#she lets it force her to rise above and dig deep. to push herself almost to the breaking point

[itspileofgoodthings]

also … that IS one of her greatest strengths. using criticism to better her craft and propel herself forward.

[dreamqueenkala]

KINKTOBER 2022

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED

Day iii. || Collaring

Custos, Jacob w/ Male Reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re tired of Emma blatantly flirting with Jacob, especially when you’ve been dating him far longer than you’ve been at camp. Deciding to put an end to this game of hers, you bring out the “anniversary gift” you’d gotten him a little earlier than you intended to.

Nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted with a vengeful annoyance, your fingers latched into Jacob’s hair and pulled sharply. He yelped, his gaze snapping away from the blonde who’d been pressing herself against his front moments ago, stumbling in your direction. Emma’s eyes were wide from both surprise and irritation, clearly upset that you’d stepped in.

“Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, Mountebank.” You hissed, your voice a bit deeper as it normally became when struck with deep anger. Jacob’s body tensed and he instinctively shuffled closer to you, one of his most subtle submissive tells. Typically, you’d grasp his hand to comfort him when he submitted like that, but your anger blinded you and instead you let your glare linger on the jock before snapping back to the influencer.

With an agitated click of her tongue, Emma tossed her hair over her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips, a sneer on her lips that made your blood boil. “Kinda can’t when we work together sometimes. Not my fault he looks so delicious.” A growl almost inhumane left your throat, her haughty expression wavering as she took a step back. Clearing her throat, she shrugged in feign disinterest, turning on her heel. “Whatever losers.”

Spinning on your heel, you backed the taller boy towards your shared cabin, grateful the kids were busy on the island. Your fingers kneaded into his biceps, guiding him inside, albeit a bit rougher than you would’ve intended had you not been practically seeing red. Your lips met his before he could speak, a deep groan leaving his lips.

“Babe—“ Jacob stammered against your lips, his large hands grasping at your hips in an attempt to push you away. Your brows furrowed, your own hands forcing him backwards til his knees met the frame of your shared bunk, a sharp gasp leaving his lips as he tumbled onto the mattress. Glaring down at the flustered male, you bent over to dig in your suitcase, fumbling around for a specific object you’d tucked away. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up, Jacob.” Rising to your full height, a few inches shorter than the jock himself, you held the thick leather object in your hand in front of him. His dark eyes honed in the object and widened, jaw going slack with both nervousness and surprise. “Wear it.”

“W-What?”

“Since Emma can’t seem to take a fucking hint, maybe I should just show her who you belong to. Wear. It. Jacob.” The male licked his lips and tilted his head forward, worried gaze flickering between the leather and your own eyes. Seeing his concern and hesitation, your expression softened, free hand coming up to cup his cheek and caress the skin beneath his eye. “Relax baby. It’s only for us, I won’t hurt you. You know that, right?”

Jacob held your gaze for a moment longer, finally releasing a deep exhale and nodding. You moved to sit beside him on the mattress, hand on his cheek now petting his hair soothingly before moving to his nape. His eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head forward all the way, your fingers gently caressing the skin of his neck. The collar coiled around his throat at your command, the minuscule clink of the clasp causing him to shiver slightly. Straightening, he gazed at you with a dazed glassy effect to his eyes, pupils dilated while the male rested in his sub space.

“You’re so good, Jacob. I love you, baby.” Peppering kisses over his face, Jacob hummed and smiled, nuzzling you gently. “What do you want, Jacob? Use your words.”

“Wanna suck you off.” He mumbled, mouthing at the skin of your collarbones just peeking above the collar of your shirt.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your face?”

“Mhm. Fuck my face, babe.” With a grin, you stood from the bed again, fumbling with your jeans. Jacob eagerly gazed up at you, subconsciously reaching up to fidget with the leather wrapped around his neck. Your hands dug your cock out, already painfully erect and dripping, reaching up to grasp his collar whilst pressing your tip to his patted lips.

Jacob opened his mouth without any hesitation, eyes closing as you sank deep into the back of his throat. You stopped about half way to let him inhale, then bucked your hips the rest of the way. He gagged and swallowed around you, the sensation causing you to groan and your hips to stutter in their motions. One hand latched into his hair, the other on the above bunk frame, your hips rocked in and out of his mouth and throat at a rapid, brutal pace.

You watched as your cock was outlined in his throat by a bulge, the collar around his neck making it seem fuller and coaxing your boyfriend to swallow more. “Fuck baby, you take me so well.” He mewled around you, his own hips rutting against the pillow he’d situated himself upon, his sweats tented with his own erection. Eyes fluttering open again, Jacob gazed up at you with dark, hazy eyes and teary lashes, cheeks flushed and hollowed around you. What a heavenly sight that was to you, expressed especially with the way your voice raised in response.

If the sounds you were making weren’t enough of an indication, maybe Emma would see the collar at dinner and take the fucking hint this time. You completely believed that if your cock wasn’t buried down his throat, Jacob would be singing louder than you.

[freedomfireflies]

Weedboiii Void | 5. So Fucking Damaged*

Summary: Royal is a patient at Eichen House. Colin happens to be, too. But this mysterious boy is more than just fake blonde hair and weed.

He's also the voice in his head.

Word Count: 4.8k

Royal doesn’t believe she has ever succumbed so quickly.

She’s not quite sure what happened. Not sure how a few kisses to her neck and the feel of his fingertips along her exposed hip are enough to have her surrendering to each devilish desire.

She once believed she was above meaningless fucks on old, tattered couches in asylum basements.

Now, she is no longer above, but rather beneath.

Beneath Colin as he ravages the tender skin along her neck with each mark of his lust. 

A mark not meant for her.

But for Void.

She reminds herself that each touch, each heated curse, and each grind of his hips against hers is nothing more than a tool in the bag of trickery.

A clever ruse, perhaps she might call it.

But with each second that her tongue is laced with the taste of him, she begins to realize that the only one getting tricked…is her.

“Feel s’fucking good,” he’s grunting beneath clenched teeth, the salacious thrust forcing a choked gasp from her throat. 

The friction of his sweats against hers is not one she foresaw enjoying as much as she does, but it is, and her fingers find his waist so she can grind against him once more. Just to feel that fleeting flash of pleasure.

For a moment, he hesitates, as if unprepared for her subliminal request. Confused, almost. She’s tempted to wonder if she’s gone too far, yet before she can, he’s hissing through his teeth.

He pulls back, palms deep in the cushions on either side of her head, and looks down. Looks down at the flushed girl below him as she waits with bated breath for his reasoning.

His chest rises and falls quickly as he struggles to steady his heart rate and her lashes flutter, waiting for any sign that Void is lurking in the shadows of Colin’s mind. 

But that’s not why he stopped, and this is made abundantly clear to her the moment she feels his fingers crawl up the soft skin of her stomach.

His eyes are trained on the fabric of her shirt as it’s pushed higher by his wrist. He watches with near wonder as her chest is revealed to him.

His breath hitches.

His hands move to smooth over the curve of her tit, palming it in his hand as she reels into his touch, pathetically receptive despite herself.

His eyes flick to hers for a moment and she hopes he can see how badly she needs this. Needs him.

Him, Void, whoever. 

She just…needs.

She notices the clench of his jaw muscle. The way he fights to restrain himself and she can’t help but wish he wouldn’t.

His head dips before she can urge him forward. His parted lips find the peak of her nipple, yet he doesn’t take hold. He exhales, slowly, until she can feel her fingers dig into the skin of her palm.

He moves at a tortuously slow pace. His tongue, warm and eager, gently flicks at the aching bud. Flattens it against his taste buds.

And then…he sucks.

Sucks it into his mouth before pulling it with his teeth.

She thinks she blacks out.

Because the last time somebody touched her, the last time somebody made her feel like this…well, truthfully, she can’t remember the last time.

He settles himself on his knees, other hand now free to roam about her waist, tugging her further down onto the couch while simultaneously tugging her further into his mouth.

He devours her. Finds each point of pleasure until she’s nearly grinding against his knee, so perfectly placed between her thighs.

He doesn’t chastise her for this behavior. No, he thrives off it. Pushes it further into her cunt so she may do with it as she pleases. 

Lets her whine softly as she reaches for his hair, tugging at the dirty blonde strands until he’s groaning.

And his groan. Reverberates through her nervous system until she’s whispering, “Please…please.”

He looks up, tongue still flat against her tit as he licks a strip up to her collarbone. He moves to kiss her, biting at her bottom lip as she sighs with relief.

Relief.

It’s all she needs. All that she can focus on and yet the last semblance of a brain cell she possesses reminds her that she’s not here for herself.

She’s here for Void.

Her hands sweep down his chest, appreciating the hard ridges beneath the soft material of his shirt before they find their way to the string on his pants.

She plays with it for a moment, subtly alerting him of her intentions, and offering him the opportunity to change his mind. 

He looks down, glancing toward her fingers sweeping beneath his navel, and her heart skips with the fear that he’s going to reject her.

Until she notices his lust-blown pupils double in size.

That sufficiently answers that question.

Her hand dips beneath the band, feeling at the warm skin awaiting her, inviting her in. Inviting her lower.

She finds him, hard and heavy to the touch, and the way his chin drops to his chest feeds her ego.

She’s gentle with it. At first, that is. Swiping the pad of her thumb over the tip. Feeling exactly how receptive he is to her.

It feels good. To know he needs her just as much as she needs him.

And maybe that need is only physical, but right now, Royal will take whatever he has to offer.

“Fuck.” The sound scrapes from his throat like shoes on gravel. Labored and thick. “You…shit, you gotta stop if…don’t—”

“Why?” She lowers her hand. Squeezes. Tugs another groan from his lips. “Don’t like it?”

“No, I—” His hips buck, colliding with her hand as her lips quirk up in a proud smile. “Fuck. Of course, I…I just…s’not what we’re…”

She’s almost sure she knows where his argument was headed, although she can’t possibly care less as her fingers twist around his cock to elicit another pathetically needy noise.

She’s surprised to find herself yearning for that sound as forcefully as she is. Surprised she finds the sight of the arrogant blonde boy above her now begging for her touch so erotic.

But she does. She does, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever want anything more in her life.

She could equate the feeling to mere horny intentions, as he so eloquently phrased it. And perhaps that’s all it is. 

The seek for pleasure and the seek for knowledge. An act of physical desire that only bodes one result.

But she knows, undoubtedly, that her strive for release with Colin and her aspiration to prolong this night are for none of the above reasons.

Even if she’s scared to accept it.

And she wonders if Colin shares in her discomfort. The pull of his brows as he squeezes his eyes shut indicating his resistance to enjoy her touch as much as he so clearly wants to.

They’re both swimming in dark, gray waters with absolutely no sense of morality or direction.

So, she decides, she’ll make things a bit more clear.

She removes her hand, watching as he exhales a sigh of near relief before she smooths her palms up his neck until she can cup his face.

She encourages his eyes to find hers, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “Wanna try something.”

His lips part. “Okay.”

“M’gonna need you to lie down for me, yeah?” She nods her chin towards the other end of the couch. “Promise I’ll make it worth it.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyeing the sofa almost as if it will reveal her plan to him. When he looks back, he seems hesitant, and she doesn’t doubt he’s struggling with the release of control to her.

But that flicker of uncertainty fades just as fast as it appeared, and he removes his body from hers so he can lean back against the arm of the couch in wait.

Collecting a deep breath within her lungs, she sits up, now crawling her way to where he’s perched. His eyes follow her like that of a deer caught in headlights, apprehensive and aroused, and it fuels the fire deep in her stomach.

When she reaches him, she smiles, rather deviously as her fingers reach to bunch the material of his shirt within her grasp.

She uses this hold to tug it up and over his head, with his assistance, before they can toss it carelessly to the floor.

Her eyes drink in his chest shamelessly and she can tell he fucking loves it, settling further into the cushions. 

Her fingers hover about the air as she reaches for the hard, rigid skin, although she resists the temptation to touch.

And when she doesn’t indulge in the feel of his stomach, he smirks, extending his long, nimble fingers until they can wrap around her wrist and pull her hands taut to his chest.

And she feels.

Feels the hot skin, painted with crimson-colored veins as they travel from his neck to his heart. Branching off viciously like a predator, encircling it as if trapping prey.

They’re quite mesmerizing, despite the perilous significance they hold, and her eyes fix themselves on the stains bleeding across his skin.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles, and she glances up. He’s frowning, looking down at his chest with disappointment. “They’re fucking ugly, but I can’t—”

“No.” Her head shakes, fingers following the mark down his chest. “No, they’re…they’re beautiful.”

The scowl deepens. “Oh, come on. Don’t be fucking—”

“I mean it, Colin,” she repeats, gaze returning to the ruby roadmap. “They’re…they are. They’re beautiful and they just…they show how strong you are.”

It’s more sentimental than she had intended and yet, something in his expression shifts. Touched and almost grateful.

And she means it. More than she’s truly meant anything else in her life.

They’re beautiful.

He’s beautiful.

She can’t resist reaching down to brush her lips over the dark veins along his sternum, feeling the way his muscles tense the closer she gets. She trails the path until her tongue finds his nipple, flattening it similarly to how he had her. 

He hisses, sucking the desperate air through his teeth. Reels against the sofa as she presses her palms to his ribcage to keep herself steady.

She grabs the bud between her teeth and pulls, noticing very quickly how eager he is to feel it. How excited. She wants to smile.

She moves her mouth back over the opaque marks until they lead her up to his neck. Diverging along his shoulder, his jaw, and down his back.

She makes a mental note to examine the ones hidden from her view later.

Now, however, she focuses on the pulse point below his ear. Sucks the stained skin into her mouth as his fingers trickle down her spine. Tugging her into his lap as he sighs.

She’s glad to know she’s causing him pleasure. Even through something as simple as a kiss.

She’s vaguely aware of his palms sneaking beneath the band of her sweats until he can cup her ass and tug her against his cock. Desperate and gruff. 

She whimpers into his jaw and he curses as his grip tightens. He forces her to rock against him once more, quick and juvenile, until she makes that sound for him again.

They both seem to realize then that the torturous pace they’re playing at is no longer an option when the need for release is so strong.

In tandem, they work to undress. Her fingers grip his sweats to tug them down his legs while his hands bunch up her shirt until he can slip it over her head.

With a breathless pant, she crawls away from his lap so she can slide her own pants down her thighs and discard them. 

Now left in nothing but the embarrassingly bland underwear the asylum provides, she begins to flush, her eyes dodging his as he takes in her figure.

“Fucking hell.” He straightens up, jaw muscles constricting with what she hopes is lust and not repulsion. “Shit, you…well, you look good.”

She smirks then, glancing back with amusement. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but not like…this.” A harsh breath. She’s not quite sure she knows what he means. “Not when I…when you’re…”

He’s stammering, eyes flicking over every inch of her silhouette. 

And the drop in her stomach under his intense gaze encourages her to resettle on his lap and take his face in her hands.

She pulls at his bottom lip, biting until it bleeds, the metallic flavor coating her taste buds.

And he hisses in response, head rolling to the side as his fingers find the back of her neck and he pulls. Tugs her closer until the kiss deepens and her head spins.

Her hips roll over his until neither one of them can stand the friction, both steeling themselves as her hands weave into his hair and he’s pressing his forehead to hers.

Things move quickly from there. He tugs her panties to the side as she finds his cock and tugs, eliciting a groan from between clenched teeth.

And as she sinks down onto him, her mind falling numb, her muscles spasming…she decides that no matter what happens, this will have been worth it.

She’d had premonitions about his size. His ability. His technique.

But she’s delighted to find he exceeds them all. Filling her to the point where she knows she’s being fucked. That this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Colin’s hands find her waist, helping her grind over his cock as he presses kisses to her chest, fingers pulling her tit into his palm as he kneads at the flesh.

Her head drops back, heart caught in her throat as the deep pleasure begins to gather at the base of her spine. As it sneaks its way between her thighs.

She uses his cock like a toy, something that she finds exceptionally easy to do with the way he thrusts inside her. With the way she feels the crescent-shaped indents pressing into her shoulder blades. With the way she watches his eyes fog over with erotic enjoyment.

And it’s perfect. Each roll, each thrust, each flick of her fingers along her own clit.

He’s watching her like she’s real-life erotica and Royal can’t help but thrive off it. Thrive off the look he’s giving her like she’s the only woman in the world. Like she’s precious.

And she can feel the bruises along her hips. The way he’s practically dragging her down onto his cock. The way he’s whispering her name like a prayer, telling her how good she feels.

Her palms fall down his chest, fingers scratching at the violent marks as if desperate to feel him. Desperate to stain herself with his wounds. Desperate to watch them bleed.

“Fuck, Royal,” he groans, head falling back as his teeth scrape together. “So fucking tight for me. Fucking squeezing me, baby. Shit…s’it feel good?”

“Yes.” A broken whisper. Breathless and timid.

His fingers pull at the base of her neck again, tugging her down until their teeth clash, tongues meeting in heated passion. 

“Fucking look at you,” he laughs, rather bitterly as his lips brush hers with each word. “Fucking pathetic, yeah? Fucking me to make the pain go away? S’it working, sweet girl?”

Her nose is pressed to his cheek. Her hands taut to his chest. Her cunt fluttering around his cock.

“Look at me.” The command animalistic and virile. Forcing her eyes open as she inhales quietly. “That’s it. Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how bad you need me.”

“Need you, Colin,” she replies instantaneously. “Shit…need it.”

“Need me to fuck the pain away—”

“Yes.” She chokes on a gasp, sinking down onto her knees at a particularly deep thrust of pleasure.

“So fucking damaged, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” She’s not quite sure she knows what she’s saying, the words disappearing off her tongue before her brain is afforded the opportunity to catch up. 

And then…he growls. Growls as his hips suddenly still beneath her and his head twists to the side.

“Enough.”

She hesitates, fingers dropping from his chest as she studies him. “What?”

The muscles in his throat tighten before he speaks again. “I said enough.”

Her heart sinks. “Colin, I—”

“Not you,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut. “Him. Won’t fucking shut up.”

She’s both disappointed and pleased. Proud that their plan is working as Void seems to be making his appearance. “Where is he?”

Colin’s head shakes, nails digging into the skin at her hip bones as he seethes.

“Colin?” she tries again, leaning closer, fingers reaching for his face to pull it back. “Colin, what is it? What does he want, what’s he doing?”

Another head shake, attempting to tug himself free from her touch, but she’s unrelenting. Forcing him to let her in.

“Colin?” she repeats, louder and with demand. “What’s wrong? Where is he?”

“Right fucking here.”

She can physically feel the blood drain from his face as his eyes flutter open to reveal the golden yellow irises she’s grown to know.

Her breath catches, her heart now racing inside her chest as her hands quickly drop.

And suddenly she’s exceedingly aware of the cock still buried deep inside her. That cock that now no longer belongs to Colin.

“What’s the matter, Little Fox?” His hands keep her still while his threatening stare peers so deeply into her, she’s afraid she’ll drown. “Is this not what you wanted?”

“Yes.” A beat as she wills her confidence to remain resolute. “Yes, I just…I wasn’t expecting—”

“Quite the trick you played on me,” he barrels on, the words dying in her throat. “I thought we were having fun.”

“We were.” She swallows, hands hovering near her chest, now unsure of where to touch him. “But…I needed to check with Colin—”

“Fucking pathetic little sycophant,” Void scoffs, straightening up until their eyes are level. His palm finds her jaw, thumb brushing her cheekbone as he admires her. “Could never make good on his word, could he?”

She swallows, lashes fluttering shut at the tender touch despite herself. “What…what do you mean?”

Void’s lips pull into a mischievous smile, nose brushing hers the closer he brings her. “Promised to ruin you…promised to make the tears run down your face.”

Her lungs tighten with unease and yearning.

“But he couldn’t, could he?” His lips ghost over her own, yet he never concedes to the touch. “Made you ride him like the sad little excuse for a man he is. Made you fuck yourself while he watched. Can’t ruin what he can’t handle.”

She blinks. Rapidly. Because that hadn’t been what she expected him to say at all and yet something stirs within her belly. Something ravenous.

“Didn’t like the game you played with me, Little Fox,” he continues, fingers brushing up the side of her ribcage. “Didn’t like being sent away from you.”

“Oh.” Her voice is weak. Bashful. And she can’t quite figure out why.

He pulls back to meet her eye before his voice drops like stones in water. “Don’t do it again.”

An ominous warning, and yet the moment he says it, she knows she’ll do it again. Not only because she has to in order to get Colin back but because…maybe she likes when she’s pissed him off.

With that, he hoists her from his lap, a gasp ripping from her throat at that barbaric display. 

His fingers bury themselves in her disheveled hair, forcing her head back and exposing her throat.

He kisses at the hollow near the base of her neck, sucking viciously until she’s whimpering, a sound she was so determined to swallow, and yet it comes out before she has the chance to stop it.

And this drives his desire to wreck her. Drives his fingers tighter against her skull. Drives his other hand around her throat.

And he squeezes. 

Until she can feel the air dissipate from her lungs. Until her lashes droop with drunken fatigue. Until the only thing she can truly focus on is the feel of his hand.

Then, he spins her around. 

Forces her onto his stomach as her cheek is thrust into the cushions. 

His knee nudges her thighs apart rudely and without pause as he collects her wrists in his hand. Places them at the base of her spine and cements them there.

And all she feels…is pain.

It doesn’t hurt, per se, but it’s enough discomfort to remind her of who he really is.

The spirit who feeds off chaos.

So, while this should concern her to a deeper degree, perhaps even serve as a warning as to not fuel the flames of the fire, she finds all it really does is reassure her of her decision.

Because this thing, that is now on top of her, is also working its way into her mind.

And she still doesn’t even know what he is.

“Do you know…what it’s like—" The words, snakelike and venomous. “—to watch you fuck him…and never get a taste for myself?”

His hands, following the curve of her ass, down to her thighs. Finding a home between them.

A beat.

“S’that what you wanted, Little Fox?” The rough pads of his fingers sweeping through the drip. Collecting it. Pushing in. “Wanted to hurt me?”

She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing in on the feel. The feel of his fingers, long and practiced, curling inside her. 

Then, the couch dips until his lips brush the shell of her ear. “Is it?”

“No,” she murmurs, tongue going numb as her limbs grow heavy. “No, I promise—”

“Lies.” A sudden thrust, her jaw dropping as a whine splits from her throat. “Love to hurt me. Love to make me watch you with him—”

A third finger. Coated in her. She can hear it. Her heart hammering inside her chest as he fucks into her hard and fast.

Then…they’re gone.

They’re gone, and all she knows is the feel of his cock as it pushes into her cunt. The feel of his hold on her wrists, forcing them behind her. The feel of his nails digging back into the mess of hair atop her head. 

He uses her like she’s merely a toy. Each thrust somehow deeper than the last. Forcing her legs further apart. Forcing a different angle. A different feel of pleasure.

Teeth scrape along her shoulder. No tender kisses to be found. No moments of pure, unadulterated kindness. 

He’s marking her, perhaps in more ways than one. She can feel the burn in her muscles as they recoil. Can feel tomorrow’s ache already planting itself beneath her spine. 

His palm meets the soft skin of her ass, stimulating a sound and a rush of adrenaline she hadn’t expected.

His fingers smooth over the assaulted spot. Massaging at it. Cooing his praises.

Her head is forced up. Eyes now on the dark, basement wall before her.

“Do you feel ruined yet?” A falter in the unrhythmic thrusts. “Hm? Do you feel so fucking damaged, sugar?”

Royal can do nothing but sob and this is answer enough for Void as he releases her hair so he can capture her throat.

Her back meets his chest, head falling onto his shoulder as he presses his nose to her cheek. Breathes her in. Groans.

"S’all I fucking wanted,” he tells her, pulling out until he watches her body go limp. Then, another sharp attack. “Just wanted you to let me in, let me feel—”

She leans further into him, head rolling to the side, as if trying to get closer. As if magnetized to him. To his power. His touch. Wants him to consume her.

“I know, Little Fox.” A sadistic exhale. “Fucking consume you.”

Under different circumstances, she might be alarmed at the way he seems to have heard her innermost thoughts, and yet right now…she’s oh so glad he did.

Because his lips find hers, the taste of him so clear and so distinct from Colin. Like bitter iron and…relief. Like a hundred years' worth of anguish suddenly dissipating on her taste buds. 

And finally, after what feels like hours of suffering, she feels herself nearing the edge. Spurred on by his fingers reaching around her hip to tweak her clit like a toy.

Her legs begin to tremble, stumbling her way to the point of no return, and he’s quick to force her back onto her stomach. Her hips are hoisted higher to deepen the angle, to widen her knees along the couch until she nearly slips off.

And this.

This is what she needed, and it snaps like bands of rubber until she’s crying out. Until her back is painted with his fingertips. Until she’s dripping down her thighs, ruining the material of the couch beneath them, and that’s when he follows.

And it’s not what she expected. It’s not needy or whiny or the least bit proud.

He spills inside her like it’s his job, quietly yet purposefully as he pulls the skin of her neck between his teeth and tugs. Hungrily and with fervor.

Then…still. 

The faltering of her breaths as they melt into the cushion below her. The heavy feel of his weight pressing her further into the couch. Trapping her. Staying warm inside her.

Still.

And now she’s not sure what to do. Not sure how to face the spirit behind her. Not sure what he looks like in the light of day.

She’s almost too afraid to have her question answered, but before she’s allowed the opportunity to stress it…he’s pulling out.

She feels the couch bend and dip with his body. Feels him settle onto his knees as she props herself up onto her elbows. Looks over her shoulder at him. Waits.

His lashes are fluttering shut, head rolling back as his hands fall to his thighs. She can see the whites of his eyes as the dark marks on his skin deepen in color and width.

“Shit…fuck.” The heels of his hands fly to his temples as he presses—hard. His body lurches forward and she’s quick to twist around and steady him, his forehead finding her shoulder. “Oh, fuck—”

“Colin?” She’s eager, despite the odd feeling in her chest at the thought of Void leaving so abruptly. “Are you…are—”

“Fucking hell.” His body is hot—sweaty. Nearly knocking her over onto her back with the dead weight. “Yeah, m’fine…shit.”

“What’s wrong?” She moves her fingers to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking softly in a vague attempt to comfort him. “Is it…what’s happening?”

A moment of silence as she hears him suck in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “He…fuck. I don’t know, he just…”

Her lashes flutter as he finally pulls back, his eyes bloodshot and glossy as he finally focuses in on her face.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, a bit softer, eyeing her lips for a moment. “He gave me back control.”

Her head tilts. “Oh…that’s good…no?”

A beat. “I don’t know.” His gaze moves down her body, as if studying her. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly, the urge to cover, and her arms move to her chest as she clears her throat. “Yeah, it was…fine.”

It was more than fine, Little Fox. Be honest with him.

The voice appears inside her head as if it were her own. A soft purr in her subconscious. Dangerous and inescapable.

She’d know it anywhere. Could recognize the cadence in her sleep.

Or in her own head. 

And the mysterious fog that follows confirms her suspicion.

Colin’s eyes widen as well and just as she’s realizing he might be hearing the same voice, it speaks for a second time.

Don’t look so surprised. After all, you’re the one who invited me in.

 “No…” Colin murmurs, his skin going pale. “No, fuck you—”

I agreed to let you have her in exchange for your cooperation. You knew the risk—

“You never told me you were invading her fucking mind.” He’s angry, glaring off into the distance as Royal replays the words over in her head.

You knew the risk.

In exchange for your cooperation.

You never told me…

“Colin?” She looks to him for the truth. Invites him to be honest. 

And when he refuses to meet her eye…she knows.

Pathetic, little sycophant, the voice calls. I tried to warn you.

She can feel the bile rise in her throat. The betrayal crawling its way up her spine.

Then, the dark mist begins to retreat from her subconscious.

But not without one last goodbye.

I’ll see you soon, Little Fox.

Next:

~ Weedboiii Void | 6. Let's Make a Deal

Previous:

~ Weedboiii Void | 4. Horny Intentions

Full Masterlist

[retroellie]

Farm. Ellie. Making. You. Squirt. 👀 👀👀AAaRAghg now I NEED a whole fic for that!!!! For the sake of my sanity pretty pretty pleaseeeee 😩🙏🏼

Summary: Ellie finding scandalous polaroid's of you before finding out what she can do to you :)

A/N: Thanks for the ask<3 it was a bit rushed but i tried, theres so many asks to do so plz bear with me lol. Also i did research for this one cause idk much about this subject so be proud of me ASHAH

Warnings: NSFW, Squirting, fingering, cunniligus

Word count: 3.2K

She didn’t know what happened, one minute she was listening to Joel strum his guitar, wondering when the hoard will pass so she can finally be with you again. Then the next minute she was looking down a scandalous picture of you, gripping the paper so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

She was digging through her backpack when a piece of paper fell out of it. The paper was folded neatly, the words “For ellie<3″ standing out. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, not quite sure who had put it in there but there was only one way to find out. She picked it up, it was heavier than it looked.

She opened it up and something fell out of the folded paper onto the ground. She looked down towards the floor to see 5 polaroids scattered, she was even more confused. She picked one up and examined it.

It was a picture of you and her, you two were on her bed. You had a huge smile on your face as ellies lips were on your cheek. Her arms were draped across your stomach lazyly, Ellie smiled. She remembered that day so well, you both were sick with colds and you both stayed in bed all day with each other watching old 80s movies.

The next one she didn’t recognize. You were in her bed once again, you were laying on your back with the camera pointed at your chest. You had a small tank top on which didn’t leave too much to ellies imagination. Your neck and chest were covered in hickeys, the dark shade complementing your lips.

The next was even more scandalous. You were in the mirror with only a set of back lacy underwear Ellie had gotten you on one of her trips. Your hand was over your boobs, covering them up so she couldn’t see them. She could see marks on your waist, finger prints from her. It was evident she had once been in the room with you, judging by your puffy lips and sweat drenched body.

The last one made her heart drop and the blood from her face drain. You were on her bed once again, you were topless. Your hair was draped over your boobs and your legs were spread slightly allowing her to see a small sliver of all of you. One hand was on your hip and the other was placed on your chest, right above your boob.

She looked down at the paper and saw sloppy writing on it, she didn’t hesitate in ripping it open and reading it.

Dear ellie,

I thought you were gonna miss me so i decided to have a photo shoot just for you<3 I hope you like them, I'm no model but I thought having these would make you miss me less. (or to show what your missing, don’t want you running off with another girl)

I miss you like crazy and you haven’t even left now, but by the time you're reading this I know I'll be missing you :(. Please be safe and don’t die, I don't want some asshole getting these pictures off your dead body. Oh and I'll miss you when you're dead of course:)

Anyway, please be safe baby and come back to me. I can’t wait to be ruined when you get back, Muah muah

Love,

Y/n XOXO

Her jaw tensed up, her hand grabbing the paper tightly. She tried everything to stop the thoughts of ruining you from running through her head, she couldn’t do anything about it either. She only had these pictures of you, she couldn’t touch you or be touched. The frustration was really getting to her.

She was pulled back to reality by Joel strumming the strings of his guitar.She shoved the pictures into her backpack hoping Joel didn’t see them. She let out a loud sigh, trying to calm herself down. She couldn’t wait to get home, she knew exactly what she was going to do. She knew this was gonna be a long trip.

-

-

The next couple days were hell for ellie. She couldn’t get her mind off the pictures and she couldn’t get off either. She didn’t get much alone time thanks to Tommy and Joel so all the frustration was building up. She couldn’t sleep sometimes, she was so touch starved it interrupted her dreams

When they finally arrived at Jackson she didn’t hesitate in running to her house, knowing you’d be there. With a couple welcome backs and half assed replies from Ellie, she finally arrived at her garage. She slowly opened the door, being greeted with warmth and the smell of your perfume.

Her room hadn’t changed much, there was still clutter of books and you were on her bed with little clothes on. When you heard the door open your head perked up, your eyes leaving the book you were reading. You gave her a big smile before throwing your legs over the bedside, running over to her.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, bringing her into a deep kiss. You guys had been away from each other for a bit. You hated when Ellie went out on trips like these, trips that took days to come back from. You never knew when she’d be back or if she’d be back.

Her hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you unbelievably close to her. You both basked in the warmth, your hands running through her auburn locks. She felt the most relaxed she had in days, feeling so close to you made her feel safe.

"I missed you..." You said while pulling away from her.

Her eyes had gotten a bit darker, almost now dulled completely. You thought it was because of the long trip she just had but Ellie had other things on her mind. The tourture your little photoshoot put her through, the hunger she felt it was enough to make anyone snap. she thought it couldn't get worse but when she walked in on you with just a shirt on and some cute panties, that was the cherry on top.

"Don't act all cute...." Her voice was thick with dominance, maybe the most you've ever heard. " 'i can't wait to get ruined when you get back'' ' She recited from your letter

She had read the letter so many times she could speak it all without the paper. The words haunted her and she was going to make sure you were ruined by the end of it. You looked speechless, like you hadn't any idea what she was talking about.

The innocent look in your eye made her hands shake and her mind wonder to all that she could do to you while that innocent look was still there, how far could she push you until you broke? She grabbed a fist full of your hair, forcing you to look into her dull eyes.

She pulled you into a deep kiss, hand still gripping your hair to keep you in place and the other one wrapping around your waist. You let out a small whimper, surprised by how fast it happened. Your muscles then relax, your head dizzy.

You hadn’t been touched, neither of you did so you both were touch starved. You brought your hands up to grab at her. Her hair, her neck, her chest you grabbed at everything. Her hand wandered down to your ass that was only covered by lacy underwear, giving it a squeeze. You moaned into the kiss, allowing her to move her tongue into your mouth.

The sudden affection made your legs shake and your eyes roll back into your head. She noticed this, watching as you became a moaning mess just by kissing. She took this as a sign to get you on the bed so she took a step forward, hinting at you to walk to the bed.

You started to walk backwards, your lips still on hers. You reached the bed, falling back on it. You pulled Ellie closer and closer to you, legs around her waist wanting more of her. She pulled a way for a split second just to pull her backpack and shirt off, not wanting to waste precious time she could spend in between your sweet little thighs.

You eagerly watched her, face heating up causing a soft red glow on your face. Her shirt trailed up her body, revealing more and more of her. She was only in a sports bra and a pair of jeans when she finally got her shirt off. You bit your lip at the sight, seeing how her nipples could be seen from underneath her sports bra.

When you drew your attention back to her, you saw her giving you a stern look. You could tell she was waiting for you to also take your shirt off, you gave a small giggle at how distracted you were before pulling your shirt off as well. The cold air hit your bare chest, making you shiver underneath her grasp

Ellie’s breath hitched, watching as your chest rose up and down. You looked like an angel to her, your hair sprawled out on the bed, only in a pair of lacy underwear, soft thighs around her waist. How can someone so angelic do something so dirty?

Ellie ran one of her cold hands up your stomach, enjoying the softness of your skin. You reacted to her touch with a small whimper, Goosebumps rising on your skin. She admired every scar and bump on your skin, loving how it looked on your skin. She reached your boobs, placing her hand on top of one. She bent down to place small kisses on your chest.

“I missed these.” She said between kisses.

You giggled, watching her every move. You moved a hand up to her hair, running your hand through it as she kissing and sucked on your skin. You let moans and groans fall off from your lips. She backed them, they encouraged her to do more. She regularly wanted to taste you so her kisses made their way down your neck, down your breast, down your stomach and finally to your lacy pair of underwear.

She placed small kisses on the inside of your thighs, watching you squirm. You watched her every move with wide eyes, she looked up at you nipping at your thighs. She kissed up your thigh until she reached your underwear.

She hooked her fingers on the sides of your underwear and slowly pulled them down, coming face to face with all of you. She slid your underwear off and threw them somewhere in the room. She looked up at you and then back at your thighs.

“Your soaked baby,” she said, breaking the silence.

You just bit your lip, a bit embarrassed about how your cunt was dripping onto your bed sheets. You couldn't help it, Ellie made you feel things no one else has. She noticed your embarrassment.

"Let me guess." She said, sliding a finger up and down your cunt. "You touched yourself to the thought of me, every. single. night while i was gone.

She swiped up and down your cunt a few more times before shoving two fingers inside you. You threw your head back, only ellies long slim fingers could reach that one place inside you that made your toes curl and she hit it every. single. time.

"What'd you think about huh?" She said, planting another sweet little kiss on your thigh.

you didn't respond, more like you couldn't respond. She curled her fingers, just grazing you g-spot. She chuckled up at you, leading her kissing up and up. She was promised to ruin you and she was going too.

"Was it me fucking you with the strap, you hands tied to the bed post while i thrust in and out.." Her fingers forcefully shoving in and out of you harshly to accentuate her words. "of your sweet little cunt."

You let out a high pitched moan in response to those harsh thrusts, making you see stars. She grinned, gripping onto your thigh roughly before licking up your cunt as if she was licking an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

She scissored her fingers inside of you, not going too fast but deep and rough. the sinful sound of her fingers working in and out of your cunt filled the room along with your sweet moans. She licked you one last time, lapping up your juices before savoring the way you tasted.

"or was it just like this?" She asked once again, fully aware of you too lost in the pleasure to answer her. "My head in between your thighs, fucking you with my tongue and fingers while you sit back looking all cute."

She was right to say the least, you did run your hand down your body at night while thinking about her. You thought about it all, every position, every toy you had, every single dirty thing you thought about while fucking yourself until you were too tired to stay awake.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets, your knuckles turning yellow. A thin sheet of sweat was developing along your flushed body. Ellie's fingers got faster, curling and thrusting and then spreading apart before doing it over and over and over again. It was enough to make you cum right then and there if she asked.

"Your lucky baby..." she stated, looking up at you seeing you come apart. "I'm going to fuck you until you've made a pretty mess out of yourself and than i'm going to fuck you all over again."

Ellie's hand pushed your thigh all the way down to the bed, then returned to it to grip at it as she divided her tongue into your cunt. She started slow with her tongue but her fingers stayed the same pace , rough and fast.

Her tongue was so sudden it made you moan a little too loud for your liking. That didn't stop her but made her movement quicker, her fingers jabbing at your g-spot head on now. You were absolutely on fire, your skin felt hot and sticky.

You reached up to your boobs and grabbed at them, only maximizing the pleasure. Ellie licked circles on your clit, the sensitive bud sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You threw your head back, back arching and waist thrusting along with her fingers.

Her nails dug into your thighs flesh, leaving small moon shapes there. Your moans became louder and at this point you didnt care if anyone heard, right now the only thing you cared about was Ellie's mouth on your aching cunt.

Ellie blew cool air onto your cunt, making you jerk up to meet her mouth. She chuckled at your neediness before giving you what you wanted, her mouth. There was no point in teasing you now and she obviously wasn't done punishing you.

Her tongue sped up, lapping at your cunt and really focusing on your clit. She added another finger, allowing her fingers to go deeper. Your hand gripped at her hair to grab it, thrusting your hips up faster and harder than before.

She couldn't get a good angle on your cunt so she took the hand that was on your thighs and brought it up to your waist to keep you down. You could feel your orgasm near but it felt different this time, your belly felt like it was on fire.... it didn't hurt it just felt different, a good difference?

Ellie added another finger, stretching you open. Her tongue was set and determined on your clit, the sensitive bud becoming overstimulated. You could no longer control your volume, you were basically screaming to the point ellie decided if she should stop or not. She didn't need more noise complaints.

Your body was already shaking violently, your stomach felt like it was on fire. This was terrifying how you felt but at the same time you didn't want it to stop. It felt so good and hurt in the best way possible.

Ellie didn't slow down but only sped up more and more until you let out a loud scream. The building knot in your stomach finally snapped and you were overcome with such ecstasy such pleasure, pure fucking light. It was all too much for you, your vision almost went and your hearing ceased for a split second.

From ellies point of view her fingers were soaked, along with her chest and face and even her jeans. She didn't know what was happening for a minute, her first thought was you had peed on her to be honest but after taking one look up at you she knew what had happened. You had squirted.... it had been something she had seen in an old porn tape she came across.

You felt far away from your own body, feeling only wetness on your lower half and after shock waves coming from your cunt. You came back to your body when your head was talking to you.

"Holy shit.... i didn't think i could do that..'' She admitted to you as your eyes fluttered open.

You looked over at her to see her completely soaked with your juices, you suddenly became embarrassed. You didn't know your body did did that, you didn' think it could do that. You closed your your sticky legs as best as you could.

"I'm sorry..." You said, sitting up slowly.

"No no.... It's okay!" Ellie laughed, pushing you slightly back down.

She laid on top of you, kissing you softly. She never wanted you to be ashamed of yourself even after doing something so fucking hot. She brushed your hair out of your face.

"That was a hot babe.... don't be sorry." She smiled.

You let out a sigh, honestly you were still slightly in shock and not yet fully conscious. You were sticky and sweaty, your bottom half tingling and drenched. Ellie's body on yours didn't make it any better but you were okay with that, you just wanted to be with her.

She could sense you not being all there by the way your eyes were still foggy. So she lifted herself off of you and made her way across the room to put on some music, trying to coax you back into your body again.

She went back to the bed and cuddled you up into a blanket before laying beside you, talking to you in a sweet and calm voice telling you all about her journey. She told you about the forest they traveled through and how she swore she saw fairies at one point. She just said anything to relax you and ground you.

"You're cute when you babble." You spoke, voice raspy from screaming.

"look who's back.." She joked, moving a hair from your face.

"That was intense..." You replied, you moved your hand up and down her arm before grabbing her hand in yours

"I know, they make it look so easy in porn." She said, making you perk up.

"Porn?!?!" You asked

You gave her a wide eyed look wanting to know the story behind her porn experience. She scoffed at your sudden interest and threw her hands up, regretting the decision to stay that.

"It was one time when I was 15.... I came across a tape!" She said, laughing at her stupid teenage self.

“Well i have to know the full story…”

[nightwishesworld]

Morning Wood

Finally, I can take this sticky note off my wall! So sorry it took so long my friend, I've been buried in requests haha

BIG OL' NSFW WARNING

*******************************************************************************************

Alcina’s bleary eyes slowly opened to the sound of soft snoring. Next to her, you slept cocooned in comfort. It was a blessing being able to wake up to such a pretty face, Alcina thought. Something was off this morning though she wasn’t awake enough to realize what it was. Alcina sat up, rubbing the crust off her eyes.

She felt hot. As if her blood was rushing through her. With a quick glance down, she quickly acknowledged the issue. The huge tent in the blanket made it very obvious. Alcina groaned, palming her head.

“Well that’s just fantastic,” she groaned.

Alcina considered her options. She could either take a cold bath or take care of it herself. Something told her a shower won’t cut it today. She’s already temped to abandon the bathroom all together and just get rid of it here. Then afterwards she can cuddle you and go right back to sleep.

She turned to watch you as you slept blissfully unaware of her conundrum. The last thing she wants to do is wake you up because of something as stupid as this.

Her hand wraps around the base of her shaft and starts herself off slow. The grip was loose at first and making a languid pattern of up and down motions.

You stir awake to the sounds of hushed grunting next to you. Through bleary eyes you could just make out Alcina’s form propped up on her pillow. It’s obvious what she’s doing. It’s been happening a lot as of late, not that you were totally complaining. Alcina found it incredibly embarrassing the more it happened. Most mornings she would relieve herself in the bathroom. It seems today that was just too long of a walk.

A loud groan pulled you out of your dreamy state. Alcina’s hands were shaking, her breathing even harsher and heavier than before.

Oh, she’s hit a wall.

It was the worst feeling, being so close to having what was just out of reach. It filled you with such a visceral sympathy you broke your silence. “Al?”

Her eyes go wide and she turns to you, but never relents under the sheets. “I’m sorry, Dove, did I wake you?”

You sit up and stretch, letting out a big yawn. “No, don’t worry. I was gonna ask how you slept, but I think I already know the answer.”

“I’m sorry. I was hoping to have dealt with it before you woke up.”

You chuckle and simply take in the sight of the ever elegant Alcina Dimitrescu servicing herself in bed. “Need a hand?”

A much smaller hand finds its way on top of Alcina’s. You don’t bother waiting for a response as you bat her hand away completely.

After a few minutes of this light, almost teasing grip, you tightened your grip until you had her erection in a firm squeeze, your free hand digging into her thigh. You kept your pace slow and measured for a while longer, though, rationing out each new increase in pleasure only when you had exhausted the last one. Then you started to pick up the pace, and now the quiet hums and moans would rise up from the back of Alcina’s throat.

“Get the lubricant, p-please. I need more.”

You bit back the desire to ask if she really needed any lube. She was already dripping and slick with precum. But if that’s what she wanted who were you to disobey? You grabbed the fruity scented bottle out of the bedside drawer and massaged it between your hands.

Alcina had already picked up where you left off, her pace much faster and desperate than yours. Instead of batting her away again you grab her wrist.

“If you don’t behave yourself I won’t let you finish.”

The statement caught you both off guard. It’s not very often you take control like that, and it’s even less often Alcina lets you. Which is why you were surprised when she pouted and brought her hand back down to her side.

“I’ll behave, Darling.”

“Good girl,” you give her a quick kiss and wrap your hand around her again. It was a little known fact that Alcina Dimitrescu could go from being a dominant mommy straight down to a pillow princess. Really the only one still living that knows besides herself is you. Being the dominant one always felt strange though. You felt a bit out of your element, but the look of innocence on Alcina’s face was well worth it. It amazes you every time she decides to play submissively; she’s just as captivating and sexy as her usual dominant self. There was something about the way she just laid down and took whatever you were willing to give that made you crave her even more.

To reward her good behavior you increase your pace and tighten your grip. Her moans and gasps were rapturous to your ears. You knew exactly how she wanted to be touched- how she needed to be touched. And you were more than happy to oblige.

“Close your eyes and relax, Alci. This is all about you. I’ll take good care of you.”

Alcina did as she was told and relaxed against her pillows, focusing solely on your ministrations. She thought there was something hypnotic in the rhythmic motion of your hand, something that felt more profound and elegant the more she felt it. You felt ritualistic against her. She felt like she was being blessed by the Gods.

It was only when she felt something soft cushioning her shaft that she looked down at you. Her jaw dropped as if she wanted to gasp but no sound came out.

You were rubbing your now glistening tits up and down Alcina’s shaft, properly oiling them up. The vampiress’ cock twitches when she feels your hard nipples pressing against the length of her cock and your lips peppering her head in kisses. Your eyes were hooded and filled with lust. It was probably the sexiest thing Alcina had ever laid eyes on; and it was all for her.

You lick her from tip to base. You sucked on her cock, circling her head with the tip of your tongue until finally taking her in your mouth. Alcina starts subtly thrusting her hips, desperate for more contact.

A large, warm hand settled in your hair and started tugging at it. And as the two of you looked at each other, as if no one else existed within the world, you eagerly returned to sucking her cock like you were trying to save your life doing it.

You take her head in your mouth and suck, the taste of precum fresh on your tongue.

She arched into your touch and busied her hand by massaging her breasts, tweaking and pinching her hardened nipples to give herself as much stimulation as possible.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Alcina hummed in response.

Meanwhile, your left hand was softly caressing the vampire’s muscular thighs, and a cute little whimper escaped from her when you pinched her skin. "Ah! Te rog, iubirea mea."

"Please what, Alci?" "Tell me what you want, Love. Use your words."

Alcina couldn’t seem to keep still, as she began unconsciously pushing her hips up towards your face, attempting to get you to deep-throat her as soon as possible. To prevent her from moving like that, you tried using enough force in your left arm to hold her hips down, with your right hand still holding onto her cock as she started to pick up the pace.

“I want your mouth, draga mea. Please, draga mea I need to be in your mouth.”

You grin up at her and chuckle lowly. “That wasn’t so difficult now was it?”

Maintaining eye-level with Alcina’s cock, you stuck out your tongue and licked a bead of precum from the slit. You continued this motion until the whole tip in your mouth, sucking out a lot more precum. Finally, you took almost her full length in your mouth, just enough to reach the back of your throat. You gagged.

Alcina couldn’t suppress her moans anymore, letting you hear her desperation loud and clear. She was panting, sweat forming on her forehead. The atmosphere of their bedroom suddenly got hot. Really hot.

"Nu te opri, te rog," Alcina whispered not realizing she was speaking at all. "Mmmm ...te rog, iubirea mea, nu te opri."

You heard Alcina mumbling but couldn't make out the words. No matter, you weren’t concerned with what she was saying. You could tell Alcina liked what you were doing because she'd grind her hips up closer to your face whenever your mouth parted from her cock.

Alcina shot her eyes wide open right before she came in your sore mouth, and filled you up so much to the point where you choked for a second. But you swallowed all of her semen, not allowing any to drip from your chin. You licked your lips again, feeling very full. “That was delicious, Love. You taste so fucking good. Thanks for breakfast.” Alcina looked down with a blush to see you staring at her lovingly, watching her penis rest against her stomach. You crawled up to look Alcina eye-to-eye, a smirk spreading across your face. “You’re welcome.”

Alcina laughed and pulled you down fully on top of her. “Thank you.”

You lowered your face to place what was supposed to be a chaste kiss on her lips. Alcina melted into the kiss, the softness of your lips driving her crazy on the inside. Things were getting heated, as Alcina stuck her tongue into your mouth when she got the chance. You just squirmed above her. Alcina could taste her semen on your tongue. She moaned into your mouth from the action. Then she bit your already swollen bottom lip, causing you to hiss. Neither of you wanted to pull away. You continued making out for a while, until you ended the intimacy and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. “I love you, Alcina.” “I love you, too, Y/n.”

[lothlaer]

Proposal: Jaskier's got a fist clenched painfully hard one time when he's really really hurt and Yen has to force his palm open so she can tangle their fingers together and try to keep him from hurting his own hand. And they're both kind of like "oh" at some point idk 😳

Anon this apparently awakened something in me, so thank you for expanding on my post and giving me the inspo to write (checks notes) 1.7k. Hope you enjoy whatever this is!!! 

Pre-yennskier, description of blood and injury, 100% hurt/comfort. Read on AO3

“Stop fucking moving,” Geralt hisses, pushing down hard on the hips beneath his hands to still the man’s squirming.

A choked off, muffled whine dies in Jaskier’s throat, his lips pursed tight enough to turn them pale and thin. He’s panting through his nose, clearly in agony, and too out of it to understand that moving will only make this worse.

Yennefer spares the witcher a glance, noting the anxiety and fear that’s obvious on his face, in the tension across his brow, the frantic not-focus of his eyes that flick between the bard’s half-delirious expression and the gaping wound at his side.

She’s done all she can to heal him, sealed up the torn and leaking insides that they all know would have killed him if they hadn’t been here – that still might kill him if they can’t stem the blood loss and prevent infection. She thinks of it like this; clinical, sensible, because she has to.

Jaskier’s heartbeat is quicker than it should be, his breathing equally fast, panicked and pained and shallow. She keeps her ear trained to its frantic rhythm, notices how Geralt’s heart thumps faster than normal too, almost human, almost matching hers. She’d laugh at the symmetry of it all, if it were funny. She’s sure Jaskier would write a poem, if he knew, but she won’t ever tell him. 

He stills a little under the pressure of Geralt’s hands, though still struggles. He probably can’t help it by this point, too confused and the pain too intense to allow much rational thought. Geralt can’t work if he keeps kicking, shifting his hips to try to escape the discomfort.

“Yen,” Geralt growls, and she’d tell him off if she thought it would help.

She tells him off anyway, growling his name back as she presses her weight onto the bard’s chest, keeping him pinned. She watches his face, stares at the lines of tears down his temples, wrung out from his scrunched eyes.

The tight seam of Jaskier’s lips splits open, a deep groan and hitching sob forcing its way out as Geralt flushes the wound. He shifts again, and it’s only then that Yennefer notices his hands. The one nearest her grips at her skirt, tugging it towards himself, the other clenched tight enough at his side that the whites of his knuckles stand out even against his bloodless skin.

She reaches for it before she can think about it, dragging his hand over his chest, looking at the way he’s digging his nails into the meat of his palm.

Yennefer doesn’t say anything as she fits her thumb under his, prying it open like the hinge on a rusted box. There’s no treasure within as she does the same with his fingers, forcing them loose enough that his reflex to clench releases, each digit unfolding only to reveal deep indents in his skin like faint purple mouths.

She slips her fingers between his, taking the pressure into her own grip, resting their joined hands over his heart.

He blinks up at her, eyes wet with tears, then lifts his head to look down at himself.

“Don’t look,” Yennefer snaps, pointedly leaning forward to block the vivid red of Geralt’s hands from view.

She knocks her knuckles against his breastbone, drawing his attention back, and he focuses in on the press of their skin together.

She thinks that if he had enough blood left in his body to do so, Jaskier would be blushing. She feels heat rise in her own cheeks in sympathy. His lips part on an inappropriately dreamy sigh, and she realises she’s stroking her thumb back and forth over his clammy skin, then swiftly stops.

Yennefer checks his expression and discovers his eyes on her again, a long moment dragging on as she finds herself unable to look away, their faces closer than she realised and his short breaths puffing against her skin. She’s horribly aware of their entwined hands, the unpleasant sensation of drying blood and mud between them, the frantic heart mere centimetres away, trapped beneath only by fragile human flesh and bone.

Between another aborted cry of pain and a feeble attempt at another kick, Jaskier lets his head fall back to the ground, gaze swimming and dizzy as he stares up at the canopy of the trees above them, his grip tightening to the point of pain as the joints in Yennefer’s hand compress.

She loses track of time for a while, her knees and back aching from being folded over for so long, the quiet and sometimes unpleasant noises coming from Geralt working opposite her the only way to gauge how long they’ve been here, alongside the warbling beat that still echoes against her eardrums. It’s not like his usual music.

She looks back to his face after some time, catches his eyelids fluttering.

“None of that,” she scolds, loud enough to jerk him back into wakefulness.

She turns her head to look at the wound, relieved to find it closed with stitches, no longer sluggishly leaking blood down Jaskier’s side. He’s still covered in it, soaked into his shirt and the trousers covering his propped-up legs, even on the blanket they’ve thrown over him.

Geralt looks up and the relief is clear on his face; they’re not out of the woods yet, but it’s a step in the right direction. His eyes flick to Jaskier’s hand in hers, looking pointedly at where he’s still gripping her dress too, then walking away with a mutter about getting bandages.

Yennefer finds herself alarmingly embarrassed, and withdraws her hand.

Jaskier doesn’t complain, his fingers falling loose and curled where she leaves them.

Geralt returns quickly, begins packing the injury. Jaskier jerks again, then they begin the agonising process of winding bandages around his waist, having to manoeuvre him upright enough to pass them under his back.

By the end he’s even sweatier and paler than he was before. His noises of pain throughout have been quieter than Yennefer was expecting, the usual volume and raucousness of his voice muffled and contained. It’s simultaneously impressive and irritating – men, she thinks.

He groans long and low nonetheless as they shift him sideways onto a bedroll and prop another bag under his knees.

“It’s done, it’s over,” Yennefer finds herself saying quietly while Geralt resituates the blanket.

She wipes a tear away from Jaskier’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, and tries not to overthink the action in the seconds afterwards as his sobs subside.

He’s trembling, either from pain or shock or the cold, and Geralt wastes no time getting him water with some herbs mixed in. He drinks greedily, water spilling out around his mouth until the witcher urges him to slow.

Geralt lays him back down, calls his name softly until his wobbly attention wanders back to them.

“All better?” Jaskier murmurs after a moment, eyelids already half-mast.

Geralt lays a wet cloth over the bard’s forehead and holds his palm on it, steady and reassuring, long enough to lean over and catch Jaskier’s gaze.

“Good enough,” he says, beginning to wipe away the sweat and dirt from Jaskier’s face in gentle strokes.

“Bastard,” Jaskier mutters, eyes falling closed. He only settles for a moment before jerking awake, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Yen?”

He looks around blearily, waving an uncoordinated hand out – seeking her presence, Yennefer realises. She reaches for him, grasping his hand in hers. His gaze snaps to her, and softens.

“Okay?” he asks.

His skin is cool, his heart still racing.

“You’ll be pissing us off with your usual obnoxious poetics within a day, I imagine.”

He frowns at her and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“No,” he swallows dryly, “you okay?”

Yennefer opens her mouth, ready for a witty retort to manifest, but all that emerges is the escape of a surprised breath. She thinks of the way they’d been standing side by side when the attack had happened, the way the bard had fallen against her and brought her to her knees in the grass and mud, last autumn’s shed of rotting leaves compacting beneath her hands. The drip of red blending against the dirt. Her stomach twists, then releases.

“Rest, Jaskier.”

He still stares at her.

“I’m fine, you fool.” She squeezes his hand again, thinks of the indents on his palm. “Rest.”

He does, finally, slipping easily into something deeper than sleep. She knows she and Geralt will have their senses fixed on the pump of his blood for days yet, and that it’ll be a while before his body replenishes what he’s lost.

For now, the steadiness of his pulse and his breathing will have to be enough, even if they remain unnatural and fast.

Yennefer realises she’s been staring for a while when she notices Geralt bringing a bowl over, his hands and arms already washed clean of the mess from the past hour.

“Wonderful timing,” he says dryly, shaking the red-tinged water off his fingers with a couple of quick flicks.

“For what, witcher?” Yennefer says shortly, her nerves strung thin and dangerous.

Geralt snorts. Yennefer glares.

“For a realisation.” He smirks at her, smug.

“Fuck off,” she spits, not turning away quick enough to miss the way the man’s smile widens further.

She draws her hands away from Jaskier, his grip limp now, and washes her hands too, surprised to see the ripples on the surface from where she’s shaking. Geralt comes up behind her, his hand falling to her shoulder, and they both look down at the bard. The porcelain tinge of his skin is unnerving, his eyes bruised, and dirt and leaves still cling to his hair. But he’s alive, alive, and the knots in their chests release.

She thinks about leaving now her job’s done, the unpleasant warmth blooming somewhere in her gut making her want to run away, to flee from whatever the bard’s pain and gaze and hands have triggered in her, the feeling snapping sharp like a wire under her skin.

Geralt squeezes her shoulder.

“Stay with him.”

Yennefer feels the words rumble through her, less than an order but more than a suggestion. Her heart leans into it, giving way so carelessly to harmonise with the rhythm of his.

She stays.

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i  part ii  AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown.  And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.  

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”  

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

[lazarettta]

Misthios III

Characters (Mother Miranda, Alcina Dimitrescu, Reader)

Word count (2k)

Rating (T)

Warning (straight zooted, none)

Countess Dimitrescu takes you home.

Any mistakes you find, blame it on the herbs.

Only taking a few steps from your holding cell, you were startled with what awaited you.

You weren't sure what to expect when you were about to meet Lady Dimitrescu but what you got wasn't on the top of your list; her inhuman beauty or her height. She was taller than tall and for a split second you actually gawked at the woman before remembering yourself and thankfully your jaw snapped shut inaudibly but she'd already caught you.

“This is (Y/n), take her to your castle and keep her there until I call.” You frowned at her words, you weren't some goddamn pet to keep and she had another thing coming if she thought that you were just going to sit around twiddling your thumbs. Miranda stopped next to the tall woman near the door and a small torch light, “Not a scratch, Alcina.”

“Of course, Mother Miranda.” She seemed amused and she clearly wasn't as human as she portrayed herself to be. You'd place a bet wagering that she is one of the myths you haven't yet tracked down...but which one?

Miranda didn't spare you another glance and she was gone within a blink of an eye, leaving you two alone, you cleared your throat bringing the woman's honey eyes to you again. “But you will refer to me as lady Dimitrescu.”

Keeping up with Alcina's long strides down the dreary pathway wasn't an easy feature especially given that the hallway itself was narrow and you didn't really have any interest in touching the walls. They were wet but it did not look or smell like water. Eventually the woman came to a stop, right in front of an iron door that turned out to be an elevator shaft—a bit like the ones used when mining was still a thing.

Prison cells in some abandoned underground mining tunnels, Miranda? Always so dark and mysterious...

The silence between you both was thick and a bit awkward and you could feel her caution and curiosity rolling off of her in waves and you knew that she was occasionally glancing at you because you were doing the same thing while you both waited for the elevator shaft to come down. This place just continued to get more and more curious—what other wonders was this village in the mountains hiding away from the rest of the world? But you were quick to chastise yourself for the thought, curiosity always killed the cat, (Y/n)...

“Yes,” her voice was low and deep this time opposed to the thunderous tone she was using earlier, “but satisfaction brought it back.”

You hadn't been aware that you spoke out loud. Having allowed yourself to be distracted with your thoughts that you failed to take notice of how much more observant the other woman became towards you the minute you both loaded onto the old shaft. Though the old thing hardly made a sound under lady Dimitrescu's weight despite the fact that in order to enter she had to duck a little for herself and her large brimmed hat.

Shoving your hands in your pocket, you turned slightly to look up at her making sure to keep your eyes above those pearls wrapped around her pale neck and accenting that decolletage—no doubt purposely done. “Ah, I haven't had that recited back to me in a very long time.”’

“Then you’re not keeping the right company.”

Your mouth twitched around a smile before you schooled it away, “That would be true if I actually had any friends...or family.”

Lady Dimitrescu raised an eyebrow, not that you’d see it because of her hat casting a shadow over a majority of her face, “Handsome thing like you without friends or family? Doubtful. Surely you have someone waiting for you? You seem like the type to have a maiden or two at your feet.”

This time you couldn’t push back your smile, you knew that she was fishing for some answers about your character—and no doubt trying to figure out why Miranda thought you were special enough to be placed under her word of protection, as if you actually needed it.

But that was all fine because you’d do the same thing, in fact you already were but you’d give her something—an inevitable piece of information that will come to light soon enough. She was already suspicious so it really was just a matter of you beating her to the punchline.

“Nope, none of the above. People just have this pesky little habit of dying on me.”

She chuckled, low and deep and you felt it a bit (and fuck was this the longest elevator ride you’ve ever been on), “Oh I know of that nuisance all too well myself.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh quite dear.” There was a bit of a sinister flare to her tone behind that innocent smile and shrug she tried to sell you. “One could even say it's my favorite pastime.”

And right as you were about to press another question the shaft came to a screeching halt, oh…how convenient. You swore you saw Lady Dimitrescu outright grinning before she ducked out ahead of you, if you didn’t know better you’d say she read your mind.

The moment you stepped out of the shaft and through the opening of the alcove, you were severely unprepared for the harsh winter wind or how well into the evening it’s become and the conversation earlier was placed on the backburner.

Less than two hundred feet away there was a stagecoach waiting with four black horses attached. The stagecoach was all black with gold trimmings, a style fit for royalty—you’ve seen enough of them in your lifetime to know.

There was a young man half frozen next to it as he waited for Lady Dimitrescu’s approach, nearly stuttering out all of his teeth to greet her but she hardly paid him any attention, gracefully ducking inside. The young man gawked at you as you entered the coach behind his employer but was quick to close the door after you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the tips of your ears heating up when you had to brush past her crossed legs to sit on the bench across from her and she made no effort to move, only watching you while smoking from her cigarette stick.

The stagecoach had a bigger interior than the exterior let on, accommodating the dark haired beauty perfectly. Though she was sitting at a sideways angle she seemed very comfortable and she was easily dumping the ashes outside of the cracked window.

“Is there anyway to get my things back…it had a majority of my clothes in there.” Or get back to your camp—it was probably ruined by now, either by wild animals or nature itself.

“We will accommodate you at the castle.” Her gaze was on you again but you were busy looking out of the window down at the village, now that it was nightfall everyone had their lights on—it was bigger than what you expected. “I don’t suppose you like dresses?”

~~

As you suspected, the inside of her castle was just as massive and beautiful in it's antiquity as it was on the outside. The estate was kept in pristine condition and you were honestly impressed with what you saw. But it was really warm though not uncomfortably so. You two had barely stepped into the lobby of her castle with you mostly admiring how easily she was able to bend at the waist without batting an eye to get through a door that wasn't custom sized for her. She seemed used to it but you wondered why she didn't correct the doors.

“Hmm. Nice castle but why is it so warm? I might have to sleep with a window open.” you joked, still taking in everything and you had yet to notice how your words affected your host.

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned on you so fast you actually did run into the taller woman. Your entire face was lost in a world of firm fluffiness and your senses were filled with the very essence of Lady Dimitrescu. Though before you could scramble away with an apology on the tip of your tongue, Lady Dimitrescu was moving before you and she had reached down and she fisted the back of your parka and kept you right where you were, close and trapped.

You were forced to look up at her between her bust, or let them suffocate you, and she was already looking down at you with a hard look but you had no idea what the hell you did.

“You open a window in my castle and you won't be sleeping at all, guest to Mother Miranda be damned.” she snarled, her tone steely and you had no choice but to listen—even if she didn’t have you in a death grip, “The windows are off limits. Do not open them. Do not touch them. Are we clear?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, still struggling against her unyielding hold and against your rising temper, “What the—”

“Do you understand?” she tightened her grip on the back of your clothing, forcing the collar of every layer you wore to constrict around your throat at an alarming fast rate.

“Understood.” you gritted, your blunt nails digging her soft flesh beneath your hands that was her stomach but you doubted that your nails were as deadly as hers. You didn't bother to tell her that it was a joke and you were quick to straighten yourself out as you caught your balance when she released you with a bit of a pull against your parka forcing you away from her. You cursed her in your native tongue but her attentions were now focused on something to your left—no, on someone.

“Ah, good! Servant, come here,” a young girl no older than twenty quickly came over, bowing her head awkwardly.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu, how may I serve—”

Alcina cut in quickly as if she had better things to do, and she did, “You're not serving me tonight, girl. This (Y/n). She will be staying in the guest room to the left of the wine room and you will be tending to her every need for the duration of her stay, and I do mean her every need.” though her tone was cheerful there was an undertone of a threat if her instructions went under-performed. Alcina winked at you as she hadn't almost choked you out in the middle of her foyer.

“Yes ma'am, I understand.”

The maiden nearly nodded her head from her shoulders. She was so terrified. If you were blind you would've assumed it was her first day, but a good portion of you knew that it was something else—you remembered quite well how Miranda preferred to run her own kingdom and you weren't surprised that this woman had similar tastes.

“Keep your pleasantries. Just show me to my room and leave me before I really lose my fucking temper.” you snarled at both of them, namely the Lady of the castle. You were able to physically restrain yourself from starting a brawl with this woman but your mouth has almost always gotten you into more than half the situations that left marks all over your body.

Lady Dimitrescu looked back to you, tilting her head back slightly as if she was just finally taking notice of how hard you were glaring at her. She did not know why as it could've been for a number of things that have happened within the last five minutes.

Alcina's eyes shifted from you to the trembling maiden between the two of you, then back to you again, “Are we going to have an issue, (Y/n)?” and clearly misunderstanding the reason for your ire.

You scoffed knowing when to pick your battles and how she handles her staff was not one of them. But how she handled you was, “Manhandle me again and we will.”

The maiden gasped at your audacity and flinched sharply when Alcina chuckled while setting her hand on her hip. She found more and more curious and she was starting to see why Miranda liked you so much before. There was a spirit that burned inside of you—strong and rattling in its cage, she could see it in your eyes even as you restrained yourself.

The maiden opened her eyes when she didn't feel the whoosh of Lady Dimitrescu slapping you through the wall, she was surprised to see you still standing there alive. The maiden looked at you in awe before bowing her head, “P-please follow me, ma'am.”

Alcina still stood there with her hand on her hip and another one of her cigarettes was lit, watching you follow the little maiden through one of the side doors when a familiar buzzing made itself known until Bela was standing next to her, snuggled close as she wiped the blood from her mouth with the sleeve of her black shift. It needed to be washed anyway.

“Mother, who is that? Another meal?”

“No,” Alcina answered softly, reaching down with her free hand to push back Bela's hood so she could comb out a few tangles in her eldest daughter's blonde hair, “But she is very interesting, isn't she?”

“Yes, but who is she?” Bela asked again, this time looking up at Alcina.

“Perhaps a friend, or foe, that has yet to reveal itself. But for now, go and collect your sisters dear and meet me in my study...I wish to talk to them about something more pressing.”

Bela was gone in an instant, the synchronized buzzing of dozens of blowflies disappearing quickly leaving Alcina alone with her thoughts.

Here is a link to the Ao3 version of this story...if it's easier than tumblr...

[klbwriting]

Pirate’s Heart - Chapter 1

Perfect Color, or Not

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Warning: so this chapter is pretty dark, Kaz’s backstory is dark and there is suggestion of sexual assault but it is not described

Song: Perfect Color - Safety Suit

Taglist: @sixofshadowandbone @thedelusionreaderbitch @itsemy01 @angelicdanvers @marinettepotterandplagg @screen-to-stage @aysegust @sagewrites111 @lilyoflower @hey-peeps @starjane312 @spawn0fsatan @myalupinblack​

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

And I told a white lie when I told you, I've never been green with envy you

You are the perfect color

 The song would not get out of Y/N's head and she hated it.  Pekka sang it to her about her tail all the time.  And she hated Pekka Rollins.  Well hated him as much as she could without a heart.  Why was she thinking so much anyway?  Wasn't she sleeping?  Why was she moving and why did she hear voices?  She groaned, eyes slowly opening to see two teenage girls standing above her.  They were gazing at her with curious eyes and she tried to wipe her own eyes, only to find her wrists were tied to the table she was laying on.  

"She's awake Nina," she said a girl with bronze skin and dark hair.  

"I can see that Inej," the other girl, creamy white skin with brown hair and freckles.  Nina was light eyed while Inej had dark eyes, and both girls were fourteen, maybe fifteen years old.  How long had she been asleep?  It couldn't have been that long, she didn't feel any older.  She turned her head, finding a mirror on a table nearby and seeing that she didn't look older, only dirty.  

"Where am I?" she asked.  She knew she was on a boat, she could feel the sea moving them, but how did she get there?  She was in the jungle before, bleeding, stabbed where her heart should have been.

“You’re on the Menagerie,” the one called Nina said. Inej tried to shush her and Y/N could hear footsteps nearby.  

“What have you girls brought me?” a beautiful blond woman asked, entering the room.  She was dressed in fine silks with an intricate peacock feather tattoo on her face, making her look almost like an animal herself.   Y/N felt a very strange pang of fear, dulled by her lack of heart, but she felt it enough to worry about this woman.

“Tante Heleen, we found her in the jungle when we were hunting,” Inej explained, her eyes downcast.   Y/N was fast learning that this woman was not to be trifled with, but she didn’t care.  She wanted out of these bindings and she would do what she needed to survive.  

“My, my, she is filthy, we will have to clean her up, get me the sponge and some water,” she demanded.  Nina did as asked, and Heleen started to clean her face.  “Not particularly special in the face, homely and plain.  Face too round for most men…eyes are dark but not special, lips are too pale will need color,” the woman continued, cleaning down her body and commenting on everything.  Breasts were too small, stomach too round, hips too wide, legs… She stopped at her legs, staring in shock as the bright scales that still dotted her thighs. They were remnants of her tail in case she ever got it back.  Heleen demanded Inej get a message out at the port for the commander, they had something special for him.

“What is it Tante?” Inej asked.  The look Heleen sent her made Inej run.   Y/N was becoming very aware of how this ship worked.  Heleen was a captain of some kind of pleasure vessel and all these poor young girls were stuck here attending to the men who paid for them.   Y/N was disgusted, and she could see from the look on the woman’s face that she was going to be the centerpiece of some kind of show for this commander. Like hell she would have another man touch her without her permission.   Y/N looked around the room and realized she would need to wait for her time to arrive.  She started to pretend to be scared, her acting not very good, it had been a long time since she’d been around anyone and Heleen saw right through it.

“O now, I see, you’re fearless are you?” she asked, a snake like smile on her face.  “Well, let’s get you dressed and shackled.  The commander will want us to report back to Argoes immediately.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed.  Like hell she was going anywhere near Argoes, not when Pekka was going to probably be there.  She would bide her time, wait for a moment to strike.   Y/N may have been a lovestruck mermaid but she was also a rare tail, trained to defend herself.  She knew things were different with legs but her upper body defensive maneuvers should be the same.  

Heleen had her hands shackled and took her to a room full of clothes, dresses in bright colors, silk, and lace.  Nina had followed, listening as the captain listed items for her to retrieve.  While they were distracted by clothes Y/N slid a hat pin into her hand, starting to work the cuffs.  Humans learned many things about mermaids and nearly none of them were true.  The idea that they were stupid, unable to function at the same level mentally as humans, they were underestimating Y/N right now and she was pleased.  

The child, Nina approached her, getting her dressed. Y/N saw the girl look at the hat pin, saw the shackles were no longer together and instead of outing her the girl said nothing.   Y/N smiled, she would let the girl live whenever she killed Heleen.  She wasn’t a monster, at least, she didn’t think she was. Heartless or not she wasn’t going to kill a child who was clearly being used by adults for terrible things.  

“Let me cut this string…” Nina said, moving to a dressing table and taking a pair of scissors and moving back to Y/N.  She cut a pretend string and slid the scissors into the sleeve of the dress she wore.  Their eyes met and an understanding crossed between them.   Y/N would kill Heleen, take this ship, and then she would take care of these children.  No more powerful men were going to use these babies for their own pleasure again.  

Heleen took her above, walked her to the side of the ship.   Y/N looked around, all the crew, everyone, was a child except for one man who seemed to be the muscle on this craft. All young girls of various ages, some as young as 7.   Y/N felt bile rising in her throat as she looked in the eyes of some of them, their eyes were much older than they should have been.  She looked at Nina and motioned for her to fall back a little bit. Nina took two steps back and sat down on the deck.  Heleen turned to face the mermaid as she stood, pointing to the island in the distance.

“Now, when we arrive at Argoes…” she didn’t finish her statement. Y/N sunk the scissors into Heleen’s eye, digging in as deep as she could.  She pulled them back out, feeling the blood on her face but not letting the warmth distract her.  As soon she killed Heleen the man came storming over, lumbering a large. Good.   Y/N ducked down, sliding under him and kicking out her leg.  He ran into it, nearly snapping it in half as he faltered, trying to balance.  For a moment she thought he would regain his footing and come for her but then Inej and Nina came out of nowhere and pushed him, sending him toppling over the side of the ship and into the sea.   Y/N stood up, rubbing her knee as she leaned to the rail of the ship.  

“Well, I’m sorry you had to see that…” she started.  Nina and Inej just shrugged and the rest of the girls on the ship looked at her.  She felt her soul ache for these children and realized maybe her soul could harness strong emotions, but it still didn’t feel completely real, still dulled by her lack of heart.  O well, she would protect these children, make them into a force a nature, show the world that they were more than just a body to warm a bed.  

“Come on, let’s push her over,” Inej said so some of the older girls, moving to Heleen’s body.   Y/N held out an arm.  

“No, you are children, you shouldn’t be disposing of dead bodies, you shouldn’t even be touching them,” she said.  “Get the ship ready, we are sailing for any port except Argoes.” She struggled but finally tossed Heleen’s body to the sea.  Turning she sought out Inej.

“Inej love, did you send that message like Heleen asked?” Y/N asked, gently touching the girl’s face.  Inej shook her head.  “Good. Now, you and Nina are my first mates alright?  So, where have you always wanted to go?”

  Kaz Rietveld didn’t know how long he had been on that boat in the middle of the ocean.  He didn’t know what day it was, what time, all he knew was that he was starving and so very thirsty.  Sitting in all this water was making it worse.  He had tried seawater, even knowing that it would do nothing but make him sick, but he had been desperate.  God, is this how he died?  15 years old and in the middle of the cursed ocean.  Fucking hell.  He should have just let his uncle know he was alive when he had the chance, but instead he had hid, never wanting to go back to that horrid fortress.  But instead, he was just going to die here.  O well, what really was his life worth anyway, crippled leg from a botched escape with his brother when he was 11 and now, well now he was broken entirely.  He knew that the moment they got on that boat, but he had gone anyway.  

He was laying down, ready to die, when the water moved, waves hitting the boat harder than before.  He sat up and looked seeing a pirate vessel flying the black colors approaching.  He knew this was his only chance.  Kaz could die in this boat or he could try his best at getting on that boat.  He waved his arms, screaming at the top of his voice.  He thought they were just going to pass but then a rope ladder was dropped down the side as they pulled up next to him.  He scrambled up the ladder and dropped on the deck, panting.  

“Water…please…” he begged.  The men around him smiled, looking like they had found a present. One of the men handed him a cup and he drank before spitting out the burning drink.  Whiskey, not water.  The pirates laughed at him and he saw a few cabin boys standing by, looking fearful of him. No, not of him, for him.  Kaz realized that he may have escaped one prison and wound up in another.  The spirit of the sea witches clearly wanted revenge on his entire family.  Taking his parents before he could remember them wasn’t enough, claiming his brother wasn’t enough, now he was stuck here. Fine.  If the sea wanted a war, he would give it one.  

For the first six months of his time aboard the Crow he was a cabin boy, but just in name.  Truly he was whatever the other men wanted him to be.  He was relieved when they brought aboard women for a week or two when he could just be a normal cabin boy.  Unless the women liked him too.  He noticed the two other cabin boys clung to each other, Jesper and Wylan, keeping each other as safe as they could.  One of the crew, an honorable ex-navy captain named Matthias also tried his best to protect them.  He often would give sleeping drafts to the crew to give the boys a night to themselves, but even he could only do so much.  

Kaz waited, biding his time until the captain himself wanted a visit. Then he put the plan he had with Jesper, Wylan, and Matthias into action.  

         Matthias put the poison in the crews dinner, which they ate at 6PM before moving to do night work on the vessel.  They were all dead before 6:30.  The captain ate his dinner at 7PM so Wylan stayed in his cabin, distracting him by being a bumbling fool and getting a severe punishment for it.  Kaz would have felt bad but he didn’t know if he was capable of feeless anymore.  Jesper brought dinner to the captain and helped a bloody Wylan out of the cabin. Kaz slid in as they left and stood, watching the captain as he ate his meal.  

         “Come here boy, I want a better look at you, want to see what all the fuss among the crew is about,” he said.  Kaz swallowed the sick in his throat and approached, letting the captain touch him, roughly feeling his hands on him.  Then the coughing started and Kaz let out a breath of relief.  The captain clutched his throat as his airways closed and soon he was dead at Kaz’s feet.  

         With the help of the others Kaz had the crew overboard and they headed towards a port far from Argoes to gather a new crew using the money the captain had stashed in a vault in his office.  The four of them argued over who would be captain but Kaz won out, being the only one truly willing to kill for the title.  He decided that as soon as he got to port it was time to reinvent himself. Kaz Rietveld was no more.  It was time to take a new name and become something else.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 17

chapter index

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

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

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

And, she had to pee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nope.

False alarm.

She was still there, just in the bathroom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I need my shirt back.”

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

“It’s filthy.”

“You have another another.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be right back.”

“Kiss me.”

He chuckled dismissively, heading for the door.

“Kiss me!” Kagome demanded playfully.

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soon. We’ve got a few days.”

“So, that means we’re…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What scenario?”

“Involving Naraku?”

“It was a general statement.”

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

“To cover all scenarios.” He replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but -“

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

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

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

“I know.” Kagome shrugged lightly.

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

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

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

“Why are you being so insecure right now?”

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

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

“Wait, but -“

“I’m not done.”

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

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

“See!”

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

“And, your home?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No cat.” Inuyasha confirmed.

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How lucky.

How stupidly lucky.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You placed bets!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

“Then, yes. I was soft for you.”

“Thank you, I feel better now.”

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

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

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

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

“In private, preferably.” Inuyasha added.

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

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“But, isn’t it almost time for -“

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

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

“You might want it.”

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

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

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

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

“You’ve got a little limp.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, what do you need from me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kikyo, herself.”

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

“Kaede, sit down.” Inuyasha said.

“No. I’m not doing this.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“What does she look like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” Kagome could only whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“I agree. You did.”

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

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

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

“Again, I get it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Me? Are you?” She replied earnestly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna go check on Kaede.”

“You should go check on Kaede.”

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

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

“Please, take your time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What can you tell me about that?”

“You sure you want to know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.” Kaede frowned.

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

“Excuse me?”

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

“Alright, alright. Continue.” She relented.

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” She gasped, her stomach sinking.

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

“What!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.” She greeted in the smallest tone.

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

“I fell asleep.” Kagome rubbed her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hate ‘em.” He lied. “So trashy.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Disgusting.”

“And, if I gave you one?”

“I would never allow that.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“C’mere.” Inuyasha groggily mumbled.

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

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

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

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

“Two more minutes.”

“Five.”

“Two and a half.”

“Five.”

“Three.”

“Five.”

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

“Not in the morning, I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kaede -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that?” She curiously asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you remember now?”

“No.”

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

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

“Please?” She batted her eyes.

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

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

“Sure.” He leaned away.

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

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

“Okay.” Inuyasha responded flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’d know you’re taken.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you.” He breathed.

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

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

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

| previous chapter | <- -> | next chapter |

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Out of the Dark

I coloured a sketch this morning, and then this evening after work I decided to write something to go with it. This kinda turned out angsty. Lockdown is obviously getting to me a little. But as always, a happy ending. I'll probably put this in my AO3 one-shots series in the morning.

💜

Inuyasha felt like he was going to die.

They’d been battling a mole youkai, the normally small mammal enlarged to ridiculous proportions by a jewel shard. Everything had been going well until it had somehow caused a landslide. He’d heard Sango and Miroku’s warning yells from high above from their vantage point on Kirara, and Shippou’s wail of fright from over near the trees just moments before the ground gave way, sending both him and Kagome plummeting downwards.

He’d tried to grab her as they went down, her high pitched scream ringing in his ears as their fingers clutched at each other frantically, but it had been no use. She’d been dragged away from him by the landslide, and as he’d concentrated all his efforts on reaching for her he’d lost grip on his fucking sword.

Now he couldn’t hear a thing, all he could smell was damp earth, and he didn’t know which way was up. The pressure coming from all around him felt like half a hillside had fallen on him. He needed to find Kagome and save her, but he was pretty much deaf and blind to what was going on. Useless.

He couldn’t breathe. Squinting his eyes open only exacerbated his fear because he could see nothing but darkness. Feel nothing but darkness. His numbing fingers scrabbled in the earth, but he had no idea if he was digging upwards or downwards. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest, and overwhelming panic sucked at his sanity.

He’d never told anyone, but ever since he was small he’d had an overwhelming fear of small tight spaces. A fear of being trapped in the dark with no way out.

Even though his mother was technically widowed after the death of his father, meaning she could never be forced to remarry, that didn’t stop male members of the court arriving at their home to remind her of how her position had fallen. They came to gloat, to make her beg and scrape for the meager allowance she was provided by her father, who had grudgingly allowed her and her ‘son’ to live in small lodgings on the very edge of his estate. If visitors saw him when they arrived, it never ended well. He was often held up as an example of her ‘disgrace’, mocked and sometimes beaten, with his mother pleading for mercy and trying to stay their hands to no avail.

Eventually she’d managed to create a cubby hole under their floorboards to keep him safe from visitors, knowing she couldn’t physically protect him herself, and it had terrified him. The small tight space. The stench of her panic and fear feeding his own. The knowledge that there was nothing he could do but wait until she let him out again. He would have rather been beaten.

He’d almost forgotten, pushing the memory of that fear to the back of his mind. He’d always made sure he was never in a position where he would be trapped again in the dark. Now that fear had him by the throat, threatening to take away his sense of self. He groaned, struggling to keep hold on his consciousness as his youki swelled in an instinctive push to protect him without the quelling presence of his father’s sword. He needed to hold on. Because letting go would mean death – not his, but someone else’s. And what if that someone was dear to him? He couldn’t bear it. He was already buried. Better to stay that way and die himself than risk anyone else.

But it seemed his instincts didn’t agree with him, overpowering him. He thought despairingly of Kagome as he blacked out, frantically chanting her name, trying to commit her face to memory.

“Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her.”

When he came to, the sunlight was bright around him, and he was taking in great heaving breaths, his heart stuttering in his chest as he knelt on the ground. Tessaiga was clutched tightly in one fist. Blood. He could smell blood. He threw back his head and howled in despair.

But then soft hands cradled his cheeks.

“Inuyasha, it’s okay! You’re okay! Everyone is fine, you didn’t hurt anyone!”

“Kagome”, he whispered brokenly, his eyes still blurry with tears. “Kagome.”

She was crying, shifting her hands from his cheeks to cling around his neck, hugging him tightly to her. Miroku, Sango and Shippou were standing off to one side, quietly waiting.

He sniffed again, realising the scent of blood came from some cuts and scrapes on Kagome caused by the landslide, and from his own hands, the nails cracked and broken.

“You dug me out Inuyasha. You saved me. You didn’t hurt me at all.”

All he could do was hold her tightly and repeat her name, his nose buried in her neck, smelling her sweet smell and feeling her pulse beating steadily in her throat, proof that she was alive and mostly unharmed. Proof that somehow, even when he’d lost himself, he hadn’t lost her too.

It was a quiet and subdued walk back to the village. Miroku and Sango had finished off the mole youkai and retrieved the shard, which was now safely added to the little bottle around Kagome's neck.

He and Kagome had rinsed off the cloying dirt from the landslide in a nearby stream, their clothes drying quickly as they walked in the warmth of the afternoon sun, but Inuyasha still shivered slightly as if he’d caught a chilll. He was having trouble shaking the combined after effects of feeling trapped and losing himself, his mind whirling. Kagome’s tight grip on his hand was helping, but he still didn’t feel like himself, still didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin.

When they arrived back at Kaede’s late that afternoon, he watched the others walk through the door way into the dark interior of the small hut, and stopped short, his hand pulling abruptly at Kagome’s.

“Inuyasha?”

“Gonna stay out here”, he said, turning his head away from Kagome’s gaze as he watched the sudden realisation in her expression as she made the connections. He felt embarrassed and ashamed, but he knew there was no way he’d be able to go inside at the moment, not until he had a better handle on his emotions. Kagome squeezed his fingers.

“Do you mind if I stay out here with you?” she asked gently.

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he didn’t care one way or the other, even though he desperately wanted to beg her to stay close by. She tugged on his hand, leading him over to the trees beside Kaede’s hut, spreading out her sleeping bag like a picnic blanket, patting it to invite him to sit down beside her.

As soon as he was seated with Tessaiga still firmly within his grasp across his lap, she leaned against him, taking his other hand in hers, examining the healing fingers.

“Do they hurt at all? Do you need me to bandage them?”

He shook his head, not really trusting himself to speak at the moment.

She hummed, stroking her hand over his fingers, resting her head against his shoulder.

“You know, I’m afraid of deep water."

He sighed, shoulders rising stiffly as he tried to keep himself still, wanting to run away from where this conversation was going, but also wanting to stay close to her.

“Kagome...”

"I fell in a friend’s pool when I was a little girl before I knew how to swim properly. I nearly drowned before Papa saved me. I’m a good swimmer now, but I still feel frightened by it sometimes, especially if I can’t see the bottom.”

He didn't say anything. He knew what she was doing, but he couldn't speak. Couldn't trust himself to talk at the moment.

“Those kinds of fears don’t mean you’re not brave”, she continued softly. “Sometimes things happen that you can’t control and your mind remembers that feeling of powerlessness, of fear, and it holds onto it. It can get better over time, with help.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, turning her head to glance up at his face. “But it’s never anything to be ashamed of Inuyasha. You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. But if you ever do, I’m here.”

He nodded stiffly, then tried to stifle a yawn. He was exhausted.

“We’ve still got some time before dinner. Why don’t you take a nap with me?”

“It’s not dark yet.”

“So? C’mon. Lay down next to me. I promise I won’t bite”, she giggled, tugging on his hand and kicking off her shoes.

“If I do, will you be quiet?”

“Yup!”

He lay down on the ground as she stretched out on her sleeping bag, one hand still tightly clutching Tessaiga, the other reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. It wasn't only him that had a difficult day.

“I really didn’t hurt you?” he murmured, his voice catching a little. Her eyes were overbright in the late afternoon sunshine as she pressed her cheek into his hand.

“You really didn’t. You knew who I was. I was so scared and then you came for me Inuyasha. You pulled me out of the dark.”

“I’ll always come for you. You know that don’t you?”

She sighed gently, closing her eyes as he struggled to keep his own open, to keep watch, keep her in sight. Finally he gave up, letting his mind drift, knowing she was close by and safe, feeling her slowing breaths drift across his finger tips.

“I do.”

[alinastracker]

malina week day 5 — free choice

false saint

a smutty one-shot inspired by taylor swift’s “false god” (ao3)

Alina Starkov had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

ruin and rising spoilers!

For the first time since they opened Keramzin up to Ravka’s orphaned children six months ago, the halls were quiet. Gone were the sounds of running feet and squealing laughter. Even though they only had four children, not including Misha, currently staying at the orphanage, happy children were often loud children, and it was the young couple’s top priority that the kids they took in were happy — as happy as any child who’s lost everything could be. 

The quiet was oddly startling, even though Alina knew that the children were perfectly fine, out on a trip into town with their teacher, Karine, and the orphanage’s gruff cook, Stasia. 

“Children should learn about their food early,” the woman had insisted, and so the little field trip into town had been planned. Karine went with, partly because five children were a handful for one woman, and partly because some of the children were still rather intimidated by Stasia. 

The children were safe, and Alina was enjoying the quiet. But every now and then, caught off guard by the stillness, came a flicker of panic, and she had to remind herself once more. The children are safe. The Darkling is dead. 

And though the home was quiet, she was not alone.

Alina pressed her forehead against one of the full length windows of the upstairs reading nook. They had wanted this room to be comfy and bright, and the large windows that faced the back of the property certainly assured that. She could see Mal down there, tending to the garden, his hands deep inside of the dirt. For a moment, she let all of her worries float away and pictured his fingers deep inside of her instead. She had to squeeze her thighs together as heat rushed to her center, demanding friction. 

The sun was shining brightly through the window, and so she angled herself to stand fully in its rays. Alina brought her hand up, letting her fingers play in the light, forcing her sinful thoughts away. She couldn’t say how long she stayed that way, lost in her longing, but it was long enough that Mal had finished in the garden and had come to sneak up behind her. 

“Playing with the light again?” he murmured as his arms wrapped around her. 

Alina nodded, leaning back against his chest.

Mal pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

It was what they always asked each other when they got into these moods, when she became entranced with the sunlight, and he found himself stuck silent and still in the woods. Sometimes the longing hurt, and sometimes it was just the pull to be in the element again — welcoming an old friend, rather than feeling the hole left in its absence. 

“I was just thinking that I miss the feeling sometimes,” Alina sighed. “When I summoned, it was like every inch of my skin was brushed with the softest warmth. I can feel something close to it sometimes, standing in the light like this. Just not as . . . wholly.” 

Mal was quiet for a moment, and she knew if she looked over her shoulder, she’d find the small pinch between his brows that indicated he was thinking. She knew the exact moment when his mind had come to a conclusion, feeling the way his body relaxed. 

“Perhaps,” he murmured, angling himself so his lips just brushed her ear as his hands moved to grip her hips, “it would help if the sun could hit every inch of you.” 

Desire returned thick between her thighs, if it had ever truly gone away. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know.”

He was right, she knew exactly what he meant. But they were out in the open, standing right in front of a window. The children were gone, though. The staff, too. There would always be the chance that someone came stumbling into their backyard and looked up, but maybe the risk made it all the better. 

She had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

She took one slow, steady breath, channeling her confidence. 

“Then undress me, Malyen.” 

Mal tensed for a singular breath, then brought his hands around her again, feeling his way up her chest until his fingers found the first button of her shirt. He took his time undoing each one, letting their skin brush each time more of her was bared. When he had the last button undone, the shirt was tossed lazily away. Mal’s hands continued their journey down her body, though her skirt took considerably less time to remove. 

Standing in nothing but her under clothes, Alina closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of the sunlight brushing new parts of her. She thought for a moment that Mal might stop here. It could be enough, even if she still craved more. 

But he didn’t stop.

Mal hooked his fingers into the band of her underwear, and when she didn’t object, tugged them down. Alina stepped carefully out of the fabric, brushing it away with her foot. His fingers crawled up her backside then, and a moment later, her bra fell to the floor, letting the light consume her whole. 

Alina let her head fall back against Mal’s shoulder, bringing her hands up just as she used to when using her power. It wasn’t quite the same warmth that summoning had brought her, but it was something. 

Mal pressed his lips to the side of her neck and whispered, “Sankta.” 

Encompassed in the light, she almost felt like one. Mal had always had blind faith in her, had died for her. But saints had to prove they were worth the title. 

Alina turned, meeting his eyes. Mal could’ve sworn some of the light had stayed twinkling in her brown orbs. 

“Let me give you something to worship,” she said, and dropped to her knees.

Mal sucked in a sharp breath, but made no move to stop her as she worked to undo his trousers, dragging them down. His underwear came next, his half-hard cock happy to spring free. 

“You don’t have to—” he started. Alina shushed him. She spit into her hand — rather unceremonious for a saint, but alas — and gripped him. Any lingering words of Mal’s fell to the wayside as he moaned. 

It took very little time for him to harden fully with her stroking him. Still, she waited until he couldn’t possibly throb more for her, his cock hard as steel and bulging, before she brought him to her lips and sucked the tip of him into her mouth. 

Mal cursed fervently, his hand forming a fist in the tangles of her silky, pale hair.

Alina swirled her tongue around him, dipping into the place where his desire gathered for her, only encouraged by his curses and the almost painful pull on her scalp. His words were like a prayer, and he only got louder as she took in more of him, swallowing him down her throat even as her body protested. 

She still didn’t know if his size was a blessing or a curse. 

Mal was on the edge from the sight of her alone, those pretty lips he had spent years dreaming about perfectly parted around his cock. He saw the tears in her eyes, though, and so he began to pull back, only for Alina to grip his ass, nails digging into the skin of his backside. Let me, her eyes said, determined. And fuck if it didn’t make his hips thrust against her mouth. 

“Alina,” he moaned.

Her response was a brief, but not gentle, scrape of her teeth against him. Mal hissed, but he didn’t need to look at her to know where he had gone wrong

“Sankta,” he moaned instead, and it felt right. 

Even if she was a false saint, their love — and everything that came with it — was like their own personal religion, blind and eternal. Though the moan that ripped from Mal’s throat as his release hit was anything but holy. 

And this was what Alina had wanted more than anything — to bring him to the edge and push him over. It was a different kind of power, and she let the evidence of it dribble down her chin, droplets landing on her breasts and chest. Different than the blood a saint usually ended up covered in. Different, and much better. 

When she finished milking his release out of him, Alina stood. Backlit by the sun, she looked as saintly as she ever had. Mal licked his lips as he greedily took in the sight of her. She had, undoubtedly, given him something to worship. 

As any righteous man of faith would do before his saint, Mal dropped to his knees. It was not the first time Alina had driven men to kneel before her, and it would not be the last.

“Sankta Alina,” he whispered, bringing his lips to the altar between her thighs, his tongue forming a prayer that felt better than Alina thought possible. 

But it wasn’t just a prayer, it was a whole sermon — every lick, suck, and plunge a promise of his allegiance. He had her mewling and trembling above him in minutes, barely able to keep herself standing as he pushed her past her limits. And she thought, as he rose with his lips glistening from her cunt, that service was over. But Mal only turned her over and pressed her naked body against the window. The glass chilled her bare skin even as the sunlight warmed it.

Mal had his lips at her ear again. “I’m not done worshipping you yet,” he murmured, and smoothly thrust his hard-again cock inside of her. 

If anyone walked by outside or came into the reading nook, there would be no hiding their heavenly sinful act. To her surprise, Alina found the slightest thrill at a stranger discovering such a display. And as Mal fucked her with relentless devotion, she sent a prayer to the true saints that the glass held true. 

This time, they jumped over the edge together, in the way that only the faithful could. Screams on their lips, sweat dripping down their necks, pleasure so intense that it could only be called a religious experience. 

After, Mal scooped her into his arms and brought them to their room. He sat Alina on the bed, leaving briefly to gather wet rags for them. With a gentleness quite opposite from their frantic fucking, Mal cleaned the spend from her body, then his own, before taking the spot beside her, curling his body around hers. 

Though she may be a false saint, Alina could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin as the peaceful call of sleep pulled her under, a smile on her face.

[little-diable]

Don’t tell the elf - Dean Winchester (smut)

This is my imagine for lovely @deanwanddamons​ 2k challenge, as a massive lord of the rings fan I just had to choose this prompt (you’ll find it written in bold). I loved writing this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean always gets rather distracted as he’d watch lotr with the reader, turning it into a metaphor of their own. 

Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving)

She wasn’t even quite sure how they ended up in this discussion, quoting random dialogues from Lord of the rings, while the boys would tease her about her crush on Aragorn, ignoring her remarks about the way they’d fawn over Arwen at any chance they’d get.

(Y/n) couldn’t remember a time where she hadn’t been in love with Tolkien���s masterpiece, able to recite most dialogues, able to talk about the books and movies for hours on end.

Dean would love to hear her ramble about it, even though most of the time he wasn’t truly listening, eyes admiring her features, thankful that he got to call her his, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Urgh”, another annoyed groan spilled from her lips, hopping down from the kitchen island, “no Dean, it’s Aragorn who tosses Gimli, that’s the whole point of the dialogue, ‘don’t tell the elf’, that’s obvious enough, isn’t it Sam?” she turned towards the tall Winchester brother, hoping that he’d support his fellow lord of the rings fan.

Dean watched her with an amused smirk on his lips, eyes taking in her pacing form, moving from one end of the kitchen to the other, reciting the whole scene between Aragorn and Gimli as they were fighting the battle of Helm’s Deep.

Sam moved towards his brother, jamming his elbow into his side, “you’ve watched the movies at least ten times and you still don’t know stuff like that?”, Dean’s raspy chuckle made (y/n) smile, eyes catching Sam’s dark ones. “Well I always got a bit distracted”, Dean winked at his girlfriend, watching her cheeks flush, burning in embarrassment, mind wandering back to all those nights she had forced him to watch the movies, ending up tangled between the sheets.

“Well that’s my cue to leave”, Sam drowned the last gulps of his beer, striding towards the library, with a disgusted expression gracing his features, hopefully getting enough distance between him and the two of them.

Dean’s gaze followed his brother's frame, hands reaching for (y/n), pulling her into his chest, “maybe we should give the movies another try”, he nibbled on her earlobe, hands wandering underneath the shirt of his she was wearing. “Mhm”, (y/n) hummed, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, trying to press herself even closer, “sounds like a plan”, she shifted her weight onto her toes, lips meeting his.

Both got lost in the kiss, hands tenderly tugging and squeezing, tracing one another’s skin, moving backwards towards Dean’s room, careful to lock the door behind them. (Y/n) shoved him onto the bed, mattress dipping underneath his weight, she straddled his waist, pulling on his necklace, locking their lips once again. “What about the movie?”, he breathed out, Dean flipped them around, crotch perfectly pressed against her middle, chuckling as he caught her unamused gaze, “just kidding”.

Heat radiated off his body, clashing against hers, engulfing her like a warm, fuzzy blanket, protecting her from the chilly air of his room. Dean’s lips perfectly molded against hers, driven by their hunger, the desire that burned in the pit of their stomach, skin tingling as they got lost in each other's embrace.

The atmosphere around them buzzed, as if a thunderstorm was just about to approach, Dean had to bite down another remark about Lord of the Rings, drawing yet another comparison to Helm’s Deep and the downpour that crashed upon Théodens army.

He slowly began to grind his lower half against hers, unsteady breaths spilled from his swollen lips, arms placed on either side of her head, “I love you”, he reminded her, stroking some loose strands of her (y/h/c) hair behind her ear.

“I love you too, but now I need you to fuck me”, (y/n) impatiently moaned, moving her hips in synch with his, desperate for some additional friction. A laugh bubbled out of him, pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, smirking at the sight of her naked chest, “running low on clean clothes”, (y/n) averted her eyes, fumbling with his button-down.

Dean kissed along her jawline, goosebumps rose on her skin, body giving into his touch as he finally made his way down her neck, thumbs circling her nipples, watching the nubs hardening, lips leaving a few marks behind. His scent overwhelmed her, creeped up her nostrils, a homey, almost peaceful warmth settled in her bones, “Dean”, she whined, hand moving down his upper body, undoing his trousers, “don’t tease me”.

Finally he attached his lips to her nipples, sucking on the now hard nubs, his piercing green eyes wouldn’t leave hers once, watching her pupils dilate. (Y/n) combed her fingers through his short hair, tugging on his roots, “I need you”, she was aching for him, walls fluttering around nothing, arousal dripped out of her heat, sticking to her thighs, damp panties pressed against her folds.

The older Winchester brother rose from the mattress, putting on a show for her as he slowly took off his clothes, standing completely bare in front of (y/n). He snaked his cold fingers around her ankles and pulled her towards him. In one quick motion he had tugged her soaked through panties down her legs, tossing them to the floor, where the rest of their clothes were placed.

Her heart was racing in anticipation, he brushed two fingers through her heat, whines of protest spilled from her lips as he drew his hand away, bringing his fingers up to his lips, licking them clean. The sight made (y/n) moan, he looked insanely handsome like that, naked body towering above her, the strong want to press her thighs together overcame her, cursing Dean for standing right between them.

“Shit, you taste so sweet darling”, a throaty groan rumbled through him, flavor of her arousal heavy on his tongue, the taste had an addicting effect to it, he could stay nestled between her thighs for hours on end, devouring her till she’d come on his tongue over and over again.

His length twitched as he painted that picture in his mind, growing harder with every passing moment, “god, the things you do to me”, he kneeled on the mattress, pulling her legs over his shoulders, sliding his impressive shaft through her wet lips. Dean patted his tip against her entrance, nudged against her pulsing clit, “are you ready for me darling?”, the teasing undertone in his voice coaxed a few curse words out of her, “don’t play games with me Winchester”.

Dean bit his lip, “such a brat”, he didn’t give her any time to comprehend the words he just spoke, length ripping her walls apart, slamming into her in one motion. All air got knocked out of her lungs, snarky remarks dying on her tongue, engulfed by the pleasure that overtook her senses. She slackend her jaw, back arched as Dean began to rock his length into her, choking out noises and sounds only Dean would ever manage to coax out of her.

Her walls tensed around him, struggling to adjust, body trembling from the ferocious pace he was set on, for a second or two tears blurred her vision, senses working on overdrive, drowning in the bliss that began to spread through her body. Dean threw his head back, arms wrapped around her legs, nails digging into her skin, “shit, you’re so tight darling, don’t think I’ll ever get used to this”.

She was just about to cum right there and then, orgasm building up, (y/n) could tell that it probably would hit her like it would rarely do, giving the word ‘release’ a whole new meaning. Dean knew her body like the back of his hand, knew how to move to push her right over the edge, squeezing just the right places and spots.

(Y/n)’s face screwed up in pleasure, letting the sounds that clawed up her throat fall from her lips, allowing Dean to have his way with her, ripping her apart with his rough pace. He felt her release nearing, struggling to stop her body from giving into her orgasm, teeth about to pierce through her lips, “it’s alright darling, I got you, let go”. She couldn’t think straight, body quivering, giving into the inferno that pulled her further down the rabbit hole, the sparks that shot up her spine, crying out his name.

Dean fucked her through her high, panting and growling, tightening his grip on her legs, “let me”, (y/n) whimpered, weakly pushing him away from her, she wanted to pump him, to wrap her lips around his girth, to taste herself on his velvety skin.

She crawled towards him, limbs still quivering from the powerful orgasm that just wrecked through her, hands finding his length, tongue licking its way up his warm skin, “fuck, just like that”. Dean loved to feel her hot mouth on him, her rough tongue twirled around him, hands tracing his defined ands, admiring every inch of his skin.

His length twitched in her grasp, “I’m-”, another moan wrecked through him, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed together, eyes closed, letting his body give into his orgasm. His release coated her cleavage white, milky substance dripping down her skin, his cheeks were flushed, drops of sweat pooled on his forehead, chest heavily rising and falling.

“Ah man, I truly love watching lord of the rings with you”, he chuckled, running a hand through her hair, “maybe we should watch part two as well, just to refresh your memory?”

[lovehugsandcandy]

(when you never) see the light (n*fw, Colt x MC, RoD)

A/N: So @shondideaira-blog comes up with AMAZING ideas and requested a rewrite of RoD Chapter 16 but with MC getting shot (apologies for the delay and if this isn’t what you were looking for). Title from Rihanna’s ‘Stay’

Length: ~5,900 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (warnings out the wazoo- cops, gun shots, injury, blood, hospital, swearing, sex)

Summary:  “... she thinks of nightmares that slide into daylight and then almost the opposite, times like now when the morning sunlight is gauzy and warm and the fears from the dark of night (gunfire and explosions and a scream caught in a throat that won’t open and being left behind by those you love) seem so distant that she knows she can’t return. ‘Colt, come with me.’ He still doesn’t answer, and it’s embarrassing how her voice cracks. ‘Please.’”

.

Her heart beats 63 times per minute.

It’s an average, of course; she’s studied the display, the colored lights flashing each number, vital signs and jagged lines dipping and rising with her movement, her stress level, the all-encompassing terror snaking cold through her bloodstream. By now, she can predict the digits shown stark on the machinery: rolling to her side increases it by a single beat, focusing on every breath decreases it by three, and thinking about that night and the fear in his eyes and the warmth pooling from between her fingers, well, that sends the numbers skyrocketing and the nurses running.

The shrill tone emitting from the machine echoes the hammering in her chest, a constant noise even in the awkward silence stretching into the corners of the hospital room.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok if I…” Her dad pauses and his eyes bore into the side of her head. It’s a conscious effort not to turn her leaden gaze from the tv. “... If I go to work for a bit?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Her heart rate holds steady, steel will and mental effort holding her annoyance at bay.

Of course he can leave.

He had been there constantly, was at her side when she awoke from surgery, when her vision warped so blurry she had almost mistaken him for another, dark hair floating in and out of her field of vision, a mirage of her deepest desires fading to bitter reality when she realized who was by her side. And then her father had refused to leave her side, sitting in for every visit from the doctor, scrutinizing every movement as they tended wounds and replaced IVs, taking calls stationed outside the door to her room as she watched his shadow pace through the frosted glass. He vacillated between anger expanding coldly through the sterile walls of the hospital room and relief that she was alive seeping into his smile.

“I just want… I want you to be ok.” He pauses and this time, she turns her head, taking in his knuckles paling against the door frame, the lines of his face wrinkled and sallow in the blazing hallway lights. It’s unsaid: he wants things to go back to the way they were.

But they can’t. They never will. There’s no looking back, ever; the world has changed too much for that, and the only path is forward.

Her side still hurts, tiny white pills not enough to knock her out but enough to turn the stabbing pain in her abdomen into a dull ache, and she is tired, eyelids heavy from three nights in an unfamiliar bed; the physical pain pales compared to her sadness, bone-deep and weary. He wasn’t asking about that hurt. “I’ll be fine, dad.”

She almost wasn’t fine.

.

The barrel of the gun was dark, looming large before her, a sinister circle ready to engulf everything in its path the longer she stared. It was mere seconds, but it felt like hours as she stood, frozen. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the metal; she knew Jason was holding the gun, her high school looming somewhere behind him, her car in shatters behind her, and her friends in the periphery in various states of horror, but the gun consumed her entire field of view.

Would she ever step foot inside this very school again?

There was movement, somewhere behind Jason, Mona, god, Mona was trying to interrupt.

Would she even graduate?

And Colt’s voice echoing to her right, a yell, too far away to help, but close enough to hurt.

God, would she ever see Colt again?

The light was first, a flash, a bright flicker in the inky black night, dancing hauntingly by Jason’s thumb.

Then sound, the crack echoing in the parking lot, bouncing about until she was disoriented, not knowing where one rapport ended and the next began.

And then the pain.

“Ellie!” 

More noise. A scream. Was it her? 

A fight. 

It couldn’t be her; she was looking at the sky, the endless night above, even the streetlights growing darker with every blink of her eyes.

“Ellie!”

The parking lot was cold beneath her. She couldn’t feel it through her leather jacket (red, red, everything was red) but her bare hands traced the pebbles below, uneven and jagged.

Everything hurt.

“Ellie!”

Another scream, the squeal of tires. Someone was pulling out (was she at the sideshow?), rubber burning, caustic and sour as it reached her nose. The engine roar faded, softer in the distance (was she racing?), replaced by movement around her (if she was racing, she was losing-the world was spinning, but she was immobile).

No. Her side… something burned, flaming hot, pain radiating up her side with every choking inhale.

She grimaced and lifted her hand, pressing it to her side, wince deepening. Her side hurt, sharply, as her fingers prodded a gash. It was hot, whatever it was (not skin, not anymore), and there was something liquid on her fingers, tacky, warm.

A cold sweat covered her body; she could feel its path tracing her hairline where the salt burned glass-torn wounds. She wanted to wipe it off, dig out some shards digging into her skin, but every move was draining, labored.

She bit her lip. 

“Fuck, Ellie!’

Iron flooded onto her tongue, metallic, sharp. A few stars fought their way through the smog and the thin cloud layer overhead; streetlights shone in the parking lot. 

Everything else was darkness.

Except for the red smears on her fingertips.

“Ellie!” Colt entered her field of view, suddenly, eyes wide and panicked. “Are you--- fuck?”

“I…” Everything hurt, God, her stomach felt like… like she had been shot. “Colt? What- what happened?”

“You…” His fingers trembled as they trace her face. “Ellie, you’re gonna be ok. We just gotta…” He looked down at her stomach and his hands pressed into her side, warm and far more comforting than the tears welling in his eyes. “We just gotta…”

Logan dropped to his knees at her other side. “Troublemaker… God…” Mona appeared behind him and even her eyes were wide, face pale.

A siren pierced the night.

She reached up; her fingers shook, and she was tired, oh so tired, but she forced her hand to rise until she cupped Colt’s cheek, thumbing at the moisture trickling over his skin.

He choked out her name, and she dropped her hand. A path of blood, a dark and foul smear over sharpened cheekbone, remained. 

“We need… we need to get you out of here.” His voice shook.

She nodded, pushing herself up to her elbows, wincing when even the simple motion hurt.

“C’mon, Troublemaker.” Logan slid an arm around her waist, nudging his shoulder under her arm. “Can you get up?”

She nodded, wrapping her other arm around Colt’s shoulders. He was trembling slightly, lips in a tight white line, but he folded in next to her, taking her weight as her feet found the pavement. Her knees buckled, but the boys held firm and, though she swayed, she stood, hunched and weak. “I’m ok.” In the distance, the siren screamed louder, closer.

“You’re not,” Mona said, eyes assessing her wound. “You need to go to the hospital.” 

She nodded; she obviously did. The pavement was tilting under her feet, and she had to focus to take in the parking lot. “Where’s Shaw?”

“Took off like a pussy.” Mona crossed her arms over her chest. Ellie let out a smile; at least the plan was working.

Colt curled his fingers over her hipbone. “Come on.”

“No.” Ellie shook her head, and the pavement swam in time with her movements. “The cars.”

“What? Ellie… we gotta… who cares? You…” She could sense it, the moment he looked down to see the blood spreading over her shirt. “Ellie…” Colt reached out, fingers visibly shaking now, to gently touch her side. Even through the fabric, they came away wet and glossy red. “Ellie, we gotta…” He stared at his hand, at the fingertips damp with her blood. “We gotta…” The siren was speeding on the highway now; they were running out of time.

“Colt.” She touched his cheek, smearing the blood even more. “We need a plan. We gotta get the cars out of here, your bike. We need to move.” He blinked at her and she tipped forward, to where he opened his arms at the last possible second, landing against his chest. They were both covered in blood now but it didn’t even matter, nothing mattered but finishing this last ride. His arms wrapped around her waist and she couldn’t even pretend anymore, just let him hold her up, fully, legs weak and unresponsive. His arms still shook. She tilted her head up, right against his ear, and whispered, “Colt, we need a plan. And I can’t… we need a plan.”

Because that was the meaning of partnership, of trust and support and love. When one person fell, the other was there to catch them. And while it was Colt physically holding her up, she was there to make sure he didn’t collapse either.

When he blinked again, his eyes opened clear. “Logan, get in your car and get out of here.” He balanced her against his own body to fish keys from his pocket, tossing them over to her without pulling his eyes from Ellie’s. “Mona. Take my bike. I’ll contact you later with where to stash it.”

Ellie smiled, head lolling against his chest. She could rest now that someone else was in charge.

“Open your eyes.” His voice was harsh but, when she opened them, she could only read concern in his wide gaze. “Stay awake. We gotta go. Walk.” 

And, one foot in front of the other, she did.

~~~~~

Despite her dad’s concern, she’s fine. 

After the surgery and the stitches and the unrealized fear that she might lose part of her liver, she had been fine. She had watched tv, avoided conversation with her dad, and reached for the comforting bottle whenever her side ached.

The meds, chatter of the pills ricocheting in her palm, helped ease her physical pain.

If only all pains were as easy to soothe.

She has just reached for the cannister when the door creaks open; she rolls her eyes, again. It had barely been 10 minutes. “Dad, I’m-” The word dies in her mouth as she turns to the door “-fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cuz I’m offended. I think you definitely need your vision checked.”

“Colt…” It’s not even speech; she breathes the word out in an exhale that makes her ribs twinge. “How did you get in?” The sheets shift underneath her as she struggles to sit, letting out a small groan as her side throbs before she’s finally up, watching him edge closer, hands in his pockets and dark circles haunting his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he scoffs. “You think I can’t get access to a fucking hospital room?”

“My dad- he’s been here the whole time, he just left.”

“I know.”

She shakes her head. “What happened? I don’t really…”

“You got shot. Remember that?”

“Oh my God, yes, I remember that.” He’s close enough to touch now, out of place next to the IV machines and constant beeping, leather and smirk tangible and real amidst the white-walled sterility; she pulls him closer, finger tucked into the cuff of his jacket. “What about everyone else? Logan? Mona? X and Toby? Is everyone ok?”

Colt shrugs, easing down next to her to perch on the hospital bed. “They’re fine. Logan’s on his way to Detroit. Mona’s halfway across the country. And X and Toby both went to Oakland.”

“My dad told me Jason got arrested.”

“He did. Your plan worked.” The smile stays small, but Ellie can see the pride and relief shine through. “Not an eye for an eye, but…”

She threads her fingers through his, her thumb tracing calming circles even though he also carries pain impossible to soothe. “It’s good enough. You need to live, Colt. Not be haunted by what’s behind you.”

“I can’t dream, El?”

“You have better dreams than vengeance.” In the hospital room lighting, his every feature is stark, cheekbones sharp over the hollow sloping to his jaw. He looks proud and pensive and defeated, all at once; though her side twinges when she leans over, it’s secondary to the ache in her heart. “Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to go home.”

He surveys the tube still running into her arm, the pills at her bedside. “You sure that’s such a good idea?”

“Yeah. I can’t stay here anymore.”

“I don’t think they are ready to discharge you. You kinda look like you got shot recently.”

“I’ll go AMA, I don’t care?” She pressed the call button.

“You’ll go what?”

“Against Medical Advice. They can’t trap me here.” She jabs it again, frantically; a plan is forming. Finally, the fear and boredom and monotony of the hospital are being replaced, and she’s floating on something that feels implausibly like hope. “Meet me out front.”

He studies her, for so long she wonders if her demand is too presumptuous, and then he breaks out into a grin. “You’re sexy when you’re bossy.”

“Even in a hospital gown?”

His fingers trace the tie at her neck. “Especially then.”

“Really.”

“Easy access.” His eyes gleam, fluorescent shine of the hospital room reflected in beautiful black, and she’s sure his excitement is mirrored on her own face.

“Oh, my God. Just meet me downstairs, you’re my getaway driver.”

He stands, mattress creaking underneath her, and rocks back on his heels. “You sure about this?”

“I have never been more sure about anything.”

When she emerges into the brilliant LA sunshine, he’s leaning against a dark sedan, sunglasses on and every inch the cocky mastermind she remembers. She falls into his arms, replacing antiseptic and sterility with every inhale of motor oil and aftershave.

“No motorcycle?”

“Are you already forgetting you were shot?”

As if she could ever. “I want to go home,” she murmurs into his tee.

“Whatever you want.” He opens the door, eyes hidden by shades, but his shoulders tense. “We can drop you there.”

“No.” Her hand on his forearm stops him and he turns, eyebrow raised. “I want to go home with you.”

His lips against hers are hard, demanding, hand twitching toward her hip but then settling against her jaw, cupping her close as she nestles closer, relieved sigh as she feels her muscles relax for the first time in days.

As they accelerate away, she’s glued to his side, nestled in leather, and the sunlight blinding outside the windshield adds to the warming calm in the backseat.

~~~~~

She couldn’t tell if it’s pitch black outside… or if it’s the back of her eyelids.

“Ellie, eyes open. Now.” Oh. She opened her eyes, dome light illuminating the car interior where Colt was reaching over to buckle her seat belt, nudging the strap away from her side. “You gotta stay awake.”

“Yeah.” She nodded but her eyelids were so heavy, falling closed even when she struggled them awake, and he kissed her, hard, desperate. She kissed back, lips weak but sure, revived in the dead of night.

He slammed the door, sprinting around the car to leap into the driver’s seat, throwing the car in drive and shutting his own door simultaneously. The sirens were blaring now, she could see the blue and red flashing through the night, reflecting off the sterile concrete of the school, and Colt gunned it through the parking lot, the world flying by as he maneuvered onto the street and into the night.

“You’re gonna be ok, you hear me?”

She hummed, watching him change gears. When he drove to her driver’s test, she remembered how confidently he drove, experienced hands easy around the wheel, but now those same hands were moving fast, almost frantic as the speedometer flew higher.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?” Her eyelids were so heavy.

“Tell me about Langston.”

“What?” Her head rested against the leather as she squinted at him. “Why do you… What?”

“I want to keep you awake and it’s all I got right now,” he responded, chuckling darkly.

“I… Langston.” In truth, she had barely thought about Langston in weeks. “It’s the best college out east. And I was lucky to get in. I always wanted to go there and now…”

“Now what?”

“Am I even gonna go?”

“You’re gonna go.” His hand gripped her knee. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna go...“ He moved his hand to downshift as they maneuvered through traffic, but it landed on her leg immediately after, strong and sure. “You’re gonna do great.”

“No. No, you don’t understand.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I… I’m not ready for this to end.”

“For what to end?”

She felt the moisture spilling from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks. Of course she was going to Langston, it was all she wanted, and yet. “I don’t want to leave you.”

He had nothing to say to that, no smart reply; he only squeezed her knee and headlights flashed by, interrupting the night sky that encroached into her darkening vision.

“I just… I don’t want to go back to how I was before.”

“You won’t.”

“Are you just saying that because I now have a hole in my stomach?”

“Christ, El… Gonna be a hell of a scar.” 

The tires squealed as he pulled a left, sign declaring the Emergency Department brilliantly red above them. “Gonna be a hell of a story.” She shifted uncomfortably as they pulled to a stop; she could see a smattering of doctors and police officers inside the glass doors when she peeked over.

“Our story’s not over yet, El.” Her tears are pouring out now, stream turned to a river, and they slipped through his fingers as he cupped her face in his hands. “It’s not.” His voice was harsh, sure, and it made the tears even worse.

“I have to go.”

He unbuckled his seat belt. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“No.”

“What do you-”

“See those cops?” He glanced behind her, still cradling her cheeks, and his gaze darkened. “This is something I need to do on my own, Colt.”

“Ellie.”

“I can’t have you get arrested, I-I can’t.”

His lips turn down, his own eyes welling, glistening in the red glow. She pushed forward, as much as she could through the pain, because she might die from her wound but she couldn’t live without threading her fingers through his hair, kissing him with every ounce of trust and surety and love she had been gifted in return.

And then she steps out of the car alone.

She doesn’t look back. She can’t. Even the tiniest glance behind her would make her disappear, Euridyce vanishing in the dawn; a mere turn of her head would force her to stay, compel her to fall into his arms and flee into the night, and her blood would spill rivers onto Mona’s leather interior.

By the time a nurse rushed over, she was bawling, sobs pouring from her mouth, blood ground into the lines of her palms and the tears painting watery pink paths down her forearms.

She shook her head when they asked how badly it hurt.

She couldn’t feel a thing.

~~~~~

The nightmare shocks her awake.

It’s her first night of freedom and it’s quiet, still, the light of the moon replacing the flash of gunfire behind her eyelids, soft exhales beside her replacing the exhaust of a Santagata speeding away.

She can still see her father’s face, stern and disappointed and angry, so angry, when she struggles to sit up, wincing at the flash of pain radiating up her side.

“Mh? Wass… El?” Colt turns under the sheet, hand grasping at nothing until his fingers find her arm, wrapping around her fragile wrist.

“I’m ok…” His skin is warm where hers is corpse-cold, and she’s obviously not convincing enough because he sits up, the line of heat at her spine not enough to quell her shaking muscles. “Really, I’m ok.”

“You need more of those meds?” he slurs, still half-asleep, and she grins despite herself. He’s been surprisingly great, having her holed up in his temporary apartment, dispensing her painkillers upon request, grabbing the ice cream she wants from the 24-hour store down the block.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised.

For all the gruff exterior and snarky bite, he had seen her potential, respected her abilities, challenged her and fought for her and, now, speaks low into her shoulder blade in the pitch-black room, LA haze blocking out the glow of the moon. She can’t see inches in front of her face, can only sense where he is by the crinkle of sheets, the warmth of his skin at her back.

“I’m fine. I… it’s fine.”

He shifts, arm threading around to trace under her shirt, between her breasts, so he can cup her shoulder. “What happened?” She can feel the warmth seeping through her chest; it makes it easier for her to inhale through the terror caught in her throat.

“I…” He waits, shifting so his nose nudges into the curve of her shoulder. “I just saw… I just saw the gun. The flash, when pulled the trigger and I… all I could hear is the crack of the gunshot and I-”

He maneuvers her so she can see his face, barely, white of his eyes framing the darkest of eyes, a flash of white teeth when he mutters her name. “Ellie…”

“And the surgery and days in the hospital room and I didn’t know if I was going to see you again and I…”

His thumb is gentle on her cheekbone, wiping away tears she didn’t even realize were coming. He’s still warm, hand on her face and other palm solid on her back, and she breathes out slowly, heart rate returning to her typical range. “I still dream about my old man.”

“Oh, Colt.”

“I still dream about the bridge, the explosion, and then...” The whites of his eyes flash as he turns his head, sharply. “You. You bleeding out in the parking lot, bleeding through my fingers, and I couldn’t...”

Her fingers find his and squeeze. “What helps?”

“...don’t know yet.”

Her hand on his cheek turns his face back to hers and she has no words, no magic solution, no idea how to overcome the trauma and pain of their shared past. All she can do is bring her lips to his.

Maybe the memories will always be with them, written in scars like the puckering skin on her abdomen, but maybe they can forget, together, to make it through the night.

He responds eagerly, hands cupping her face, trailing down her neck. His thumb traces down her spine and it’s singularly all she can focus on; every nerve ending in her body is so sharply attuned to the callus at the joint sliding inch by inch down her skin that she can feel nothing else, not the sheet pooling around her waist or the contact of her legs against the mattress or the itch and tug of the scab pulling at her skin. It’s so soft, so gentle, and his name falls from her lips, all needy whine and desperate plea, and the flush that covers her skin is sudden, fire hot, spreading down to her toes in a blaze of combustion and if he doesn’t touch her, more, somewhere else, anywhere else, God please, she’s going to explode as a quivering mess in this bed.

He’s gentle, easing her closer to kiss a scorching line down her spine, following the path of his fingers with the fire of his lips. They drag achingly down the sensitive skin of her thinner forearm, up her inner thigh, and it’s somehow more intimate than anything they’ve ever done. She’s already tense, toes curling as his hands make their way under her underwear, and her fingers anchor into his hair as his teeth trace up her thigh.

He avoids her side, where the stitches curl dark into her skin, instead teasing his tongue through her folds, his fingers over her clit; when her vision turns white (not the cold light of gunfire but the warm glow of pleasure and connection and love and lust and freedom), she forgets about her injury, forgets about the hospital, forgets about everything except the strands of hair sliding through her hands and the boy taking care of her in every way that matters.

Sated, she reaches for him as he collapses beside her, straightening her pajamas and tucking a wisp of hair from her face. She’s suddenly exhausted, muscles weak and shaky, but she curves her hand into his t-shirt. The sheets muffle her voice; she wouldn’t be surprised if drool pools underneath her chin, but she’s too tired to care. “Don’t look back.”

“What.”

“Don’t look back.”

“What are you talking-”

“There’s nothing behind us.” If she was going to leave that life behind, she was going to take part of it with her. “Come with me.”

“What? Ellie?”

“Please.”

She doesn’t hear his response; behind her eyes, there’s only darkness (no gunfire flash, no rhythmic beeps). It’s quiet and still and warm, and she sleeps without dreaming.

~~~~~

She could get used to this.

While Colt had taken a few hushed phone calls in the hallway, he was a constant every other second, just in reach, as if his mere presence were enough to protect her from murderous cops and an untimely demise.

A few days into her convalescence, she awakens from a nap, degree by warming degree, curled into his side. Her sleeping schedule has been erratic ever since her frantic discharge escape, and it’s now twilight, golden sunbeams sinking into the horizon behind the highway. Colt is sprawled next to her, playing a game on his phone; she’s curled into his side, eyes blinking open against soft cotton grey, and he drops a kiss on her forehead when she stirs.

“How are you going to sleep tonight?” he asks, smirking through every word and dropping his cell onto the bed. “It’s almost 8. You’ve slept all day.”

“Dunno. Count sheep?” she murmurs against his chest. “Count stars?”

“No stars in LA.”

She mumbles some reply, unintelligible and low. While she was regaining some of her strength, it was a slow improvement; she still generally felt weak and worn. She would have no trouble sleeping. 

“Count headlights,” he continues and she tilts her head to watch the white lights fly over the road, glittering diamonds slicing through the horizon. 

“Is that what you do?”

He shrugs. “It’s all there is to see.” His fingers thread through her hair, avoiding her forehead where cuts from barreling over the overpass still sit open and obvious along her hairline, but gently tracing down to her back, hands gentler than they have any right to be, belonging to a wanted criminal on the lam from the LAPD. It’s rhythmic and calming, and she wants nothing more than to stay in this bed forever.

“There’s headlights in New York.” She holds her breath. She hadn’t asked again since the nightmare, too terrified of the reply to broach the topic.

“Lots of them.”

She hazards a glance up; to her surprise, he is staring right at her, eyes soft, cautious. He swallows, Adam’s apple tightly bobbing, and nibbles his bottom lip. “Colt, please.”

He glances away, out the window; he doesn’t answer, doesn’t promise anything, and she tightens the arm draped over his chest. The headlights still glow, bright white cutting through the city landscape, and she watches them as the twilight slides into darkness.

~~~~~

Even though she gets stronger, she still makes him help her, pouting through simple challenges like carrying grocery bags or reaching high shelves. He grumbles through it, but she can’t hide her smirk when he obliges regardless.

(Tougher challenges, like holding her after nightmares that leave her quaking, those are done without complaint and the gratitude gets stuck in her throat, lodged against where her heart races at triple the normal tempo.)

When she feels up to it, he needs no persuading to help her shower. He’s surprisingly gentle with her hair, fingers massaging shampoo against her scalp as she mewls piteously, and lathers her body in careful strokes that build heat in her core. His fingers slow as he nears her side, bypassing the bruise beginning to green and the scab that’s beginning to crust about the stitches. His hands avoid the wound noticeably.

“Do you not like blood or something?”

He quirks an eyebrow, droplets raining from his hair. “I’m fine with it. I got shot too, remember?” Her eyes drop to his shoulder. Yes, she remembers and, even if she managed to forget that horrific night, his own scar would remind her, dark mark noticeable against the curve of muscle. “Not as bad as you.”

“Yeah… it’s just… you just seem wigged out at the sight of blood…”

He looks behind her, straight at the shower wall, but she has the sense that he doesn’t see a single white tile square. She sees images in her own mind, flashes of her blood on his fingertips in a shadowy parking lot, his father’s blood a morbid trail across the garage. “I don’t like seeing the blood of people I care about.”

Well, she doesn’t have an answer to that. She can only reach up, wet hair sliding through her fingers, to pull him down, closer, until they’re sharing the same breath and his lips consume hers with practiced ease. He backs her against the wall, so gentle, as if she were spun glass, fingers tender about her waist even though his lips capture hers insistently.

They kiss with abandon, making out until the steady stream of water cools, turning tepid, and then cold, and then he interlaces their fingers together to pull her out of the shower. By the time they get out of the bathroom, they made a weak attempt at towel drying, but her back is still wet as he lays her down against the sheets.

But the sensation of water cooling is quickly replaced by others.

And the only flashes of light are stars behind her eyes.

And the only sound is his muttered curse, harsh fingertips digging deep into the muscles of her ass.

And when she trails fingertips over his cheekbone, only sweat remains.

~~~~~

He makes her breakfast, too.

It’s only a few days before she’s scheduled to head east, and it looms large on her mind. She requests pomegranate seeds and yogurt, granola and a drizzle of honey, something fancy and annoying just to see him fluster.

“Seriously?”

“Please, Colt?” She bats her eyelashes, burrowed under blankets, and he huffs, throwing on a shirt before trudging to the store. 

She giggles when he cuts into the fruit; it’s going to stain the cheap formica counter, but he apparently doesn’t care, hacking into the pomegranate skin with a paring knife and cursing under his breath.

“This is such a pain in the ass.”

“Remember when you said I could have anything I wanted.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We were in bed, sweetheart. I wasn’t asking for a meal plan.”

“Well…” She gingerly steps against the counter and stands on her tiptoes, testing her side. When there’s no pain, she hops up to sit next to the bowl with only a slight grimace. “This is what I wanted. I wanted you to make me breakfast.” Triumphant, she pops a seed into her mouth.

His gaze drops to the fruit in front of him as he shakes his head ruefully. She watches the sculpted biceps move as he separates the seeds from the pale flesh, dropping them into her yogurt. There are easier ways to cut the fruit, taught by her mother over quiet breakfasts even more precious in retrospect, but watching him bite his lip in concentration, she keeps the information to herself.

She’s so focused on the tip of his tongue between his lips and the bicep shifting under his tee that it takes a moment to realize that he stands frozen beside her. “Colt?” His gaze is fixed on his hand, and she leans close to look over. Eyes haunted, he’s staring at a pomegranate seed, smashed against his finger; it takes her a moment but, at this angle, it looks like blood, a red smear staining his thumb, an eerie jarring flashback to blood on his hands. 

She doesn’t even think, only reaches over to drag her teeth across the fleshy pad of finger, sucking the sweet juice onto her tongue. When his gaze flits to hers, heat rises in her cheeks.

“What?” He doesn’t respond, and she thinks of nightmares that slide into daylight and then almost the opposite, times like now when the morning sunlight is gauzy and warm and the fears from the dark of night (gunfire and explosions and a scream caught in a throat that won’t open and being left behind by those you love) seem so distant that she knows she can’t return. “Colt, come with me.” He still doesn’t answer, and it’s embarrassing how her voice cracks. “Please.”

“Ellie…”

“You don’t need to stay here. There’s nothing good here for us.”

“I’m not running. I’m not gonna run from anything.”

“What if you ran towards something instead?”

“Like what?” There’s a pomegranate juice smear bright against his cheekbone, a reminder of her hands on him, a mark that won’t scar but is permanent, regardless.

“...A new future.”

~~~~~

Breakfast with her dad is as awkward and stilted as she feared.

He makes the Ellie Special, and she crams forkfuls of waffles in her mouth as they try and fail to find any safe topic of conversation, past bond cleaved, strained silence left behind.

Even though his fear for her life had tempered his fury, he still saw her as a songbird, resigned to a gilded cage to sing on command and lead a life of clipped wings.

But she learned what she could do - chase dreams and fly high and soar into a new life with its own scars and tears and triumphs.

She walks out the door with a plate of food and a promise to call. When he shuts the front door, it sounds like the closing of a book, her childhood written and read, its last few months unsatisfactory in her father’s review.

When she thinks about it, she wouldn’t have changed a thing.

She plops into the driver’s seat and takes a deep breath, hands tight around the steering wheel, watching as the curtains drift shut. Away from her father’s prying eyes, head in her hands, she lets it out, tears pouring through her fingers, tears of joy, of heartache, of hope, of wonder... and of love.

Then, she reverses out of her driveway, smoothly popping the clutch into first as she heads to retrieve the motorcycle jockey whose calloused hands hold her heart.

It will take days to make it out east.

They had better get started.

There’s nothing but the open road ahead and they get to speed along, together.

And, at dawn, the sun peeking over the interstate is wholly brilliant, warm and peaceful, every single day.

.

Tags

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Colt

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[realtacuardach]

Anger and Release

Here's my entry for Match 2 of Obiyuki Madness 2021 @snowwhite-andtheknight : Roaring Rampage of Rescue. Many thanks to @jhalya for her beta reading. I hope y'all enjoy!

...

Steam curled out from Shirayuki's mouth as she peered through the frigid dimness of the morning towards the fortress. In her current frame of mind, she could almost imagine that the steam was actually smoke pouring from the maw of an enraged dragon who had had treasure stolen from her.

She didn't like being angry. Anger clouded the mind, affected the senses, and she liked to be in control and sensible at all times, especially in times where a cool head was needed.

On the other hand, though, the anger that was not at all going away was fuelling the adrenaline coursing through her blood, and she would need that adrenaline for what she was about to do. 

So, she let herself be angry.

Angry at the renegade soldiers for capturing her and Obi in the middle of the night without provocation. Angry at how they savagely beat Obi after they'd already mobbed him and restrained him when he tried to rescue her. Angry at how they had been thrown into the back of the wagon like sacks of potatoes, the pain of his fresh, brutal wounds showing through his bruised eyes and stabbing her in the heart. Angry at how he managed to undo only his hands before removing her bonds instead of untying himself totally. Angry that, instead of saving himself, he'd given her an apologetic look before pushing her out of the cart and then collapsing himself. 

The apology frustrated her almost more than anything else, because she was certain he was not apologetic for the right reasons. 

"When we get back," she muttered to herself in the lessening gloom, "we're going to have a long talk about not sacrificing yourself for me. Again."

Truthfully, she didn't have much faith that this talk would stick any better than any of their previous similar ones, but that wouldn't prevent her from trying. 

You idiot, she choked back a sob, don't you know how much it hurts when you do this?

She forced the tears away. There would be time for tears later, when he was home and safe and so bound up by her healing that he would have to stop and listen to her.

And he'll smile up at me and shrug and say he couldn't make any promises...

She shook her head. Focus.

Squinting, Shirayuki looked around the fortress and saw only one sentinel standing guard at the entrance. That seemed a little lackluster as far as security went, but she wasn't complaining. 

A murmur like Obi's echoed through her brain. Miss, you can never be too careful. The ground's not the only place the enemy can be.

As though on cue, she heard a slight crackling of tinder above her as though a squirrel was making its way through the limbs. She craned her head upwards to see a man in the tree besides the one where she was hiding, well camouflaged against the gnarled bark.

That wouldn't do.

Looking around surreptitiously, Shirayuki saw a jagged stone on the ground. She reached out and took it, its roughness grounding her and steeling her resolve. After a quick glance towards the sentinel at the door, Shirayuki crept a few trees away from her hiding place and looked up towards her target.

Practice with both Kiki and Obi had served her well; the rock slammed into the back of the tree dwelling soldier's knee as she'd planned, forcing his knee to bend and for him to lose his balance. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud amidst all the dead leaves.

Even in her haze of adrenaline, she could see his chest rise and fall, and felt a traitorous sense of relief.

The sentinel ran over to check his fallen comrade, his face showing first alarm, then irritation. He nudged the fallen man none too gently in the ribs and cursed. Shirayuki reached into her satchel, the glass jar solid in her hand.

"Fool," the guard grumbled, "falling asleep in a -"

The glass jar cracked across the back of his head, the potent herbs smearing across his skin and hair ensuring that the blow would knock him out. There were a few beads of blood where the glass scratched him, but she recognized him as one of Obi's attackers and couldn't bring herself to care much. 

She stalked across the grass quietly and quickly, her ears attuned for any small sound, but heard and saw no one as she made her way to the door. Despite herself, her hand trembled a moment as she grabbed the door handle but she swallowed it down. She couldn't hesitate.

Obi needed her.

…

Years of having to deaden old soldier's wounds and to temporarily incapacitate stubborn, hardy patients who would not listen to her and stay in bed were serving her well. It meant that she knew just the right herbs to use, even if she had to grab them on the fly from the surrounding forest and unattended cupboards. It also meant she knew just where to dig and press her fingers to weaken muscles and render others unconscious. 

She moved through the halls with almost clinical efficiency. Guard in west wing, herbs. Guard in east wing, pinch at the neck. Guard on the staircase, jar of herbs to the back of the head. 

For once, she was grateful for her small size, it allowed her to creep and duck around the shadows. Because she had to take everyone out on the way to Obi, otherwise she knew their chances of escape were slim. 

Especially with Obi as injured as he is. 

Shirayuki gritted her teeth, forcing her feelings to fuel her rage. This was not the time to falter.

It was best to be quiet, the element of surprise was key. But she noted with alarm that her attacks were getting more reckless the deeper she went into the fortress, whether that was due to her desperation and anger, she didn't know.

She didn't care.

As she crept past the guard who had been watching the dungeon door, she heard voices and scowled. 

A dull slap of something against flesh. "Where is the girl?"

A hollow chuckle. "What girl?"

Wind whistled as something was swung through the air, ending with a muffled thud and a deep groan. "You know what girl we're talking about!"

"Can't say I do," Obi groaned in response.

There was a sound that sounded sickeningly like a blade being drawn from a scabbard. "I won't ask again."

"Good, because I won't answer again." Obi clicked his tongue, the sound strangely garbled. "Not good at taking no for an answer, no wonder you can't get a girl-"

Don't provoke them, Obi!

Usually, if Obi was still being snarky and insolent, things were okay; it was only when he reverted to death glares that things were serious. However, that was when others, especially Shirayuku and Ryuu, were at stake. He was annoyingly flippant when it came to his well-being, so Shirayuki had no way of telling how bad it was without seeing him. She pushed up on her toes and stared through the bars.

Her blood ran cold, then hot, then boiling.

Her knight was shackled to the wall, looking even more bruised and battered then she had seen him before. Blood ran in a stream from the corner of his mouth, his limbs were contorted where they were shackled with blood plastering the material to his skin, and his glare was lessening to a slit of golden, blood-shot eyes as his face swelled from all the bruising. 

And there was a blade held to his neck.

Rage filled Shirayuki like a beaker overflowing with viscous, corrosive liquid and she felt herself grabbing a rusty bar that had fallen in days past from the door. There were two people with him, the element of surprise would be almost useless here.

And it was overrated anyway.

She only made one sound before she dropped her cover entirely, just enough to surprise the brute holding the blade to Obi's neck and have him facing her.

With that, she cast aside all secrecy, let out an unholy shriek that she hadn't known herself capable of, and pounced. 

…

"That," Obi huffed besides her as they struggled into the clearing, him leaning heavily on her shoulder, "was something, Miss."

Shirayuki gave something like a nod in response, but kept going. Her adrenaline was just about running out, and she could feel all the aches in her body starting to emerge. Just a little further. 

"Miss?"

Along with the aches, the reality of what she had just done was beginning to sink into her thoughts as well. All those guards slumped unconscious, their wheezing both reassuring and terrifying. The bruises and scabs forming on the backs of heads and necks. The pained groans of Obi's tormentors as they faded into delirium, clutching most likely broken legs or arms. It looked terrible and daunting in her mind. 

And she couldn't really bring herself to regret it. 

"Miss, are you okay?"

It wasn't until she felt his fingers brush the dampness of her cheek that she realized she'd been crying. "I'll be fine."

"Miss."

He had no right to sound admonishing right now. None at all.

"Miss." He sounded gentler, although the admonishing tone still lingered in the back of his voice. "You're bleeding."

"Sure it's mine and not yours?" She shot back, and immediately regretted it at his wince. 

"Miss, we're far enough. You need to rest a minute."

Acquiescing, Shirayuki maneuvered them to a small cave. She lay him down and sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, the fear and fatigue and anger and anxiety all curdling at once in her gut. She was doing a poor job of hiding it, given that Obi reached up to brush his fingers against her face again. "Miss, please…"

Something about the touch and tone undid her, and she began weeping. "Don't," she choked, "don't ever do that again."

Obi frowned. "You know I can't promise that."

"Why?" She demanded, "Why can't you? Don't you realize how much you matter? Don't you realize how much it would kill me if something happened to you?"

He swallowed hard. "Not as much as you-"

Shirayuki glared down at him. "Don't. Just, don't."

Obi sighed and forced himself into a seated position. With a slight noise of distaste at his bloodied clothes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She hugged him back fiercely and cried into his shoulder. He rubbed her back soothingly. "Thank you, Miss. I'm so sorry."

"Not as half as you'll be if you scare me like that again," she sniffled.

"Yes, Miss," she could feel his smile in the breath against her neck, warm and close and reassuringly alive. 

She would need to talk with him more about this later, they were both well aware. But for now, they were both alive and safe.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

[fellulahh]

Simeon in heat Part 2 (NSFW)

Read Part 1 here!

As MC was flicking through a magazine, she was surprised when she heard a knock at her door. All of the brothers were out apart from Lucifer and he was busy in his study - who could it be? Furrowing her eyebrows, MC swung her legs off the bed and paced toward the door.

Opening it cautiously, her eyes widened when the majestic angel that is Simeon brushed past her without saying a word.

“Simeon...” MC breathed with a small smile, “What on earth are you doing here?” She asked dramatically.

“Hush MC, it’s sinful enough that I just thought about coming here, let alone actually coming to see you.” He shushed before stepping right in front of her to gaze upon her face.

“You considered my offer then?” MC raised a brow.

“Your teasing is not appreciated, my dear.” He whispered seductively as he lost his battle of staying pure. “I will have to think of a suitable way to let you know my displeasure.”

“Simeon, what would your Lord say?” MC asked, putting a hand on her chest. The angel let a small tantalising smile tug at his lips as he placed both of his hands on MC’s shoulders. Just the touch brought great relief to his body but it wasn’t enough.

“We’re not going to speak of him tonight. Do I make myself clear?” He asked quietly. Every word that left his mouth seemed to put MC under a spell. She was surprised at how easily he was giving into his temptations. Usually Simeon manages fine when he comes into heat but now that MC’s around it’s a completely different story. As he moved one of his soft hands to her cheek, he parted his lips as he felt the touch of her warm skin against his. His body almost trembled at the sensation. “How am I supposed to resist you?” He asked quietly before leaning down.

MC immediately gave in to his advances, leaning up onto her toes so that she could meet him half way. His lips were everything she imagined they’d be: soft, opulent and enticing. With every move, MC grew weaker and weaker at the knees while Simeon’s heart began to race. He hated himself for giving in to his urges but now that he’d felt her kiss there was no going back.

He’d never felt such passion before. He could feel butterflies of intrigued pleasure erupt from his stomach. How was he supposed to avoid MC when she made him feel so good?

She held onto him tight as their kiss deepened. Everything about the angel was so enthralling; MC had to stop herself from pinching her skin. There’s no way this could all be real? She let out a small moan when she felt one of his hands trail down her back. Every time she felt Simeon caress her, her breathing would grow heavier.

“I must have you, MC.” He breathed against her lips.

“Do whatever you want with me, Simeon.” She urged, feeling a familiar dampness between her legs. “Let me help you.” She moaned. “I won’t tell a single soul.”

He shook his head at her words, practically purring as he pulled out of the kiss. “That you won’t.” He spoke lowly as his eyes remained on her swollen lips.

His gaze was now causing her to feel even more unsteady; she’d have to sit down soon before she fainted. She’d never seen Simeon behave in such a way; MC had always thought he was attractive but never saw him as alluring? Given his religious views, she made the assumption that he would save himself. But then again, what does she know?

As if under his spell, MC found herself backing away from him toward the bed. A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips as his blue eyes seemed to darken. She couldn’t hide the excited grin that spread across her lips. “What are you going to do to me?” She asked innocently as she rested on the edge of the bed.

Slowly walking toward her, Simeon removed his white cloak, fully exposing his shoulders. “I won’t take up much of your time - I only want to do one thing.” He breathed, trailing his long fingers along her jaw.

“Just the one?” MC teased, “I’ve got time you know.”

“MC, please.” He urged with a small red tint on his cheeks. “I shouldn’t be here as it is.”

“Then why did you come?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You.” He whispered, pushing her back onto the bed as he climbed on top of her. “I must have you, MC.”

His voice was so velvety. He could ask MC to do anything and she’d probably accept given how hypnotising his words were. “And your sins?” She asked quietly as he lowered his body to press his lips against her neck.

“Forgotten.” He whispered as he began caressing her skin.

MC let out a small breath. She seemed to have made too quick of a judgement on the angel because he knew exactly what he was doing. A soft moan escaped MC’s lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel his hard length pressing against her thigh. Every time sounds of pleasure left her lips, she felt his body stiffen. There was no way he was going to be able to hold back much longer.

Pulling away from her skin, Simeon’s eyes flickered upon MC’s expectant face. He took a moment just to gaze upon her every feature. To him, she was heavenly. Everything about her was so endearing.

Letting out one last breath, he climbed off MC’s body. As he stood beside her bed he began removing his clothes. Copying his actions, MC - rather quickly - lifted her dress over her head and began to remove her underwear. Her chest was rising up and down as Simeon stripped agonisingly slow. Despite being in heat, it was still him that was teasing her.

As he removed the remainder of his attire, MC was left in a state of awe as she gawped at his body. She’d never seen him like this. She’d never even seen him topless so to have him standing stark naked in front of her left MC speechless. It was so obvious that he was an angel, every subtle muscle of his body looked like it had been carved by God himself. Everything about him was a treat to the eye. Especially the huge length that had erected between his legs.

Simeon took no notice of her stare though because he too was busy admiring her body. He was so intrigued by her beauty; she had every aroma of an angel. Every single curve, crease and freckle was perfect to him. He’d never been captivated by anyone so much in all of his existence.

Reaching up toward his neck, Simeon yanked the small cross necklace that he wore. MC gasped as he removed the piece of jewellery; what was happening to the pious angel that she knew? “What are you doing?” She whispered intrigued.

“I cannot keep faith to my Lord right now. Especially with what I am about to do to you.” He spoke quietly.

Now completely under his spell, MC gawped at him as he climbed back onto the bed. Just feeling his warm touch against her again caused her spine to arch as she bit her lip. “You’re so enchanting.” He teased in her ear before hovering above her face.

The pair of them immediately began kissing again, only this time it was far more passionate. Their hands gripped and teased each other’s bodies as they finally let out their desires. MC’s fingers laced themselves in his silky brown locks while Simeon felt like his heart was going to explode. Just her scent was enough to spiral him into a deep desire of sin but now that he had MC pinned down beneath him, he was past the point of no return.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Simeon pulled out of the kiss as he gripped his hard length in his hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked quietly.

“Please, Simeon.” MC sat up, “I beg you do this.”

Satisfied with her response, he gently pushed her back down on the bed and positioned himself at her wet entrance. He let out a sharp breath as soon as he felt the touch of her damp slit invite his tip in.

With one slow thrust, he oozed his length into her all at once. MC let out a long moan as she felt him expand her walls. With her back arched, she was surprised she didn’t draw blood as she bit down on her lip at the feeling of Simeon filling her. The angel let out a small grunt as he pushed himself further into MC. Quick breaths left his lips as his eyes rolled back. Everything about her felt the way he imagined it would be: perfect.

As he felt MC’s body adjust to his size, Simeon began to roll his hips against her. He wrapped his arms around her body as their chests pressed together. They both gazed into each other’s eyes as he continued to thrust in and out of her. MC let out heavy breaths each time she felt him hit her in the right place.

Simeon on the other hand had a hard time controlling his breaths. His mind was clouded with what felt like millions of thoughts: how sinful this was, how right it still felt, how mesmerising MC looked writhing underneath his body...

As his thrusts began to deepen, MC gripped onto his back, digging her nails into his skin as she let cries of pleasure escape her lips. “Oh Simeon...” she moaned causing his heart to go crazy. “You feel so good.”

Biting his lip, he forgot about everything swimming around in his head. There’s only one thing he wanted to focus on right now: her. Drawing his hips back, he plunged into her suddenly causing her to let out a loud gasp. Every buck of his hips brought MC closer and closer.

The pair of them shared a tight embrace as their movements began to quicken. MC had never felt so aroused in all of her life; she never thought Simeon of all angels would be capable of pleasuring her in such a way. Getting caught up in the sensation of being fucked by the angel, MC’s eyes rolled back as she moaned “oh Simeon baby...”

The little pet name seemed to excite him. He liked MC calling him it, it made him feel like he was hers. And that’s something he could get used to. “Say it, my love.” He teased in her ear, “tell me how much you want it.” He spoke lowly as his body rolled against hers. “Say it.”

“I want you to cum, Simeon...” MC breathed heavily as he forced himself in and out of her passionately. “I need you.”

“Need me to what, dear?” He purred.

“Cum in me.” She said with a shaky breath as sweat began to grow on her forehead.

MC could feel her body becoming weak under his touch. There was a warm feeling growing deep in the pit of her stomach as her eyelids began to flicker. She bit down on her lip as she felt herself reaching her climax.

Just the sight of her getting lost in his pleasure caused Simeon’s breath to hitch. Wanting to see that sinful look on her face as she released on him, he began heaving his length into her body at an even harder intensity. MC had to stop herself from screaming as she began to feel her body writhe. Unable to hold it in any longer, she gripped onto Simeon’s torso and squeezed him tight as the growing knot in her stomach unwinded.

“Uh Simeon...” she whimpered as her whole body gripped around his length.

With the sensation of her walls gripping him even tighter than before, he threw his head back as he released his fluids into her. His climax hit him so intensely that his wings sprouted from his back without any warning. “MC...” He moaned as he felt a warm pulsating in his length. Filling her up with his large load, Simeon’s chest heaved as he felt himself twitching below.

He wanted her to take every last drop of him.

As MC was beginning to recover from the pleasure that had just erupted from within her, his wide eyes fell on the two magnificent wings that seemed to encase them in that moment.

“Simeon...” she breathed, admiring his form, “you’re beautiful.”

Realising what had happened, he quickly forced his wings back in. “It’d seem I rather enjoyed this indulgence.” He blushed.

“Was it worth sinning for?” MC asked quietly as he finally pulled out of her.

“It was worth every second.” He smiled.