy pants and thin-strapped singlet leave you feeling a little more exposed than usual. You know that you’re going to be more than a little embarrassed while doing this, but honestly you’re just going to have to push through it—it’s the least you can do considering your part in this.

Once changed, you kind of want to climb back in bed and procrastinate the inevitable a little longer, but you force yourself out of the room. It’s somewhat sheepishly that you emerge, attempting to be quiet with your door even though you know there’s no way they’ve left their room. The trip down the hall to their door is quicker than you remember and it isn’t long before you’re taking a breath to prepare yourself and knocking softly on their door. The response is instant.

“Go away!”

You fight a smile at the sound of Seokjin’s voice—his words say one thing but the waver and hints of a plea in his tone say another. It’s cute, the effort he’s putting into trying to show you he’s upset when you have a feeling he wants nothing more than to spend time with you as he usually does. You take a moment to steel yourself before letting out a huff.

“I’m coming in,” you announce, trying to keep your tone gentle, and then you open the door before he has time to protest. When you swing the door open and step in, it’s to the sight of him sitting on the queen bed with his knees tucked to his chest, his face red— although you can’t tell if it’s from anger or embarrassment.

“What do you want,” he grumbles, reminding you very much of a child with the way he averts his eyes and pouts. His tail twitches anxiously behind him, his ears pressed against his skull. Your eyes sweep the room, confusion flickering amongst your thoughts when you don’t catch sight of his younger brother.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, head tilting. Seokjin answers you a moment later, albeit reluctantly.

“He’s in the shower…” he says, and now that he mentions it you can hear the soft sound of music filtering through the wall. The dhole hybrid likes having something soft and jazzy playing whenever he showers or bathes, you suspect it’s because it helps relax him a little.

You hum in acknowledgement, standing in the doorway for a moment, leaning against the doorframe as you simply look at him. He seems to flush under your prolonged gaze, desperately trying to avoid meeting your eyes. It takes you a moment to decide how to start, and you try not to keep him on his toes too long. It still startles him when you finally speak a few moments later.

You decide to just bite the bullet and jump right into it. “Seokjin, do the two of you feel comfortable here?”

The male balks at your question, eyes wide as he finally looks at you. His knees drop into a cross-legged position against the bed as he straightens, sputtering. “What? Of course we do, you’ve given us everything.”

You wonder if he realises he’s fallen out of his upset character but push the thought aside in favour of continuing your interrogation, setting the grounds so you can lead up to a certain point. Distantly, you register the sound of pipes creaking in the walls as water is shut off and the sound of jazz music disappearing to a muffle. You shake your head at the male, but smile at his words. “Seokjin, what I mean is, are the two of you comfortable— do you feel at home?”

At those words, the hybrid freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. After a few moments he attempts to form a response, the conflict behind his eyes making your heart clench painfully. “I… we…”

You sigh, offering the male a slightly sad smile. “Seokjin, it’s okay. I… I’m sorry. I realise that I could have been doing a better job, with this whole thing. I should have done more to ease you guys into this, and reassure you.”

The male is silent, his eyes glistening slightly. You continue, “I realised earlier that it’s possible you don’t feel like… like this is a permanent home for you, that you could feel as though I’m just a middle ground or a foster home and that you can’t really settle or feel secure here. Is that right?”

His mouth falls open, expression conveying just how completely caught off guard he is—you are right, it seems. He can’t seem to muster a response, but his features contort into an expression of guilt. “y-y/n, I’m sorry—”

Realising the turn his thoughts are taking, you hurry to step closer and sooth him. “No, bub, you don’t have to apologise at all. This one is on me. This is as new for me as it is for you two, but that doesn’t excuse it. I need to do better, and I will. I…”

At the barest sound of shuffling, you turn over your shoulder and hold your arm out invitingly; Taehyung stands clad in his stripy pyjamas in the doorway and regards the two of you with wide, watering eyes, apparently having heard your conversation thus far. The second he sees your invitation he darts forward, perching on the bed in front of you and clutching the outstretched hand he’d grabbed on his way past.

You take a deep breath before looking both of them in the eyes, one at a time, and speaking. “I want this to be your home. I want you to feel comfortable, and safe, and loved. I want you to know that this isn’t a short-term commitment for me, okay? I’m not going to ever suddenly change my mind, I’m not going to stop caring for you or wanting you around.”

Your voice softens as you take in the way their eyes water slightly. “You can let go of that guard you have over your hearts, and you can let me in. I promise that I will take care of you. You’re safe here, alright? I’m not… I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“y/n…” Seokjin’s voice wobbles, his chin trembling. You reach up and wipe away the beginnings of tears, doing the same to Taehyung who moves and nuzzles his face into your touch eagerly. It soothes you to see his stormy mood from earlier has vanished completely.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything.” A smile tugs your lips, a tender feeling warming your chest. “But… I do have something else to say.”

They both seem a little wary at your words, but relax when you cup their cheeks—Seokjin has long since moved over on the bed so you can reach him.

“I want to say I’m sorry, for not being more knowledgeable about hybrid things,” you say, catching the confused look in their eyes. “I’m going to do more research in the future, but for now…”

They seem to guess where you’re going with this, cheeks colouring. Seokjin mumbles, “You’re talking about how we’ve been acting, aren’t you.”

When you nod, he seems a little apprehensive and anxious. You speak before he can come to any drastic conclusions. “It’s because I come home smelling like other hybrids, right? And you don’t like smelling other hybrids on me.”

Now that you’ve voiced it, the two of them have the decency to appear somewhat embarrassed and chastised. They nod, heads hanging slightly, and you fight back a chuckle. At least they’re aware that it’s not an appropriate behaviour, though it’s not like they can help it. It’s instinct for them, and while its hard for you to wrap your head around as a human, you accept it. You accept them.

“You can scent me, you know.”

At your words, their heads whip up so fast you’re worried they’ll have whiplash from the sheer jerkiness and speed of the movement. Taehyung’s mouth has dropped completely open, eyes blown wide as he stares at you in disbelief—his whole face slowly stains pink and when you turn to regard Seokjin you find the fox hybrid in a similar state.

“Wh-what did you say?” he asks, so softly you almost wonder if you imagined it. He stares at you like he can hardly believe such words would come out of your mouth, like he’d never even considered the possibility.

“You can scent me,” you repeat, head tilting slightly. “I read that it’s something you need to do to feel secure, and comfortable… am I wrong?”

Taehyung’s mouth snaps shut and he shakes his head fervently, hands clutching yours at his cheek. Seokjin hurries to elaborate.

“No! No it’s not wrong, we… it’s an instinct…” he trails off, biting his lip. “We didn’t know… didn’t think you would be comfortable with it, b-because it��s…. it’s kind of weird….”

You tut, tapping your hand against their cheeks softly but enough to startle them. “You sweet fools,” you say, grinning—their ears perk up at the affection in your tone, tails twitching as though they contain the urge to wag. “I didn’t accept you unknowingly, I realised it would come with new territory and new things I hadn’t heard of or done before. Also, my cute boys, please don’t make my decisions for me. From now on, please tell me when something is troubling you, alright? Let’s keep honesty and openness as our policy. I really want the two of you to be happy.”

The two of them are nodding again before the last word even leaves your mouth, pressing their faces to your palms like eager puppies. It makes you giggle a little, and at the sound they both light up, tails giving a small wag.

“We understand, y/n,” Seokjin says, smiling and blowing you away for a moment with his beauty. “Thank you.”

You nod, appeased for now, and let a few moments of contented silence fall between you all before Seokjin is shifting suddenly, looking very much like he has something further to say. You look to him pointedly and he grows sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Uh, about what you said earlier… c-could we…?”

You snort softly, sending him a reassuring smile. “Yes, Seokjin, you can scent me. Do what you need to do, pretty boys. I’m yours however you need me.”

The two of them are immediately visibly giddy at your words, though something foreign and dark sparks to life in their eyes. You don’t have enough time to decipher it before Taehyung is lurching forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you backwards onto the bed with him. Seokjin immediately shuffles back to accommodate, slotting himself perfectly into your free side when Taehyung nestles into the other. They seek out the crook of your neck on instinct, burying their faces there in sync and making you shiver slightly from the sensation.

They rub their faces against the skin, cheeks pressed to your shoulders, and keep that up for a while. You’re curious as to why that is all they’re doing; when you looked it up earlier, several sources said that certain acts embed the scent more deeply than others. Like rubbing their cheeks against you, versus licking, or even soft kisses as some sites had informed you. Different actions made the scent stronger. Although, you know that neither of them have been in an environment where they’ve been able to do this before, so you know this is all new territory for them as well and they’re unsure of their boundaries. Right on cue as you think this, you sense Seokjin grow slightly tense next to you, his movements slowing.

“y/n…”

You turn, pressing a kiss to the top of his head between his ears. “Seokjin, I know. Do what you feel you need to.”

With verbal permission from you, he sags in relief. At once he returns to clinging to you with a hand clutching your hip on the opposite side, worming beneath the edge of your shirt so he is closer to you. Taehyung shuffles on your other side, doing the same. You feel your heartrate pick up slightly from the way they nuzzle into you, lips brushing your sensitive flesh. It doesn’t help that all you read before is fresh in your mind and you know how scenting can go for hybrids of their type—the idea has your stomach flipping in anticipation.

Taehyung is the first to change his tactics. Burying his nose in your neck, he presses his lips to the skin in a soft kiss before you feel his tongue dart out. It swipes along your sensitive flesh in short strips, the tip of the muscle leaving blots of wetness in its wake—it’s a sensation that tickles slightly as much as it makes your heartrate skyrocket, and you can’t help the soft giggle that slips out as a result. You feel his answering smile moments later.

Seokjin has a similar idea, but his execution differs. His body curls around you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip as he begins to pepper soft kiss after kiss along the column of your neck. He pauses as he nears your hairline, taking a moment to bury his nose in your locks and bask in your scent—you shiver at the feeling and he holds you tighter in his arms.

There’s something about the act that seems to make them succumb that little bit more to their instincts. Unexpectedly, they quickly grow a little bolder. Taehyung pulls the thin strap of your shirt down so he can continue his trail down your shoulder and over the curve of your clavicle. Seokjin’s kisses turn open-mouthed, and he seems to have found a place on your neck just under the curve of your jaw where your scent is strongest—lightly, tenderly, he begins sucking over your pulse point. Your breathing hitches unwittingly in response.

At this point you think you’re going to have a heart attack; your pulse is off the charts and your stomach is a live pool of nerves. Even with what you read, your surprised and alarmed and shamefully a little excited at where this is beginning to go. Through the haze beginning to permeate your brain, you realise you have to stop them in their tracks before they step too far and can’t go back. Still, it all feels so nice…

You’re only jerked into motion when Taehyung moves, shifting closer and holding himself slightly over you as his mouth maps over your clavicle and begins to move further down. Your heart jumps, and with a surprised squeak trapped in your throat you bring your hand to his head right before he reaches the start of your breast, almost at the edge of the singlet.

“Tae,” is all you say, but your tone seems to bring both of them back to the present a bit. Taehyung shudders, letting out a huff before simply dropping his body down half on top of you, head resting in the crook of your neck. Seokjin presses his lips to your skin in one long, final kiss, before burying his face there and relaxing against you as his brother did. Like this, they return to their earlier ministrations, before it began to get… yeah.

Now that they’re no longer making your heartrate jump to unhealthy levels, the longer you’re in their soft embrace the more sluggish and sleepy you feel—their warmth is like a blanket of security and safety thrown over you, their affection soothing any worries or stress you might retain from the week and day. The feeling is mutual; gradually, the two of them begin to slow in their movements, Taehyung’s soft lapping returning to the occasional press of his lips and nuzzle, Seokjin remaining still with his tongue darting out every so often. Without even meaning to, the three of you fall asleep there in each other’s embrace, tension soothed and worries mollified. One last thing crosses your mind before you drift off.

You really are starting to love these two hybrids with all your heart, but after this experience you have to wonder...

Is that the only thing you feel?

a/n: please let me know what u think,, and lmk if u enjoyed this with a like and/or rb!! also feel free to drop an ask, i’m keen to know what u thought! thank u for reading and supporting me!! <3

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years ago

Text

An Ending Within--Ch. 17

Chapter 17

It was dark. Rain lashed against the windows. Underneath it all, the whimper of my daughter and the soothing tones of my husband’s voice.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the bed or held my child. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said a word to anyone. The last time I’d eaten.

My eyes burned. Raw and hot from tears. I was empty, hollowed out from the inside. Everything hurt. But I couldn’t really feel anything at all.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest. Sitting upright in the middle of the bed, I stared into the blackness of the room, doing my best to think and simultaneously not think at all. Time had lost meaning. I couldn’t remember what day it was, or how long it had been since I’d run into her backstage at Raw. When my whole being forgot everything except for the feeling of my life slowly slipping away into blackness.

The door opened, spilling slices of stark light across the carpeted floor. I didn’t have to look up to see Seth standing in the doorway. “Are you going to eat?”

My shoulders rose and fell. I didn’t care. I couldn’t make myself care, no matter how hard I tried. Guilt rushed through me, even though I couldn’t gather the strength to deal with it. I hated myself more every second that I couldn’t get myself together.

“Llane, please…” he whispered, stepping closer to the bed. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he was going to sit on the edge of the bed. If he was going to try to put his arms around me, to tug me close and try to talk me out of my depression. I wished and prayed and hoped that he didn’t.

It didn’t matter that I wanted to—more than anything I’d wanted in a log time—there was no dragging my mind through the blackness that still covered me like tar.

I could sense him standing there, waiting, watching, trying to figure out what he could do. I hated that there wasn’t anything that would change it. After another minute or two, he turned and walked away, shutting the door softly behind him.

***

Time slugged by. It raced around the edge of a black hole and compressed into every moment in every history. I’d lost track, and I couldn’t grasp its flow any longer. There wasn’t any meaning left in it for me. And some part of me liked it that way.

It was daytime—the light streaming in the windows was evidence of that—but there wasn’t much more I could figure out. I didn’t know what day it was. My phone was dead, having sat on the bedside table unplugged for God knew how long. An ache settled in my stomach. My vision swam with each move of my head. Moving required more energy than I had.

Noise filtered from the rest of the house. Echoed and reverberated and grew louder as it got closer. The door banged against the wall.

“Alright, dollface,” Jon said from behind me. His voice was almost too loud in my ears. His ever-present frenetic energy made my skin crawl and itch. “I’ve had just about enough of this.”

He rounded the bed and stood over me, his eyes flashing like blue chips of ice. I blinked slowly. He ran his hands over his close cropped hair. “Get up.”

I blinked again. Tried to roll away. Ended up flopping in a contorted position that made my neck throb.

Jon kicked the bedpost with his steel-toed boot. “Sophie Weston Lopez. I said to drag your ass out of this bed right now.”

Movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Seth standing at the doorway, our sleeping two-year old against his shoulder.

The bed jerked again. The sound of steel on wrought iron echoed again.

“Alright,” Jon snarled, “that’s it. I’m sick of this shit.”

He leaned over the bed, scooping me up into his arms and practically draping me over his shoulder. The world tipped and swayed as he walked. He brushed past Seth. I caught sight of his face—part terrible sadness and part complete relief. Sefina shifted against his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his neck.

A moment later, I was plopped unceremoniously at the table. A bowl of cereal and a full glass of water sat just a few inches away.

“Eat,” Jon said from right beside me, pointing his finger angrily at the food. “Now.”

I drew a breath. My chest ached with it. I wanted to cry, but didn’t have the tears.

He moved around the table, pulled out a chair. Turned it backwards and straddled it. His mouth tipped into a frown.

“Eat,” he repeated, more angrily than before.

Seth crossed in front of me. I glanced up, met his gaze, begged somehow for him to drag me out of whatever this was. He smiled softly but shook his head. It seemed like I was on my own.

My fingers shook weakly as I gripped the spoon and maneuvered a bite of cereal to my mouth. I gasped in a breath after each bite, even as I felt a little bit of awareness creep in as sugar flooded my system.

Jon wasn’t satisfied until I had eaten every bite, slurped down every drop of milk left in the bowl, and drank every ounce of water in the glass. I felt full and sluggish at the same time as my nerves started to jitter with sugar rush.

“Good,” he said at last. He stood, arms crossed over his chest. “Now get up. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” I murmured barely loud enough to be heard.

Jon leaned forward, bracing his fists on the table. Fire snapped in his eyes. He stared me down ferociously. “Let’s. Go.”

***

The lights were too bright. Every sound echoed painfully through the empty room. Dust motes danced in the light as Jon half pushed half dragged me across the room toward the training ring in the corner of Black and Brave’s gym. We were alone in the silence.

“Get in the ring.” Jon gave me a firm shove between the shoulder blades. “Right now.”

I fetched up against the apron, folding forward and resting my head on my forearms. Whatever energy I’d gotten from the sugary breakfast had swept out of me in the walk from the kitchen to the car and the car to the ring.

“I can’t.” The words came out in a weak moan. “I can’t, Jon.”

The ring rattled and bounced as he swept in beneath the bottom rope. I could sense him hovering over me. In the next moment, Jon grabbed me under the arms and yanked me up to stand on the apron. He barely gave me time to get my bearings before he hefted me over the top rope and pushed me into the corner.

Turnbuckles dug into my back. I couldn’t quite find my balance. Vertigo made my head spin.

“You can’t?” Jon whispered frustratedly. “Can’t or won’t?”

I whimpered. “I can’t.”

He walked a few steps away and leaned against the ropes. “Huh. That’s not the woman I know. You’re weak.”

Something like shame and anger burned in my chest. My brain wanted to fight him, but my body didn’t have the energy. I didn’t even think I had it in me to argue with him.

Jon paced across the ring, bounced off the ropes on the other side. I watched him with a detached disinterest. Like there was a thick glass that separated me from him. From being able to care.

“You should have stayed out of the ring when Ronda put you down,” he said, his voice stern and cold. “She did you a favor really. All of us. So we don’t have to watch you anymore.”

Anger burned bright in my chest. Every word out of Jon’s mouth was an echo of the doubts and fears that had plagued me from the moment I’d returned to wrestling. They were the nightmares that shocked me awake at three in the morning, sweat making my clothes stick to my skin.

I hated myself for every whisper of those doubts. And God knew, in that moment, I hated Jon for repeating them.

“Fuck you,” I spat.

He grinned, one corner of his mouth tipping upward. “Bringing you back was a mistake. Giving you another title was a pity move. Because they knew you wouldn’t last much longer. ‘Let’s give her one more run, she’ll be on the shelf soon.’”

“Fuck you, Jon,” I snarled back. I balanced myself with the ropes, putting my feet firmly beneath me. Anger boiled in my blood. “Fuck you for every word you just said.”

He chuckled. “What are you going to do about it? You left whatever was good about you in the ring when Ronda almost broke your neck because you fucked up.”

I sucked in a breath and let out a scream that echoed against the rafters. My feet pushed me across the canvas before I consciously thought of it. Blood pounded through my veins. Adrenaline flooded my limbs.

Jon and I slammed into each other in the center of the ring. He caught me by the head, snapping me into a side headlock. His bicep crushed into my ear. Fingers locked as the pressure made me feel like my skull was going to explode.

I wriggled, pain lancing along my face as I squeezed out of his hold. I ducked under and ran toward the ropes. Bounced off, swerved away out of his reach, and kicked out with the top of my foot against the back of his thigh. He swore and limped for a moment. Then he turned back toward me, a playful grin on his face.

“Now,” he said with a chuckle, “are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

My limbs buzzed with electricity. Being this close to Jon drew out some of that frenetic energy that always crackled when he was around. I felt a smile rush over my face as I crossed over to him, throwing my arms around his waist.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I felt his lips brush the top of my head. “You always know exactly what I need.”

He laughed. “What was it Seth called me—I’m your emotional support Jon.”

Tag List

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babbushka · 4 years ago

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Hi friend! I was so torn on which prompt I liked best but I think I finally made up my mind lol. Can I please request “I’m going to ruin you” with my love BV!Kylo? Ilysm!

Anonymous said: I’m so excited for Sinday! Will you please do Kiss Prompts 15 for either your new lawyer or your Bond villain? Thank you 💛. I like the line “I’m going to ruin you” if that goes with it too.

Anonymous said: Howdy, angel! Thanks for another sinday!! Could i please request “you look a little tied up, should i come back later?” For Bondvillan!Kylo? Thank youuu

Anonymous said: For the Sinday prompts, may I please suggest #8 frustrated kisses on the types of kisses knowing one has to go and the "sometimes I think you have a death wish prompt with Bond Villian Kylo??? Happy Sinday!!!!

1.4k NSFW (masturbation, light rope bondage, pussy eatin’, PIV)

You were sure that he wouldn’t be popping in to see you tonight, absolutely sure of it. Last you knew, Kylo was in Spain, far far away from Moscow where you’re staying for the month, and you were glad for it. Moscow played by its own rules, it was a dangerous place for agents and an even more dangerous place for those associated with them. You’d never been caught, not once, not even as surveillance trails your every move – but Kylo wasn’t nearly as careful as you were.

So you’re glad he’s in Spain, glad he’s in the warm sunshine while the skies are grey outside your embassy apartment. You’re glad for his safety, but also so that he can’t see you…like this.

Lonely nights could only be spent in a small handful of ways, and tonight you’ve decided to pleasure yourself until your limbs gave out – even going so far as to tie some easy red rope knots around your thighs and ankles, keeping your legs bent and spread so you can fuck yourself on your fingers without having to worry about holding yourself apart.

Three of your fingers drag in and out of your pussy, your other hand rolling a nipple underneath your thumb, as you bite down hard on your lip to keep quiet. Music is playing, some Russian radio station that helps drown out the noise, drowns it out a little too well, because you nearly miss the sound of front door opening.

Nearly.

Yanking your hands away from your body, you roll up onto your knees and level a gun steady at the dark hallway just outside your bedroom door, trigger cocked and ready to fire, your entire body stone-still. The bedroom door is open and you stare into the blackness of the world just outside the bedside table’s illumination, mind already reeling to figure out how to kill or incapacitate your intruder while your legs are bound the way they are.

That is, until you hear a familiar chuckle, and your entire body relaxes, letting yourself flop back onto the mattress.

“You look a little…tied up, should I come back later?” Kylo Ren creeps out of the dark and into the soft periphery of the golden light from the table lamp.

How he got into your apartment, you’ll never know. You’ll have to send word to Mi6 that the embassy isn’t as impenetrable as they had hoped. Kylo appraises your naked body, looks you up and down with a soft smile that has you disarming the gun and setting it on the bedside table where it was before.

“No.” You sigh, dragging a hand down your face, scrubbing at your eyes to will the tension to slip away so you can get back to pleasuring yourself the way you had been. “No, come here, please.”

Kylo unbuttons himself out of his tuxedo, drapes it gently over the back of a chair so it doesn’t wrinkle, and then he’s climbing up onto the big bed with you, your legs still forced open by the rope. Kylo kisses up your inner knee, mouth hot.

“So is this what you get up to when you’re not trying to put me in prison?” He plucks at the rope, and you shuffle up the bed just enough to get comfortable. Kylo quickly leans up to face you and greet you with a chaste kiss to your lips, before moving back down your body to level with your cunt, nosing at your folds.

“A woman can’t rely on you to come swoop in and fuck her whenever she wants, can she?” You lick the taste of him off your lips, savoring the moment that it was there, one of your hands encouraging the back of his head to properly nestle against your pussy and eat you out, breathily complaining, “When you’re not here I have to take matters into my own hands.”

“I see that.” Kylo chuckles, before making a motion to pull away, “If you’ve got it all under control then I’ll just go –”

“Kylo!” Your hand tightens in his hair to keep him in place, and he chuckles.

“I’m just teasing sweetheart, let me see that pretty pussy of yours, open up.” He pulls apart your folds with one of his big hands, your clit swollen and begging to be sucked. “That’s my girl. How close are you?”

“So close, so fucking close, I was almost there before you – oh fuck Kylo – before you walked in.” You moan around his tongue as it dips down and teases your clit for a moment or two, before he really dives in.

Kylo regards eating pussy as one of the finest meals a person can have, and it shows. He takes his time with you, wanting to taste every inch of you, his tongue thrusting into your cunt and stuffing you full, his nose breathing in your smell. You’re velvety hot and delicious, and Kylo spells him name against your folds until you’re breathing hard.

“You want my cock?” He asks, painfully hard in his briefs.

“Please.” You respond so quickly that it makes Kylo’s ego shoot up through the roof, “Please Kylo – yes!”

You scratch him up with how your nails dig into his shoulder, pulling him away from your pussy so that he can sink his big dick inside it instead – and he does. Kylo slides in and it feels like home, the way your body takes him so perfectly. He’s never had a woman take him as well as you do, and he’s constantly in awe of how perfectly you fit together. You’re impatient though, whimpering and whining, wanting him to move.

“Easy, easy baby.” Kylo caresses your cheek, kisses the corner of your mouth as he rolls his hips, as he gives you what you want, because he’ll always give you what you want. “Gotta go easy or else I’m going to ruin you.”

“You already have, jackass.” You laugh, great big grin on your face from finally getting the fucking you deserve, the springs squeaking on the mattress. Something goes real soft in your eyes, “I, Kylo I lov—”

Kylo surges up and kisses you, cuts you off and shuts you up. He wants to hear those words desperately, but not like this. Not when he’s working his ass off to make you come so hard you’ll fall right asleep until he comes back to you. No, he wants to hear it when you’re perfectly clear, perfectly sharp, when you’re not drooling around his cock.

And he knows you’d regret saying it now too, so he sticks his tongue down your mouth, makes you taste yourself as he gets you to come around him, as your naked body bounces underneath him, your nipples stiff and brushing against his undershirt.

He comes in you a few seconds later, knowing that when he comes back he’ll really give it to you hard, but for now, he leans down while his cock empties itself in your wanting aching throbbing pussy, and sucks on those nipples.

“Are you staying?” You whisper, petting through his hair as he takes a switchblade from the night table drawer and, cock still pulsing inside you, cuts the ropes that bind your ankle to your thigh.

“Not tonight, I’ve got some…secret affairs to tend to.” Kylo can’t say exactly, because he can’t risk you being hurt by the KGB any more than he’s sure you’re already at risk for, “But I’ll be back, I promise.”

You know that that’s who he must be meeting with, and it makes you angry. It makes you sad.

“Sometimes I think you have a death wish.” You kiss him one final time, knowing that he has to go, that he’s probably already spent too much time with you as it is.

“Only if it’s by your hand, sweetheart.” He replies softly, one finger tapping under your chin, “I know you won’t accept anything less.”

“Come back to me in one piece?” You say, instead of those three little words you almost blurted out, as he pulls away from your body and begins putting himself back together.

He lights up a cigarette and takes a good couple puffs, nicotine and tar flooding his lungs and calming him down, giving him the strength to walk away from you despite hating having to do it every single time. He flicks the cigarette across the room, and you catch it expertly with your agent’s reflexes, bringing it to your lips and taking a drag or two too.

“I always will.” He replies instead of saying the words back, because you both know what you’re really saying.

Even if you don’t say them at all.

And then he’s out the door once again, and you’re in the big bed all alone, left alone with your thoughts and afterglow, your eyes slipping closed until the moment he comes crawling back underneath your covers, this time, hopefully, to stay.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #james bond au #bond villain!kylo ren #007!reader #adam driver character #adam driver fanfic #adcu

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years ago

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Imagine Arthur finding you laying in an unusual position on the bed.

Inspired by a conversation @jokerownsmysoul and I had months ago. This is only short; a quick little thought I had while I had my feet up on the wall and my head dangled over the edge of the bed, but I hope you like this! I’m also a bit tipsy right now so 😂

Word count: 902.

You were laying across the full width of the double bed which you shared with Arthur. Your feet dangled off the edge which was furthest from the door and your neck was supported by the other edge of the bed. Your upside down perspective in this moment was something you had always enjoyed. You just loved how the familiar now looked fresher, different in the angle at which you looked at them. It was like life, you realised. Approaching the familiar with a new perspective could liven things up, or reveal something which previously had gone unseen.

You raised your arms over your head and stretched, feeling your joints and back crack and pop. Oh, but it hurt so good and your moan of appreciation only told that truth better than words ever could. You loved it when you felt the physical stray parts of yourself click back into place. Being near Arthur did the very same thing for your soul, so it only seemed fair that you afforded your body that gesture, too.

Positions which others found uncomfortable were only ever comfortable for you, and Arthur had thought that you were joking when some days ago had you mentioned this to him, but now as he walked into the bedroom did he see that you had been completely serious. Your eyes were closed now, feeling slightly light headed were you as your blood rushed to your head. You would have to sit up soon, this you knew. That was the only downside with lying upside down... you couldn’t do it for too long.

A small chuckle came from the doorway and it made your eyes snap open. You could know that sound anywhere and you had heard it expressed in many tones: joyful, confused, sad, and those awful refrains which came only when Arthur was overwhelmed by something and he could only laugh, instead of crying as so often did he wish that he could.

“Y-Y/N, what,” Arthur paused to giggle again. He was leaning against the doorway, his arms folded over his orange cardigan. It hung off his thin frame and you found yourself aching to fold your body into his. If anyone could keep you safe and whole within yourself, it was Arthur. “What are you doing?”

“Resting.” One arm came to rest on your stomach and the other stayed over your head. You wiggled your fingers in Arthur’s direction, “Come join me.”

“You... you want me over there with you?” Arthur sounded incredulous. Even after all of this time, those demons in his tormented mind, black and sticky like tar and just as toxic to his health as the literal tar which stained his lungs, were occasionally louder than your love for him, even when logic said otherwise.

You smiled, your heart aching for Arthur, because of Arthur, as you reminded yourself to have patience. “Of course! I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else than right here beside me.” Neither of you missed the promise which underlay your seemingly casual words. “You gotta’ lay like this, angel! It’s so comfy.”

Arthur’s sceptical look as he made his way over to you made you grin. There was nothing you could ask which he would refuse and this included the moments which were inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. He reached you easily and his hands cupped the back of your head, his deft fingers massaging your scalp, as he bent down at the waist to press a tender kiss to your forehead. You pushed your head into Arthur’s touch and he smiled down at you. His beautiful locks hung around your face like dark curtains and it made him all which you could see. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too,” You said it back, your most simple truth, and Arthur’s responding smile was radiant. Unsure was he of many things but in this one thing, in you, was he nothing but confident. It looked so good on him and the colour red sprang into your mind, though you knew not why. The image of such a vibrant colour came with a feeling of foreboding and you shook it off; not understanding your sudden trepidation.

You would find out in time, and you wouldn’t necessarily enjoy the discovery.

Arthur straightened up and carefully laid down beside you. The very tips of his dark curls spilled over the edge of the bed and you reached over to rub one lock between your index finger and thumb. Arthur’s hair fell through your fingers like ink in water and he shuffled further back; imitating your position easily. There was a look of concentration on his face as he got comfortable, and when he turned his head to look at you, you felt your breath seize in your throat.

“You know... this is actually quite comfortable.”

“Right?” You felt a surge of excitement at the quiet wonder which was in Arthur’s voice and he frowned in concentration once again as he pushed himself even further down. His throat was wholly exposed to you and you felt your mouth go dry. Shit, but he was so beautiful. “You’re an angel.” The words were out before you could stop them, and the few moments were filled with quiet chuckles from Arthur, who couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to have finally found you, his one and only person who understood him.

AF/J @impulsiveclown @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara @lynnesm @sagyunaro @greghouse @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino @obsessedandthirsty @call-me-harley-quinn @cacklinghyena @arcanealaanais

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years ago

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Polycule 4

Ellis/Rozen taglist! @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @sola-whumping, @rosesareviolentlyread, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Everything itches. He wants to curl into a ball and disappear. The sofa is too lofty, the chair too isolated, like being put onto a stage. He sits tucked into the corner between the desk and the wall, and when Nic tries to get him to talk, he only has one thing. He knows he shouldn’t ask. But he can’t stop thinking it.

“What if I’m broken?”

“Oh, hey,” Nic says, their voice immediately submerged in sympathy, coming over to kneel opposite him. They offer their hands out, and he takes them, and they squeeze gently. “No, honey. Nobody’s broken. You’re not broken, not at all.” Their eyes are earnest, eyebrows up and together as if beseeching him to change his mind. “I don’t think people break. You know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t know. Hasn’t he been broken from the start? Did he break the day he realised the monster in his nightmares was himself?

He wants to hear them say it, though.

“People change, right? They adapt to new situations. They find a way to keep moving on. None of that is breaking. Saying someone breaks is like saying they’ll never recover. You can always recover. I believe that you will.” Their thumb moves over the back of his hand. “Is that helpful?”

He nods. They break into a relieved smile.

“Good.”

But it doesn’t last.

A few days later, curled up in bed with Felicity holding him, he feels the hatred of himself swell up in his chest until he can’t breathe. It’s a thick, cloying feeling, like lungs full of tar, too much to ever get free through his mouth.

“Am I broken?” he asks, trying to hold it back, keep the doors closed on the explosion.

“Oh, sweetie, of course not,” Felicity says, instantly reassuring, hugging him closer. “You’re not broken. You’re still here, still trying. You’re trying so hard. A broken person wouldn’t do that, would they?”

He is. He’s trying. Is it enough? Can it ever be enough?

Felicity’s voice is tender and soft, right beside his ear in that homely way. “A broken person wouldn’t worry about being broken at all. You’re already so much better than you were. You’re gonna keep getting better.”

She really thinks so. She is always very sincere.

“Okay?” she prompts him, affectionately nudging him to take on her words.

“Okay,” he murmurs back, and she smiles proudly.

The thoughts creep back in. A moment’s distraction, eyes glazing and attention turning inwards, old thoughts dredging themselves back into old cycles, ingrained as deeply into his head as the flow of a river.

“What if I’m broken?”

Iz pauses the game and puts the controller aside. She turns to him. Despite this, her reply is short.

“What if you’re not?”

He wishes he was. If he was, he’d stop worrying about it. Right?

I feel broken.

Why do you say that?

Rozen usually replies quickly. Ellis doesn’t know if they’re just on their phone a lot, or if it’s because they watch for his messages in particular.

Never going to get easier to be like this. Always hard, always sad. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not but I get upset again later.

He’s in the bathroom. He’s been in the bathroom for too long, but nobody ever says anything when he is. Sometimes he showers in here, and that seems to make them less worried. It’s nice, to be able to put cool water on his burns whenever he wants.

Recovery is not linear, Rozen replies. Some days will be easier, some harder. Imagine trying to do an exam every day. Some days it will be harder even if you know all of the material. You know that you’re not broken, and we have helped you revise that fact, but sometimes you still find it hard to believe in yourself.

Ellis isn’t sure if he could decipher the explanation, but he picks up on the important bits. Not linear. Believe in himself.

It would be easier to be broken

The reply to that takes longer. Rozen thinks carefully. They never respond to complicated things quickly, even in person.

What do you mean, when you say broken?

He means an ugly house cat locked in the dark, body drowned by the heavy depths of pain.

Not caring anymore if I’m good. Not trying to be better.

What does better mean?

Being safe. Not making people upset. Master disappointed or angry, Nic sad and tired. Not making you get hurt.

He should. He should just go back to that. He didn’t make anyone sad there. But he still had nightmares… Is there really no was to be that doesn’t make someone miserable? If he goes back to that, he has nightmares. If he stays here, Master is unhappy. If he goes home, Nic will be sad. Two beloved people with completely different lives…

But Nic won’t keep him locked indoors.

Liking to be outdoors is one of the flaws he was never cured of. Even though it lets him see more people, more people he might hurt… It’s so wonderful to stand on grass and feel the sun and watch birds flutter around. He loves lying on a picnic blanket or putting his eye to the ground to watch the insects move through their jungle. He loves it and he misses it.

So there must have been a reason he wasn’t allowed. And the guilt resurrects itself.

You want to make both of them happy, Rozen summarises. But that’s only about what they want. What do you want, Ellis? Imagine that they’re both going to be happy either way. What would you do then?

He just…doesn’t want people to get hurt. That’s all he’s ever wanted, through all of this. He just wants the nightmares to stop.

But when he thinks of it that way… He knows what he has to do.

I want to be with Master.

This time, Rozen takes minutes to reply.

Alright.

#recovery whump #pet whumpee #my fic #whump #ellis: polycule #group caretaking #multiple caregivers #whumper as master #stockholm syndrome #recovery #ellis #nic #rozen #felicity #iz

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akitokihojo · 4 years ago

Text

Chasing the Seasons - Cruel Summer’s Epilogue

And there you have it, folks. I have literally no self control. :)

Have an epilogue almost half the length of the original story. Thanks for reading!

––––––––––

It was hard. It was impossible not to think of each other throughout the entirety of every single, passing day.

Maybe it was a blessing, but within the week of returning from their trip, Kagome was thrown right back into the swing of things. She had to scramble to buy the two books she still needed - one she got lucky with, the other she had to purchase from an overpriced seller on eBay, get any other necessary items for the term ahead, make sure all registration was properly done, and get herself re-acclimated to a generally normal sleeping schedule. She stayed busy. Busy enough not to constantly wonder how Inuyasha was fairing. But, unfortunately, that never prevented her from incessantly checking her phone.

The habit came on quickly and was difficult to kill off. In her spare moments to breathe came her opportunities to light up the notifications page. Even in class, jotting down notes, listening to the professor drone on and on, Kagome just couldn’t stop herself from tapping her phone’s screen to see if she’d missed anything while her cellphone sat directly next to her notebook. There was nothing to expect, she was aware of this. She was forewarned of their unaligned schedules. She was aware they weren’t in a relationship. This was what they’d tried to prevent; the thick feeling of unintentional dejection that clung to the insides of their chests like tar.

Was it ironic that Kagome was still knocked down to her ass? No. She wasn’t sure irony was the right definition of this. The truth was, unknowingly so, she and Inuyasha had contradicted themselves from the start. It was all innocent in the moment, wanting to soak up every minute with your soulmate until you couldn’t anymore. Trying to make the best of a given situation. It made sense then. Hell, she even knew this was going to hurt when they had to part, but no one could have ever prepared her for the aftermath.

See, it wasn’t a relationship the two should have planned to avoid, even if it was for the sake of ease. The moment they connected with each other, they were set in stone. That’s not your typical, monogamous relationship. What Sango and Miroku had, what they’d worked to build - that was a relationship. They chose each other. But, fate chose Inuyasha for Kagome. That red string tied their souls together, one half fulfilling the other, so what they had was an irrevocable, irreversible, and irreplaceable bond. They had a companion. A partner. Yes, all synonym’s for a “relationship,” but vastly different in context. A relationship you could turn off. You could end it. You could do so by bitterly cutting ties, or mutually understanding things weren’t working. You couldn’t do that with a soulmate, though. Having a soulmate is the universe’s way of saying, “Hey, I made this person for you. They’re pretty and nice. You’ll like them, I promise. You’ll like them so much, you’ll literally never feel whole without them once you meet. It’s not a flaw in the design, trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

In other words, the distress they wanted so badly to avoid, the obligation they felt toward one another, it was all entirely inevitable. What they, instead, should have done was prepared their minds and bodies to have to adjust to the emptiness. Because, eventually it would dull. Eventually, it did dull. The ride to that point, though, was nothing short of crippling.

He wished he’d known exactly what to say when he’d discovered who she was, what she was bound to mean to him. He wished he’d understood the conflict in his argument and how he was so wrong. A part of him even wished they’d never met. Not yet, at least. Much like how he’d originally hoped she hadn’t dreamt of him so he could carry the burden alone and find her in the future. He was insane. Absolutely, confoundingly mental. Since when had he developed a glass heart? The moment he heard her laugh, saw her in that dress, spoke to her, felt the powerful pull toward her. That’s when. He’d say it was the moment they kissed, because logically, that was the exact moment it happened, but he had to be real with himself. If he’d turned away and ignored her presence from the start, there was still a part of him, a significantly smaller part but a part nonetheless, that would have felt lost. Lost was still better than broken, though.

Inuyasha had decided after the second week that he was going to pull away. In the moment, he understood the rationality behind it. It was to deaden the senses toward one another. It would make it easier in the long run. They’d grow used to the other hardly being there, they’d go about their lives, they’d get excited when one of them popped up on the other’s phone for a quick and friendly check in because it was so rare, then go about their business. Wash, rinse, repeat until the day they could properly reunite. It had to happen. He was miserable, and even though she wasn’t saying anything, he knew she was, too. That was after two weeks. Fourteen days without the other. He kept checking his phone, he was physically fighting the urge to call her, he was forcefully throwing himself into his work so he wouldn’t continuously consider dropping it all to run off with her before it was too late. So, it only made sense to cut the chord. This wouldn’t work if he didn’t. This would only drive them crazy and encourage the ache that lived in their chests to rampantly deepen as if it owned them.

Oh, was he so fucking wrong.

Everything worsened. So bad, he felt sick sometimes. He’d wake up at three in the morning with the heaviest sadness climbing the walls of his stomach and threatening to make him vomit. His lungs sometimes acted as if they couldn’t hold a full inhale of air anymore, and his exhales were shallow and dry. He was angry. Always angry. He had a short temper to begin with, but even he would catch himself on occasion and realize he needed to chill. His work was being affected negatively, his appetite was shot, sleep gradually became a thing of the past, and as the main turmoil seemed to dwindle after a while and he felt dull, listless, he became known as “cold” around his immediate peers. He detested himself. He could see it clearly, but it was so difficult to correct his demeanor when he didn’t have much ambition to do self work on top of his professional labor. He was becoming Sesshomaru.

He’d sunken. Deeper than his bitterness. He’d sunken so far, it was laughable. The answer was right in front of his face. Clear as day. This was his doing. He was the cause of his own misery. Why would he ever think creating a larger distance from her was a good idea? She wasn’t your average girl he had a nice conversation with and would eventually like to see again. She was a being literally born for his sake. And, he was born for hers.

Two months and four agonizing days later, and Inuyasha had finally come to his senses. He couldn’t continue this. He just couldn’t. What he’d done was essentially attempt to withdraw his soul from the match until it was suitable for him. He’d attempted to go against fate, and fate was giving him the hell he deserved. He could only hope Kagome didn’t feel the weight of his idiotic mistake, too. It was bad enough picturing her feeling alone in this, because it’s not like he was acting as much support, but imagining her crushed with withdrawal pain as well was just something he couldn’t live with.

Inuyasha could have texted. He could have called. He sat staring at his phone for hours, a murky liquid sloshing in his chest as if a clogged drain kept the remnants of this toxicity from leaving his body. Text messaging wouldn’t suffice. It would do nothing for him at this point. A phone call would be better; he’d at least be able to hear her voice. Still, it wasn’t good enough. The only thing that would be was seeing her beautiful features with his own eyes. He felt so horrible. Awful. He thought life’s plan would be his enemy, but truthfully, it was him. He was his enemy. This was his fault. And, if she didn’t answer, he deserved nothing less.

Kagome gently tapped her finger against a key on her keyboard, not quite pressing into it, just hitting her nail against the plastic square for the sound as she sorted out her thought process before typing out the next sentence of her report. Her laptop screen was split in two; one side her Word document, about eight hundred words into a three thousand word minimum assignment, and the other side her internet browser with multiple tabs open to fully cover the topic. Add to that with her iTunes playlist minimized in the corner and running through, and the open notebook at her side with her scribbled notes from her previous lectures in this class, and she was completely in the zone. So much so, that when her Mac started chiming with an incoming FaceTime call, her phone coming alive with the same, loud notification - that was really just overkill - Kagome jolted with a startled gasp.

Then her heart sunk into her abdomen. Both pleasantly and disturbingly. This was her first time hearing from Inuyasha in weeks, and her first time seeing him since she left for home.

Quickly, Kagome pulled her hair out of its messy bun, scrunching her unruly waves and running her fingers through her self-cut bangs. She could only hope her face was looking okay at the moment, because she really didn’t have much more time to make herself look presentable before she missed the call entirely. As she paused her music and answered, she held her breath, waiting for the connection to set. Inuyasha’s face appeared on her laptop screen, his mouth covered by the sides of his curled fingers that he’d comfortably rested against, but she could clearly see the corner of his lips curve and his cheeks slightly push up when he smiled at seeing her. And, she sighed out happily.

He was in a dimly-lit room, his chest bare and birthmark visible at the very bottom of the camera. His silver hair was hued with the temperature of the rosy lighting, one of the ears atop his head giving a tiny flick at the sound of her joyful giggle. God, she’d missed him.

“There you are.” He softly rumbled, amber eyes gazing at her with adoration, and he dropped his hand, his expression reading one of subtle relief.

“Hi.” Kagome whispered, too elated to speak clearly. “How are you?”

Inuyasha held up a finger with a soft hum to quiet her. “Give me a minute. Stand up.”

Wordlessly, Kagome scrunched her nose bemusedly, her smile hardly faltering.

“I need to make sure you’re in one piece. Stand up.” The hanyou said clearly, raising his brows expectingly.

She replied with a gentle laugh, rolling her desk chair back and standing up for him.

He took as much of her in as he could, as much as the camera allowed. Her long, black hair, her gorgeous face, her neck, her shoulders that were donned in a green, flannel shirt that was a little too large for her and hung to about mid-thigh, the black tank top underneath, the short pajama bottoms that hardly covered much but looked comfortable as all hell, the thighs he loved so goddamn much. She was there. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to be able to physically feel her right now, to hold her.

When Kagome felt like he’d had enough, she sat back in her chair, pulling herself up close to her desk. “Good?”

“Good enough,” He said. “What are you doing? Are you busy?”

“No.” She fervently shook her head.

“Are you on your laptop or phone?”

“Laptop.”

“You’re doing homework, aren’t you?” Inuyasha chuckled, leaning his head to the side with a cock of his brow.

“Yes, but it’s not due until Friday. Don’t worry.” She quickly assured, not wanting him to think he was interrupting anything important. Of the classes she was currently registered in, this one ranked low in the difficulty aspect. The assignments were just tedious. Truthfully, even if it was important, she’d gladly push it aside for him.

He wasn’t going to try and argue against that. If she could talk, he was going to take it. This wasn’t the moment to be cautious, this was the moment to try and heal. “What time is it there?”

“A little passed eight. What about you? Are you in Europe?”

“Yeah. In London. It’s, uh, a little passed four here.”

“In the morning!?” Kagome pressed, inching slightly closer to her screen in exasperation.

He laughed, lazily running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

“What time do you have to work?”

“Gotta be there by seven. Don’t waste your breath telling me to go to sleep, I’m not hanging up until I’m good and ready.” Inuyasha stated, leveling Kagome with a stare that brought her to close her mouth. He could tell by the way her brown eyes fluttered downward, by the way she lightly pinched her lips together, by the way she glanced back up to him that she was silently grateful for his refusal. It was warming, but it increased the guilt he felt, and he couldn’t prevent the way it wavered his expression.

She’d caught it. Immediately, she’d noticed. “What’s wrong?” Her tone was soft, concerned.

“Nothing.” He dismissed. “How are you doing?”

“Inuyasha, what’s -“

“How are you doing?” He’d asked it in a way that told her he wasn’t looking for the broad aspect of her life in general. He was looking for how she was handling their separation, the ember in his eyes not quite glowing to their full potential, and she knew it wasn’t just the camera’s inability to capture their radiance. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to answer the way he wanted. If she thought about it, it hurt too bad. She didn’t want him to know that; she didn’t want him to try and shoulder the burden for himself.

“Well,” Kagome began with her tale. “I’ve been pretty busy with school. My internship doesn’t start until January, though, so I’m trying to appreciate the little downtime that I have right now. And, my classes this term aren’t so bad, they’re -“

“How are you doing?” Inuyasha inquired again, the words enunciated slowly, his tone progressively deepening with care.

“Busy.” She answered steadily. “Staying busy.”

He knew she was intentionally avoiding a direct answer. That bad, huh?

“Tell me, Kagome.”

She swallowed thickly, a yank on her chest reminding her that she wasn’t all that okay. She missed him so much. So fucking much. How could she tell him that it hurt not talking to him? How could she apply that pressure on top of everything else he had going on right now? She just couldn’t. They knew this was coming, they knew they wouldn’t be totally available for each other, you just never know how bad it will feel until you’re experiencing it. She wasn’t allowed to expect anything from him, and she understood that, but being apart and not knowing when the gap will end created an emptiness that was indescribably difficult to manage.

The longer she let his question sit, though, the harder it became to keep her expression straight. She felt it before she could stop it, the crinkle of her brow and the frown on her lips, then her eyes began to burn with brimming tears and she swiftly leaned out of the frame of the FaceTime window.

He took a small opportunity to curse himself while she wasn’t looking, while she was busy guarding her tears from him; something she should never feel she had to do. “Come back.”

She hummed a no.

“Right now.” He ordered gently, his voice gruff.

“Don’t worry. I’m good.” Kagome laughed, seemingly at herself, the sound wet. The arm still in view moved as she sloppily wiped her face, still laughing, and when she sniffled, it even brought him to chuckle lightly as he rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Babe -“

“See.” She came back into the frame with a smile, her face red but cleared of tears. “I’m fine.”

Inuyasha bit his lip, his chuckle that time more on the dubious side. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?” She asked, her smile fading.

“Because, you’re not fine and this is because of me.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Shut up,” He shook his head to quiet her. “Just listen, okay? I really fucked up. I thought it would be best if I backed off so getting over the hump of this would be easier. I didn’t know where that would leave us, but I, for some stupid fucking reason, had convinced myself that it was necessary.”

“Did it help you? Feel better, at least?” Inuyasha could see the compassion in her eyes, in the way she worried her bottom lip, in the genuine tone she held.

“Not one bit. I’ve never felt worse, actually. I can’t do it. I can’t stay away from you.”

“Inuyasha, you have your career. It’s not wrong of you to try and detach from a stressful situation, because unfortunately, that’s what this is. There’s no way around that.” She stated directly.

“Stop trying to make me feel better.”

“Stop trying to blame yourself.”

“Stop trying to justify my actions for me, Kagome.”

“Stop trying to act like your actions were malicious. Unless they were?”

“No, of course -“

“Then, shut up.”

He blinked, surprised at the growing heat in her tone.

“It’s not that I’m trying to justify what you did, I just understand why you did it. I can’t be upset at you for that. In retrospect, it’s really not all that bad. You didn’t make a promise to me -“

“I made multiple.” Inuyasha argued, cutting her off. “I told you we’d still talk, I told you we’d still see each other.”

Kagome huffed, her exasperation rising. “I really, really don’t understand what you’re getting at here, Inuyasha. Why are you so upset with yourself when we left each other knowing this was going to suck? I certainly didn’t know what the right thing to do for us was. I still don’t! We have conflicting schedules and lives right now, and from the moment we found out we were soulmates, you warned me that this thing between us wasn’t going to immediately work out. So, why are you suddenly villainizing yourself? It’s like you want me to be mad at you!”

Inuyasha leaned his chin into his palm, his mouth covered by his fingers as his golden eyes drifted to stare at the surface his phone was placed upon. His heavy sigh was emphasized, but Kagome remained quiet, waiting him out, letting him gather his thoughts. When he was ready, her soulmate lowered his hand, but he never looked back at her, his expression almost communicating shame.

“I could have been doing more. That’s just it. I could have been doing more. I avoided more thinking it would help, and I avoided the bare minimum thinking it was right for the long run. I can’t stand the thought that your sadness is worse than what it has to be because of the route I took. So, yeah.” Inuyasha met her gaze. “Maybe you being mad at me is what I want, because I can fix that. Ultimately, I feel like I need to fix something. But, on top of that, I feel so fucking helpless and stuck, and like anything I choose to do is wrong.”

Kagome had figured out pretty early on that Inuyasha wasn’t the type to openly show his feelings. He was smooth, he was passionate, but he was subtle with his messages. And, early on, she realized she was the lucky one that got to experience this side of him. Especially now, she could see his guard lowering so she could fully understand what was going on in his head; something she felt, if she wasn’t his soulmate, she’d have to work very hard to see after a significant amount of time and a significant amount of trust was built. Inuyasha was, by nature, protective. And, she could tell he was hard on himself. So, when he feels like he failed to protect her from harm in any way, shape, or form, he’s going to jump to take the heat for it. When the blame is on him, he can compensate to rectify the situation, tend to your wounds, step up and do better, but that’s just not logical. If he continued to do that, he’d eventually run himself dry. Kagome understood what he was getting at with his decision, and yes, it hurt to a degree, but she still didn’t see him as a bad guy. It wasn’t his responsibility to make sure everything was okay. In fact, he had good intentions.

“How can I help you right now? Tell me what you need to hear.” Kagome said evenly.

Inuyasha pondered for a moment, eyes flickering away and meeting hers again when he spoke. “Tell me the truth about how you’re doing. Don’t duck out of view. Be straight with me.”

She could already feel her eyes prickling with fresh tears, her face heating uncomfortably as she honed in on the emotions she’d swallowed over and over and over and over throughout the months. “I’m sad.” Her voice trembled, but she took in a deep breath to give him what he needed. “I’m really sad. I feel helpless, I feel stupid, I feel tired. I’m lonely.” She finally began to cry, and it took active effort not to hide it from him, terrified he’d feel responsible. “I miss you. And, I’m angry. I’m angry that we have to go through this in the first place, and all I want to do is call you so I can listen to you talk - and I don’t even care what the topic is or if you’re not even talking to me, but someone else - I just want to hear your voice. I don’t like that you’re upset, and I want to take it away from you just as much as you want to take it away from me, and not being able to is frustrating. But, if you expect me to blame you for any of this, that’s where you’ll succeed in making me mad at you. I know for a fact you would never intentionally do anything to hurt me, and you can’t get me to picture you in that light. Do I like that you stepped back? No. Of course, not. But, honestly, I didn’t even know it was an option to have more of you, so no harm - no foul. You tried, it didn’t work, and now you’re here. So, now what? Where do you want to go from here? What’s our next step?”

Inuyasha had been holding his breath, clenching his jaw shut as he digested Kagome’s powerful sincerity. At least twice during her admittance he’d considered buying the first available plane ticket to her, even if that meant he could only be there for an hour. He spoke on a whim, uncaring of the irrationality behind it if that’s how it appeared. He wasn’t going to listen to her pain and do nothing about it when, now, to him, the answer was obvious.

“We ditch our original idea that things won’t work until we’re done with our shit. When I said that, we’d just had our first night together. It didn’t sound sane then to jump into anything when we were confused, new to each other, and freaked the fuck out. Even as you left, it made sense to hold onto the idea to wait, but it’s just not working. The pull on our souls to be together is too strong.”

Kagome hastily wiped her face using the sleeves of her shirt, sniffling in an attempt to clear her emotions. “Inuyasha, we can’t drop what we’ve worked for. Especially you. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying we manage a long distance relationship. I’m going fucking crazy over here, Kagome. Fuck the boundaries, fuck the time difference, fuck anything that works against us. Why are we putting ourselves through this? God, it doesn’t fucking make sense! This is so stupid! If you want to call me, call me! I’m yours! If you’re lonely, let me keep you company the best way that I can! If I want to see that gorgeous smile of yours, I’m fucking going to! I’ll learn your schedule, and I’ll work through mine for you. I will never be too busy to tell you that I love you, it’s as simple as that. We’ll make this as easy as possible, I don’t want it overwhelming you with classes -“

“No, screw easy.” Kagome objected with a brusque shake of her head. “I don’t want easy, I want you.”

“So, yes?” Inuyasha breathed, and it was evident it held the release of a substantial amount of tension he’d been harboring with for far too long now.

“Yes.” Kagome laughed with relief, her shoulders dropping. “Did you think I’d actually say no?”

“I don’t know. It’d be pretty stupid of you if you did.” He joked, chuckling. Fuck, the sound of her giggle was like the most wonderful song he’d ever heard. “God, I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Soon.” She whispered.

“Not soon enough.”

“Does this mean nothing has to hold us back from each other now? I can send you messages without worrying about bothering you, and -“

“Hey, woah, wait.” Inuyasha’s brows furrowed, a frown marring his face as he cocked his head to the side in question. “I told you not to hesitate before. You’d never bother me.”

“I know, but it was still kind of confusing. I just wanted to tread carefully. Especially since I wasn’t hearing from you, so sending you texts or pictures just didn’t seem appropriate.”

The hanyou dropped his head down to the table, the sound of the bang coming through loudly on the speakers, and his ears wilted slightly as he groaned dramatically. “You’re kidding me. How many pictures did I fucking miss out on!?”

“No! None!” Kagome frantically tried to dispel his aggravation, waving her hands before her even though he couldn’t look to see. “I’ve hardly taken any pictures, or looked remotely presentable to have anything to show off, I swear! It was just an example!”

“Fucking liar.” He grumbled.

“No, I’m not lying! See,” Kagome grabbed her phone from beside her, unlocking it with her thumbprint and opening the photos app. Inuyasha glanced up at her with a grimace, disdain for himself written all over his face, but she ignored it as she showed him the screen, mindlessly scrolling through while trying to see where she was at in the small window of herself on the FaceTime camera. “It’s all stupid screenshots I save for later or send to Sango. There’s a couple pictures of myself the day this term started, but those were for my mom because she collects first day of school pictures. Then, we’re back in summer vacation. And then, that’s all before we even met.”

“Hold it!” Inuyasha abruptly demanded. Kagome stopped scrolling, pulling back her phone to see what he was looking at. “Go back down.”

“Hm?” She questioned, putting the screen back up to him so he could guide how far back he wanted her to go as she slowly slid her finger along the glass of her phone.

“A little more. There. The blue shirt. Let me see that one.”

Again, Kagome glanced at her phone, selecting the image he was looking at as she felt her cheeks flush. It was just as the weather began warming up and she drove ten hours home to surprise her mom for her birthday. Rightfully, she’d done her makeup for the event, her hair, and wore a cute blouse that fell off her shoulders to reveal the few freckles littering her skin beneath. And, in the selfie she’d taken, she’d ruffled her loose curls further, the smile she wore was a little on the sultry side, and the light hit her chocolate eyes just right. With the hint of embarrassment, Kagome presented the picture to Inuyasha. His growing, crooked grin ignited a flurry within her stomach, the sensation quickly traveling through her chest and over the surface of her entire body.

“Send it to me.” He said huskily.

“What? You want this one?”

“Like that’s even a question. Send it over.”

Flattered, she complied, texting it to his number. His smile brightened, then his FaceTime screen paused as he picked up his phone from the table and clicked her text. Though she couldn’t see him anymore, she could still hear him, and his exhaled breath upon seeing her photo had her ready to melt into a puddle on the carpet beneath her seat.

Inuyasha released a tantalizing chuckle, whispering a hoarse, “Fuck.”

“What?” Kagome giggled, her embarrassment increasing and her face growing hot.

“Just -“ He paused. “Fuck, baby.”

“Come back.”

“Hang on, I’m setting this as your contact picture. That way, whenever you text or call, this picture will pop up, and if anyone looks over at my phone, they’ll have a good moment to envy me when they realize what my girlfriend looks like.”

“Inuyasha!” She laughed, slapping her hands to her cheeks to hide the maddening blush.

“Hey, and that’s just your face.”

“Stop!”

“Man, if they saw your ass -“

“Inuyasha! Oh my god!”

He popped back onto her screen, setting his phone back where it had been with the most satisfied and cocky expression.

“Send me one of you.” She said, shaking her head and laughing the humility off.

“I will. Later. Promise.”

“Are you feeling better now?” Kagome asked with a genuine tone, her smile unfaltering.

“Yes and no.” He answered honestly. “I’m not going to one hundred percent feel better until I’m back with you. But, at least I have you now.”

“You’ve had me all this time, Inuyasha. I would have waited for you for as long as you needed me to.” She swore she saw a tint of pink ripen his cheeks. “Are you going to try to at least sleep a little before work?”

“I don’t want to hang up yet.” He replied, his voice dying away with his empowering sincerity.

“I know you don’t need as much sleep as a human, but you still need some.”

“I’m not that tired.”

“Have you been sleeping well lately?”

“Why do you want me to hang up so bad?” Inuyasha chuckled lightly.

“I don’t. Not at all. I haven’t had my fill of you yet, either. But, I know you. When you get stuck in your head about something, you don’t sleep well. Now, there’s less to keep you up.” Kagome said, her tone as gentle as ever.

“You worry too much.” He dismissed with amusement. “Ten more minutes, then I’ll head to bed. Happy?”

He meant what he’d said as he spoke it, but it was impossible to remember the time as he continued to speak with her, made her laugh, witnessed her beautiful smile that had him smitten all over again. She helped him forget his grief from just moments before, she helped him feel like time hardly missed a beat with them. She told him she loved him before pushing him to go to sleep after a while, and his heart felt as if it sputtered elatedly.

From then on, they communicated as often as they possibly could. He memorized her schedule like the back of his hand the moment she’d graciously sent it to him, and if anything ever ended up changing, like a canceled class, a fever that kept her bed-ridden, or maybe she was staying out longer to get lunch or dinner with a friend, she’d never hesitate to tell him. Not so he knew not to bother her, because it wasn’t like that with them. Both of them were a wonderful priority to each other. He just liked knowing she was safe. He liked knowing when she was home and when she got home. There was literally only one part of her schedule he did not like, and he let it be known. Twice a week, she had to take a late class. It was with a small group, it was in a building on campus located far from the parking lot, and it got out at nine-forty-five in the evening. Meaning, twice a week, she was alone and vulnerable on a ten minute walk back to her car, then again at her apartment complex during the few minutes it took for her to get inside her place. She called him paranoid and he pridefully accepted it. He’d rather be labeled paranoid from his need to protect his girl than careless.

Since it wasn’t practical to even request for her to drop the class and see if it had a better timeframe next semester - especially given she was in her final year of college and the courses she had left were pretty much solidified - he had Kagome call him the moment she got out of class. She tried to argue that it was too late, or too early in his timezone, but he didn’t give a crap. He usually got up around six-thirty in the morning, five-thirty on the days he went to the gym. A five-fifty wakeup call wasn’t going to impede on anything, and it took him telling her over and over he’d stay up all night if it meant he got to make sure she was safe to get it through her head that the fight she was putting up was pointless.

Honestly, what better alarm than a call from Kagome? What stronger sense of productivity than to start his day by keeping his girl company as she ended hers. She had the audacity to call him with a normal voice call the first couple times around, but he quickly fixed that by swapping it over to FaceTime. As shadowed as she was in the night, he wanted to be there with her in the best way possible. He honestly didn’t like her being too distracted while she walked, but he couldn’t help but want to hear her talk. And, she’d let it accidentally slip one time that she was a sucker for the groggy voice he had early in the morning. Naturally, he’d milk that for all it was worth and tell her a little about his day prior. As soon as she’d reach her car, he’d remind her to check the backseats; which she really didn’t need to be reminded to do. Nine times out of ten, she was already doing it to make sure no one had broken in. Then, he’d stay on the line with her for the fifteen minutes it took her to drive home and find parking in her complex, and by the time she was inside her apartment, he was usually sipping the last of his morning coffee. On a good occasion, Kagome would walk into a madhouse and secretly flip the camera around to sneak in glimpses of her best friend frantically attempting to work on last minute assignments due by midnight while she was strung on ramen noodles and late night espresso shots she really shouldn’t be allowed. The hardest part was swallowing his laughter until Kagome was safely shut inside her room. And, the sweetest part came when she’d give him this cute as shit nose scrunch as she smiled and told him to have a good day while eagerly awaiting his cheesy, cliche, timezone-inhibited reply of, “Get some sleep. I love you.”

Her midterms were hard on her, and he tried to support her through them the best he could, but her finals of the first semester were proving to test her limits. She was busier than ever with studying and assignments, she was exhausted, and a couple times she’d called him having a minor breakdown just because she knew he’d be able to talk her down and get her back to thinking semi-rationally. It was common in overworked and drained minds to be hard on yourself, he knew as well as anyone else. With their schedules at their most hectic yet, him heading meetings and really grinding down on a shit place his company acquired, texts weren’t often seen until hours later. Calls were always answered because he knew that if she was calling, with their plates being as full as they were, it was serious, but texts were unfortunately unanswered until both of them were home and had a small moment to breathe. That’s when things began to really weigh on them again. It went unspoken. On both ends. But, if he could feel the stress of not being able to even say he loved her while she was awake, if he could feel the torture of missing her even more than he already had before, he knew she could, too.

With the utmost amount of tenderness, Inuyasha began to put together a surprise care package with as many things he thought she’d enjoy that would fit in the box. She was in the midst of her exams, he knew, but given she’d been able to get a couple out of the way already, she was bound for the remainder the following week, and then she was heading home for Christmas break, he wanted to get this out to her as soon as possible. He was just missing one major component.

As he returned to his loft at the end of his long day, he texted Kagome to see if she was busy, and within the minute she responded saying she wasn’t. Stealing the opportunity, Inuyasha FaceTimed her, the call swiftly answered with the usual chime of the video connection. A laugh rose from his throat that he couldn’t swallow in time. The camera was angled downward on what he assumed was her laptop, exposing Kagome blinking sleepily as she laid stomach-down on the purple comforter of her bed, an arm rested beneath her temple as a pillow and a tired smile appearing on her lips.

“You just said you weren’t busy.” Inuyasha said, loosening the tie around his collar.

“I’m not.” Kagome giggled. “As you can see, I’m clearly doing nothing.”

“You’re napping.”

“I was simply resting my eyes.” She coolly stated, her brown eyes fluttering closed for a small moment.

“Were you studying?” Inuyasha chuckled, removing the tie entirely and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt with his free hand, finally feeling a little more comfortable.

“No, I was working on an essay. But, then the words started to blur together, and nothing made sense anymore, and next thing I knew, I was laying down.”

“Move the camera, I can’t see your whole face.” Without missing a beat, Kagome used her non-pillow hand to scoot her laptop a little to the left. God, even as spent as she was, she still looked breathtaking. Inuyasha smiled, sitting down on the couch and taking her in while she seemed so peaceful. “Perfect. You’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up.” She grumbled playfully. “Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Before I forget to ask, can you do me a favor?”

“Only if you talk in your British accent.”

“That was a one time deal, dummy.”

“Again.” Her tone was cute, and her nose scrunched in the manner that usually suckered him into anything. She even pushed herself to prop up her chin so she looked more awake, adjusting the camera accordingly, her elbow sinking into the thick blanket beneath her.

“I was drunk when I agreed to it in the first place.” He feebly attempted to argue, rolling his amber eyes.

“Take a shot!” Kagome encouraged.

“I’m not doing it.” He chuckled.

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Please?” She pushed on with her adorable voice, making it smaller, dragging out the word.

Inuyasha sucked in an inhale, flexing his jaw in an attempt to resist her. With every ounce of willpower her had, he shook his head to tell her no, exhaling his strain and smiling as he slid his tongue over his canine tooth. With a defeated huff and a pout, Kagome gave in.

“Fine. What do you want?” She asked teasingly.

“Your address.”

“Hm? You don’t have that?”

“I’ve never needed it before.” He laughed, the evidence of her groggy brain coming through.

“Oh?” She piqued, cocking a sly brow. “And, what would you happen to need it for now?”

“I’ve got something for you.”

“A Christmas present?”

“No. Your Christmas gift will be sent separately. This is just a gift.”

“What is it?” Kagome asked excitedly.

“None of your business.” He chuckled. “Send me your address.”

“So bossy.” She joked, grabbing her phone from beside her computer and sending him what he’d requested.

“Got it. Thanks, babe. You can go back to sleep now.”

“Wait, no. Don’t go yet.” Her eyes had grown larger, almost pleading, and Inuyasha had to wonder if she could ever give him an expression he wasn’t utterly weak for. “Unless you’re busy, then I totally understand.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do right now than stay on the phone with you, baby.” He grinned, his heart thundering as she beamed brightly and pushed herself to sit up for him.

Kagome came home from her final exam of the semester - of the year, really, considering when they returned from break, it’d be after New Years - feeling pumped for finally having everything out of the way while simultaneously ready for the longest nap of her life. All she needed to do was proofread her very last paper and press submit by tomorrow, and she was ready to head home for Christmas.

She’d stopped at Starbucks for a celebratory peppermint cappuccino, in light of the holiday, grabbing one for Sango while she was at it, because the poor girl was still knee deep in two of her remaining projects. As she entered their apartment, her best friend popped out from the little kitchen entry, clearly not intending to scare the shit out of her, but doing so in her powerful excitement.

“Hi! You got a package in the mail!” Sango shouted, a packet of spaghetti noodles held in her grip.

Kagome clutched her chest over her heart with her free hand, lucky she didn’t drop the carrier of their hot drinks all over the place in her terror. “How many?”

“Noodles? I don’t know, I mean I’ve never tried to count -“

“Espresso shots!”

“Oh. Oh! I don’t want to talk about it.” Sango swiftly dismissed, grimacing.

“How many!?”

“Enough to give an elderly man a heart attack, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’m gonna kill Miroku for getting you that thing.” Kagome seethed, finally recovering and dropping her bag by the tiny dining room table.

“Is that a coffee for me I see?” Sango sang, dancing her way over to her best friend.

Kagome groaned, taking her drink out of the carrier and begrudgingly handing it to the over-caffeinated girl. “A mistake.”

“Thanks, friend!” She squeaked. “Open your package, I want to see what’s in it! I saw a familiar name written on top!” Again, she was singing, more so to be teasing this time but Kagome only laughed.

“Did you mean, mine?”

“No! Oh my god, it’s on the coffee table.”

Kagome’s attention turned, noticing for the first time a decently-sized, brown box waiting for her in the living room. Sauntering over, she looked at the labels, Inuyasha’s name and return address sitting in the upper-left corner. Truthfully, she’d forgotten to expect anything from him, the thought of a gift pushed to the back of her mind by her insane schedule.

She flicked up the packing tape with her nails, peeling it from the top and opening the package to reveal several things waiting for her inside. She grabbed for the shirt folded nicely and crammed on the side. At first glance, it seemed large and comfy, but then when she turned it over to see the band name on front, she realized it was one of his favorite, old shirts he’d worn while they were together. Instantly, she pursed out her bottom lip in adoration, hugging it close.

“Wait, there’s a letter!” Sango pointed gleefully, sipping her coffee as she watched Kagome open her gift.

Kagome gently placed the shirt over the rim of the box, grabbing for the folded paper to open it and see a little letter written in her love’s handwriting.

A couple notes as you open this:

– Snacks for your downtime.

– A new heating pad for your cramps since I fucking KNOW you haven’t gotten rid of that shitty one yet.

– Vanilla body spray from a little shop out here, because I know you like that scent. And, I like it on you.

– Two of my shirts. They smell like me. Wear them to bed and I’ll be right there with you. Send me pictures in them, too. I mean it.

– Chapstick, because you go through that shit like crazy. It’s the kind you like, don’t freak out.

– The last one is self explanatory. Open it. Put it on. Tap it three times.

Kagome had to resist hugging the piece of notebook paper to her chest, wanting to hold the sweet gesture as close to her as possible but refusing to crinkle the page. She gently placed it on the table, moving the shirt she’d already looked at to the side and grabbing for the other one. It was another band tee, a little less worn than the other but his homing scent radiating from it and bringing tears to prickle at her eyes. She bunched beneath her nose, really taking it in while she fought to hold her composure, too happy for words.

Finally setting it aside, she reached for the cute bottle of body spray, taking a little whiff of the perfume that smelled so sweet before setting it down and reaching for the little packet of chapstick, giggling along with Sango. He’d sent over a package of chocolate chip cookies, and two bags of chips she’d never had before but she was excited to try tonight, having already planned on putting on a movie and vegging out. The new heating pad made her laugh again, the box in pristine condition. Then, lastly, a small, blue and purple, gradient-blurred box sat alone in the package, the image of two wrist bands posted on the front.

Kagome carefully opened it, greeted with a black bracelet of sorts as she removed it completely from the packaging, the top of it harboring a small, oval widget.

“What is it?” Sango asked.

“I don’t know. He told me to put it on and tap it three times.” Kagome shrugged, handing it to Sango so she could strap it securely around her left wrist. As it was fastened, Kagome went ahead and tapped her finger to the face of the device, watching a thin strip of blue light illuminate over the surface she touched.

It was hardly thirty seconds later that her phone began to ring, Inuyasha’s contact picture filling the screen. Shocked and joyous, Kagome lunged to answer her phone.

“Hi!”

“You got it.” He hummed, the soft sound of chatter and passing cars filtering through in the background.

“How’d you know?”

“Still haven’t figured it out yet?” At her lack of an answer, Inuyasha chuckled. “Okay, are you wearing it?”

“Yeah.”

Three slow vibrations tickled the part of her wrist beneath the oval device, a purple light shining with each sensation. Kagome’s jaw dropped with her breathy gasp, pure bliss written all over her face. “Oh my god, was that you!?”

“Yup.” He laughed.

“You tapped it three times!?”

“Yup.”

“It’s like I can feel you!” She was so happy, so absolutely euphoric to receive some form of touch from her soulmate, her tummy fluttering wildly and body enticingly warm. There was no fighting the tears that flooded her eyes, her heart so wonderfully full.

“Are you crying?” He chuckled as she sniffled.

“Shut up!” She laughed. “I love it all so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, baby. This way, whenever we miss each other but are too busy to talk, we can just give this thing a few taps and we’ll literally feel it. Especially, since you’ll be starting your internship next month. This thing’s really gonna come in handy.”

Kagome gave out a pouty whimper, grabbing his shirts and curling up on the couch to hold them close. “I just love you so much. Thank you.” She playfully whined.

“I love you, too.” He laughed.

“I can’t believe you gave me your favorite shirt.”

“I can’t believe you’re about to send me a ton of pictures in it.” He countered, his tone completely serious.

“With or without pants?”

“Slut.” Sango joked, walking away and downing her hot beverage.

“What do you think?”

“With or without a bra?”

“Fuck.” He whispered, taken. It was a thin, white shirt. If she wore it well and wore it right, he might be able to catch a glimpse of something he was sorely aching for.

“Got it.” She teasingly said. “Are you out and about right now? It’s kind of late there, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m at a bar with some friends. Stepped outside to call you.”

“Are you having fun?”

“Not as much fun as I’d be having with you.”

“Go back inside,” Kagome giggled. “Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome.” He breathed, content.

“Let me know when you get home safe, please.”

“I will.”

“British accent?”

“Not drunk enough.” Inuyasha laughed.

“Dang it! Okay, love you. Bye.”

“Love you.”

Winter break was relaxing and necessary for a reset, and whenever Inuyasha wanted to text, call, or FaceTime, she was available for him. Their bracelets didn’t get much use then, but Kagome still refused to take it off unless it needed to charge. Once she got back into the swing of school for her very last term, was introduced to her internship and the responsibility she held, was thoroughly buried in homework she struggled to catch up on during her off days, that’s when they came through.

If she ever tapped it, he was incredibly fast to respond with touches of his own, as if he was right there for support. She adored him. He was so amazing. He was so kindhearted and good. Her favorite time to receive those sensations from him were late at night, sometimes while she was dozing. There was nothing better than being woken by sweet vibrations from the love of her life who was just getting started on his own routine on his side of the world. He woke up thinking about her, and there was no better feeling. And, if she was ever looking for a little excuse to hear his voice, she’d send him three taps in the dead of night. The best time was between two and three in the morning. The first time she’d done it, she’d come out of a nightmare. As soon as she’d opened her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom, she’d immediately forgotten the happenings of which, but she was still awake, still slightly shaken, and still looking for a smidge of comfort. She tapped three times, he tapped back, and she sank into her bedding happily. But, then her phone started chiming with a FaceTime call from him. She reached up, flicking on the lamp on her bedside table and answered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, donned in his business attire and sitting at a desk, the look of concern etched on his face.

“Hm?” Her voice was rusty but small, the vaguest, confused grimace on her lips.

“Why are you awake?” He chuckled, slightly recovering.

“I had a bad dream.” Kagome pouted. “I just wanted to touch you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His grin was tender. “I was worried something had happened. Are you okay now?”

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’m right here if you need anything.”

God, it was so serene to hear that. And, she lapped it up, realizing that he’d reach out to see that she was fine if he noticed she was up at an off time. She was often awake super late working on assignments, or studying when a test was approaching. Only a couple times had she actually gone out with friends - which he was typically aware of. But, if it had been a little while since she’d last done it - because, he’d catch on if she did it too often - she’d send him some sensations, waiting for her own in reply, and then her phone would light up with a call from him to check on her.

Around spring break, blessed spring break, she was packing up to head home again. She was just two weeks away from completing her four month internship, and her wonderful, gracious, brilliant supervisor arranged it so she could work them when spring break ended, so she could see her family for the allotted time off. Her younger brother was interviewing for a couple of colleges, utilizing their grandfather’s connections to their fullest capacities, and her mom thought it would be a good idea to make it an entire family outing. As far as she knew, they were going to Connecticut, and though she wasn’t sure what all there was to do out there, she was still just looking forward to the event.

Inuyasha rolled his golden eyes as his brother droned on and on, hoping the motion wasn’t too obvious behind the restaurant menu. The idiot literally flew him out for a lunch meeting. A lunch meeting. The U.K. to Chicago for a lunch meeting. Maybe this was a glimpse at his future when he took partnership at the company, maybe this was intended to be purposeful toward his increasing leadership roles, or maybe Sesshomaru made it a hobby to waste peoples’ time. Honestly, he was willing to bank on the first suggestion, and even the second - his spite just sprouted the third, but it was hard to tell with his non-communicative brother. Everything was basically just left up to surprise.

Only once in the last fifteen minutes had he been addressed, and everything else Sesshomaru discussed had basically nothing to do with him, nor was it information anyone at the table would necessarily deem valuable. After the redeye flight he’d sat on, the dull walkthrough of the facility Sesshomaru was currently whipping into shape, and the headache Jaken was causing just by existing, all Inuyasha wanted was a fat lunch to make it all worth it. Also, he’d pay someone to tell his brother that not every update needed to be a fucking meeting.

Knowing they were still ages away from ordering anything more than water, Inuyasha propped his cheek in his palm, glancing out the window he sat next to. His golden eyes mindlessly swept over passing people, the charming, cobblestone street a good home for boutiques and cafe’s to attract attention. Older women wore smiles as they chatted with their companions, men walked hand-in-hand with their partners, young girls filtered into shops, and Kagome’s bright grin as she picked on the guy next to her even managed to clear the annoyed frown from his face.

His heart stopped. Kagome? What the fuck?

There was an exhilarating jolt that coursed through his body, his heart remembering it’s purpose and pumping powerfully against his ribcage as he studied the girl as best as he could from where he sat. Was it her? Long, black hair, slim figure, kind of short - he’d groan loudly if he could have from his building agitation. These were all general factors of identification. He needed to see her face or hear her voice.

Turn around. Turn the fuck around.

And, as if she sensed his need, she twirled around as they continued on, her smile as beautiful as ever in the dress she donned as she spoke with the elderly man behind her, walking backward to keep up. It was her.

It was Kagome.

As calmly as he possibly could, which was a feat on its own, he whispered into his brother’s ear that he needed to check in on something with his own facility. Work-related meant there was a good chance Sesshomaru wouldn’t gripe. His brother gave him an empty stare, and Inuyasha pressed that it was important, to which Sesshomaru gave a nod of approval and momentarily dismissed him to slip outside. The second his foot was out the door, the hanyou bolted, chasing after that sweet scent of hers that he could pinpoint anywhere. They couldn’t have gotten too far, she had an old geezer on her tail. Still, the further down the road he got, the more narrow and crowded the street became.

A huge part of him couldn’t even believe they were so close to one another right now. It was hard to digest; hard to understand that this was real. His heart was pounding, his stomach was in a violent flurry, his fingers were shaking with a debilitating need to grab onto her and never let go. His eyes scoured the area, looking for his girl, his love, his soulmate. If he ever met fate, he was going to punch that fucker in the throat and then thank her for the opportunity - because, as kind as she seemed to be, she was still a petty ass bitch for putting them through this.

Free from the claustrophobic street and coming into a large, open, touristy square, he spotted her from behind a good ways ahead. Without thinking, unable to stop himself even if he tried, he shouted her name, his lungs pumping air fervently as the anticipation for her to see him knocked the wind from his diaphragm.

Hearing a thunderous bellow of her name, Kagome abruptly stopped walking, startled while a frenzy of flutters erupted in her abdomen. She spun around, searching the area for the voice, the call, her mom asking what was wrong beside her but she couldn’t answer.

Her breathing stopped, her heart sputtered, her body heated, and the biggest surprise overtook her when she spotted Inuyasha where they’d come from at the far end of the square. She didn’t even pause to process. Kagome ran to him, sprinted, enveloped in ecstasy when she saw him running toward her, too.

He’d braced to catch her and she threw herself into his arms, her own encircling his neck as he squeezed her tight, spinning her around once before setting her toes back to the ground.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here!?” She cried, unwilling to let go yet.

“I flew out for a meeting; I’m just here until tonight!” Inuyasha replied, holding her so tight his body curved protectively around hers.

“I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I didn’t want to mention it! It was last minute, and it’d be like salt in the wound! I thought you were in Connecticut, anyway!”

“No, I had it wrong!” She laughed, more from the overwhelming happiness than anything else. They finally let go of each other, but Inuyasha cradled her jaw with his hands, keeping her to him, and Kagome held onto his forearms, tightening her grip to attempt and still her trembling fingers. “His Connecticut interview is on a different date. This was apparently a Chicago interview trip all along.”

“You dummy.” He laughed, pulling her in for the kiss of a lifetime.

He breathed her in, holding her close, his shoulders curling over her as she whimpered beautifully into the breathtaking kiss. It heated him thoroughly, making him feel whole for the first time since August.

“I swear,” She sighed as they broke apart, but he interrupted her with another kiss. “I texted -“ Another kiss, this time accompanied with a tiny growl to shut her up. It only made her giggle. “You.”

“I haven’t been able to check my phone. I’m so sorry.” He murmured breathlessly, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I just can’t believe you’re here!” She squealed, bouncing to hug him again.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve missed you so goddamn much.” He laughed, engulfed in sheer bliss. “Was that your family I saw you with?”

“Yeah.” Kagome smiled, allowing him to let go, though their hands quickly sought the other’s out, fingers pleasantly entwined for a sense of completeness.

“I’d like to meet them.” He said with a quick peck to her cheek before gesturing for her to lead him over. She was giddy, practically skipping as she guided him through the square to where her mother, grandfather, and brother waited; two of which looking more confused than anything while the awaiting woman seemed nothing less than sweetly content.

“I’ve never seen my daughter run to anyone so fast in my life. You must be Inuyasha.” Kagome’s mother chuckled, the sound smooth.

“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He greeted kindly, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Inuyasha, this is my mom, my grandpa, and my brother, Sota.” Kagome said.

Her younger brother held a grimace of bemusement, and she rolled her eyes, her head lolling to the side in mild exasperation.

“My boyfriend.” She clarified.

“Oh!” Sota’s expression cleared, like a lightbulb literally flickered on over his head. “Cool. The sweet-talker.”

“Oh my god.” Kagome mumbled, tucking her embarrassment behind Inuyasha’s arm as he laughed.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” The hanyou agreed with a smug grin, shrugging. It wasn’t a lie; he knew the level of his own game.

“Yeah, my sister never shuts up about you. How do you turn it off?” Sota sarcastically asked.

Kagome’s jaw dropped in shock and Inuyasha pinched his lips together to stifle his laugh. A look of humored fear struck her younger brother as she narrowed her eyes, silently mouthing the words, “I’m gonna fucking hit you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, boy.” The old man greeted, interrupting the siblings and taking Inuyasha’s hand to shake. “It’s a wonderment to see proof that the concept of soulmates still exists in this era.”

“I can’t agree more.” He nodded earnestly, squeezing Kagome’s hand as he still held it.

“If my son were still here, he’d damn the whole thing and insist on giving you a hard time to make sure you deserved Kagome.”

“I guess you’ll have to do it for him then. I’d happily take the challenge.”

“Shit, you are a sweet-talker.” Sota murmured, casually ducking behind their mother when Kagome sent him an incredulous glare to shut his mouth.

“I like to hear that.” Her grandfather stated.

“Are you here on business?” Her mother asked in reference to his professional attire, dressed to the nines thanks to Sesshomaru’s need to be uncomfortable, her genuine smile never having once faded.

“I am. Yes. I saw you all passing by the window of the restaurant we were having a meeting in. I couldn’t stop myself from running out.”

“What?” Kagome gasped. “You were currently in the meeting you were flown out for? And, you just ditched it!?”

“Don’t worry!” He laughed, giving her hand another comforting squeeze. “I told Sesshomaru I had to take a work call, so he thinks I’m on the phone.”

“Your brother was in the meeting, too!? How much longer can you pull this off before he grows suspicious!?”

Inuyasha pulled the cellphone from the pocket of his slacks, his humored expression deadpanning as he noticed a recent text from Sesshomaru telling him to wrap up the call so they could get on with business. He shifted an apologetic frown toward Kagome, pressing a long squeeze to her palm.

“Thought so.” She compassionately smiled.

“I’m sorry.” Came his whisper.

“Mama, I’m gonna walk him back, okay?”

“No, you don’t -“

“Alright, dear. We won’t go far.” Her mother beamed, waving a goodbye.

“It was so nice to finally meet you all.” Inuyasha politely said before turning around, dragging his soulmate off with him.

She hugged his arm close, the body heat of hers radiating through his suit. They didn’t say much on their walk back, which he intentionally took at a leisurely pace. It was a moment to respect; to savor. He wanted to memorize the prints of her fingertips that held his hand, every ridge and line of her skin engraved into his own. He wanted to absorb every ounce of warmth she had to offer, and be privileged to remember the exact rhythm that her lungs worked at. And, when they neared the restaurant, he physically felt the wrenching sputter of her heart, and though he knew it was from ache, he wanted to remember that, too. Because, it was for him. Because, she loved him. Because, she didn’t want say goodbye or any variation of the word. Because, it helped him realize that he was truly the luckiest bastard in existence.

Inuyasha turned around to face her, his hands instantly cradling her jaw and threading through her soft hair. “I’m sorry this was so short. I’m so sorry, Kagome.”

“Stop. Are you kidding me?” She lightly giggled. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you until you finished up in Europe. Even if this was short, I’m so happy right now.”

“You promise?” He asked for his own reassurance, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Pinky promise.”

Inuyasha curved her chin up in his grasp, kissing her deeply, taking every last bit of her in as he could. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her body pressed against his, everything.

“Get in there, business man.” She breathed, gently rubbing the tip of her nose against his.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much.” Kagome placed one last, sweet kiss to his lips before giving him an encouraging nudge in the direction of the door. “See you later.”

“Tap twice to let me know you’re back safe with your family.”

“I will. Go.”

“Wait, one more.” He laughed, reaching for Kagome and pulling her in for a final, hungry kiss. She melted in his grasp, sighing delightfully, fucking with his mental stability. “Now I’ll go.” He rumbled sedately.

Composing himself, Inuyasha calmly entered the restaurant, crossing to the side his meeting was held on and taking his seat at the window with an apologetic look for the inconvenience. He was glad Sesshomaru didn’t ask questions; for once grateful for the general look of disinterest his brother’s face had seemed to be stuck in for as long as he could remember.

Three slow sensations tickled his left wrist and Inuyasha reflexively went to give them back, stopping himself as he looked out the window. Across the street, Kagome stood in her floral dress, the breeze blowing gorgeous strands of dark hair into her face. With a warm smile, she bit her lip, tucking her hair behind her ear before waving to him. A grin grew on his face, one he knew wasn’t subtle at all but who the fuck was he to care? That was his girl, his Kagome. Without removing his eyes, Inuyasha tapped his device three times, watching her brown eyes flutter down to see it illuminate and then smile even wider before gifting him with one last glance, and walking away.

From that point on, things were easy. Easier. It was still hard to be apart, but the sense that everything was going to be perfectly fine settled any nerves that had the tendency to get aggravated. Kagome’s schedule gradually cleared as she finished her internship and locked away the experience under her belt, and her classes weren’t as strenuous as the end of the school year approached. She was freaking out a little to try and lock down a job after graduation, as any graduate would be, but calming her down had become a simple task for Inuyasha. Frankly, he wasn’t worried about a damn thing anymore. He wanted Kagome to experience that level of tranquility, too. Everything was bound to fall in line for them from this point on, within their relationship and out, and if it didn’t happen organically, Inuyasha would personally see to fixing it, himself.

Interestingly enough, a plan was set in motion. A chain began to form, unbeknownst to both of them. Until he received a call from a number he didn’t recognize. On a whim, he answered, surprised to hear the soothing voice of Kagome’s mother on the other end; apparently having had Sango play the in-between intelligence that stole his number from Kagome’s phone. With the simple question she presented, the offer on the table, the hanyou cleared his schedule with no debate necessary. His answer was an immediate, “I’ll be there.”

Kagome stood with her graduating friends, waiting for the call that directed them all to get in line in the respectful categories of their majors, donned in celebratory dresses - and button-ups for the guys - beneath their gowns, caps held in their hands until absolutely necessary to put them on and ruin their hair. All of them were proud, joyful, excited, and albeit slightly nervous. Of course, as the ever so reliable one of the group, Sango pulled through with a small - and easily concealable - bottle of tequila. All of them pretended to be surprised that she would pull this stunt, but it would be a lie if anyone would expect anything less of her. Especially on such a jubilant day. Everyone took a straight swig from the bottle, passing it along to the next person until the circle was complete and everyone felt a little more pumped and prepared to cross the stage and wrap up their college career.

After the ceremony, the cheers, the jumps for joy, and the loud pops of confetti that damn near gave everyone a heart attack, students filtered out into the the courtyards to find their families. Kagome was dragged to the side with Sango and Miroku to wait, shadowed by trees in the large lawn dozens of students spaciously inhabited. Multiple times, Kagome felt she should try to find her family, worried they’d gotten lost in the crowd and maybe wandered to a different courtyard, which wasn’t difficult to do at her large school, but Sango insisted she stay put and just wait, claiming she was worrying too much. All she could do was constantly check the phone in her hand to make sure she didn’t somehow miss any notifications from her mom or younger brother.

Moments later, the warm voice of her mom called her name and Kagome beamed with happiness, running to hug her mother, hoping she’d succeeded in making her proud with her accomplishment. Her brother hugged her next, and then her grandfather kissed her cheek, all of them rosy in the face from smiling too much.

“Who’s the stud?” Sango flirtatiously asked, waltzing up to casually join the group and nudging her arm.

Kagome looked at her curiously, then followed the path of her eyes when Sango notched her chin to her left. Against a tree not too far away, a handsome man with short, silver hair leaned, an infamous, crooked grin adorning his face while his arms were nonchalantly crossed in front of his chest. He wore dark jeans with a light, untucked, button-up shirt, dressy enough for the occasion while still maintaining comfort.

“Oh my god!” She cried, carelessly dropping the things in her hands into Sango’s grasp and running over to her cunning boyfriend. “You’re here! You’re here!”

Inuyasha met her halfway, stealing her into a tight embrace as she still bounced on her feet, too excited for stillness, laughing.

“When did you get here!? I FaceTimed you this morning!”

“I know, I was bunkered in your room at your mom’s house.”

“You were at my mom’s!?” Kagome pulled away, completely taken aback.

“It was her idea for me to surprise you.” The hanyou couldn’t bite back his amusement, chuckling and ecstatic that they’d pulled it off without an inkling of suspicion.

Kagome spun around, pinning her best friend with an audacious stare. “You knew, didn’t you!?”

“Of course, I knew! I played a roll in getting him out here!” Sango laughed.

“And, I just knew because that’s my right.” Miroku added, throwing his arm over Sango’s shoulders.

Kagome, too grateful for words and hoping her smile showed all the thanks she could possibly give, spun back around to Inuyasha, hopping back into a hug and robbing a kiss from him. “I can’t believe you’re here! Did you watch?”

“From start to finish. I’m so proud of you!”

“How long are you here for!?”

“Two days. You’ve got me for two days, baby.” Inuyasha squeezed her tight, pulling apart so he could kiss her on the forehead.

Sango and Miroku had parted to find their own families, and Inuyasha and Kagome enjoyed a night out to dinner with her own, celebrating her achievement before she headed back to her own apartment, rightfully dragging Inuyasha home with her.

They were merely in the hallway outside of her apartment before it hit them like a freight train, maddening desire catching up with them after months and months. Their lips had crashed into each other’s, their kiss heated and loving and mind numbingly hot. She was stumbling backward to get to her front door while Inuyasha held firmly around her waist, the two of them actively refusing to part until they absolutely had to - which just so happened to be when she dropped her keys while trying to unlock the door with one hand.

They both laughed, wonderfully flustered, and though he let her go so she could reach for the lanyard that held her keys, Inuyasha took residence behind her, his fingers gripping her hips and pinning his body to hers. His job was to make it difficult for her to get anything done, because in his eyes, he wouldn’t be doing it right if she could concentrate through his ministrations. Lips grazed over the tender flesh of her neck, his searing breath trailing over tended to spots and making her quiver where she stood. Kagome’s fingers were fumbling over keys, and he just fucking knew his girl was biting her lip to keep from making a peep.

God, he was so hard already, ready to fuck her over and over. And, over. And, over. And, if she asked nicely, one more time. He had so much pent up frustration for her to take in, and sleep was for the wicked. Her neck tasted so good, her reactions - stifled as they may be - made him feel borderline feral.

Finally, Kagome unlocked her door, throwing it open and spinning around to claim Inuyasha’s mouth and pull him through, allowing him to shut and lock the bolt.

“Sango?” He murmured into her kiss.

“Not home.” She breathed.

“Sure?”

“She’s smart. She’s not home.”

“Oh? Yeah?” His husky tone piqued in ruttish interest, one of his hands coursing through her hair to snag blissfully at the back. “You already knew what was gonna happen, baby? My little slut.”

Kagome could only reply in a moan, gripping the front of his shirt as she tried to guide him to her bedroom without tripping. She’d left her cap and gown in her car, leaving her donned only in the new dress she’d gotten just for the occasion. It was form-fitting, hugging every curve of hers beautifully, accentuating her perfect tits, her grabbable ass, the straps thin and the hem ending above mid-thigh. Through the door of her bedroom, he wasted no time in locating the zipper, dragging it down her back to release the dress’s enviable grasp on her. The straps fell from her shoulders easily, and Inuyasha gladly dragged them over her arms, flawlessly pushing the dress down her chest, her waist, her hips, and to the floor where she stepped out of it and kicked her flats off. Her breasts were concealed by a strapless bra, and after she eagerly undid his shirt and shoved it off of him, he yanked the useless delicate down to reveal the gorgeous and tempting sight of her hardened nipples. Inuyasha’s mouth instantly claimed one, not bothering to take his time. He was needy for her. Too much time played a cushion between them and he needed the fervent reminder of what she tasted like, how she felt while she laid helplessly beneath him as he fucked her, the erotic sounds she made when he hit just the right spot that made her clutch the bedding and arch her back.

Inuyasha pulled her to follow him as he sat on the edge of the mattress, sucking and using his tongue to flick her nipple within his mouth. Without instigation, she straddled his lap, allowing him to do whatever he wanted, and he rewarded her by grabbing her ass and maneuvering her to grind against his erection. His jeans hindered the sensation he craved, but the way she trembled told him how much she loved it all.

Easily, he unhooked the bra still wrapped beneath her supple breasts, unable to remove the wretched thing fast enough, and switched to pay attention to her neglected nipple. His hands made home on her ass, massaging, giving a little spank, but mindful to be frugal in how often he allowed her to grind into him. He’d stop her if she tried to do it herself, and just to show her he was in charge, he would sometimes only move her in simple, light motions that gave her limited satisfaction. The pleading whimper she made was music to his ears, and he gave a taunting chuckle in response each time. If only she knew he was just getting started with her.

“You miss me, baby?” He whispered hoarsely. Kagome whined, almost gasping as he littered steaming kisses over her chest. “No, no. I asked you a question. Answer it.”

“Yes.” She replied breathlessly. “I missed you so much.”

“Good girl. I missed you, too. All those pictures you send me almost make me lose my mind. I was so fucking close to buying a ticket to see you when you sent me the ones of you touching yourself. You know the ones?” Another keen, breathy and voiceless as he nipped her ribcage lightly. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She sighed at the exact moment he ground her against him.

“The ones where I know what you’re doing, but I don’t get to see anything. Not a fucking thing. You’re such a little tease, you know that?”

That time, Kagome gave a satisfied and sultry giggle, licking her lips in response.

“Oh, you do? You’re a little too proud of yourself there, baby girl. You like driving me crazy?” His voice was deep, throaty, driving her wild and Kagome could barely manage a pout while she nodded that time.

“You wanted me to buy that ticket to you, didn’t you?”

Another nod, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as he pushed his hand between her pussy and his pelvis, dragging his fingers over her lace panties to taunt her as she created the respected space to allow him, again, to do whatever the hell he wanted to her.

“All so I could fuck you?” That time he whispered, feeling his hot breath bounce off her soft skin. “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, come on now. You can do better than that.”

“Inuyasha.” She trembled, her hips bucking mildly when he applied a little more pressure to her core.

“Do it.”

“Please.”

“Fucking beg me.”

“Please.”

“Give me more, baby.”

“I want you so bad.” She whined, her fingernails raking over his shoulders.

“I know you do.” Inuyasha gently pushed her to stand, following closely, one of his hands going into her hair to softly grip while his other undid his jeans, all the while leading her backwards toward the far wall. “But, that’s not what I asked. You need to beg me for this cock.”

“Please. Please, I want it so bad. I’m begging you. I’ve missed you so much. I need you.” The plead was almost too genuine, each waver to her tone like a lick of fire to his flesh, and he smiled arrogantly, tightening his grip on her hair and pulling her in for a feverish kiss.

He pinned her to the wall, pressing his body against hers, feeling the way her chest rose and fell with each heavy sigh. In his devotion to make sure she was going to get everything from him, including a refreshment course on how powerfully he worshipped her body, he steadily dropped to his knees, kissing down along the way. To drag those wanton breaths from her lungs, he place scalding kiss after kiss over the cloth of her panties, teasing her before giving in with a content chuckle. After pulling them down her gorgeous legs, Inuyasha licked his lips, propping one of her thighs over his shoulder as he set to his delectable feast. Fuck, she tasted so ungodly delicious, bringing a deep groan to rumble from his throat. He alternated between flattening his tongue to drag it over her entire pussy and playing with her clit with the very tip, and when her legs quickly began to tense and wobble, he wondered just how much she’d be able to take. He held her thighs, taking a deep lap with his tongue and then sucking on her clit, swallowing her juices. In the sexiest voice, the most desperate moan he’d heard from her yet, Kagome cursed, her hand gripping at his silver hair.

“Fuck, baby. Please.” She rasped, trying to pull him up.

Like a sucker, he complied, drowning her in a deep kiss while his hand curved around her throat. Kagome’s adventurous hands scraped down his bare sides, blindly making sure he’d undone his pants before finding the band of his boxers and reaching through to pull out his cock. Her palm was hot and he was throbbing. Using one hand brought a groan from his throat, and as she incorporated a second one, he couldn’t prevent himself from rolling into her grip, captivated by her mind numbing touch.

Inuyasha pushed her hands away, taking the liberty to curl her arms around the back of his neck as he leaned down, picking her up by the thighs and pushing her solidly against the wall for support. Without missing a beat, he gingerly pushed inside of her, hissing an unrestrained, “Shit!” Her legs wrapped around his hips, his girl ready to take him all in, and the sight of her mouth hanging open from the blissful intrusion had him going mad.

He moved his palms upward, gripping her ass as he began to thrust into her. It almost felt like it had during their first time together; so lost in each other it was impossible to stop. So enraptured, so taken that it would be debilitating to hold back. He could see Kagome losing herself, keening, grasping him tighter as her head dropped to his shoulder. Fuck, she was already shaking, enjoying herself too much, and it brought a wicked grin to Inuyasha’s face.

“You like that?” He teased.

“Harder.” She shockingly answered, lightly digging her nails into the back of his shoulders.

He had an unhinged need to give her exactly what she wanted. She was light in Inuyasha’s arms, easy to move, easy to manipulate, easy to fuck, but for better grounding, he further trapped her placement against the wall, their gasping mouths just centimeters apart as he thrusted deeper into her with nearly-bruising force.

“That what you want?”

“God, yes.” Kagome mewled, allowing her head to rest against the wall, a sinful smile growing on her face.

Inuyasha lavished her open neck and throat with adoring kisses, nips, licks, and sucks, intentionally leaving his mark. She was his. He wanted Kagome covered in his hickies, he wanted her smothered in his scent, he wanted the world to know that fate didn’t have to play a part in their union; Inuyasha would have willingly chosen Kagome time and time again.

Feeling the searing and overwhelming pleasure of her pussy claiming him, he pulled away from the wall the smallest amount; enough to give him room to play. He moved her hips, bouncing her on his dick as if she were the one fucking him, absorbed in the way her entire body responded. She was trembling, her voice broken, her legs squeezing him harder, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and as she sucked in a shivering breath to hold, Inuyasha claimed her mouth, kissing her as she came on his cock.

Her legs were unstable, wobbly, but he set her down anyway, encouraging her to wrap her arms around his waist so he could support her as he guided her over to the bed, languid kisses peppered as they went. As they reached the mattress, Inuyasha smiled into his kiss, spinning her around and pushing her to bend over the edge of it. Kagome’d caught herself on her hands, temptingly biting her lip as she glanced over her shoulder at him before crawling further onto the bed to brace on her knees as well. Inuyasha shoved his pants and boxers down a littler further so they were out of the way, giving his cock a couple of jerks as he observed the tantalizing sight before him. Daringly, Inuyasha smacked her ass, his eyes rolling back ecstatically when she gifted him with a sensual sigh.

He spit into his hand, lubricating his cock before kneeling onto the mattress behind her and pushing inside, filling her whole. His pace started slow, but it was too simple. Kagome wanted more and she was willing to take it on her own, moving herself back and forth to match his rhythm and push him deeper inside of her. Altogether, Inuyasha stopped, allowing her to do as she pleased for a moment because the way her ass bounced against his hips was just too sexy to ignore. But, when she seemed to be thoroughly pleasing herself, he reached for her waist, anchoring himself as he pushed so hard into her that they both groaned loudly. She’d almost lost her balance, her hands clambering forward to clutch her comforter and support herself. Muscles engaged in her back, accentuating the curve of her spine, and Inuyasha felt a dangerous heat bubbling inside of him.

He’d completely admit that he’d lost himself to her in that moment, absolutely captivated by the way her body contorted, bounced, flexed, and ultimately welcomed his aggressive thrusts with how hard, how deep he fucked his girl. Reaching forward, Inuyasha safely gripped her hair, supporting her waist with his free arm as her scooped her torso up to meet his, the angle a little different while her hands grasped the forearm he held around her front, and her moans took on a pitchy effect.

“Play with yourself.” He ordered in her ear, releasing her to fold over completely with zero hesitation to do as he said.

He’d anchored himself by gripping her hips, enraptured by the beautiful expressions displayed on his soulmate’s face while she rested the side of it against the blanket, one of her hands tightly clutching the bedding by her shoulder while the other had glided between her thighs, massaging her clit. The way her breathing increased, her body responding to the ample stimulation, it was sending him spiraling, clenched curse words slipping off his tongue like they were the only hope of remaining grounded for however long it took to force Kagome to succumb with him.

“Come on, baby. Come on.” He gently coaxed, her squirming testing his willpower.

“Don’t - don’t stop!” She begged, muffling her voice with the comforter while she continued to vigorously rub herself.

Fuck, those words were like a fire hazard, building the heat that was already threatening to burn him down. Inuyasha clenched his jaw shut, grunting as he forced himself to maintain everything exactly as it was so as not to throw her off. What this goddess wanted, she got, and if she told him not to stop, especially in that desirable, whimpering manner, then obey he would.

“A l-little harder, please.”

Son of a bitch, she was going to be the death of him. The politeness, the submissive way she requested what she needed to reach climax had Inuyasha soaring, his fingers gripping harder so as not to reveal that they’d tremble against her supple flesh if he didn’t. That didn’t prevent him from bequeathing an ounce more of fervency to get her closer, closer, the enchanting sound of skin slapping skin all he could focus on until she rolled her hips in an irrepressible reaction to the orgasm fervidly overtaking her, the shuddering gasp she released proving to be the absolute end of his discipline. With just a few more powerful bucks of his hips, Inuyasha pulled out in time to cum on her back, biting back curses as his core went taut.

Sleep was for the wicked. So he said. Inuyasha had cleaned Kagome up, taken care of her after to make sure she was okay, gotten her water from the fridge while she was in the bathroom, and the moment their heads hit the pillows, they were sedated, lethargic, yet so greatly inclined to resist the pull of sleep. Kagome laid in his arms, eyes closed but still conscious, still whispering little stories to him that made him laugh. His bottom arm was loosely curled around her, but he earnestly tended to her with his other, stroking her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, massaging her temple to relax her, satiating his own desire to softly stroke her bottom lip with his thumb. It was a moment he wanted burned into his memory for as long as he lived. How easy it was to worship her, to love her, to respect her and cherish the light that she offered by just being. How simple it felt to just exist with her in such an insignificant moment that still meant the world to them both. It almost hurt, how much he adored Kagome. It was a pain he gladly accepted, though. It was a pain that reminded him he was alive, fortunate. It was a good pain. It made him question who he’d ever be without her, and then it made him immediately squash the thought as he silently swore he’d never let a living soul hurt this woman. Ever. He’d give his life for hers without a second thought.

What didn’t seem to hurt so much anymore, though, was parting. Goodbye was always bittersweet, but the both of them also felt complacent. The hard part was gone and passed. Had been for a little while. And, four months later, their path was reaching an alignment.

He’d succeeded. Inuyasha was finally receiving his promotion in his father’s company, attaining his share of the partnership. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and a moment he couldn’t help but hope his late father would be proud of.

This also meant he was coming home.

The moment Sesshomaru and he finished speaking about the upcoming changes and their next course of action, Inuyasha purchased a ticket for a flight home for the following week. The call to inform Kagome was nerve-spiking, because he anxiously awaited her excited reaction. He anxiously awaited closing the gap and ending the remainder of their madness. And, she didn’t fall through. God, when her voice got so high pitched because she just couldn’t contain herself, it brought the dumbest grin to his face.

Momentarily, she’d been staying with her mom, the job she was currently working lackluster and only a means of experience for the time being. Not too long ago, Inuyasha presented the idea of them finding a place together whenever he got back - which would involve her relocating to a different state and leaving her job - and he’d be a fucking liar if he said he wasn’t nervous as all hell that she’d decline. It was a big move for them, but one neither of them could neglect to acknowledge would eventually happen no matter what. Considering the incredibly obvious circumstances. To his surprise, she’d enthusiastically agreed.

As unsure as everything was, no apartment to come home to but a hotel to stay in until they found a place of their own, the couple was just too happy to care about the details. Finding an apartment would be a simple task, anyway, since money wasn’t a thing to worry about in Inuyasha’s book. Kagome packed her things and got to their new city a few days ahead of him, and though he watched her roll her eyes time and time again over their FaceTime call, her boyfriend actively refused to allow her to stay in a hotel that looked remotely shoddy. They were looking online together before she’d left, but he proved to be resolute in his decision, deciding on one he’d approved of and booking it for her with his own card. Oh, he got an earful for that since she felt it wasn’t fair he was paying for it, but he took it all with an arrogant smile. This was his way of taking care of her. Kagome could protest all she wanted; it was done and set in stone, and Inuyasha felt no inking of regret.

She’d caught a taxi from her hotel to the airport, practically bouncing in her seat the entire ride there, which escalated into a vibrating anticipation as they sought out the terminal he’d be landing in. Kagome was so giddy, so excited that she felt like she was high, her chest weightless and fingers slightly shaky from the overabundance of endorphins flowing through her system. Inuyasha’s flight was scheduled to land by ten-thirty that evening, but surprisingly the airport still had a good amount of foot traffic within. It was physically impossible to fight off her body’s reaction to bob from foot-to-foot while she stood idly in the waiting area, but it was all she could do to stay put when people started flowing out, a nearby, electronic board stating his flight had landed moments ago. Taking her cue, Kagome unrolled the small-sized poster paper in her hands, “Cujo” written on the front of it in bold, decorative handwriting. She’d warned him she’d do this if he continued to make fun of her the other night, the two of them having too much fun joking around, but he clearly thought she was full of it. The moment his silver hair came into view, though, ember eyes staring down at his phone, the hanyou donned in jeans, a loose tee, and a hoodie, Kagome just couldn’t contain herself. The paper loosely rolled back up on its own in her hand as she dropped it with the other, squealing loudly and sprinting over to her boyfriend. Inuyasha glanced up, a bright smile appearing on his face as he opened his arms and caught her when she jumped into his hold, her legs wrapping around his waist and body hugging him as firmly as she could.

“Hi!” He greeted, holding her securely and laughing.

“I missed you!” Kagome squeezed him tighter, too happy to let go yet.

“You have no idea, babe.”

She leaned back in his arms, just enough to kiss him, smiling gleefully as she peppered his lips in affection over and over. “Welcome home.”

He was hot, happy. Thankful. Licking his lips to welcome her taste when she pulled back to smile at him.

“What’s the sign say?” He smirked, letting her know he hadn’t missed the fact that she was carrying a poster. Kagome laughed, unfurling it to show him, and he groaned with feigned annoyance. Inuyasha hiked her up in his arms, easily tossing her over his shoulder as she yelped and laughed even harder, supporting her upper body with her hands braced on his back. “Where’s the fucking trashcan? I’m throwing your ass away.”

“Inuyasha, no!” She pleaded meekly in the midsts of her giggle fit.

| Cruel Summer |

#I literally started this thinking it would be 5k words tops #and Nikki literally called me out and said YEAH OKAY #hahahahaha help me #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #InuKag fanfic #InuKag fic #soulmate au #cruel summer #chasing the seasons #akitokihojo #smut #lemon

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glitterbootsharry · 4 years ago

Text

Three- Lullaby Woe

Word Count: 2K

Disclaimer: I do not know much about witchcraft or anything associated with it besides the few tv shows and movies I have seen. If I have gotten anything wrong or mixed up, please feel free to let me know. I want to get as much right as I can as I have done some research, but I know I do not know a lot.

Warning: Talk of divorce, childhood trauma, and a car crash.

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“Sorry ‘bout that,” Rowan enters the room, her face and body much more relaxed from when we first arrived at her cottage, which in turn relaxes me. “Gran, she, erm…” Rowan sits down next to me on the couch before picking up her tea cup, trying carefully to choose her words, but they never come to her rescue. She shakes her head, dismissing her entire argument altogether.

“She seems nice,” I say, trying to ease into the motion of conversation. I smile as I sip my tea, the orange aftertaste lingering in my mouth. There were millions of questions running rampant through my mind, enough for me not to be able to process anything that had happened between Alice and I. Was her intuition that great? Did I linger too long when looking at Rowan?

“She can be a little much,” she smiles, laying back into the faded blue cushion. Her head falls back against the wooden frame, her eyes closing- a moment of peace for her, a thousand memories for me. Her neck, tanned and delicate, is long and vulnerable, though my wanting of tracing her skin hasn’t ceased, I clear my throat, trying to adjust my jeans hoping the evidence of my wandering thoughts isn’t noticeable. “Sorry if she freaked you out or anything.”

“It’s fine, really,” I say, half-believing my own words. The words that formed in my mind, unspoken, had been the center of attention in our conversation. I just want to know what gave it away. “Erm, who is Astarte?” I clearly butchered pronouncing the name when Rowan’s eyes click open instantly as if the owner’s name was some sort of curse word. She sits up and faces me, her leg crossed under the other. Her dark wide eyes blink at me slowly, carefully as if she wants me to believe what is coming out of her mouth.

“It’s my mum,” she said, a hint of sorrow in her voice. Bringing up the woman must have brought in memories that Rowan wished to forget, and I’m the asshole for asking. “Most of these books,” she looks at the black leather book I had been holding only moments ago, “were hers. She was really into herbs and such. And it’s As-Tar-tee, not A-start-e.”

I knew from the vagueness of her answer that the subject’s waters I’m dancing around was best left alone, but the arrogance and stubbornness in me was dying to know everything I could about Rowan.

“Was?” I ask, half knowing the answer already. I keep digging my early grave with every word I say. Curiosity killed the cat, I reminded myself.

“She died when I was young, along with my dad,” she clears her throat before setting the tea cup on the dark wooden table. She smoothed her ponytail before standing up only to look down at me. “Do you want to see the garden?”

There wasn’t a spoken answer, only me nervously nodding my head as I hastily set my teacup on the table before following Rowan out the back glass door. I feel like a puppy, following my new owner around, high on her heels so when she turns around to show me a flower she had just planted only a few days ago, she bumps into my chest, her hands both on the two birds that are permanently there.

“Sorry,” I whisper, feeling the fire where her hands were touching. For a moment, I wished her hands were hot pokers because I would wear my branding marks with pride. She smiles toothily before pulling out a beige rose from behind me.

“Do you know what the colors mean?” She asks, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she looks up to me. I shake my head, only knowing red means love. Rowan continues to smile as she pulls the flower to her nose to smell. “Beige means fascination. Red, love and respect and courage,” she walks away and I try to keep up, falling under whatever spell she’s casting. Her hand hovers over the flowers as she walks, her skin glowing in the sunlight. “Orange stands for passion,” her voice sultry as she points to the mass of orange roses. “Yellow is for friendship,” she pulls the yellow rose out from the ground and hands me the flower. I look over to the light purple flowers that are planted at the end of the row that sits along the falling fence.

“What about the lavender ones?” We walk to the flowers I asked about, gently squeezing the stem before plucking it from the dirt. I extend the flower to Rowan who smiles with her lip caught between her teeth as she blinks wildly. “Careful with the thorns.”

“Enchantment and love at first sight with mystery mixed in,” she whispers, taking the rose from me, her hand gingerly grazing over mine. Perfection at its finest. Her lips part, in anticipation of speaking or something else, but I want so badly to kiss Rowan here in the garden of lost time and emotion. I step closer to her, my head slightly bent as my head hovers over hers. I feel her breathing become hitched and her eyes close as our embrace closes in ranks, but she pulls away, smelling the rose I had given her. “The white flowers represent innocence and remembrance. I planted those for my parents which is why there’s only two.”

“What happened to them, if I may ask?” I stand where Rowan left me, completely still until I feel something rubbing between my legs. A small shriek comes out of mouth, embarrassment flooding my face afterwards. I step back and see a small black cat slinking over to Rowan.

“Fernsby, you can’t scare our new friend,” Rowan picks up the black cat, holding the animal in her arms before I step over to pet the creature that startled me.

“Sorry mate, thought you were a snake,” I say, the cat purring almost instantly when my hand rubs his head.

“He’s friendly, don’t mind him. He likes to spook new people,” Rowan sets Fernsby down on the ground so that he could chase the Monarch butterfly that was fluttering about the garden.

Rowan clears her throat before she begins to speak, her eyes still on the white roses, “My parents died in a car crash when I was young so I don’t really remember much about them. We only had one car so after my parents dropped me off at school one day, my dad was on his way to drop my mum off to work. She was a nurse at the hospital and worked the dayshift. It was raining that day and my dad had a hard time seeing the road when I was in it. He kept swerving and getting into the standing waters. I was in the backseat hoping that it would stop raining just for one minute,” Rowan looked up at me, tears forming in her eyes. She sniffles before continuing.

“There was this curve on the way to mum’s work that was dangerous even when it’s not raining. It was on the side of a hill. I’m sure my dad was careful, not speeding and all, but there was this big truck, the kind that you use to move, and it, erm, was on the curve with them. It started hydroplaning and it crashed into my parents. They rolled down the mountain and…” Rowan’s voice fades as she tries to steady herself. It was tough hearing the story, letting alone telling it. I grab Rowan by the elbow and pull her into my embrace, my arms squeezing her as she sobs into my chest. My chin rests on her head and we sway in the garden as I let her cry.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I say as I feel her stir. She wipes away the smears of makeup and tears, her eyes red. She looks up at me and smiles gently.

“It’s fine, Harry. You wanted to know,” her words cut me down. My curiosity hurt Rowan, made her relive the trauma she was so desperately trying to forget each morning after waking from dreams of her family together. “After the accident, I came to live my gran and it’s been like this ever since.”

“What was that that she called you?” I ask, my arms still holding Rowan in her rose garden. A few birds twirped in the air as the sun shine down upon us.

“What? Erm, Ya Amar? It’s my pet name for her. It’s Arabic for my moon- something she’s always called me,” Rowan points to the tattoo of the crescent moon and stars behind her ear.

“Arabic? I didn’t know you were from the Middle East,” I say, smiling down at her. I swallow hard as her dark eyes look over me. She smiles sweetly before stifling a small laugh.

“We’re from Egypt, Harry,” she says with kindness in her voice. “It’s a language used throughout a lot of countries.”

“Oh,” is all I could say as she pulls away from me. “Was your mum Egyptian or your dad?”

“My mum,” she says as she bends down to pick a weed out of the ground. “Gran came to London years ago to start a new life. My grandfather refused to leave Alexandria, Gran took my mum and came up here. Said that people are more accepting up here, but we know now that was a lie. My mum met my dad at Uni and had me.” Rowan swallowed hard, her eyes diverted to the ground. Clearly there was something else, something she wasn’t telling me, but I’d rather not pry now.

“There’s so much sadness in your family, I can’t imagine. All I have is divorced parents and an absent father,” I say, half-smiling. “He left when I was young and told me that I was the man of the house. At no age should the son be that,” The memory of my dad closing the front door for the last time echoes in my mind. I cried, pleading with him to stay, but it was no use. He had left my mum, Gemma and I to our own devices.

“Why did he leave?” Rowan asks as she walks around the section of green shrubbery. “Herbs.”

“I dunno. Never asked. Don’t want to know, honestly. Things are better off with the only communication I have with him being the birthday and christmas presents that I get in the post every year,” I feel the soft leaves of the plant closest to me, still holding on to the beige rose in my hand.

“That’s so sad,” Rowan looks up at me, biting the inside of her cheek. “What about your mum?”

“She remarried, but my stepdad passed away a few years from cancer. He was the light of her life. I’m really happy she got the happiness she deserved. They were really in love. Hope I get that one day,” I shuffle my brown boots into the ground all too aware of a pair of eyes on Rowan and me. I looked over to the white lace curtained window to see Alice watching us, her fingers curled around the fabric.

Rowan smiles as she sees her grandmother watching us. “She likes you. Thinks you’re the bee’s knees because you drove me out here. She says you remind her of her husband.” She steps closer to me, the smile on her face growing. “She’s got a bit of dementia and her memory isn’t as good as it used to be, but you remind her of Clifford when they were younger supposedly.”

“What happened to him?” I ask, scared of the answer.

“He died when I was a teen. Drank too much. Said our family’s history was too much for someone like him to bear.”

“What history?” The words fall out of my mouth before I could think, my heart racing as Rowan steps closer to me, her fingertips holding onto my inner elbow. She stands on her toes as she pulls leaves from my hair.

“As if you haven’t heard, Harry. You’re standing in an accused witch’s garden, after all,” She smiles, her white teeth showing, and I know that whatever enchantment, spell, or curse Rowan was putting me under I would never forget our time in the garden. A devilish grin is plastered in her face before she dusts off the small bit of grass from her pants. She takes my flower to her nose before smelling it once again and then blow cold air in my face. “Be careful or they’ll say I cast a spell on you and made you mine.”

####

@sunflwr-styles @awomanindeniall

#rosarium #harry styles #harry styles fic #1dff #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry 1d #harry styles ofc #harry styles poc #harry styles woc

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rocket-remmy · 5 years ago

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Running Up That Hill|| Deirdre and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @deathduty and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: A stroll through a cemetery and a stroll down memory lane. CONTENT: Suicidal ideation mentions, Descriptions of dying, PTSD Trauma, Guns

Life isn’t fair, Remmington. His voice echoed in Remmy’s head despite having not talked to him in almost thirteen years. Get used to it. Their dad had told them that a lot. The last time was when they’d come home bruised and battered, late, and he’d been there, ready to add to them. But he’d paused when he saw the shaking in their arms and the blood smeared on their face. And they’d asked him why, and that’s what he’d said. Later that night, they’d called the recruiter back and told her yes. A week later, they’d left for good.

It wasn’t a fond memory, by any means, but it was the memory that stuck to Remmy’s head like tar stuck to feet. It stretched and burned and stuck and wouldn’t go away. Even as Remmy scrubbed at their face until the skin was raw and red. It healed in an instant anyway. Even when they beat their fists into the walls or the punching bags at the Ring until there were dents in both and everyone else around had backed out slowly. Even when they’d screamed into the night in the middle of the forest and Moose had whined and put his tail between his legs and suffered through it because he had to. Because he loved Remmy. Even after everything with Morgan, the words still clung to Remmy, as if they were a part of their soul now. Such simple words, too. Words that rattled in their head as they stopped in front of the cemetery gates and glanced around for Deirdre. They wondered if she’d come. They’d understand if she didn’t, though. She was mad at Remmy, she blamed Remmy for Morgan. And that wasn’t entirely wrong. But Remmy didn’t know their place in her life anymore. Even if she said she wanted to be friends. Remmy didn’t know their place anywhere, anymore. And so they just waited.

Time had its way of expanding and closer and escaping through Deirdre’s fingers. Or it did, recently. Normally horribly punctual, she found herself unaware of how time progressed, and where she stood among it. She made her way to the cemetery late, out of breath and apologetic--things unbecoming of her. Deirdre had lost much of who she was, it seemed apt then that she’d lose her grip on this one thing too. “Sorry I’m late, Remmy,” she flattened invisible wrinkles on her shirt, meeting Remmy’s eyes briefly. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the forlorn look was a surprise. Of course, Remmy couldn’t have been taking this any better than Morgan was. And they’d been so sad before, so much longer before any of this. Dwarfed again by her inability to help, she moved closer to the zombie, arms outstretched. “Sorry, friend. I’ve been looking forward to this walk all week, you know.” She paused, offering a weak smile, “hug?”

Remmy looked over when they heard the crunch of gravel under shoes. Deirdre was making her way up the path, and even from this distance Remmy could see the weariness on her. It hung on her like a cloud, like it ached her bones or her muscles or maybe her soul. Remmy pushed away from the post they’d been leaning on and met her a little ways up the path, as if them doing that might make her trek up easier. Even when she reached her arms out and gave that tiny, weak smile, they wondered if there was a way they could be the one reaching out to her. Even through the pang of anger they still felt and held close to their unbeating heart. “It’s okay,” they finally answered, “you can’t really be late for something like this.” They moved in without a word and hugged her, falling into her arms very suddenly and tensely after a moment of hesitation. They hadn’t realized how much they’d craved this contact until it was happening, hands digging into the back of Deirdre’s shirt for a moment. When they pulled away, not looking up at her, they gave a matching, tiny smile, “Me, too.”

"Can't I?" Deirdre wondered aloud. Couldn't she? This must have been one of those things, she decided, that Remmy simply said to make it better when it wasn't. But Deirdre was smarter, she knew not to fall so easily into false comforts. Even so, as she held Remmy and they held her, she could almost believe it—that she truly hadn't done anything wrong. But the hug broke apart, Remmy was back to finding Deirdre's eyes too atrocious a sight. But selfish, she pulled Remmy closer to her, walking with them with her arm wrapped around. The two of them had never shared any manner of bespoke physical intimacy, but she'd become skilled enough at learning what Morgan liked as a zombie, and wondered if it translated. Besides, if there was ever a time to reveal her embarrassing secret about how much she enjoyed being close to people, it was now. "Was Moose Day okay? I know it was a while ago but…" She never really asked, never really followed up. She sighed as she led them through the gates, into their long—and perhaps not as exciting as she first anticipated—walk. "I guess I'm asking if you're okay." But she assumed the answer to that was a resounding 'no'.

“No,” Remmy answered as they started their walk. They noted the way deirdre held them close, even after they’d left the hug. They didn’t know if it was to help her feel better or them, but they weren’t about to move away. It did make them feel better. It also made them feel worse. How could they be angry at her if they craved her closeness so much? Why was it easier to yell at Morgan and not Deirdre? It was too much to process right now. Right now, they just wanted to go for a nice walk with a friend. They could yell later. “Moose-- oh. Yeah...it went fine. Blanche did some stuff with me and had us take a lot of photos. Moose was happy with the meat cake I made him, too.” Passing through the gates seemed to signal something. Whether it was a start or an end, Remmy wasn’t sure. Glossy eyes looked up at her. Well, one glossy eye. The other was still covered with a patch. “But I’m not okay,” they answered, gaze dropping to watch their feet. They weren’t walking in tandem despite their arms intertwined. Remmy didn’t bother to try to make them, either. “I don’t think I’ve been okay for a long time.”

Good then, Deirdre noted. Remmy used the word 'fine' but it sounded better—comparatively at least. The admittance that followed was less inspiring. Deirdre frowned. She had suspected as much, she knew as much about Remmy, but it was different to hear it. She had nothing to offer, just as she could barely carry Morgan through her own pit, she didn’t know where to start with Remmy’s. “That makes two of us…” she sighed, mumbling. “I’ve heard it said that admitting it is just the beginning.” She barely had the facilities to be a good person, there was no capacity to become a therapist. Deirdre continued to walk, her strides were longer than Remmy’s, and she moved faster--but she slowed herself, hoping Remmy would spare a glance up at her. “Can I make it okay?” She asked quietly, “can we--can I--Is there something I can do to help?” She paused, wondering if the question was too daunting. She tried one with a simpler answer. “Why do you think you haven’t been okay? Is it the anger?”

“I guess,” Remmy admitted, “I just wish I knew where to go from here.” Their feet weren’t interesting, and Remmy didn’t notice Deirdre slowing her pace to try and give them leeway. They didn’t look up quite yet, but moved their gaze from the path to the grass that lined it. “I don’t know,” they answered truthfully, though that was a fallacy. If only they could take the time to think about it, if only they could take the time to remember what happened, maybe they could know what to do. “I’m not okay because I died and I can’t remember and now I’m having blackouts and everywhere I look I see my squadmates’ faces and I can’t concentrate on anything. And it makes me angry. It all just makes me angry. And you make me angry and Morgan makes me angry and everyone who told me that this was okay makes me angry. And I don’t want to be angry at any of you, but I don’t know how else to be anymore.”

Deirdre listened, her face fallen into a frown. There was one simple answer, and several more complicated ones. "It is okay, Remmy," she sighed, knowing it wasn't as convincing as it used to be, especially with Morgan vocally against any part of zombieism. "Is that it?" She tilted her head, now forcing them to halt their slow walk. "That you want to know how you died? I can do that. I can summon that vision." She didn't imagine it would help, but she knew enough to say that Remmy certainly thought it might. And if she could offer some peace to her friend, she would. But what happened then? If it didn't? If Remmy held hope just for another thing to crush it. Deirdre's face betrayed her skepticism, "are you sure you want to know? I can—If you really think it will, then you don't need to live without the knowledge any longer." She couldn't summon her odl arguments to convince Remmy that being a zombie truly wasn't terrible, but she always knew how to summon death and its visions. This, at least, she could do.

“No, it’s not and I wish you would stop saying that! I wish you all would!” Remmy said, pulling away from Deirdre. “Clearly it’s not okay if this is what it does to people! If the only thing Morgan can feel is this anger and pain and sorrow! Clearly it’s not okay!” And it wasn’t and they weren’t sure they’d ever think it was. Or had ever believed it was. “I-- you-- you can?” They stopped, still parted from Deirdre’s grip, looking at her with confusion and hurt mixed on their face. “H-how? What-- you mean you can see how I died?” The desperation clear on their face. They knew it wouldn’t solve all their problems but the reality had been a black space in the memory for so long, since they woke up, that it had to have some sort of catharsis for them, right? It had to. I had to. “Yes,” they said, “I want to know. I need to know. Please. I-- I need to know.”

"It is," Deirdre replied evenly, though she did not push it as far as she might have weeks ago. In her heart, she held the belief that if Remmy truly had thought it was completely terrible—completely hopeless—they wouldn't have bitten Morgan in the first place. And whatever it was they were experiencing, it would pass. "She says she loves me still, and if there's the capacity for that, there's always hope for more. And there is for you too." She sighed, far too exhausted to explain this. It would have been nice to just give in, give up, crawl back to Ireland and pretend everything was one long, bad dream. She held her hand out, "I can. I'm a banshee. This is…" What they did. What she did. And though she was a failure by most accounts, she could do this still. "...what I offer." Her frown grew deeper, with her eyes she spoke a silent desperation: this will not help. She didn't think it would. But, then again, what did she know of help? Her best efforts only served to push people away, the best things she ever did was….murder. What did she know, really? Deirdre gestured to her open palm. "Give me your hand, Remmy. And I can start." And though she knew little of gods, she prayed Remmy could find the pace they were after.

Remmy didn’t want to argue the point anymore. They were tired of listening to people lie to them about it. It wasn’t okay, no matter what they said. Cearly, it wasn’t okay. But Deirdre was offering something Remmy had wanted since the day they’d woken up. A memory that was lost to trauma and time and the hole in their head. The doctor had told them that it was probably for the best, that they didn’t remember. It was too traumatic, and their brain had purposefully blacked out the memory. But they needed it now. They needed it because they needed to know, they needed to understand. How they died and why no one cared and why no one cried. They needed to know what made them different from Morgan. They needed to know if they were alone. Remmy reached out. Deirdre��s eyes told them this wouldn’t help, but they didn’t believe her. It had to help. Silently, they took her hand.

Deirdre squeezed Remmy's hand back, offering a small smile. At once, the whites of her eyes flooded with deep black. The world darkened with it and she searched around her for the right threads to pull. This was always harder in a cemetery, so many people had died and all of them clamored for attention. She pushed through newly deceased housewives, around worn men and past confused children all to pull at the core of Remmy in front of her. She tugged. The visions met her with resistance. She tugged again and again until she tumbled backwards into it. She was consumed by sights and sensations that were not her own. All she understood, suspended in time, was that this was how Remmy had died, and death had granted her the vision of it—her body lurched until suddenly it was not her own. The cemetery dissolved into the rocky desert. The lazy sun above, not yet pulled to its height, still burned with a ferocity Deirdre did not know, but that this body she was in had grown accustomed to. The body was light for a moment, then sharp pain split across their chest in an instant. The body did not move, the body could not. The body fell backwards by the simple force of the impact, caught by the arms of another. He was handsome, despite the circumstances, though fear and panic twisted his soft features. He took the body tenderly against his dark skin, curling himself against them. He sobbed, his words lost to the whistling sounds of gunshots overhead. He tugged on the body a moment later, quick for even the way the world had slowed to a crawl, clawing across sand to drag them behind a rock. The body's eyes rolled lazily to the cover, Deirdre could feel the inevitably of it: the rock was too small, there was too much happening around them. She tried to will the body to speak, to tell this man to leave as the body's gaze turned back to stare up at him. Yet all sound was consumed by gunfire and shouting, as if their little world behind the rock was not sacred enough, not precious enough to be protected. Tears streamed free from the man's face, he pulled the body closer to him, a hand futilely pressed to their chest. The body watched helplessly as bullets struck the man, red staining his military browns. The body had stopped feeling pain, perhaps so far consumed by the kind that rippled out of their chest. The body watched the man cry. The body was—"Remmy."

Deirdre's eyes blinked back into their usual whiteness, she dropped Remmy's hand, needing hers to clutch her chest as she heaved, then as she tried desperately to pull out a bullet that wasn't there. She picked at her shirt, unaware her face was lined with its own tears. She spoke Remmy's name desperately, choked up by sobs. Her fingers ran frantically over the fabric of her shirt, drawn to her eyes only to verify that there was no blood. The lazy morning sun had been replaced with the cool midday one she knew, and there was no rock too tiny for their bodies. Slowly her body relaxed, and slowly she brought her gaze up to Remmy. "W-who is he?" She asked first, swallowing as she knew he'd died too—they all had, hadn't they? "There was this guy—" She began to mime the shape of his hair, the way his face wrinkled when he cried. "He had a good smile, I think. I couldn't see it. But I bet he had a—I could tell he had a good—" It was wrong to see him so struck by horror, she could tell. "W-who was he?"

As Remmy waited, they wondered. They wished they could see it, too. They wished Deirdre didn’t have to go through this. Tears were forming in her eyes. “Deirdre?” Remmy asked, but she didn’t move, still caught in the vision. Remmy’s body tensed. They shouldn’t have done this, they shouldn’t have asked her to do this. Was she hurting? Did this hurt? Had their death been so painful that it was hurting Deirdre, too? She cried out their name. Not loud, not fearfully-- but desperately. As if searching. Remmy caught Deirdre’s other hand, trying to steady her, until she pulled away. They watched her frantically pull at her own clothes, her own chest, and something struck a chord in Remmy. A painful throb, just above their heart. Remmy looked down, bewildered, but nothing was there. No blood, no bullet. Blinking, the pain was gone, like a ghost. They found Deirdre’s desperate eyes again, shaking with the memories fighting to claw their way back into their head. Her words echoed in Remmy’s head. Who was he? The one with the gentle smile? Remmy knew. Remmy knew right away, but his name wouldn’t form in their mouth. Who was he? He was their everything. He had been their everything, even after they’d decided they couldn’t be together. Remmy had been ready to start a life with him. “After we get back,” they had said, “maybe we could settle down? Retire? I think we’ve earned it.” They hadn’t known what was going to happen back then. “Darius,” they finally said, found themself fraught with tears of their own. “His name was Darius Mullberry--” a strained chuckle, “--we all always made fun of his last name. It’s just funny sounding, isn’t it?” They weren’t sure what they were saying, or why they were saying it. Deirdre didn’t need to know this. Remmy’s jaw quivered. “Did he-- was he in pain? Did you see him? Was he--?” the thought of their own death suddenly unimportant. “Was it quick? For him? Please, I-- I don’t want him to have suffered. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t even want to be there. He was only there because of me. I told him I’d keep him safe and he--” died. Their failure had gotten the one person they’d loved with all their heart killed. Remmy crumpled. “He was a good person. He didn’t deserve that.”

“Darius,” Deirdre repeated the name with reverence, holding the sound of it against her tongue, against the memory of the man she saw, burned into the back of her eyelids. She could see them together, laughing about the Mullberry. She could feel a flicker of Remmy’s life, what she knew her mind manufactured, but what felt no less real. All her visions were of death, her mind toyed with the idea of a vision of life instead and she held the story to her heart. She wished she could have seen that instead. She closed her eyes and tried to force it to play out. “I don’t know.” There was nothing. She opened her eyes. “You died first, I think. And he was crying so much I couldn’t tell if--I don’t think he was thinking about anything else besides you, Remmy.” And she hadn’t really stayed long enough in the vision to replay it, or start picking it apart. “You’re a good person too. You didn’t deserve--” Her voice caught, she gulped away another onslaught of sobs. Deirdre wanted to ask for more stories about the jokes they shared, about why Mullberry was so funny or if he ever said anything about Remmy’s name back. Instead, she sighed. “How could you have known it would’ve gone that way? How could you hold on to that? To any of this? Is this what you carry, Remmy?” This. Their mother’s death. Was there an end to Remmy’s pain somewhere? An easy answer on how to release the poor zombie from it? “You died in his arms. He wept. He died holding you. Some time later, I imagine you awoke.” Hungry, probably. Did someone move Remmy’s body or did they eat---Deirdre gulped. “Was he special to you? Darius?” They seemed special to him. Special enough to hold, to cry for. To die by.

Words flew by Remmy. He had cried for them. He had died holding them. He had lost everything in that moment as well. He had cried for them. Someone had cried for them. Someone had longed for them. Someone had cared for them. Remmy didn’t even notice the stream of tears down their face as they looked back at Deirdre. She was asking so many questions, but they couldn’t hear them. Their mind couldn’t process them. It was just words. Flying by them. Floating around them. The memory of his face. His smile. The way his eyes scrunched up when it got too big, the way his cheeks puffed when he smiled so big it became a toothy grin. As if it couldn’t be contained. The way he could see everything about Remmy even when they couldn’t. They way he knew they loved him but could never be with him like they both had wanted. They way he had always looked at them like they were the world, even when no one else noticed. When no one else cared. Was that why they’d loved him? Was that why they’d asked him to be theirs? Remmy didn’t know anymore. Is this what you carry, Remmy?

They couldn’t see through the tears as they looked up at Deirdre, crushed under the weight of the question, of her words, of their memories. They wanted to reach out, to touch, to hold, to feel something, to know someone. Would they ever know someone like that again? Frozen in their spot, frozen in time, frozen forever. They looked down at their hands, their feet below them. The dirt underneath them. Searched for a metaphor in it, in the way the grass scrunched under their shoes, the way the neatly paved path held everything in place, in the way the dirt caved under the weight of their shoes. But they found nothing. Was he special to you? Remmy’s eyes wandered back up to Deirdre’s. Was he special to them? “He was the first person I ever loved,” they finally said. And it was all they said, and they couldn’t look at her anymore.

Deirdre’s hand twitched at her side. She ached to reach out, to hold Remmy the way she learned to care for Morgan--learned to care in general. She stepped closer, hovering beside them, a hand awkwardly raised as they cried and she could do nothing to soothe the pain. Was it better or worse to be doing this in a cemetery? Surrounded by people who had lost in this same way, who had perhaps lost more, who had come out of pain without their lives--or those that had passed with peace, something Remmy could not be offered. He was the first person I ever loved. Deirdre swallowed. She gave in and reached her arms around Remmy, pulling them tightly against her. This was not her job, this was far from something she even thought herself capable of doing, but in that moment, she thought nothing of her short-comings and only of comforting her friend. What could she say no except that she was sorry? Would Remmy even want to hear it? “Do you want to tell me about him?” She asked softly. “Do you want--What can I do? Tell me what I can do, Remmy. Please.”

Remmy just crumpled further, trying to fold themself up so they could be put away and not have to deal with anything anymore. Maybe Deirdre could slide them into her coat pocket and take them away and none of this would have to happen. They wouldn’t have to face their death or his death or any of this. Any of this unfairness that life was dumping on them. They were drowning already, and the room was still filling with water. Remmy pressed their face against Deirdre’s shoulder and sobbed. And finally, it felt relieving. Like they were deflating with each sob, crying out the sticky tar that had swallowed their insides. “I’m sorry,” they said after a long moment, “I’m sorry. You don’t need-- I’m sorry.” They drew in a breath and held it-- not for the breath itself, but for the feeling. Closing their eyes, counting to ten. Letting it go. The exercises they’d been taught back in the hospital. They wiped their hand across their one good eye, prodding the patch over the other. “You’ve done enough, Deirdre,” they whispered quietly, drawing their knees to their chest. “You’ve done so much.”

Where had she heard those words exactly before? Deirdre held Remmy tighter, gritting her teeth. Hadn’t Morgan told her something similar? How could she be doing enough if there was still so much pain? How could she be doing anything at all if nothing was better? At least death made it clear when she’d done a good job, at least her family told her when she did her job well. What proof was there that she was helping anyone at all? “You can’t live like this, Remmy,” she said, her voice rising with anger at the helplessness of Remmy’s situation--of their life. “You can’t be this---it can’t be like this for you. All this suffering, all this pain. You can’t live like this. You can’t live holding on to Darius like that. With anyone’s death like that. Remmy--” She loosened her grip, tilting her head to try and meet Remmy’s eyes--well, eye. She’d have to see about getting them a new one. “--you need--” Help? Someone better at taking care of people? A new life as someone else? “--something.” They said answers would help. Did they? “I won’t let you carry this, Remmy. So you tell me what you want and I’ll do it. But you’re not keeping on like this. What’s in the past is in the past. You move forward and you…” Deirdre’s voice finally gave to her muted sobbing. She wasn’t sure why she was crying exactly, but something tore up her insides watching Remmy this way. “Tell me what to do, Remmy.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Remmy asked immediately, still not looking up at Deirdre. “Where am I supposed to leave them? On that battlefield? At the memorial? In their graves? If I do that, then they’ll be gone forever. I can’t do that. I won’t do that to him. I can’t let them be forgotten. It’s why I-- it’s why I woke up, right? Why I’m here? To carry them. To make sure they’re not forgotten on that battlefield. So that they didn’t die in vain.” They shook their head violently, planting their hands to push themself away from Deirdre on the ground. “Stop, please. I don’t-- I don’t need anything. You’ve done enough, Deirdre. I-- I can’t ask anything more from you, please.” Because if they did, they’d just ask for everything. They’d ask to be held and loved and carried and cried for, just like Morgan. They’d ask to be happy and soft and gentle, things so far out of reach right now they wondered how they’d even gotten there in the first place. They’d ask for a do over. They’d ask to just be done with it all. They’d ask for just...just one person to look at them they way Deirdre looked at Morgan. Just one. Because the one they had was gone now. And they didn’t get to watch him wake up. And they didn’t get to hold him again. And they didn’t get to cry with him again. Even if he’d cried for them in their death, who had cried for him? They did. They would. That’s all they understood, now. Why they’d woken up. Why they were still here. Someone needed to cry for them. Remmy clenched their shoulder, where the tattoo was. Remembered the touch of the needle, even if they hadn’t felt it. Remembered the warmth of Luce’s hands. They wanted to feel again. “Just make it all stop,” they said quietly, “I just want it all to stop.”

“Maybe you hold them.” Deirdre sighed. Once, she had known so much about death and loss. Once, she might have had true words of wisdom to offer. But what she once knew laid still under the weight of everything else. The Deirdre that could have helped was dead; perhaps she had never been capable of help at all. “Maybe you hold them in your heart, instead of carrying them. Maybe you keep it safe, and warm, and treat it with kindness...instead of...pulling it along with you. Maybe it’s different, Remmy. I don’t know. All I know is...that you can’t keep on, carrying everything alone. And maybe that just means you let someone else carry something too. I--” she swallowed. “I don’t know.” She let herself be pushed away lamely, unable to summon the strength to fight this too., to rend herself in there. She thought of Regan, with her hatred of her wings--begging them to be taken away. Her mind fell to Morgan, grappling with the loss of her anchor, asking to be turned back. She considered Remmy, another person asking for something that couldn’t be. And how many more were there? If she focused, she could feel hundreds of ghosts asking for the same thing. When did it end? How did she begin to help? Why did she want to? Why was this suddenly her problem? Why did she care? And why did it hurt not to? “I can’t do that.” She replied, curling into herself on the ground, defeated. “I can’t. You know I can’t.” She sighed, offering a meek glance up at Remmy. “You can ask for more, Remmy. I can’t give it, but you can ask. You should ask. You should ask for more things, Remmy.” She swallowed, thinking back to the vision. “He wanted you to live. And you’re living. And as long as you’re living, there’s always something to be done. And don’t---life is more than just a heartbeat, or the echo of where one used to be.” With great hesitation, she summoned a quiver: “what do you want to stop, Remmy?”

Remmy watched Deirdre from the side of their vision as she, too, curled up in defeat on the dirty ground. Remmy’s fingers curled against the skin on their arms. “I don’t know how to do that,” they said, “how to put them there. I don’t know if I can do that. What if I can’t do that?” they asked, a desperation in their voice that couldn’t quite figure itself out. As if they couldn’t possibly have a big enough heart to put them in, to carry them in. “I can’t ask anyone to do that. I don’t--” have anyone? And those that they did have-- Blanche, Skylar, Morgan, Deirdre-- they were all already carrying so much. They shook their head again, this time much slower, in defeat. “I can’t.” Repeating Deirdre’s words, in the same tone. Neither of them could. It was an impassable situation, stuck between the fallen rocks of their failures and the sheer cliff of what was ahead of them. “What’s the point of asking if no one can give it? What’s the point, Deirdre? Please, tell me. What’s the point? I don’t-- I’m not strong enough to know the answer. I can’t-- I can’t take it anymore.” They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, head burrowing into their knees. “I want him to be alive again. I want him to be here instead of me.”

“You have to,” Deirdre asserted, her voice equally as desperate. Remmy had to. Something would give, eventually, it always did when carrying something like that. And either Remmy figured it out or--Deirdre swallowed. She didn’t want to think about the alternative. “You will,” she said, a fierceness took her then, and she looked over at Remmy with a steadiness. “And you ask. You do. You have to. You need to ask as many people as you can, no matter if they can’t give you anything. You have to ask. You have to let people try. You can’t---asking is half the battle, isn’t it?” And it had to be. It would be. She couldn’t let Remmy live like this. She wouldn’t. She didn’t know the first thing about care or comfort but she needed to do something. “Everyone can give you parts and pieces and maybe they make a whole if you let them Remmy but---” Deirdre reached across, the palm of her hand pressed firmly into Remmy’s shoulder; a strong presence, not a forceful one. Her voice took the same quality, stubbornly sure now that something had to be done. And that she wouldn’t let remmy succumb to defeat, not if she had to personally fight it herself, tooth and nail. “Absolutely not. One life is not more precious than the other. And you love him, and I’m sure he loved you, and no one who cares that much would ever agree to such a thing. You are alive. And you will live. And you’ll figure it out, what you need to do, the kind of things you should ask people for, and where to hold this pain in your heart. You have to, Remmy. I know it’s--” she swallowed, weavering for a moment. “I know it’s hard. I know it’s unfair. I know I sound like I’m spewing crap at you right now, Remmy. But you’re my friend.” Deirdre paused. “And I love you too. And I won’t let you think that way, not forever. Maybe we can figure this out. And maybe for now it starts on the floor curled up in a ball but…” she inched closed, her voice dropping to a gentle breath. “Will you let me hold you, Remmy?”

The sudden turn of Deirdre’s voice threw Remmy off. The sternness, but it wasn’t filled with anger. It was filled with assuredness. As if she’d simply figured something out in the moments of silence that had hung between them. Her palm pressed firmly against Remmy’s shoulder, a steadying grip, somehow both pulling Remmy up and keeping them grounded. They blinked through their haze, through the pain still clawing at them, as their mind continued to process all the new information it had been given, still not reaching the spot where they’d been told how they’d died. Deirdre’s eyes were blazing and gentle all at the same time. They didn’t know how she did it. How she stayed so steady and so firm and so soft at the same time. How she could confidently say these things and support all the people in her life, while still holding all of her own pain, all of her own misgivings. If Remmy could help her, even a little, even with one small thing, it wouldn’t even hold a flame to all the things Deirdre gave and never asked for in return. They wished they could offer that for her, too. For anyone. They wanted to be to someone what she was for them. Hands gripping tighter for a moment, Remmy finally let out all the tension they’d been holding in. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore,” they finally admitted quietly, whispered into their lap. They lifted their head to meet Deirdre’s gaze. “I’m tired of being alone.” Of being angry, of being tired, of only remembering pain. There had to be more, didn’t there? There had to be more. And maybe there was. They hadn’t been alone in death. Maybe that was enough to hold onto for now. Remmy nodded in answer to Deirdre’s last question.

Deirdre waited until she had an answer before she moved forward, wrapping her arms around Remmy again, holding them tightly to her. There was not much else she could say that she hadn't already. Not much else she could do. This, at least, she hoped could be some manner of a start. "You're not alone now, Remmy." Not anymore. And they never would be again.

#chatzy #chatzy: deirdre #deirdre #running up that hill #wickedswriting

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bahrlee · 4 years ago

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Suck the Blood to my Wound - Beok AU

Hello LGBTQ+ community it is chapter time

🦇🦇🦇Chapter 23: The Okay Summer🦇🦇🦇

Summer was coming to a glorious climax. People started leaving their summer homes in town and driving or flying back to wherever they came from. The sun was starting to inch it's way to the other side of the earth at an earlier time. Though he had friends to distract him, the dread in the back of his mind was present. Sure, the weather will stay the same. It was much different than its impact up north where the snow caked everything in sight and melted into cold water into your shoes and onto the roads, eroding the cement and creating potholes that are shotily filled with tar, snow shoveled up into dirty, muddy piles on the side of the road, and freezing dogs feet to the point where they limp back inside, shivering. Yet he still felt the pain of the mere existence of a fall and a winter. The days were shorter, and that's all that mattered to him. The nightmares were worse. Things that were sad were even sadder. Things that were scary were now terrifying, and things that concerned him turned him into a paranoid mess.

Then, all of a sudden, September First. Right there, on his calendar in big blocky letters right above a picture of a tree with a tire swing hanging off from one of the branches. He let out his first defeated sigh of this era. He wasn't there yet, the sun was just out long enough to keep him out of this miserable rut, but it was soon. Very soon. He felt it right behind him.

"Beach, are you okay?" Dook asked him when seeing him on this day, the way he looked down at the floor with a hopelessness Dook didn't get to see on him yet.

He shrugged, unable to really describe the feeling of impending emptiness. "Just the seasons changing, that's all. And I still miss Roxy."

Dook nodded. At least with the sun setting, they had a little more time they could spend together. The streetlights were just turning on, the sky a bluish violet, the stars beginning to blink through the ominous grey clouds overhead. They didn't really know what they were doing, but that was something they always figured out along the way. Walking together, was all they wanted to do, holding hands, talking, and laughing. Getting their mind off of things.

"You're not a big fan of change, are you?" He said.

He shook his head yes. "I get so used to things when they're one way, that it's hard sometimes to do it another. I've gotten better, but sometimes I can't help but want to scream about it."

"It's hard, yeah." Dook sighed. "You didn't seem like the anxious type when I first met you."

"I…. Get that quite a bit."

They swung their locked hands back and forth, picking up their pace a little bit. A car trundled by and turned a corner. Neon red and blue 'open' signs were beginning to flicker off as places began to close. Tonight was a very humid night, a definite sign it was going to rain soon. And here they were, outside, surrounded by close or closing buildings, with no umbrella. It was no surprise to them when it started to sprinkle. Then, the rain started to grow heavy, causing them to run, in a mess of giggles, in search of a place to hide under.

They found a place under an awning, soaked and out of breath. They were quiet for a long moment---the two watched it rain, their hands still intertwined. Beach turned to Dook, his eyes clouded and unfocused.

"I like the rain." Dook said quietly.

"We needed it."

"Yeah, we did."

Beach unhooked their hands and put his arm around Dooks waist. It was different, touching someone when their clothes were wet, and sticking to their skin, and when their hair was damp and frizzing. Maybe because they were cold (which in this case Dook was even colder) and shivering, and so touching felt different. It was, overall, just a different experience. He felt Dook lean his head on his shoulder. "This is the first uh…. Kinda decent summer I've had in awhile."

"Really?"

"I-I mean---yeah, I met you, I got away from Rolfe a couple of times, this summer has been…. Okay."

"Hard to have an okay summer when you can't really go into the sun." Beach remarked.

"....true." Dook said. "But I'd rather focus on what happened that was good. There are things that would've made it better, but if okay is all I can get, I'm taking it."

"You deserve a better summer." Beach said, leaning his head down on top of his. "I'd give you a better summer if I could."

"You already have."

"An even better one, then."

The sound of the rain patting against the fabric of the awning and the water pouring out of the gutters filled their ears as they watched another car go by, a tire sloshing through a puddle building up in the curb. The rain felt like it would never stop, but that was okay for them.

🦇🦇🦇

Mitzi rushing into his house, unnerved, was always a warning sign. "I found a dead member of my pod nearby…" she squeaked. "They were bleeding out, in their sea form, they had salt all over them….I dragged them into the ocean and back home, for my aunts to take care of it. But…"

"Oh no, Mitzi, I'm sorry...." Beach said.

"I wish we couldn't sense each other like this. I wish our disguises were used to hide from them, too. But whatever, senses give it away, and someone I know ends up dead."

"Are you sure it was Rolfe?" He asked.

"Well if it were Dook he'd have a lot of explaining to do, hes squeamish. Rolfes a wimp, but he's proven to be a cold hearted killer." Her hands were shaking her eyes couldn't focus on one thing, shifting everywhere as her mind grappling with the unadulterated fear she was feeling. "I'm really scared, what if he finds my aunts? What if he kills them too?"

"Mitzi, don't get paranoid." He gently put his hands on her shoulders, like an uncle trying to cheer up their upset niece who just scraped her knee falling off her bike.

She was beginning to cry, unable to handle the dear she was having.

"Oh Mitzi…." Beach said quietly.

"I can't help but feel like something bad is going to happen." She sniffled.

Beach didn't really know what to say---considering how many bad things happened already, he couldn't blame her for suspecting even more bad things to come about. She copied the defeated expression he gave her in solidarity. No positive or hopeful quote or saying could make them feel any better.

"Let's just make sure we don't get hurt." He said.

She nodded solemnly, hanging her head low afterwards. He didn't really know what to do. He wasn't much of a hugger, but she needed one. He was willing to put his disdain aside to give her one. Paternal instincts were something he's gained from this whole narrative. She hugged back, her hands clinging to him like a child.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you." He said. Her aunts will kill me if I do, he thought.

"I want fruit roll ups." She whined, wiping away her black tears when she let go.

"Oh my god…. I don't have those."

She began to tear up again.

"Oh my god, Mitzi…."

"I want fruit roll ups…."

This is what it must've felt like to have a teenage sister. All she did was worry, eat, and cry, and he had to deal with it. He didn't mind though. He cared for her, even when she was being this way. So when she snagged her arms around him again, he didn't push her away.

"You wanna watch a movie?" He said.

"Camp rock?" She looked up at him, her inky tears staining his shirt.

"Sure, if you want."

"The weird fish movie then?"

He paused for a moment. "That movie will make you feel worse."

"But it's animated!"

"That means nothing."

"Fine…. We can watch camp rock."

"I…. Have other movies besides the fish movie and camp rock."

She didn't respond, buried her head into his shirt, and kept hugging him. He stroked the back of her head, confused but sympathetic. "Camp Rock it is, I guess."

🦇🦇🦇

He poured Mitzi a glass of Tropicana fruit punch, since she was craving something fruity and was quite dehydrated after crying the way she did. She drank it the way a kid did---no stopping for breath, just wheezing into the cup as she drank, the soothing feeling of a beverage going down your throat after a cry was an immaculate one. She also wrapped herself with a blanket. He didn't know whether he should be glad, or scared that she was becoming comfortable enough that she could make herself at home. He put on camp rock, since she was convinced for some reason it was the only movie to exist, and she stared at it, like how he did at Peanuts holiday specials as a kid and sometimes still as an adult, her eyes still red from the crying. She seemed so innocent when she was like this. She was so fragile, and naive, so much like the kid she was. He knew deep down she knew a lot, she dealt with a lot, and she did a lot, but, a lot like Dook, she was still a kid. She was still learning many things, and maturing in the sense of how she dealt with things.

"Are you feeling a little better?" He asked her, when she finished her drink.

"I guess. A little bit. I don't know." She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

"Ah, got it." He leaned back.

"I'm starting to see why my aunts are so protective of me now…." She sighed, hunching over and bundling her legs up into her blanket as if she were cocooning herself. "It really is dangerous up here. Fish are assholes, but…. Werewolves are worse."

He gave her a pat on the shoulder.

They continued to watch camp rock in an odd silence. Mitzi's eyes began to droop, growing increasingly tired. Curled up into a little ball, she fell sideways, asleep. Beach smiled, and continued to watch the movie in the quiet, letting her rest. There was nothing like the feeling of sleeping off an unwanted cry. Those kinds of cries always induced headaches and fatigue, dehydration, feelings of hopelessness…. Basically, crying when distressed like how Mitzi was resulted in medication side effects. It was the mind's confusing way of releasing confusingly painful and stressful emotions. She deserved her rest.

An hour after the move ended, she woke back up, looking disoriented and confused. "Where am i?" She asked.

"My house."

"Oh. That's right."

Beach smiled. "Let's getcha home." he got up, pulling her off the couch, the blanket falling to her knees. She tripped her way out of it, still sleepy, and sulking from her bad mood. She was quiet in the car, just as she was when he first drove her to the sea that first tonight they met. It suddenly hit him how long it has been since he met her.

He dropped her off, she waved goodbye, and ran off to the Beach and into the ocean, to be seen again whenever.

He got out of his car himself and climbed up to the roof, taking in the night. He was going to miss this when the nightmares parked their way into his mind for the next 6 months. The loud crickets and frogs, looking at the stars, the feeling of, even in complete darkness, safety, and security. Without the feeling something was lurking behind him. Although, this time, there was something lurking behind him. He was jolted by a thunk on his car from behind him. And there was Rolfe, a sly, knowing smile on his face. Beach felt his heartbeat gain traction, his guard flipping up as he tried to keep a brace face while looking back at him.

"Interesting to find you out here. Visiting her again?" He asked. The tone of his voice was unpleasant.

"Just got her home. Seems just in time too." He swallowed, suspicious, nervous, and anything else he could possibly be in this moment.

"Did she like my surprise?"

"Wh---it was you, of course it was you!" He seethed. "She nearly had a panic attack from what you've done!"

He let out a pleasant laugh. "Glad to know. She's getting too cocky herself. Had to do what I did with you and send her a warning. I've seen her stalking Dook. She brought along a friend the most recent time, the friend being the one i…. Seasoned."

Beach almost threw up in his mouth from how terrible that threatening villain pun was. Then he wondered why Mitzi kept that detail from him. It explained her guilt a little more in depth, too.

"Right when I thought Dook was an airhead he decided to move to a place populated with sea monsters, knowing they'd become obstacles. I should've known better than to think a vampire, any vampire, wasn't cunning in some way." He monologues, mostly just to hear himself talk. Beach still listened, though, as he was afraid to run, this was his car, and he liked hearing Dook get complimented.

"He's pretty street smart. Thought you'd know that pretty well after all these years of following him." He snarked back.

"Watch it."

"Or what?"

"Do you want me to kill someone else near and dear to your heart?! You don't know what'll happen to me if I don't get Dook back in this next month! Its terrible!"

"In other words, wonderful to everyone else. What happens?" He asked.

"The mafia unit in this state starts hunting me down, too. I could get killed!" He said. "I've gotten every vampire I've ever hunted to break, and give in, but since the beginning, no wolf has been able to get under his skin! Not even the house of pain could get under his skin! And there are ways of torture there that involve literally doing that. The fact they don't give me backup for this guy makes me angry!"

"Every thought about why you can never get him to comply?"

"What?" He crossed his arms.

This was a surreal, diplomatic moment. Rolfe was showing some form of vulnerability, so he had to use that to at least in some way protect Dook, Mitzi, and whomever else.

"Well, for starters, he never wanted to be a vampire in the first place. And you caught him at the point of his life he was looking forward to. He was just starting to figure things out, he was going to get his life together. But right before he could even try, he was forced into all of this. Ever thought about what that's like, you're finally rising from the ashes, only to be taken and thrown into another fire? He must've been very optimistic, because of the fact it gave him such an urge to fight for so many years. He wants his old life back, and since he can't get it, the least he wants is to be left alone." He explained.

"Hmm…" Rolfe put a finger to his mouth, thinking. He didn't seem like the type to show remorse, but he was hoping for him to at least think. "It would explain why he's so relentless. Ever since the day the Boss wolf introduced him to the rest of the mafia, he struggled in his arms. You know how he escaped the house during his visit? He was buried alive in a box. He used the spikes on one of his bracelets, chiselled and broke his way out of the box, unburied himself, and made a run for it. I've never seen someone fight so hard to get away."

"Then why don't you let him get away? Tell the mafia he stepped into the sun, or he ate some garlic?" Beach questioned. "Why try, if he'll never break?"

"I have to at least try. The Boss Wolf is my father. He taught me how to capture even the most unrestful of vampires. He assigned me Dook because he believes in me. And if I fail, he wont go easy on me just because I'm his son. I'll end up as dead as the other wolves before me. I have to. This is my duty. I don't care if it takes until in 90, I'm going to get Dook back there somehow." Rolfe explained. "You really care about him this much you're trying to reason with the enemy?"

"Yeah, I do…." He really hoped Rolfe didn't know they were, in some way, an item.

He panicked to himself, a knowing grin on his face. "He's gonna break your heart, kid. I've seen this one too many times. He likes to fly in and out of relationships. He moves from town to town, falling in love and then having to leave them behind. From what my father learned about him, hes lovesick, but clumsy. You two will probably last as long as his last one."

A Beach shrugged not knowing how to respond with his words. Rolfe could sense his thinking, which only made his smile grow.

"Ha, don't even try to argue. You know it deep inside. Dook is only a small blip in your life as it will be in his, just like the other times. You'll remember him more as this seems to be your first big fling, but to Dook, it's just another name on a list. You're expecting a lot from a hussy, Beach. Get that through your brain. I thought you were smart." He sneered.

Beach looked at him intensely. He knew that wasn't the case for them, but it still damaged him to think that…. Maybe it was. If he didn't become a vampire, he was just going to be left behind as Dook moved away to get away from Rolfe again, and probably find somebody new. He was always telling himself he didnt care if it didn't work out in the long run, but it was like deep down inside, that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted it to be long term. He wanted him to stay here with him. He wanted to wake up next to him, run through the rain with him, hold his hands in a dark theater with him forever. But could that really happen? Was he too blinded by his own love to see that maybe this relationship didn't mean as much to him?

"Don't say I told ya so if you dont last for another couple months. It's best you just let Dook and I do our cat and mouse until he leaves again, leaving you stranded." He turned around and began to walk away.

"For someone who's been following him around for years, I'm assuming, you sure don't know that much about him."

Rolfe stopped and turned around, rolling his eyes, yet still intrigued by what he had to say.

"He has a past. He's done things he isn't proud of. But she's much more complex than you think." He hoped off of the top of the car. "You're idea of him is very…. Flat. Static. Two-dimensional. People change and learn. And although he's been stuck in the same mindset, I'm sure he's learned how to take things slower than he had in the past."

"Really? If you're taking it slow…. How many times have you slept together?"

Beach scoffed, and gave him a face of disgust. "That's a personal question."

"A couple times then, I'm guessing---"

"That is a personal question." He repeated his voice suddenly intense. "I don't get what the obsession is with that, so can you please shut the hell up about it!?"

Rolfe looked at him in shock. He didn't know he had it in him to raise his voice like that. "Very well then. Have your mindless fun. Act like he won't leave you in the dust. Move as fast as you like. But you've been warned. You have your Hopes too high."

He turned around again, and walked off, that stupid smile still on his face.

Beach cursed under his breath, unlocked his car, climbed in and drove home, feeling invaded, dumb, and cranky. His three least favorite things to feel.

#beok #fanfiction #rae au #beach bear #dook larue #the rock afire explosion

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years ago

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Academic Misgivings (Part Eleven) - Peter Parker

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Now Peter knows the truth, he knows about how deep your dislike of him ran before you got to know him. Can he forgive you? Would he if you were given the chance? Could to make it on your own again?

/ PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR/PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN /

When you wake up, you’re not expecting the light of Tuesday morning to blind you. You must have slept through the night, but your body ached in a way that told you that it had been a restless sleep. The sound of birds chirping outside of your window gave the new day a crippling touch of reality. With a groan, you sat up from under the covers.

Light rays of the sun streamed through your curtains and glinted off of your phone. As you reached for the screen, the refracted glittering of light around your room disappeared. The movement stirred the screen of your phone to life and you caught sight of the time. Nine o'clock.

Before panic set in with the gripping fear of being late to school, you were struck with a memory. The dance. It had been moved to Tuesday because of the fact it was Teachers Institute day. You had nowhere to go or anywhere to be.

You were reminded about that cruel fact when your phone went off. Your heart raced at the thought of a text. Who was messaging you? You couldn’t bring yourself to look. The phone buzzed again in your hand; the vibrations traveled up your arm like a shock. It was enough to coax you into taking a peek.

Your spirits fell when you saw the notification of a new Instagram post. It wasn’t from Peter. Granted, you weren’t sure if he ever used social media for anything. No, instead it was a notification from Betty’s Instagram. A photo of the blonde girl with a boy, a freshman, if your memory served you well. They were both smiling, clutching a poster that read: Please don’t snow-flake out on me, come to the Winter Formal?

With a groan, you shut your phone off and held it against your chest as if to dull the ache there. Had Flash...no...had you not made your stupid mistakes, you would still be going with Peter to the Winter Formal. Now, there was nothing. Although, the pull to apologize, to find Peter, was still lingering.

It coiled around you, tied you to your guilt. But it didn’t render you immobile. Slowly, you peeled yourself out of your bed and dressed. Your limbs moved through sludge as you pulled your sweatshirt over your head. A heavy breath shook your frame and a lingering scent of Peter’s cologne wafted into your nose. No matter what you did, you couldn’t escape him.

And if you couldn’t escape him, you might as well find him.

The walk from your apartment to the coffee shop was a long one. Each step felt like slogging through tar. You were fighting every impulse to bury your nose in a book, drown yourself in studying rather than worry. Yet, you could not stop your feet as you trekked through the crowded sidewalks of Tuesday morning.

It wasn’t as bustling as it was yesterday morning. The rush of people desperate to make to their place of work on time was over, leaving a few scattered do walkers and idle persons ready to start their day. Brisk morning air kept their cheeks a rosy pink and you imagined your nose had turned red in the cold. It was amazing that it hadn’t snowed yet.

However, a bit of frost had gathered in the large windows of the coffee shop. Little branches of ice reached up, clambering to get ahead of the sun that was beginning to beat down on the glass. Before long, it would melt and would fall. The feeling of falling you knew well. Now, you were on the floor, dropped there in the heat of the moment and melting in your own mistakes.

The coffee shop wasn’t busy or alive as it once was. Perhaps it was because you were without Peter; whenever you were there alone it felt cold. Or it could have been the fact the blue-haired barista wasn’t at the counter. An older gentleman with greying long hair and lanky arms worked behind the counter, sorting cups and tea bags.

You peeked around the booth that blocked the view of the shop’s interior and frowned at the near-empty tables. It was hard to believe that, with a day off school, the cafe wasn’t filled with students from Midtown. A few sneakers poked out from under tables, tapped against the wood floor in a fumbling beat. There was no familiar head of chestnut hair or light laugh filling the air. With a heavy heart, you turned back to the door.

“Y/N?”

You spun on your heels and locked eyes with the owner of the voice. The peak of curiosity in the pitch was odd, especially when you saw it came from MJ.

“Oh...hey.”

“You drink coffee?”

“Uh,” you directed your eyes to your shoes and scuffed them gently against the floor. “No, I was just...looking.”

“At coffee or for Peter?” You lifted your shocked gaze to MJ’s relaxed expression. One of her brows was quirked up with interest, that cool intrigue that never left her features. When you stayed silent, MJ sighed. “Ok, I don’t like getting into things like this but I mean, you guys are both my….” she screwed up her nose with strain, “...friends so I want to know.”

“MJ...it’s a lot…” She raised a hand and you trailed off. There was something comforting about her stance, her unwavering indifference with specks of care peppered in. MJ was there and always herself. Something you wished you had been.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” she explained, “I just want to make sure you’re alright.” You let out a bitter huff of a laugh and shook your head.

“That depends on whether you’ve seen Peter.” MJ frowned at your words and nodded.

“He disappeared right after you. I didn’t seem him after that yesterday.” You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded sullenly.

“Yeah,” you shook the grip of sadness and nodded once more. “I have to go.” You heard MJ’s plead to stay but you pushed open the door. The cold air greeted you once more, kissed your cheeks and wrapped you in a chilly embrace.

You started walking down the sidewalk but not back to your house. Part of you pulled to go anywhere but back. You only had to move forward. Only hurt lingered behind you. That, and the slamming of a door.

“Y/N, wait up,” the slapping of MJ’s sneakers against the pavement echoed her words. In a matter of seconds, she was catching up with your pace. Her bundle of hair tumbled over her shoulder as she fell into step beside you.

“MJ, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she conceded but continued to walk with you.

“MJ….”

“Are you still going to go to the dance?” Her question pulled you to a halt. MJ stopped too, her arms swinging to a stop. The look she wore was flat, although her deep brown eyes were bright with interest.

“I...no...I was going to go with Peter...so...no.” MJ pursed her lips and sighed.

“I know I said it’s a mating ritual but you don’t need to go with someone. You can come with...you should go by yourself.” She kicked a few pebbles with the toe of her Converse as she spoke. For the first time, it seems like MJ is shy.

You wait for a beat, your mind racing at the proposal. The idea of going to a dance was only appealing when you were with Peter. You looked at MJ’s face when she looked up at you. There was a half-hearted smile on her lips and you sighed at the sight. She was only trying to help.

“And support a high school cliche?” You asked in a breath, “that seems to go against your cause.”

“Pft, what cause?” MJ played along, but the smile on her face warmed you against the cold.

“I don’t have anything to wear though...Pete-” you sighed, “I made plans but they didn’t fall through.” MJ nodded and glanced around the street. Along the road, a few clothing shops displayed an array of dresses, suits, and skirts in their windows. You tried to follow MJ’s eyeline but saw only a secondhand shop.

“Don’t worry,” MJ said suddenly. She turned you to give you a grin. “I’ve got us covered.”

“I don’t know about this,” you said wearily as you studied your reflection. The material of the dress was puffed out beyond your reach. It was clear that, when MJ suggested the gown, she meant you to wear it as a joke.

The fabric sounded like plastic whenever you brushed your fingertips against it. Rough leaves were more akin to the material of the skirt but the bodice shimmered like scales of a fish. It felt as if a seamstress blinding picked and pulled different samplings of fabric blindly and hoped the colors wouldn’t clash; giving no thought to the texture. Despite how perfectly it fit your frame, hugged you like a dream, the dress was an affront to nature.

“You don’t like it?” MJ’s teasing was enough to coax your gaze from your reflection. Her brown eyes were mischievous and bright as she grinned at you.

“Funny,” you shot back and stepped away from the mirror. “You want to wear it?”

“Nah, I’m good,” MJ waved a dismissive hand and stood from her chair. “I’ve got a dress already.”

“So you were going to go this whole time?” MJ scanned her eyes along the dress as you spoke. Her eyebrow quirked up with slight cringe of disgust.

“I may hate high school cliches but that doesn’t mean I won’t participate in them. I have to get out of the house sometime…”

MJ, having trailed off in her speech, found interest in a rack of discarded gowns that looked much too Spring colored for a Winter formal. You were still caught on her words to notice the next dress she wanted you to try on. Perhaps you and MJ weren’t so different. She was bright, as were you, and lonely. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought of Peter and what he had said: you are more than what’s under the mask.

Now that you had caught a peek past MJ’s mask, you were pleased to find you were no longer alone. “I want to go to the dance with you.”

MJ’s head poked up from the rack of clothes, her curls bouncing like loose springs. “Aren’t you already ...?”

“No, I mean,” you sighed and let your arms fall to your sides in defeat. “I just wanted you to know. That I want to go with you.” You met MJ’s eyes and smiled softly. “That you’re my friend.”

You saw it then. The same loneliness that had held you for so long, turned you bitter with every passing second a person; the loneliness that kept you from seeing past yourself melted away from MJ’s face. Shared and now lost, you both smiled at each other. At least, before MJ coughed and shook her shoulders.

“Cool.” Your smile widened.

“Cool.” MJ looked back to the racks of dresses, some that reeked of mothballs and others that, somehow, looked more appalling than the one you were wearing.

“So...you wanna talk about it?” You peered at MJ with a quirked brow. The girl didn’t meet your gaze. Her fingers danced through the fabric and left you hanging in confusion.

“About what?”

“Peter?”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“What?” For a split second, you expected to see Peter at your side. But when you glanced to your right, you saw only MJ. Her curls were bundled up and out of her face that was illuminated by the blue light emanating from the lights hanging in the gymnasium.

“Don’t overthink it, just….” she gestured to the huddled bodies of your peers as they swayed to the music. “Just enjoy it...if that’s possible.”

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” you replied. You could see Betty’s done-up blonde hair as she spun around with her freshman date. She was smiling like every other couple on the dance floor.

“I don’t think it was ever a good idea,” MJ sighed as she leaned back against the wall. “But it’s better than-”

“Moping? Staying at home?” A low voice broke through the dull rhythm of the beat. In sync, you and MJ looked to your left. Ned, wearing a flimsy, blue suit-jacket walked towards you with a strained smile on his features.

“Are you projecting?” MJ fired back as Ned stood by your side.

“Are you?” Ned turned back and raised a brow at MJ.

“Touche,” MJ nodded, “touche.” You let out a huff and turned your attention back to the dance floor. People still pushed through the doors with laughs carrying after them. Your heart ached a little at the sight, the strings of the muscle pulled by longing.

You had thought about this night before. Entertained its possibilities in your dreams as you got closer to Peter. Now, Peter was nowhere in sight and the possibilities were limited. Even with your friend, it felt like something was crushing your chest.

“Hey, Y/N,” you shook your head and brought your attention to Ned. His dark eyes glinted in the light and you saw a softness that reminded you of Peter.

“Yeah?”

“He’s alright.” He gave you a gentle smile and you felt the pressure lift off of your shoulders. “Peter’s okay.”

“You’ve heard from him?”

Ned nodded. “He texted me.”

“Did he…” you swallowed hard and frowned. “Did he say anything about anything?” Ned shook his head and rested a hand on your shoulder. In the touch, you felt a new sense of dread run up your spine.

“He’ll come around, really, Y/N.” MJ looked over and you felt your stomach tighten. You had told her how you felt about Peter and, with minimal judgment, she had listened. She nodded in agreement with Ned who smiled. “He likes you.”

“He did,” you clarified and Ned’s hand dropped from your shoulder. “People hold grudges and I-”

“Peter doesn’t do that,” Ned said, “trust me.”

You did trust Ned, as much as you could trust someone you hardly knew. The problem was you barely trusted anyone in general. Only recently were you learning to trust yourself. How could you trust Peter to forgive you? Did you even deserve forgiveness?

“Y-yeah, okay,” you breathed and you turned your gaze back to the crowd. The shades of blue lights that shown down on the polished floor danced along with the flood of bodies. You decided then you that did deserve forgiveness, but you did not deserve Peter Parker.

So when he walked through the doors of the gym, you felt your heart sink. His pale cheeks were bathed in the light of the Winter Formal; the tones of azure sharpened the features you had come to know and adore. Even with the distance between you, you could see the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at the bodies writhing on the dance floor. You had missed him, you knew it then, in that moment, how horribly you had missed talking to him; seeing him.

“Wow, he came around fast,” MJ jested as she tipped her head in Peter’s direction.

“See, I told you,” Ned cheered softly, although his voice already sounded far off in your ears. You felt dizzy on your shaking knees and, for support, you reached out and grasped at the air. Your hand met with an arm and you were shocked by a sudden warmth.

“You don’t have to talk to him, Y/N,” MJ said in a slight whisper. “But you might feel better if you do.” MJ lifted her arm to steady you. Soon your feet let grounded and you heart rate slowed from its sprinters’ pace. You wanted to feel better.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed. You let your hands fall your side and you fingers brushed against the skirt of your dress. It wasn’t the gaudy gown MJ had joked around with, or any of the ones you tried on with a goofy grin. This dress was one your mother had picked out for your high graduation years ago.

When you had told MJ about the dress, about how you weren’t even sure if the store sold gowns like it anymore, she had dived deep into research. Soon the store that still had one in stock was found. Luckily the subway fare ended up costing more than the dress itself. When your mother had picked it out it had been expensive. It was funny how things changed.

Like how in one moment you were immobilized by fear and in the next you were wading through waves of people to face the fear at its source. Rejection could not hurt you, not if you didn’t let it. Your mother’s absence could no longer hurt you, not anymore; not at school; not at this Winter Formal; and not while you looked into Peter’s eyes.

“Hi…” The pause that greeted you resounded in your ears. Not a murmur dared to break it or Peter’s gaze as he studied your features. You studied him too, although his expression was unreadable. His pink cheeks could have been from the cold or anxiety; wide eyes with blown pupils could stem from the barrage of light or the sight of you. There was no way to be sure.

“Hi,” he replied suddenly. Every sense focused on the sound of Peter’s voice and you tired not to marvel at him in his suit.

“Pete, I-”

“I got your voicemail,” he interrupted. Your voice fell flat, trailed off in the music that swirled about you.

“You...you listened to it?” The air around you thickened and you found it hard to simply breathe. It was a stupid question, you knew that, but it was all you had.

“Y-yeah, I-I did.” Peters’ eyes darted behind you and then back. You hoped that not everyone was looking at you two but you could feel the fury of burning stares

“Peter, I am so sorry.” The corners of his lips lifted slightly in a small smile. You had missed that smile.

“I know, Y/N. But, is it true?” You furrowed your brows and Peter gave you a shy smile. “That you can be a better person, is that true?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “more than true. I hope that...maybe you could help me with that. If you want to…” Peter smiled a little wider and you felt your own expression shift.

“Of course,” Peter gushed. “I-I just uh...that’s all I can do...with you…”

“Oh, yeah, no, I understand.” Your cheeks burned at the thought of a deeper relationship with Peter. You had been so close, literally holding his hand and now there was only friendship. That was something you could get used to; you could be okay with that.

“Y-yeah, cool. But I...I mean I haven’t been entirely honest with you either.” Peter scratched the back of his neck with the muscle of his arm bulging slightly against the dark-grey fabric. He seemed nervous suddenly and his words set you on edge.

“What do you mean?” You leaned towards him and tried to meet his gaze. Peter turned head and glanced at you with pinkened cheeks.

“I mean, I-I,” his hands fell to his sides and the aura of confidence returned to him. “I mean I just want to dance with a pretty girl.” He gave you a questioning look with big doe eyes and a quirked brow.

“Well...that’s good because I want to dance with a pretty boy.” You and Peter beamed at each other for a moment of silence. Then, another moment later you were both gripped in the throes of laughter. It felt easy and calm again.

There was no longer worry suffocating you or dread that filled your gut. You only felt Peter. His hands on your waist and the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses. He was warm and his shoulders were strong when you rested your arms on them. Everything felt right and in rhythm; swaying to the gentle music.

The tips of his fingers gathered at the dip of your spine and the touch was enough to quell nausea that swelled in your gut. As you slowly spun and paraded through the pockets of couples dancing, you could feel their eyes on you. But, with Peter, that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered when you were with Peter; even if you weren’t with Peter. At least, not in the way you truly wanted to be.

“The punch is gone, the party is officially over,” MJ sighed as she took the seat at your side. The chair legs squeaked against the floor of the gym and the sound echoed out, over the quieted music. With the night winding down, you were fighting to stay awake. Your feet ached from dancing and you wondered how Peter was still going.

He and Ned had summoned enough energy to continue cupid-shuffling. They looked ridiculous, arms waving and legs kicking out madly. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips as you watched. It was impossible not to.

“They’re dorks,” MJ grumbled. She was slouched in the plastic chair, her eyes half-closed. “Why are you friends with them again?”

“Why are you friends with me?” You countered with a tired grin.

“You’re in a better mood,” she leaned towards you, “did you talk to Peter?” You felt your smile fall but you nodded. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, we’re friends again so…” You barely met MJ’s eyes but when you did you saw only disbelief. “What?”

“You sound overjoyed,” MJ drawled.

“I am happy but it’s...we almost, we were close and I know why we’re not. I do, it’s just hard to not think about it.”

“Wow,” MJ rested back in her seat, “you really like him.”

You let out a heavy breath and sank back in your chair. Peter and Ned still ambled about, their smiles shone bright under the flickering lights. They were carefree, even as the song ended. Barely a drop of sweat graced Peter’s glowing face as he walked over to the table. Ned was clapping as he took the seat beside MJ.

“You guys missed out!” He cheered. Peter took the seat across from you, nodding in agreement. You watched Peter as Ned repeated every move of the shuffle while seated. The bright smile he wore was starlight-bright. You were wholly enraptured and couldn’t stop staring, even when he met your gaze.

“Are you tired?”

“What?” You shifted in your seat and straightened your posture. Peter mirrored your actions and leaned over the table slightly.

“I can walk you home if you’re tired.” Silence fell over the table. Ned stopped with his cramped dancing and MJ went more quiet than usual.

“I…” you heard MJ cough loud enough that the quiet broke. She gave you a pointed looked and you read her easily. “Sure, I’m pretty tired.”

“Okay, cool,” Peter stumbled out of his chair, “let’s uh, let’s go?”

“Y-yeah.” You scooted away from the table and stood in an excited rush. You nearly would have forgotten about your jacket if MJ hadn’t held it out to you. With a silent ‘thank you’ you took it and trailed after Peter.

“Walk safely,” MJ shouted after you and Peter.

“We will,” Peter shouted back. You hurried to catch up with him at the gym doors. Like clock-work, he held open the door for you with a smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly as you passed into the hallway. Even with the school’s walls and heating system, the growing Winter cold breezed through poorly sealed windows.

“You’re welcome,” he said as he fell into step beside you. The steady footfalls of your shoes filled the air as you neared the school’s exit. It wasn’t entirely tense but there was something beneath the surface. Whatever it was, it was bubbling up and seeping through the cracks of the bandage you had covered old wounds with.

“You look handsome, by the way,” you said in the hopes of masking the nerves. “I hope that isn’t overstepping. I just wanted you to...know…”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Peter’s cheeks reddened, “you do to. I mean, pretty. You’re pretty, not handsome.” You laughed softly as Peter opened the door to the school. The cold wind hit your skin and you wished you had thought to bring a heavier coat.

“To be fair, ‘handsome’ was equivalent to saying ‘beautiful’ in the 1800s. It’s flattering,” you explained. Peter let out a breathy laugh but still quiet enough for you to be concerned. You lifted your gaze and saw him looking at you. “What?”

“Nothing, I-I just,” he raised his hands as you walked along the sidewalk. Under the streetlamps, Peter looked warm. “I missed you. It’s silly but…”

“You got used to having me around?” Peter’s brown eyes met your gaze and he nodded.

“Y-Yeah ...I did.” A new wave of quiet swirled around you. It followed the two of you as you walked down the block with too much space between you to be relaxed. Peter must have felt that something too. It wasn’t just you.

So it lingered between the two of you as your apartment complex came into sight. It formed a lump in your throat and choked your hope. Peter was so close, you were back to where you started with him; friends. So why did it hurt?

“Peter?” Your apartment was across the street and you couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping, or trying to sleep, with the worry in your heart. So you stopped walking at the crosswalk and hoped that Peter would too.

“Yeah? Ar-are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just sorry, Pete. I know I’ve said this before but I just feel like it needs to be said again.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You’re okay,” Peter’s hands reached for yours that waved in the air wildly.

“But we...we’re not okay,” you sighed and tried not to get caught up on how soft his hands were on yours.

“We are,” Peter stressed. His brown eyes were wide and you frowned.

“Not like we used to be and I know why but…” you trailed off and let your hands fall to your sides. “I just have to get used to it and you just seem to have it all figured out.”

“I don’t,” Peter admitted with a smile, “not at all. I thought you did.” You let out a small giggle through a sniffle.

“Well, then we’re screwed huh?” Peters’ smile widened and he nodded.

“Hey,” Peter took a step towards you and you lifted your eyes to meet his. “It’s too cold to do this now. How about tomorrow we meet at the coffee shop? I mean, if I’m still your tutee.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh and nodded. “Of course, Pete.”

“Cool,” Peter breathed. He was very close now. So close you could feel the warmth of his body and all you wanted to do was hug him. Instead, you stepped back into the crosswalk.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see yo-Y/N!”

All you heard was the screeching of wheel and the gross sense of deja vu. However, there were no headlights this time. A rush of air, it felt like falling again right off of the balcony of Willis Tower. Only it was cold then warm then cold again as Peter rushed towards you at a nearly inhuman speed. What was most alarming was the white string that shot out from his wrist.

One moment, he was at your side and the next you were up in the air. And you were screaming.

“Hold on, hold on!” Peter shouted over the wind but you struggled against him. How was he doing this? Was he flying? What was Peter, an alien?

All of the questions flew about your head, even as your feet hit the ground. Your heart was pounding and your legs shook with sick unease. You looked down at your dress and saw what looked like spider-webs clinging to the fabric. A trembling finger pulled at the web and it stuck to your skin.

“Are you okay? Y/N?” Peter’s brown eyes and soft features filled your vision. Concern was written in his furrowed brows and all you wanted to do was cry. His hands gripped at your arms and pulled you towards him. “Y/N?”

You met his gaze with wide eyes. Before you, you saw Peter. The boy you once hated; the boy you got to know; and the boy you cared for deeply. But something was different. It was as if you were seeing all of him for the first time. What was under Peter’s own mask.

“Peter….” you whispered, “what the fu-”

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