kissafist asked: she cradles his head ‘pon her lap, digits tenderly carding through silver tresses. a tender melody reverberates in a soothing hum as the pads of her fingers rub along sable brown roots. crimson eyes remain fixed on his countenance, surveying his reactions. privy to the pain that seeps through his veins, the anguish from years of torture, she knew the aversion in touch was tantamount. yet, he seemed keener on her touch. the migraines tended to ravage him and all she wished to do was ebb the pain in some way, “is it getting better?” she halts her humming, whispering lightly, “did the tea help a bit?” her fingers gently continue to massage his scalp in small circles, leaning down she affectionately presses her lips to his forehead.
⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆unprompted asks. ❪ always accepting! ❫
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 was a frequent guest upon his corporeal vessel, 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 an obstinate tenant no matter how many methods Yozora 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 to evict them. A splitting migraine was that evening’s 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: skull throbbing sharply in dissonant rhythm, cranium 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 with even the slightest of 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. Brows knotted over lidded eyes, 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 treading blindly through his palace: a 𝐒𝐊𝐘-𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 in the heart of Shibuya. Fingers 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 felt for the light switches: shutting off the 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 of his headaches before slinking into the 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄.
It did not take long for 𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐀 to notice her husband’s discomfort, and 𝐘𝐎𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐀 knew there was little use in shrouding his 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 when it was all too apparent. He sunk into the 𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇, prismatic eyes still clasped shut as 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 urged him to stay still. Through the pulsing of his 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒, he could hear careful footsteps sneak away– only to 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 a few minutes later, velveteen hands guiding Yozora’s around 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍. One sip, and the 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 identified the mysterious beverage as tea: 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 and unsweetened, his exact preference. Whilst the 𝐁𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 was not enough to quell his 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄, titanium shoulders loosened the further Yozora 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 his cup.
𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘 did not protest when heaven incarnate motioned him to 𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍: resting his head ‘pon her thighs as Tifa 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 to massage his scalp, soft melodies 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 throughout the silence of their residence. Furrowed 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 slowly untangled, his queen’s tender touch already proving to be his 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄. ❛ Somewhat. ❜ The 𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐘 murmured, confession spilling from his lips almost apologetically as Tifa’s 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 lay gentle upon his forehead. ( A 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 demonstrated both relief and comfort from his 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. )
❛ … Here. ❜ Thus did Death’s 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐒 find his consort’s, reeling his wife’s hand from his 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐏 to his forehead– guiding her fingers over the 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒 of his brows, where the pain was most 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓. Tip of his nose brushed 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 the inside of her hand, placing a 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 on her palm before shifting it to 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄 his cheek. ❛ Tifa… thank you. ❜ 𝐘𝐎𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐀 finally expelled, allowing himself to 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 his eyes to impart his 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 with full sincerity. Despite the 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 of the apartment, did the rings of his 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 refract the neon of the adjacent skyscrapers, 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓 and 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐒 glistening even with the jarring absence of 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.
And it was only natural. The 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 he was staring up at was far more radiant than 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 he’s ever known.
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