#also if he was terrible!! well!! please say so in another post in roughly a week!
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yellowocaballero · 1 year ago
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RIP John Romita Sr, THE Spider-Man Artist
Hey, with all of the Spider-Man discussion flying around lately, I absolutely need to stop and call attention to the fact that John Romita Sr just passed. I can't stress enough that this man was a LEGEND. He was THE Spider-Man artist. He was the most prolific Spider-Man artist ever, he drew all of his iconic looks and character designs, and he just made the character. His art is beautiful. I've spent the last few days rereading the 1970s newspaper comics made by Stan Lee and John Romita Sr and talking for ages about how gorgeous the art is, and hearing that he died just now felt incredibly strange.
He did the most iconic Spidey covers and moments:
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But also some really gorgeous other art:
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If you have some favorite pieces of art by him, go ahead and add it to the post! Man, this guy was my childhood and probably permanently shaped an area of my brain. We're losing a lot of comic artist legends lately. RIP John Romita.
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artobotsrollout · 2 years ago
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ROASTING REVIEWING KNOCKOFF TRANSFORMERS
Part 1
So it's no secret that I enjoy collecting TF figures. My collection isn't massive but I like to collect my favourite characters! Hasbro figures (at least the first series released at the start of a continuity is. I can't speak to some of the later releases) are usually p decent quality.
Decent faces. Thought out weight distribution so even characters like TfP Starscream can stand. Smooth joints. Basically an all around decent toy.
Of course with any piece of media there are the knockoffs.
Let's get into the first one
DINOSAUR Battle $4
Montoy
I saw these and thought they were cute right? "ooh a bunch of mini transformable dinosaurs"
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However, the moment I look a little closer I already found things that bug me.
Review under Readmore
* Please be aware that this entire post is meant to be jokey. I'm not actually angry about any of these things. I'm exaggerating for emphasis and humour. *
The pictures of the dinosaurs to the left of each toy are not the same colours as the actual toys in the packaging. It's possible maybe the colours are random but from what I could see all the packages had the same colours??
Another issue... Maybe it's not as big of a deal to most people but as a paleo-nerd it really bugs me. So they label which dinosaurs they are right?? Well...
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CRYPTOCLIOUS IS A PLESIOSAUR (Think long necked swimming dinosaur. Think Loch Ness monster) which if you look at the figure
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IT HAS FREAKING FEET
A better name would be diplodocus or brachiosaurus OR Yknow what I'd even accept the outdated term Brontosaurus for this guy. At least it's the long necked land living dinosaur and not the water dwelling sea reptile.
I FEEL LIKE to have put down Cryptocleus you had to google it. So if you had to google you'd have seen that cryptoclious has FREAKING FLIPPERS.
I don't usually get upset about dinosaur mistakes bc like... I don't want to be that person who yells at people for not knowing dinosaurs / extinct creatures. Lord know I have gaps in my own knowledge. It's more just baffling to me that they picked a species that isn't even a dinosaur like the toy is. And it's such a weirdly weirdly specific and not well known species too.
I haven't even opened them yet and for some reason?? I expected every dinosaur to transform but apparently they are just meant to combine?? Into a wholeass dude? And that's it?
Anyways here they are
Despite my misgivings and the definitely cheap plastic used some of the designs are p cute.
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Only the tip of the wings flap apparently 😂 the rest of the wing is permanently out oof.
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Poor T-Rex. This is as high on his body as his head goes. He is doomed to forever fall flat on his face. 😔 Truly tragic
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I appreciate the stegosaurus having constant finger guns 😂
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The joints are not great. Some are okay while others are kinda tough to move. The pieces come off too easily as well.
Time to make it into a man.
....
........
...........
How the Frick is this a man?!?
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This is so goofy looking help 😂
Amazing.
Now I'm gonna leave the joking mode and be serious for the conclusion.
These are not great quality but they have cute designs. The designs are fun if a bit odd at some parts. Cheap plastic and not super well thought out toy. Then again I didn't expect much for $4CAD
If you're someone who likes painting toys then these could be fun to use as a base.
I don't have children and haven't worked very much with children so take what I say with a grain of salt. For a child who is delicate with their toys and old enough to not eat everything it's not terrible. Could be cute in a gift bag from a birthday party. Wouldn't recommend for young children. There's a lot of easily removable small parts that could be consumed and be a choking hazard. Not to mention idk how toxic the material is. Also wouldn't recommend for children who play very roughly with their toys. Parts will go missing easily and some of the parts are thin and feel like it wouldn't take very much to break them.
The Combiner mode is kinda pathetic so if you are getting the toy, get it for the cute robot dinosaurs and not for the robot they turn into.
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soulmate-game · 4 years ago
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Useful Part 2
fluff with a little hurt and comfort. If you want answers as to the lack of angst, look through my recent posts for an explanation. 
—* — * — * —* —* 
“Wait, you have a WHAT?” were the first words that the rest of the Gotham-based vigilantes heard when they finally were able to track down where Damian had gone. Dick looked over at Bruce, who was noticeably tense. No surprise there, the man had just found out that he had a second biological child. One who was apparently a superhero already, without his intervention, and also apparently had a tragic background in the League of fucking Assassin Assholes. Not to mention that Damian’s track record with meeting siblings wasn’t great, even if this one wasn’t actually new to him. Nobody had any real fear of Damian relapsing on his no-kill rule, they knew he had matured far too much to be at risk of killing for something as immature as sibling rivalry anymore. 
But there was still fear. Because this new Wayne was an Unknown Factor, and as a rule the Bats hated Unknown Factors. And they had no idea what the relationship between the two had been before they had been separated, or what it would become now. 
“That wasn’t Damian’s voice,” Dick helpfully pointed out the obvious. Bruce only frowned, doing his best (and failing) to hide his anxiety about what they would find. Silently, the group inched forward to the edge of the abandoned building they were on top of so that they could look over at what was happening. What they saw was a girl, presumably the same one who had been in a ladybug onesie and had fearlessly begun to ask them to leave Paris— until she had laid proper eyes on Robin and fled, that was. That girl was sitting down next to an unmasked Damian, who had his arm around her shoulders and let her lean into his side. He even smirked cheerfully at her question before continuing to speak to her. 
“A dragon-bat. I knew you’d love hearing about him, I’ll introduce you when you come visit the Batcave. His name is Goliath,” Damian admitted smugly. Despite the familiar attitude and pride behind his words though, his spying family couldn’t help but notice that he kept periodically rubbing the girl’s (they really needed to find out her name) shoulder in reassurance. None of them missed the tear tracks on both of their faces, or how red the girl’s eyes were. Clearly they had missed something big. 
But nobody wanted to try to figure that out yet. This scene was too precious, too breathtaking for them to interrupt just yet. They had never seen Damian this vulnerable around someone outside of their little circle before, someone from the Time Before Bruce, no less. Most of the time, only Nightwing was able to see this side to Damian. And usually the roles were reversed, with Damian being the one consoled. They had never seen him in the position of the comforter before. The pillar of support. 
It really cemented just how far he had come. 
So they watched silently as the girl flinched, pulling away a bit and hunching in on herself. The laugh she let out was small and overflowing with self-degradation. 
“You make it sound as if the rest of your family actually wants me to visit,” she replied sourly. Damian gently cuffed her over the head, frowning. 
“Two things,” he held up two fingers from his free hand. “One: They will. They accepted me, and I was— well, you remember how I used to be. Once they actually meet you, and process the fact that there’s another Wayne now, they will bombard you with more welcoming than you will know what to do with. Two: It’s Our family, Marinette. Not mine, ours.”
Well, at least they had a name now. But it seems like they had bigger issues now, like Marinette’s clearly damaged sense of self. Jason and Tim traded knowing glances; it wasn’t hard for them to guess where, or how, she might have been damaged enough to think so lowly of herself. 
They watched as Marinette shook her head. 
“I don’t know. It’s one thing to try to… to get to know you again. We used to be close before… everything,” she haltingly argued, voice small and frail and uncertain. But she never once looked away from Damian’s eyes, trying to convey as best as she could what she was feeling. “But they’re different. They don’t have any reason to trust or like me, Dami. And I’m bad at, well everything, but especially,” she waved her hands frantically as if indicating the whole situation they were in. “I mean, listen to me! I can barely articulate right now, and I’m talking to someone I’ve known my whole life! I’m a mess. Nobody wants a mess.” 
It was Damian’s turn to snort, and he pulled her right back into his side. “Please. If anything, that’s exactly the type of child Father goes looking for. We’re all a mess. Especially Father, trust me.” 
“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she accused suspiciously, but sank into his sideways embrace anyway. Damian chuckled. 
“No, I’m being honest. He’s terrible at emotions, not that I really have much room to talk. We all are pretty bad with them. But he’s the most obvious when it comes to that issue,” Damian smirked over at his sister conspiratorially. “For example. He still tries to tell people that he works alone, and pushes people away because he has this intense desire to protect, but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t want you to get hurt, stop worrying me,” so instead he says “Go away, I don’t need you,” only for us to see through that nonsense and remind him that the amount of people in his team is in the double digits already. He doesn’t want to admit he cares about us and is vulnerable—”
“Sounds familiar,” Marinette teased with a watery grin, startling a short laugh from her twin. He nudged her a little roughly (but not to roughly) and playfully glared at her. Marinette just giggled.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied with a grin before waving his free hand in dismissal. “Anyway. Another example. He has no idea how to tell a stranger, “hey, I’m your father and I will not reject you. In fact, I’m completely willing to adopt you right this moment and whisk you away to Gotham and relative safety and hire an entire team of therapists to help you and buy you half the world if you asked for it,” so instead he and the rest of our emotionally constipated family just lurks on the edge of a building in broad daylight eavesdropping on us and expects us not to notice.” 
“Wait what,” Marinette’s gaze instantly whipped up towards the sky, taking only half a second to locate the aforementioned eavesdroppers. Everyone except Bruce at least had the courtesy to duck down and pretend not to be there when they noticed she had seen them, leaving Batman standing seemingly alone on the concrete roof. Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Damian. “I’m gonna blame the fact that I didn’t notice them on emotional turmoil, because there is no way I’ve gotten THAT rusty.” 
Damian smiled, but didn’t laugh. He knew that was a deflection to try and distract from Marinette’s quickly resurging self-consciousness. Her hands were already trembling again, and the fear from only minutes ago had resurfaced. The insecurity. He could practically see the words “I’m not good enough,” written in her irises. 
“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. “If anyone has to worry here, it’s me.” 
“What the hell are you talking about?” Marinette whisper-hissed right back, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. “You’re— You! Mister Perfect!” 
Damian rolled his eyes, and his self-deprecating smirk matched the laugh Marinette had given just a few minutes earlier. “For the League, maybe,” he shrugged. “Never the Wayne family. Which is why I know you’ll be fine. If they put up with everything I’ve done and still call me one of them, they’ll accept you with barely a second thought.” 
Marinette’s next argument was cut off by the sound of a dozen soft footfalls stirring up dirt not far ahead of them. The BatClan had landed from the rooftop. 
Marinette gulped. 
But if there was one thing— one thing she still remembered from her days as Marie Al-Ghul, it was how to fake pride and confidence. She straightened her shoulders automatically, lifted her chin, and pulled away from Damian’s supporting arm around her shoulder. Damian let her. 
A little bit of old resentment flared up in him as he saw Batman walk up close enough to comfortably talk with them. Resentment that he no longer held onto, but that had haunted him nearly every night of the first two years he spent with his dad. The realization that maybe his twin was the one that was meant to be a Wayne. Marie had the blue eyes, the compassion, the more specifically detective-oriented mind. The calm head. Sometimes. Marie was exactly who he imagined when he thought of a naturally born member of the BatClan. Stubborn, clever, morally just. She had risked immediate death just because she refused to fight him, for crying out loud. Because she didn’t want to hurt the boy who used to be her best friend. The only ally she had ever had, growing up. 
Meanwhile, he still had issues reigning in his anger sometimes. He had too much blood on his hands, he was more of a battlefield tactician than a long-term strategist. Still stubborn, but also completely unaware of the pain he brought others with his words or actions a lot of the time. He used to be such a rage fueled little demon, and thinking about how his sister fit the classic Wayne outline more thoroughly than he did had made him destroy more than a few practice dummies in frustration. 
But now, looking at Marinette trying so hard to appear strong and proud when he knew she was still so shattered inside, relief overpowered the old and dull resentment. This was what she needed, he could sense that easily. She, just like him all those years ago, needed Bruce and the others to start to heal her and reforge what the League had badly molded. 
“... Marinette, I suppose?” Damian nearly facepalmed at his father’s awkward attempt at a conversation starter. Marinette herself was clearly too keyed up and overthinking things to even register any amusement at the lame attempt, merely nodding with an overly serious expression on her face. 
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Monsieur Wayne. Or that’s my name nowadays, that is,” She stumbled a little in her response before clenching her fists and forcing herself to continue as calmly as she could muster up. “My birth name was Marie Al-Ghul.” 
Bruce’s eyebrows visibly furrowed underneath his cowl. “Was?” 
“I…” Marinette finally looked away, shame creeping back onto her face. “I was explicitly told that I was stripped of the Al-Ghul name and would be killed if I ever dared lay claim to it again. So I not-so-legally changed it. And I was later adopted.” 
Several sharp gasps or the hiss of breath through teeth bit through the quiet breeze. Nobody was necessarily surprised, Marinette could see it when she looked through her eyelashes and examined the winces and sympathy on the faces of the vigilantes before her. Batman’s shoulders were stiff, as if someone had paralyzed only his shoulder blades. 
“And the people who adopted you?” Batman pursued. Marinette couldn’t read his tone very well, but it sounded vaguely angry so she quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture and her eyes widened significantly. 
“They’ve been amazing! They don’t know anything about my past, or who raised me, but they are endlessly patient with me. I mean, honestly! Sabine caught me when I was trying to steal one of her gold bracelets in Hong Kong— and I know I’ve never been as good of a combatant as Dami, but I’ve always been better at sleight of hand and stealth so honestly that’s impressive— and she saw my dirty eight-year-old face and for some reason decided, ‘yeah I want this one as my daughter’ and roped Tom right into it and next thing I know they somehow tailed me to my hideout? I still don’t know how the hell they managed that, but Tom had a huge plate of steaming buns and I was so hungry and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m adopted and we’re on a plane to Paris—” Marinette threw up her hands. “I still don’t fully grasp what happened sometimes.” 
She belatedly seemed to realize that she had just gone on an entire breathless rant at the speed of sound, and slapped her hands over her mouth before lunging into a deep bow. “I apologize! I spoke horridly out of turn!” 
To her surprise though, she was met with a soft laugh instead of a scolding. She jerked in surprise, whipping her head up only to see Batman holding a hand over his chin to hide his large grin. It only took another second for the boys behind him to laugh a lot LESS softly. Nightwing strolled over casually and swung an arm around both her and Damian’s shoulders, playfully nudging her brother with his knee. 
“I think she fits right in, don’t you little D?” 
“Of course,” Damian scoffed, though his eyes were playful. “She is a Wayne by blood. She ‘fits in’ more than you strays.” 
“Dami!” Marinette whipped back to him and puffed out her cheeks. “That was uncalled for!” she barked. Damian held his hands up in surrender. 
“Relax,” he said as soothingly as he could manage. “They know I’m joking,” he dropped his hands and a knowing smirk took over his face. “And besides, now you’re relaxed so my plan worked,” Marinette could only blink at that. She… did feel more relaxed, actually. “Also. I told you you’d be accepted easily. They already consider you one of us.” 
“Wha— there’s no way—” she frantically looked at each of the older men around her, but each of them just shot her a smile or grin and a short nod. Her shoulders and jaw both fell, and it broke a little of everyone’s heart. 
Marinette looked so utterly shocked, bewildered to be accepted as if it was still something profoundly foreign to her. And there was that disbelief in her eyes, that distrust that screamed that she expected some sort of lie here. That told that she thought this would all crumble away at any second. If anyone had any reservations about bringing her into their inner circles, it vanished right that moment. She needed support, or she’d crumble away and they all knew it. 
“How about we start by talking about the situation with Hawkmoth?” Red Robin spoke up, walking forward to stand beside Batman. “I assume that’s a little more in your element?” 
Damian silently vowed to thank Tim later for that. In a silent, completely anonymous way of course. Couldn’t have Tim thinking they were friends or something now, could he? Marinette instantly straightened up and nodded, her confidence returning with a little more sincerity this time. 
“Yeah. Yeah, let me transform again. It’ll be easier to explain.” 
—*—*—*—*—*
It was three weeks later, on Marinette’s third now-weekly visit to the Batcave, when the question finally came up. Jason had asked to spar with Marinette for the first time, having seen her in action as Ladybug and wanting to test the girl when she didn’t have superpowers to rely on. Damian hadn’t been down in the cave to warn him, and the result was Jason’s gut sinking as Marinette scrambled as far away from him as she could, eyes wide and chest heaving in the beginnings of a panic attack. 
“Shit,” Jason muttered before he quickly knelt down and did his best to talk her down, to calm her until her breathing slowed and her pupils were back to normal. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marinette started hugging herself, refusing to look at him. But he wasn’t going to just back down, he wanted to solve this issue. If even the mere suggestion of a spar was enough to set her off, he needed to figure out why and fix it. 
So he carefully lowered himself so he was sitting only a foot away from her, resting his arms across his knees casually. 
“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t think it would be a sore subject. That’s on me.” 
Marinette just shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just buried her face in her arms and took a shaky breath. 
Jason let the silence linger for a while before trying again. “Does this have to do with certain Asshole Assassins?” 
That startled a slightly hysterical bark of laughter from her, and she had to wipe away a few tears when she raised her head and finally turned it in his direction slightly. Not enough for her to be looking at him,  but just a subtle turn to show that she was listening and speaking to him. “Yeah.” 
“You know, you never told us why you got disowned,” Jason tried to make his words as casual as possible, but wasn’t surprised when Marinette still stiffened and took a sharp breath. He didn’t push. The stage was set, and he’d wait until either she took the opportunity to open up or told him to leave well enough alone. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her foot tapped on the ground a bit. Clear signs of her anxiety around the subject, and Jason’s hopes vanished a little. He would probably have to wait longer for her to be ready to share.
But, to his pleasant surprise, he was wrong. She took another few minutes to gather her thoughts, but she did eventually open up to him. 
“I refused to fight Damian,” she admitted. “It was… We were seven. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, but it was a very important spar. We were using live weaponry, and we were told to fight until we couldn’t anymore. Whoever fell first would be relegated as a mere soldier, and have to fight for status like any other assassin in the League. The winner would officially be named as G— as Ra’s Heir. I didn’t want to fight, because I knew Damian would win but I also knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ra’s probably expected if I gave it my all like he wanted. I knew both Damian and I would be heavily injured if I did as he asked, and it wouldn’t be worth it. If I misjudged anything, any single hit, I could have accidentally injured Damian permanently and ruined his worth in Ra’s eyes, and that wasn’t an option. I didn’t care that throwing the fight was as good as giving up my life, because at least I could be sure that Damian kept his. I could make sure that he was treated well, or as well as anyone could hope for in the League anyway. I could, with only a few words, make sure he became indispensable. Ra’s and Talia never liked me as much as Damian anyway, I figured… I figured it was nobody’s loss,” She swallowed heavily, clenching her eyes shut. “I was always just the spare. The extra. Damian was their crown prince, the one with actual value. Even to me. I saw him, and I saw everything I wanted to be. I… I tossed down my weapons and let him stab me, because I figured I owed it to him for being such a failure in comparison to him. That I owed it to him to do everything I could to make things easier for him, since I was just an unnecessary obstacle—” strong arms wrapped around her, and she turned to sob into Jason’s chest as he just silently held her. 
“Idiot,” Damian whispered, making Marinette jump. Her twin sat only a few feet away, though only Jason would have known when exactly he had gotten there with them. He shook his head at her. “I never would have gotten as far as I did without you,” he whispered, looking up at the cave ceiling. “You were the only real rival I had. When you left, everything was either too easy or nearly impossible, nothing was the same as trying my best against someone who was just as good as me. And when I got here and met the others, I didn’t think any of them were worthy of taking your position, you know,” he scoffed a bit as he got lost in his memories. “That’s why I hated Tim for so long, I think. He reminded me of you so much that I wanted nothing more than to punch him for daring to replace you—”
“Heh, the Replacement twice over, huh?” Jason joked. Damian chuckled with a small eye roll. 
“Plus, he just has a really punchable face,” Damian added, trying to distract from the emotion behind everything he had just admitted. “Part of me thought you were dead. The other part refused to believe that. And seeing Tim and how some of his mannerisms were the same as yours,” Damian shrugged a little. “It stung. Especially that second year, when I started to regret that you never had the chance to come here and join them with me. Meet them with me.” 
Marinette sniffled. “... Who are you and what have you done with Dami? He’s never this sappy.” 
Damian flicked a pebble at her head with a good natured glare, successfully diffusing the serious air a little. Marinette wouldn’t ever be normal, and it would take a while before she was no longer fragile, but she could get there. Especially now that her bridges with her brother had been mended, and and a whole new family had cropped up to help support her. 
She was glad Damian had convinced her to try, again.  
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yutahoes · 4 years ago
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No Strings Attached
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characters : Yuta Nakamoto, Reader, Jung Jaehyun, Taeyong is also mentioned
genre : smut
warning : Smut (Teasing, Breast Fondling, Light Bondage, Spanking, Rough Sex), Cheating, Alcohol
summary : It’s just one night. No strings attached. What could go wrong? 
word count : 3.5k 
tag list : @ailoveyuta​ @yutazen01​ @aiforyuu​
a/n:  This is for plot purpose only but I don’t condone nor encourage cheating. I don’t know where this came from. Please forgive me for I have sinned. 🙏 And since I’m not satisfied with how this ended, I might post a second part. Should I? Please let me know. 
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
"Baby girl, what are you doing here?" Yuta asked that made you roll your eyes at him. Of all the bars in Seoul, why do you have to meet him here? And now? Really? "Does your boyfriend know you're here?" Funny he would say that.
Yuta is a common friend of both your boyfriend and your brother so eventually, you just hang out with him often. He's the perfect embodiment of a resident fuckboy. Evident was the way he winked at one of the girls dancing on the dance floor. You shook your head as the bartender left the glass of the Long Island Iced Tea you ordered.
"Pretty hard drink. Is Jaehyun picking you up?"
"You don't need to concern yourself with me. Go, Yuta. Have fun with your girlies." You waved a hand to shoo him away but he just chuckled.
Instead, he ordered a whiskey from the bartender. "Do you have problems, princess?" That nickname. He would always tease you that since you're pretty spoiled with your brother and your boyfriend. But among all the boys in your life, Yuta is the only one who calls you that. Honestly, you wanted Jaehyun to call you the same.
"I'm bored." You confessed. He cocked an eyebrow at you and you continued, "Jaehyun is so romantic but that's all he is." You don't know why you're telling him this but Yuta is like an extension of your brother and you knew he wouldn't judge you, the same way as how you wouldn't talk about the girls he gave tongue in the girls' restroom during college years. "He's great in bed and all but…"
"Wait, hold up." He reacted quickly. "You and Jaehyun are fucking?" You nodded surprised that he wouldn't think of that. He knew that you sometimes spend nights at Jaehyun's place. Does he think you only play rock paper scissors in his place? "I thought you're pretty innocent."
You had to laugh at that. You're way different from that. "Do you think Jae would tell TY the things we do?" He chuckled then nodded. Taeyong, your brother, is actually the innocent one. "If we do much." You mumbled under your breath which he caught. "I wish Jaehyun isn't too vanilla."
Yuta lightly coughed. "You don't like him being vanilla?" You shook your head. "God, baby girl, I'm seeing you in a new light." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips and he obviously is checking you out.
You bit your lip. There must be a reason why girls can't get enough of this playboy. And damn, you wanted to hear that pet name repeatedly while he thrust into you. You shook your head. Yuta Nakamoto? You can't.
"Have you talked to Jaehyun about this?" You badly want to tell him something but you also don't want to hit his ego hard. You know how sensitive Jaehyun is. He might take this the wrong way. "Obviously, you haven't."
"Jaehyun is a great guy, Yuta. I just don't like that he treats me like a fragile object." You shared, alcohol taking its toll on you. "I want him to be rough on me. I want him to spank me." By now, you don't even know what you're saying but you're so frustrated that you decided to let everything go. "I just want someone to fuck me dumb…"
Yuta's lips were on you before you could finish your sentence. And when you moaned at his roughness, his tongue entered your mouth. He tasted like whiskey, and cigarettes, and a pungent taste that you cannot pinpoint. A taste different from Jaehyun. You pushed him before he could touch your waist, panting at how steamy that kiss was. "What the hell, Yuta?"
He smirked, wiping his lip with his thumb and you notice the color of your lipstick on his. "You said so yourself, you just want someone to fuck you dumb." His thumb came in contact with your bottom lip. "You're just curious so let me give you that experience."
You gulped at how intimidating he is. "But Jaehyun…"
"It's not cheating if he doesn't find out." His fingers moved to your cheek then tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Just one rough sex, baby girl. No strings attached."
This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. For starters, it was you who said yes. So why are you getting scared now? Truthfully, you have been curious about Yuta's sexual status. Even your friends would often share that he's such a sex God so it's a mystery for you on what kind of man Yuta is in bed.
But you're dating Jaehyun. It isn't right that you had sex with someone, moreover Jaehyun's friend, when you're in a rough patch like this.
Yuta's hands held your waist, facing you to him. There were only the two of you in the elevator heading to his penthouse. "What are you thinking, baby girl?" And you wanted to melt at that. His lips hover above yours, whispering "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to fuck me, Yuta."
You were pushed on the wall of the elevator. He pulled both your arms up, holding both with one hand as his lips roughly took yours. His other hand pushed your waist that you felt your back on the elevator wall. He raised one of his legs, touching your core that made you moan.
This is wrong.
First, this is cheating. You have a boyfriend, for crying out loud. If Jaehyun finds out about it, not only will your relationship end. His and Yuta's. Probably yours and Yuta's as well.
Second, someone can see the two of you. But it only turned you on much more. The thought that someone watching the two of you behind the security camera made you so wet that you started begging Yuta when he let go of the kiss.
He stared at you, cursing, and you were blinded at how hot that sounded that you held on his shoulder. "Two floors left, baby girl." He claimed glancing at the led showing the floor numbers. "Then I'll have my way on you."
You've known Yuta for so long but this is the first time that you're alone in his penthouse. Usually, you would come here with either Taeyong or Jaehyun so a weird yet familiar feeling bubbled in the pit of your stomach. "Sit down." He ordered in a commanding tone making you gulp. You quickly sat on his couch, following his every move.
He removed his watch, placing it above the coffee table as he knelt in front of you. "Y/N." And you suddenly realized that he never called you by your name, it's always 'princess' or 'baby girl'. Why does your name sound so hot rolling on his tongue like that? He held both your lap and the spot blazed in warmness. "Do you really want to do this?"
You nodded. "Words, baby. I want you to communicate with me."
"Yes, Yuta. I want to do this."
His tongue trailed his bottom lip as your gaze followed it, wanting that tongue somewhere in your body. Just somewhere moist would be nice. "You want it rough?" Once again, you had to nod but he reminded you of using your words. "Spanking?" You gulped. You badly wanted to but you've never tried it before. Will you get hurt? "Safe word." He asked while standing up in front of you, towering above you.
Your eyes widened at that. He's progressing fast. And a safe word? You might really get hurt. "Yuta, I don't think we need…"
"Trust me, princess, you do."
You watched as he unbuckled his belt, removing it from his pants in just one swift motion. Will he hit you with that? You should really think this through. "Vanilla!" You blurted out suddenly, closing your eyes.
His fingers were on your chin, urging you to look at him. "That's cute, sweetheart." A new nickname. "Now take off your clothes." He watched you with lust-filled eyes as you remove your sweater and the thin camisole underneath to reveal your midnight blue brassiere.
"God, Jaehyun is one lucky bastard." His tongue darted out once again as he wrapped his belt on his hand. "Take this off, baby."
Your hands were shaking as you removed the only cloth covering your breasts. In your defense, this was the first time that you're naked in front of another guy other than your boyfriend. Yuta's gaze isn't helping as well. Is he turned on? Does he like what he's seeing? His other hand, the left one without the belt wrapped on it, was held in front of you so you gave him the brassiere which he threw somewhere across the room.
"Why are you so nervous?" He sat beside you as you breathed heavily. Why are you so nervous? It's not like it is your first time having sex. You control Jaehyun whenever you're together so why are you such a submissive for Yuta? Is it the air of dominance that he exudes? Or because you really yearned to be submissive for once? "I won't hurt you." He assured as his lips went yours, sucking your tongue. He licked your bottom lip when he pulled out, "You remember the safe word, right?"
"Yes." You breathed. It was you who wanted this. It was you who initiated this. You wanted to feel this. You want this. "Take me, Yuta."
His lust hooded eyes were back as his right hand touched your breast. The coldness of the leather belt, a contrast to the blazing sensation of your skin. His thumb played with your erect nipple, twirling and pulling. You had to close your eyes, whimpers escaping your mouth at the sensation. "You're so pretty." He mumbled as he nuzzled his head between your breasts, licking the exposed skin. "I want to mark you but you're not mine."
Yuta's tongue licked your nipple while staring straight at you that made you arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to him. His mouth devoured your breast, tongue playing with the perky nipples inside his mouth. He's so good with his mouth. Really good.
He went to the other breast, his right hand rubbing your thigh while the other was placed on your waist. All you could do is moan. Yep, the rumors are true. Yuta is such a God.
By now, you're so wet that you raised your hips for some friction but he pushed you back. You crossed your legs as you felt the bubbling in your stomach. "Yuta, please." You begged as you felt him smirk. "I'm…" But he let go of your breast with a pop, staring at you.
Annoyed, you sat on his lap and started grinding your wet core against his pants. You wanted that release that he just denied to you. You wanted to cum already. But obviously, he had other things in mind. "Naughty, baby. Are you that desperate?" You nodded. "Lie down, stomach flat."
You didn't even know where this was going but you followed him, you lay down on his lap. His erect member can be felt against your stomach and you focus on his hands. His left hand touched your hair, down to your naked back then stopped at the waistband of your jeans. His right hand followed the same route and you moaned at the rough feeling of leather. You felt his hand on the cheeks of your butt and realized where this is going.
You closed your eyes as you felt his hand slap one of the cheeks, moaning at how the pain changed into pleasure quickly.
Another slap. But this time you had to yelp at the pain. The layers of the belt sent a sting on your ass that you cursed, "That hurts."
"You don't like it?" You wanted it but the consequence is that you cannot sit properly tomorrow. You shook your head. "Such a baby." He grazed the leather clad hand on your back once again, tapping your shoulders. "Both hands up."
It was difficult but you obeyed him. The leather was wrapped on both your wrists tightly, secured by the last loophole. He kissed your bound wrist, letting your arms stretch out above you. "I'll hit you five times. You shouldn't miss a count, understood?" You nodded and he slapped you immediately. "I said words, baby girl."
"Yes, Yuta." You breathed out. He gave you a warning then slapped you once again, stronger than the first two he did. You screamed the first number as you heard a hum escaped his lips. He gently caressed your butt cheeks before slapping it the second time, then the third and fourth. This was it, the roughness that you have been yearning for. You were so turned on.
He was done with the fifth one but he slapped you again, surprising you. "Yuta, you're done." You revolted but he smirked. "You missed counting." Another slap and you started with one, once again. You enunciated every number until five clearly so that he'll never miss it. A sigh escaped your lips when he was done and rubbing your butt cheeks. "Good girl."
The wetness on your core is all that matters now. You wanted to be fucked, rough. "Yuta, please fuck me." In the same position, he carried you to his room dropping you to his bed that you even bounced on the mattress. You were now facing him as he removed his shirt.
Why haven't you realized that Yuta has a navel piercing? That makes it so hot. You wanted to trail your tongue and see how sensitive it is. “You like what you see, princess?” You nodded, biting your lip as you anticipated what he would do next.
He kneeled on the bed, legs spread caging you in. You can easily see the outline of his bulge on his pants. You arched your back as you desperately tried to have contact with him, wanting to touch him but the belt on your wrists isn’t letting you. He chuckled at your attempt, smirking as he slowly unbuttoned your jeans. You raised your hip up to let him pull the material down, throwing it once again across the room.
Your breathing hitched against your throat as his hands trailed your leg north to where the edge of your matching underwear is. “You are so wet.” His fingers traced the wetness on the materials, pushing when he felt your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed on the same spot as you squirmed at the immense pleasure. Two fingers playing with the clothed lips of your core. “You are so wet. Look at how your pussy is taking me.” You don’t need to look. You knew. You could feel how his fingers were sinking into you even if you still have your underwear on.
“Yuta, please.” You begged. You wanted something, anything to take you to your orgasm. To give you the pleasure you badly wanted since you entered his penthouse. But a fucker as he is, he removed his fingers on you. A groan escaped your mouth as he chuckled at your desperate state. The Japanese guy stood up and you followed him with a wanting gaze. He took something from the bedside table that made your eyes widened. This is it. It’s really happening.
Yuta unbuttoned his pants, removing them from him. “I want to feel you cum.” You gulped at his size when he removed his boxers. He opened one condom with his teeth, putting it on his length. If possible, it got bigger. “You still remember the safe word, right?” You nodded then answered him a soft yes. He removed your underwear, parting your legs together as he leaned closer. He sank into you as a scream escaped your throat. He’s huge and you felt your walls clenching tight into him. “God, you’re so tight. Doesn’t Jaehyun fuck you good?”
The mention of the name brought you to your edge. The orgasm that you badly want and he just entered you. You wanted to touch him, to claw at something while he thrusts into you forcefully that your body is bouncing against the mattress. “God, I can’t believe Jaehyun isn’t fucking you good,” he mumbled, drilling his cock inside you. “If you’re mine, I’ll make sure that you cannot move from this bed.” His thrusts were forceful, taking no mercy on you. And you liked it, a total difference from Jaehyun who likes to take everything slowly.
He kept hitting that pleasure spot that made you cum the second time but he didn’t stop although you’re still sensitive. He kept on abusing your pussy, complaining about your tightness and how your vagina clenched on him. All you could do is scream his name and squirm at the roughness he’s showing. Indeed, a true Sex God.
He came in the condom and you breathed heavily. You cannot do this again, Yuta is such a monster. No wonder girls find him intimidating and really good in bed. To your surprise, he opened another pack of condom while jerking his cock with his hand. “What…?” He turned you around after putting the condom on his erect cock, raising your hip up and pushing your head on the pillow. “Yuta!” A slap on your ass made you surprised before he entered you from behind. Your moans were muffled by the pillow as he kept thrusting while slapping your butt cheeks.
Fuck, Yuta is so rough. But it turns you on so much that even if you don’t want to do this anymore, your body is still reacting differently. His hand held on your hair in a ponytail, pulling it that you had to raise your head. You breathe in a lungful of air, only realizing that you had trouble breathing earlier. Yuta will be your death, you’re sure of that. And he doesn’t look like he’ll stop anytime soon. “Yuta…” You called, tears springing from your eyes. You wanted sex to be rough but not this rough. You’re hurting. “Vanilla.” You shouted.
In a snap, he was out of you and you kind of regretted shouting that word. He reached out for the belt on your wrists, undoing it to free your arms. “Clean yourself.” he gestured to the door. “I’ll get you something to wear.”
Your legs were shaking, giving out on you but Yuta already left the room so you had to drag yourself to the bathroom. A lot of things were running in your mind when the warm water of the shower hit you. You had sex with Yuta. You cheated on Jaehyun. You felt disgusted with yourself for letting your wild self do this. This is your fault. You should have thought of the consequences before agreeing to Yuta. Now, your friendship is in danger. And if Jaehyun finds out, all hell will break loose.
“I’ll call Jaehyun first thing in the morning. Take a rest.” Yuta claimed after leaving his clothes outside the shower room. She should at least tell Jaehyun that this happened. "And please, let this be our dirty secret Y/N." You lightly glanced at the door, seeing his silhouette. "I don't want you or Jaehyun hurt because of what I did. You two deserved better." He leaned his head on the door. "So please, let's keep this to ourselves." --
You were already clothed with your own clothes when the doorbell rang. Thinking that Yuta might answer it, you didn’t bother about it. But minutes dragged and there's no one answering it that you went outside the room and opened the door. Jaehyun was looking at you in worry, holding your cheek asking what’s wrong. “I kept on calling you. Luckily, Yuta hyung called me and said you were here.”
“Jaehyun…” A male grunt can be heard from the kitchen before she could speak, followed by a girl calling Yuta’s name. Your eyes widened in surprise as you saw him bending a girl on the kitchen counter. When he noticed the two of you, he just covered his naked waist with a kitchen towel, smacking the girl’s ass, and asked her to wait for him.
Jaehyun gave another look at the girl who was eating the sausages. “So that’s your girlfriend.” Your boyfriend asked which made the Japanese nod while smirking. “Thank you for taking care of Y/N. I’ll take her home now.”
Yuta smiled, nodding at him. Jaehyun held your hand, pulling you out but Yuta had to stop the two of you. “The thread of your sweater.” he said as he held both of your shoulders, standing dangerously close to you that you can feel his hard-on. You glanced at Jaehyun who was checking his phone, “Call me.” Yuta whispered then handed something that surprised you.
Two strings. Tied together in a knot.  
Fuck, he wanted more.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
PART 2. 
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miscellaneous-bnha · 4 years ago
Text
A little “Christmas Magic”
Kirishima x Fem!Reader x Denki
This is my piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten’s Citrus Dome “Snowed In” Collab.
Link to the Collab: https://tomurasprincess.tumblr.com/post/637531853698547712/citrus-dome-server-snowed-in-collab
Warning: slightly Scumbag Kiri/Denki, dubious consent (at the start), Possessive/FeralDenki, Smug Kiri, some exhibitionism, lowkey yandere Denki if you squint, dumbification, a little tongue pulling, light cum play
Also, I write Denki as someone who pretends to be stupid but is actually extremely intelligent.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP
Being childhood friends with Denki had it’s perks; knowing how intelligent your best friend is compared to how stupid he likes to act is one of them, so you knew that it was no accident he kept you distracted long enough for the blizzard to roll in.
Effectively trapping you in his home with his roommate Kirishima.
“Aww come on! It’s not that terrible! We’ve got good heating, enough food n’ snacks. The world’s BEST portable charger,” he points to himself dramatically, “And, if you do get bored of me, Kirishima’s here too.”
“You say that like you were planning on excluding me from your plans.” Kirishima looks at his roommate unimpressed. You stifle a giggle.
“Even if he was, I wouldn’t let him.” You nudge the redhead with your shoulder, making him snort a laugh.
“Fair enough.”
“So you agree it’s not that bad?” Denki bats his eyes at you, causing you to push his face away with a scoff.
“Alright alright. It could be worse.” He grins.
“I’m glad you agree!”
The three of you spend the night talking about the latest games the three of you have been following. They had both just convinced you to download a multiplayer rpg when the power suddenly went out, leaving you all in the dark.
“Oof, unlucky. I guess even state of the art homes still get black outs.” You mutter.
“More likely than you think. Here, why not get closer before the temperature starts to drop.” Kiri offers.
“Sure, why not. I’ll be thankful for it later anyhow.” You sandwich yourself between Denki and Kiri laying on your back as the three of you bundled together.
“Everyone’s phones charged up?” Denki peeks at your phone, still going strong at 95%
“Yeah, it should be good for a while longer. Anyone up for some music?”
For the next 3 hours, you continue to talk until you find yourself growing sleepy. Comfortably warm, you can’t help the way your eyes slip close.
————
When you wake up again, you can still hear the wind whipping around outside. You grab your phone only to be met with the no battery signal. Both boys on either side of you completely knocked out.
You tsk at your own stupidity. ‘I should have turned it off when I realized I was getting sleepy.’ You thought to yourself, leaning over Denki to use his phone to check the time.
The numbers 9:27am stared back at you. Just as you move to settle back into your spot, Denki’s arms suddenly wrap around you.
“Mm… five more minutes…” the angle at which he grabbed you made it so you were lying on top of him, your legs straddling his hips.
“Uhm… Denks…” you try to shake him gently.
“Noooo… jus’ five mmm….” he starts to snore softly again, and you’re left stuck on him.
You sigh, accepting your fate. With your phone dead, you decide whether or not you should stick the charger into his mouth and plug your phone in or if you should just go back to sleep. Unfortunately, with how restless you felt, sleeping wasn’t an option, and you’d feel pretty guilty for disturbing him from what must be a good dream.
A really good dream.
Your face erupts into flames when you realize there’s something hard poking at you. The blush darkens when he groans and his hips jerk up to grind against you.
You would be lying if you said you weren’t ever attracted to your childhood friend; blonde hair, golden eyes, killer smile. You saw how popular he was back then, and you can see it in his hero ratings now. Even aside from his looks, his goofy, lovable, secretly intelligent nature made it impossible not to fall for him all those years ago.
But you also knew he tended to be a flirt, which made it hard to tell if he was genuine. Especially since his advances were never directed at you.
Wishful thinking made it easy to believe that he didn’t flirt with you because “he didn’t want to think the one person he cares the most about to think he was playing with them”, but reason told you otherwise.
You’ve met some of his exes, and none of them were like you.
So, in the friendzone you stayed. ‘Better than nothing’, you reason, and— much to your own surprise— you’re satisfied with that.
You shake your head and squirm. “Denki…! Wake up you idiot!” He snorts when you headbutt his chest, head sitting up as he let you go to rub at the spot you hit.
“Awww… I was having a good dream…”
“I’m sure you were!” You spit, embarrassed.
You make an attempt to hide it. “Also, I need a favor, my phone died while we were sleeping.”
“Ah, yeah. I tried turning your music off, but I guess that didn’t work.” You hum, but nod.
“Thanks for trying. Mind charging it for me?”
He taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think about it before he grins. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya.” You snort.
“Ha ha. What do I owe?”
“A kiss.” You roll your eyes. Even as a kid, Denki always liked to say stuff like that.
You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek.
“There, your kiss. Now can you charge my phone?” You have to bite your tongue to hold back a yelp when you’re suddenly flipped over on your back, Denki hovering over you.
“You can do better than that!” He grins when you snort.
“Oh really now?” You plant another, wetter, kiss to his cheek with a smack. “And is that good enough for you?”
“Nope.”
“Oh come on!” You whisper-yell, fake exasperated, “I give! What more could you possibly want??”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes!”
He pauses, eyes watching you for a moment before suddenly his lips are on yours. One hand cupping your jaw, thumb circling the underside of your chin, the other bracing himself over you.
You don’t expect it, nor do you expect the way he deepens the kiss so effortlessly even while you’re still floundering for steady ground. He almost seems to be intent on trying to keep you stumbling.
You gasp and pant when he parts from your lips with a wet smack; head foggy with confusion, you don’t have any time before his lips are back on yours, smothering you into another blissful, naïve cloud.
You whine when the hand cupping your jaw trails down slowly, fingers intertwining with yours and giving a gentle squeeze, bringing it above your head to pin it there.
“W-Wait!” You gasp, trying to come back down to reality, still not believing what’s happening.
“No.” He nips the side of your neck, making you groan softly, “Waited long enough.”
“Wh- what do you mean??” You don’t get your answer. Instead, he presses more hot kisses to your lips, each accompanied with a soft smack.
“Denki—!” You hiss through your teeth when he bites down on your neck again, harder this time. He covers your mouth with one hand, hushing softly.
“Waited too long for this. Should’ve just said something a long time ago.” His breath is hot against your ear, making you squirm when his teeth nibble on the lobe. “Should’ve told you how I feel ages ago.”
You can’t help the excited thumping of your heart, especially if his words mean what you hope they do. You gasp when you feel his hard on grind against you, sound stolen from you when Denki presses another deep kiss to your lips.
“Fuck, need you. Need you so fucking bad.” He borderline growls as his free hand disappears below the blanket covering the both of you. You’re just about to let the haze overcome you when you suddenly hear Kirishima snort from next to you, making your blood freeze.
“Denki..! Kirishima’s right there—!” He groans burying his face in your neck.
“Fuck..! I know! ‘S fine!” He flips you both again so that you’re on top, tugging at the pair of sweatpants you borrowed and your panties.
“We can’t!” He bucks his hips into yours, making you inhale sharply. He tugs you down so your chest is pressed to his. You can feel the way his heart is pounding through your thin shirts.
“For fuck’s sake, please, baby girl. I can’t. I can’t wait anymore.” He groans into your ear, hands pinning your hips to his, moving you to grind against him.
“But Kirishima—!”
“Kirishima—” He growls his roommate’s name with disdain, making you shudder with fear and arousal, “— won’t know if you stay quiet.” He hisses when he finally manages to slide the sweatpants off of you, bare cock nudging against your panty-clad pussy.
“Please. I need you so fucking bad it hurts. I will combust if I can’t fuck you right fucking now.” You shiver when you feel his fingers pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick and circling your clit.
“Okay, okay okay okay— wait!” You bite your lip when he shoves his leaking cock into you, growling into your shoulder.
“Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…” he groaned, hips fucking up into you with soft ‘paps’
“Den—ki!” You whine, grinding down on his cock as much as he would let you.
“That’s it, baby…. jus’ keep sayin’ m’ name.”
“Or maybe mine.”
The shock of hearing Kirishima’s voice right by your ear has you clamping down on Denki’s cock, sending you over the edge when he thrusts roughly into you.
“Kiri—“ Denki slaps a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.
“Seriously?” Denki growls, pissed. He doesn’t pull out though, opting to fuck into you still,
“Aww, come on. I’m not the one breaking promises around here, Denki. Don’t get a little salty because I wanted to join in on the fun.” You shudder and moan, overstimulated.
It’s hard to focus on the conversation as yet another orgasm builds. You can barely focus on the fact that you just got caught fucking your childhood friend by his roommate, at least until two hands grab you by your shoulders and pull you against a firm chest.
“Kirishima! Wh—” You whine when one arm wraps around your neck, not squeezing, but keeping you pinned to his chest, the other pinching and pulling at your nipple,
“Kaminari here can’t keep a promise, so I’m just having some fun touching you.” He laughs, seemingly unbothered. Then he whispers into your ear,
“But don’t worry; I’ll give it to you later.” You squeeze and clench around Denki’s cock at the sound of that.
Kirishima’s hand trails down your body, leading a trail of goosebumps until his fingers pinch and tug at your clit. He activates his quirk, the rough sensation of his hardened fingers add to your pleasure until you’re creaming on Denki’s cock all over again. You whine, trying to pull away from the stimulation, but Kiri just holds you there, letting Denki rut up into you until he’s cumming, hissing through his teeth until he can’t bring himself to pull out anymore.
You’re vaguely aware of the fact that he isn’t wearing a condom, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t have time to as you feel yourself falling asleep again.
————
When you wake up, you’re cuddled in Kirishima’s arms. He gives you a bright, toothy smile when he notices your eyes opening.
“Well good morning, sleeping beauty! Well, good afternoon now.” You groan, feeling a little sore.
“What time is it?”
“About 2pm. You didn’t actually sleep that long.” You grunt.
“Where’s Denki?”
“Grabbing some snacks together. Your phone finished charging, by the way.
He presses the device into your hands and you stare at it owlishly until your brain catches up with your body.
“Ah, thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
You set it off to the side, sitting up and stretching. Your face twists when you feel something leaking out of you.
“Ugh.. I should go and get cleaned up… well, as much as I can anyway.” You throw the blanket to the side, but you don’t have the opportunity to stand before Kirishima’s hands are on your hips.
“About what I said earlier…” he murmurs softly. It takes you a moment, but you blush when you finally remember.
“Wh-what about it?”
“Do you mind?” He squeezes his hands gently.
You chew your lip. Everything considered, he’d watched and helped Denki fuck you, and you certainly were curious…
“... alright, why not?” Kirishima grins before patting his lap, pushing his shorts and boxers down. Your eyes widen when his cock stands,
“Have you been hard this whole time??” As smug as he’d been acting earlier, he seemed to get a little shy at your question
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“You were!” He sputters, but pulls you into his lap.
“Look, of course I’m going to be hard.” He teases the sharp points of his teeth against your neck,
“Thinking about all those noises you made, the way you looked on his cock…” he growls playfully, biting down on your shoulder until you whine softly.
“Shit... just hurry up then!” You grumble, giving his cock a couple of good strokes.
He flips you around so your back is against his chest again, slowly sinking you down on his cock as you both groan.
“Christ... I see why he wasn’t keen on sharing.” Kiri raises you by the hips, slamming you back down on his cock with a hiss,
“So fucking tight baby girl…” he groans as you whine, falling back against his chest. Your body shakes with his laughter.
“Awww… already stupid from my cock stuffing your tight little hole?” He groans, but you can feel the way he grins against your neck,
“That’s alright, baby. I’ll take care of ya.”
Your whines and moans do eventually attract Denki, pulling him away from his task. He scowls at Kirishima, who only continues to lazily bounce you on his cock.
“You could have at least waited until I came back.”
“And miss a chance at fucking her cute little pussy? I don’t think so.” You whine when Kiri forces your hips to still, instead rotating your hips so his cock grinds deep inside.
You feel Denki grip your jaw with one hand, the fingers on his other hand slipping inside your mouth. You yelp when you feel him pinch your tongue, tugging it out and forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him.
“You’ve always had such a pretty little mouth too…” Denki says more to himself than to you, letting go of your tongue in favor of tugging his cock out of his sweatpants.
“Mind if I use it?”
He taps the tip of it against your tongue, groaning a soft “good girl” when you suck on it, only for you to choke when he pushes more of his length into your mouth.
“Hey, take it easy man.” Kiri starts to bounce you on his cock again, making you moan with each drop of your hips. Denki grunts, cupping your cheeks with his hands,
“She’ll be alright, won’t you baby?” You whine softly, too busy focusing on the rising heat in your core.
“Either way, I don’t think she’s coherent enough to even notice if my balls smack against her chin.” Denki says as he snaps his hips forward again, making you gag.
“Well… don’t make her sick.”
“She’ll be fine.”
You moan and gag with every drop and rise of your hips respectfully. In some ways, Denki was right when he said you’d hardly notice him shoving his cock down your throat; come later, it’ll be sore as hell, but for now, it added to the curling pleasure that only seemed to build the more roughly they treated you.
You feel Kirishima reach forward to pinch a nipple, making you gag out a yelp around Denki’s cock. Both of them hiss in unison.
“Shit, I think she liked that.” Kirishima gives it another painful tug, causing you to whine and your cunny to flutter.
“Fuck.. keep doing that.” Denki groans out, forgetting completely about your comfort for a moment when he shoves his dick all the way down your throat, making you choke when Kirishima buries himself balls deep.
You feel like your head is floating aimlessly by the time they start to lose control. Between Kiri’s thick, heavy cock splitting you open and Denki fucking your face, your eyes roll back as you cum hard, whining and moaning through your choked noises.
“Fuuuuuck, that’s it baby! Just tighten up like that!” Kirishima growls as he abandons your nipple, opting to rub your clit instead to keep you cumming.
Denki hisses and pulls his cock out of your mouth, instead leaving the tip on your tongue as he strokes himself to completion.
Both men are loud when they cum, and you can only whine when you feel your body turn to gelatin again.
You grimace when Denki pushes his cum around on your tongue, only removing his finger when he’s satisfied with the look of it. “Swallow for me, yeah?” He pets your cheek when you comply, smiling in satisfaction.
You can feel Kirishima’s cum leak out of you the second he pulls out. He lets out a low whistle, lightly patting your ass. “What a sight to behold.”
You flop back against Kirishima’s chest, groaning softly. “Now can I get cleaned up?”
“Of course. Just give us a sec, yeah?”
“Or you could just stay like this for-“
“No thank you, Denki.”
“Party pooper.”
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not-a-coral-snake · 3 years ago
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for the @lamenweek Day 6 prompt: Auguste Lives Au
inspired by this post by @skyline-sunset-in-my-veins and @phoenixtcm
“When I am in Arles this fall,” Damianos says, words soft in the summer sunset air around them, “I will kneel before your brother the king and ask his permission to court you.” He pauses, smile just the slightest bit cocky. Laurent is lounging, hair mussed and shirt trailing half-opened laces, in Damen’s arms. “Court you officially, I mean.” 
“You are going to Arles for the negotiations yourself this year?” Laurent says. Seated as they are, Damen cannot mistake the shudder of tension, quickly repressed, that runs through Laurent at Damen’s words.
“You haven’t told him yet,” he says. 
“It’s just I thought that the ambassador—”
“You haven’t told him yet,” Damen says again. “You said when I saw you last fall that you would tell him last winter for sure.” He tries not to sound accusatory, but well. It is not the first time they have had this conversation.
“I haven’t told him yet,” Laurent concedes. It should not be so hard. It’s been six years since Marlas. Vere and Akielos are at peace. Laurent is in the habit of sharing nearly everything with Auguste, and yet— 
“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he says, as he always does. “It’s a sensitive matter, I wish to catch him in the right mood, lest he make up his mind before hearing me out.” 
“And you’re afraid of hurting him,” Damen says, as he always does.
“And I want to ensure I don’t hurt him. So I have to find the right time—”
“It’s been years now,” Damen cuts in. “Should we believe that, somehow, the perfect moment will occur this summer, when it did not last winter, or last spring, or the summer before that?”
“Damen—”
“This can just be a fling, if you want,” Damen says, gently.
‘That’s not what I—no,” says Laurent. Damen’s never said that before. 
“We can just keep meeting a few times a year. It doesn’t need to be serious. It doesn’t need to be something we tell others about.”
“Damen, stop,” Laurent says. “No. I want to court you. I want it to be official. I want it to be serious.”
“Well, then let it become serious.”
“I’ll tell him this time,” Laurent says. He can do this. It’s been six years since Marlas. Auguste always speaks of Prince Damianos in respectful tones. Laurent picks up Damen’s hand, kisses his knuckles. “Promise.”
And Laurent means to tell Auguste that summer, he really does. He meant to upon his return last fall as well, and the time before that, and the time before that. It’s just that—well, it’s just that every time he returns from diplomatic visits to Delfeur or Ios, he’s struck again with the slow, deliberate way that Auguste moves now. Each year as late spring ripens into summer, he sees how it saddens Auguste that he still no longer has the vigor or endurance for hunts or long rides or anything more taxing than a slow turn around the gardens. Each year as fall deepens into winter, he sees how another year has gone by and the cold makes Auguste’s injuries ache just as much as they had the winter before. 
Auguste had nearly died on the battlefield at Marlas. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Even after he had survived the trip home to Arles, he almost died of fever, of wound rot, of the pneumonia his battle-damaged lungs nearly couldn’t shake. And he almost died of assassination, not one time but many. There were few ways to kill a king in the peak of youth and health without attracting undue suspicion, but endless subtle ways to hasten the death of a man in his sickbed. Their uncle, left to rule the court unchecked, had tried seemingly most of them, endless schemes which Laurent had only barely managed to avert and which left behind no conclusive evidence for Laurent to show the court. Even as Auguste had gained strength, the schemes had continued, until the day Laurent gave up trying to beat his uncle while playing by his uncle’s own rules and had simply arranged an accident of his own. 
After that, Auguste was safe, but the fallout from their uncle’s years ruling the court and admittedly-suspicious death left him with nearly as many enemies as allies. As prince, Auguste had been universally adored. As king, he faced a yearslong struggle to regain the allegiance of erstwhile allies. 
And all this was, at its root, because of Marlas. Because of Damianos. Auguste’s history with Damen wasn’t just the matter of an injury six years ago, not when that injury had colored every day of his life since. And Laurent can’t imagine a way of telling him that he loves Damen, wants a future with him, without it sounding like a betrayal. 
To make matters more awkward, Auguste has, for whatever reason, gotten it into his head to nag Laurent about romance. It’s uncomfortable enough to be keeping his relationship with Damen a secret from Auguste. It’s worse to lie, outright or by omission, every time Auguste asks him if there’s anyone Laurent is interested in pursuing. 
And then— “You know you can tell me anything, little brother,” Auguste says quietly, a few minutes after Laurent has let a conversation about an overly-flirtatious marquis from Lys lapse. 
Laurent swallows, mutely cataloging the darker corners of his past. He does not like to lie to Auguste. But he does.
And there are things he probably will never tell his brother about, things Auguste does not need to know, but also— “Actually, Auguste,” he makes himself say. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
And then he pauses, because he still hasn’t figured out a semi-workable phrasing. I’m in love with Prince Damianos, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still upset about what he did to you. I’m fucking the man who almost killed you, and I’m sorry but also I won’t stop. I know seeing the prince of Akielos this fall will probably be terrible for you but also when he asks to court me please say yes.
It’s Auguste who rescues him, after a moment or two of expectant silence. “Is this going to be you finally telling me about your romantic entanglement with Prince Damianos?” he says. “Because honestly, I’m getting sick of seeing you walking around looking guilty and sad all the time.”
“You knew?” Laurent says.
“Of course I knew! You, dear baby brother, are not very subtle. And I’ve had to hear all your reports from the negotiations with Akielos twice a year. Was I somehow not supposed to notice how you gradually stopped insulting Damianos and started telling me about all his varied and impressive positive traits?”
“I said that he was straightforward and committed to the good of his people, and thus that the negotiations were likely to be a productive use of time!”
“And then the trip after that, you said that he was an innovative thinker, a natural leader, and you couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. You said you didn’t mind having to go on hunts with him, which anyone who knows you understands is a major compliment, and when you said he was patient, you smiled that quiet smile of yours that means you are remembering something that made you very happy.”
“Auguste—”
“And yet! Whenever anyone suggests you have developed any fondness for the man, you deny it. Why go to such lengths to conceal a friendly working relationship?”
“Auguste—”
“And honestly, brother, even back when you hated him, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned his appearance rather a lot. You were always complaining that he was ridiculously tall, or offensively muscular, or something along those lines.”
“I said he was a brute!”
“You also said that his eyes were, and I quote, ‘disgustingly soulful.’ Oh, and the letters! Was I not supposed to notice that in the last year your correspondence with the prince of Akielos has roughly quadrupled in volume and frequency, even as the official negotiations are reaching a standstill? There isn’t enough policy discussion to account for a tenth of the letters you write. There isn’t enough policy discussion to justify you going to Delfeur in person twice a year, and yet you insist on overseeing things personally each time anyway.”
“Auguste, I’m sorry, all right? I know that this must have been painful for you to witness, and I don’t want you to think I don’t care about everything you’ve been through.” He swallows. “But I don’t want to stop seeing Damianos.”
“All right.”
“‘’All right?’ You’re okay with it? Just like that?”
“He makes you happy. If your judgement of him is to be believed, then he sounds like a worthy man. And I trust your judgement.”
“But he stabbed you. And now I’m sleeping with him.”
“Well, we were at war. And it was years ago. And I’m fine. We’re at peace, the nation’s moving on, you’ve moved on in your opinion of him, I can move on as well.”
“It’s not that simple!”
“Why can’t it be? I only met him for about ten minutes. I’m sure there’s more to him than he revealed in a single duel. You have my blessing, Laurent.”
“How can you just—”
“Remember when your pony threw you and you broke your collarbone?”
“This is not the same, this is not even close to the same—”
“You snuck out of the infirmary to go to the stables and tell Chuckles you weren’t mad at him.”
“I was seven, he meant me no ill will, and the bone healed in a month. Also he was a horse,” Laurent grits out. “Damianos was—is—a grown man, responsible for his choices, the injuries he inflicted did lasting damage, and he was trying to kill you.”
“Well, no one is asking you to sleep with him,” Auguste says, in his reasonable-big-brother voice. 
Laurent lets out a breath, sits back in his chair. “I started managing the negotiations with Akielos so that you wouldn’t have to speak with him,” he says. “We said that it was because I could travel more easily, that it was because you could not justify spending so much time away from court. But in truth, I did not want you to have to be in a room with him, to have to learn to make polite conversation with him and pretend that Marlas did not happen, that it didn’t matter. If I have come to know him as far more than just the soldier who attacked you, if I have put his past actions behind me, come to care for him in spite of them—that does not mean I expect you to do the same. Could ever ask you to do the same.” 
“You’ve always been protecting me, all these years,” Auguste says softly. “Don’t think I don’t know it, or appreciate it. But let me be the protective big brother again once in a while? You’ve learned to let the past go and let yourself have the present you want with Damianos, because you’re in love with him. Allow me to let the past go and have the future I want, where my little brother is happy.”
He’s looking Laurent in the eye, gaze steady, and slowly Laurent allows himself to believe that Auguste is serious, that in his heart of hearts, he does not mind. That he is happy for Laurent. 
“Thank you,” he says. “For your blessing.” 
“Of course,” Auguste says. And then, “Well, when I say you have my blessing, I mean informally, of course. Prince Damianos will have to ask me himself.”
“You just want the chance to make him squirm,” Laurent says. 
“I just want the chance to make him squirm,” Auguste concedes, and he and Laurent break into quiet laughter, imagining it.
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sillylittlestoryblog · 4 years ago
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Jesper Fahey Imagine
Jesper x female Reader
This is my first imagine ever. So pls don’t be to harsh😅
Also i m not a native English speaker so if I made horrible mistakes pls tell me nicely🙂
+ I m new to the grishaverse so there is a lot I just made up... again If I made horrible mistakes.. enlighten me 🥰
I wanna post this with he/him and they/them pronouns too. Just so nobody feels left out ✨
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The winter air was terrible cold against y/n`s ears. Instinctively, she buried her face further into her scarf. She hated this time of year, especially in ketterdam. Because of the docks and the sea, it was even colder here than in her former home. She came to Ketterdam years ago, but she still didn’t seem to have gotten used to the city. The city with its dark alleys and dangerous corners. She had been told to get a decent job. Never be Outside in the dark. And above all she should Stay Out of the criminal gangs and their streetfights. And yet here she was, running again in the direction of the Crow Club to meet dirtyhands in person.
After the heavy oak door closed behind her, she took a deep breath. The warm air felt wonderful on her skin. There wasn't too much going on in the club tonight. Which pleased her very much.
" well who do we have here? I was afraid that you wouldn't come because of the snowstorm out there. ”Jesper's voice sounded happily through the room. In his hand he was holding a drink that he halfway spilled on his way to her.
Y / N didn't want to admit it, but she was happy to see him. Most of all, she was pleased that he was already a Bit drunk, so she hoped he wouldn't notice how she blushed while he hugged her.
Together they went to a table in a quieter corner of the crow club. Kaz Brekker sat there with his crowcane in his hand and sighed as Y/N and Jesper approached. Shortly afterwards she noticed Inej emerging from the shadows. She quietly sat down next to Kaz, keeping a safe distance as always. Y / N wasn't sure if she was doing it to give Kaz more space or to better protect herself. Y/N sat down next to Nina who was sitting on the other side of the table and apparently had a lot of fun giving a already drunken Mattias more and more alcohol.
Jesper sat down next to Y/N with a loud noise and started talking about his win today. He had lost a lot of money in a few card games and then won the Same Money back again after a round of chess. Inej had to explain the rules to him beforehand and was shocked that he really didn't understand how the game worked. His only luck was that his opponent understood it even less and so he had defeated him after a few rounds despite his moderate knowledge of chess.
Y/N was happy to have this group. For her, it almost felt like she had a found family, a home. The others also appreciated her very much. Nina was glad that there was another Grisha in the group. She loved challenging Y/N to play pranks on the other crow members. Even if the others wouldn't admit it, everyone loved the jokes they made up. Only Kaz usually looked offended when the two kept his people from their serious work.
She had also built up a good relationship with Inej in the two years that she had been part of the crows. Both were rather calm and liked to spend time alone. But they loved to talk about novels and books together. Inej and her had already broken into the library of Ketterdam several times at night to be able to read there in peace. Y / N fondly remembers those evenings. Especially Brekker's red-hot face when he found out what they had done. He was incredibly angry and didn't even let them be on the next mission. Meanwhile, Jesper just stood there, amused. Although he was disappointed in both of them too. But more because they didn't ask him to come along. Inej had smirked at the time and said that he was probably jealous. And to this day Y/N kept thinking about it. She could hardly imagine that he wanted to tag along because of the books.
"Hey are you even listening to me"
Jesper moved his hand up and down in front of her face.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Y / N knew this wasn't the first time he'd caught her thinking about him. She reached for the glass that Nina had put in front of her nose a few minutes ago. Hopefully that would take his mind off the nervous expression on her face.
"I thought it would be incredible if I would open a bakery with the money. You know the Money i won earlier"
Y/N looked deeper into her glass. In fact, she hadn't noticed what he'd told her. "Hmm interesting. I uh... would not have thought you were the bakery type. "
"Why not?" Jesper started to grin in amusement. Now he was glad that she was just so embarrassed and looking down. She was indeed looking really cute, while trying to come up with a logical answer that hopefully wouldn't hurt his feelings.
“Well you've shot at least 5 people in the last two days. And uh ... "
Jesper had to laugh out loud. "Hey hey little one, I was just kidding. I was Joking... Something like that happens when you don't listen. ”There was a big grin on his face. It felt like it went from one ear to the other. His dark eyes began to glow. Y/N didn't even notice how long the two had been staring at each other. Jesper looked away with a jerk and began to stammer something to himself, “I actually wanted to ask you something. Are we both going to break into that one library tomorrow night? I heard about this one book. And well we could steal it together. "
Y/N just had to grin. Maybe Inej was right after all and Jesper wanted to spend time with her.
"Sure, why not ... but you know that this is illegal?"
"It's only illegal if we get caught"
The next evening they both met below the roofs of Ketterdam's university district. Jesper's hair was disheveled, probably because he had slept until a few minutes ago. The night before had stolen both of their strength. None of them could really remember much. Once again, Nina had endured the most alcohol, but probably only because she was the one who made the others drink. Inej had gone to bed relatively early and in the early morning twilight still heard the singing voices of Matthias and Jesper. Y / N could roughly remember participating in a drinking game. And somehow she thought she had seen a smiling Kaz, but that would be too improbable.
It wasn't quite as cold as the night before, but because of the tiredness Y / N was all the more cold that day. Jesper didn't seem to have any other way. He had wrapped himself deep in his coat and was wearing a much too long scarf around his neck that he had stepped on twice while running. It was unusual for the shooter to be so calm. Most of the time he would talk out loud about his achievements in playing cards or he would consider a daring mission to get rich. He was very talkative, only today he was speechless.
Getting to the library was very easy there was a secured part in the south wing. Valuable writings from Kerch were stored there. But the two were only looking for a novel that would be insignificant for most People. It didn't take long for the two of them to get into the building over the roof of an adjoining building and through its courtyard.
Y / N knew her way around the library halls; after all, she had often come and gone there at night. Jesper ran right behind her, afraid of losing her between the tall bookshelves. It didn't take long for Jesper to find the right book. It was about tales and horror stories that used to be told to children in front of the campfire. Jesper had overheard Inej talking about this book. She had shared how she loved these stories as a child. That seemed like the right book for the right reason
y / n to dare a night break-in. He had longed to spend time alone with her for a long time. He admired her for her courage and caring. Jesper had been alone for a long time. Far from everything that felt like family. But the Crows gave him a home. Kaz was the protector of the crows and Jesper was happy to have someone like him, but somehow the warmth in the crow club was missing. But the warmth was suddenly there when the young grisha girl ran into his arms two years ago. She has been on his mind ever since. How many times had he caught himself paying special attention to her on missions. Or the many times she was turned on by drunkards and he would have loved to draw his revolver. Even now he could only think of her smile.
She had spread her coat on the floor and was tapping the spot next to her. Jesper sat down next to her, grinning, and began to read.
The warm sun shone on Y / N's face. What a nice way to be awakened. Most of the time she woke up by hearing gunshots in the street or the loud talk of seafarers stumbling towards the port. It smelled of old books, dust and leather. Only now did she realize that she was not in her bed. She opened her eyes carefully, hoping not to wake up in a prison or a cargo ship. But her surroundings were not unknown to her, only she had never seen them in this light. Next to her lay Jesper who had embraced her with both arms. She had never seen him so calm before. His chest moved slowly up and down as he breathed. How beautiful he looked.
"You should hire someone to make a portrait of me, believe me that will last longer."
Jesper's eyes were still closed. Y / N's face turned red again. She had to stop looking at him like that.
"Good morning, how did you sleep between so much Important literature?" She tried to distract from the subject.
Jesper opened his eyes and looked at her. Only now did she realize how close they were. He still had his arms around her. Jesper also noticed now what kind of situation they were in. He opened his mouth to answer when Y / N suddenly perceived voices from outside. She put her finger to his lips and turned her head towards the window. There were three library guards in the courtyard. They had just noticed the open window through which Jesper and Y/N had entered the building the night before.
Without thinking further, both started running. If they hurried they could still get outside via the west entrance before the university square is full of students.
Luckily for them it was easy to run through the great hall into the foyer, Jesper tried hard not to pull out his revolver to get them out of the situation, but Y/n insisted that they could flee without getting noticed. But it was too late, the guards had already spotted them. Jesper took Y/N by the hand and the two ran laughing like two school girls through the corridors until they could escape over the balcony of the west wing.
They laughed and hugged. "Oh Jesper that was close"
"Yes, If i had not been there, you would have never made it out of there"
"If you hadn't been there I would have never fallen asleep in there"
"That's right, but then I would never have been able to do this either."
He leaned over to her and looked at her with an asking expression. For a moment he was afraid of having lost his self-confidence. He wondered if he had misinterpreted anything. All the times she looked at him with a blushing face and glowing eyes. Maybe he was just wrong ...
But He couldn't think clearly anymore because he had already been interrupted by Y / N's lips. At that moment they both forgot everything around them. The dirty city, the cold winter air and the screams of the guards who were still looking for them.
Fuck, I think that's how it feels at home.
Thx for reading this😅 if you liked it pls write a comment. Just so i know if i should continue writing or not✨ if somebody has a request for an imagine just comment it or text me in my direct messages 🥰💗
Mai 🦋
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tinisprout · 3 years ago
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No Doubt in Us
Chapter Six (PART 2) - Looking Back to Move Forward (2)
Fiance!Haknyeon x Fem!reader
Masterlist | Prev | Next
Synopsis: Life is great, you have your dream job, you finally got your first big break, and you are now engaged to the love of your life. Happier than you’ve ever been, you live life one day at a time. Then one day a terrible accident happens leaving you in a coma. Where you finally awake, everything is not as you remember. Amnesia takes away 3 years of your memory, forgetting your beloved Fiance. Faced with a reality that seems unreal, as your mind is stuck in a past with uncomfortable memories, your future with him is uncertain.
Send me an ask if you want to be put on the taglist for this series
Taglist:@my-summer-night @deputyjuyeon @juhaktheoneforme @sunqnew
CW/TW: talks of an old stalker, harassment, violence (from sangyeon and stalker)
Word count: 4K+
Looking at your Instagram account you regretted your habit of deleting your old posts. The image previews you saw were all unfamiliar. You thought about Chanhee’s words, you wanted more than anything to move on, but you felt the need to defend your way of thinking even if it wasn’t completely right. Maybe looking through these would help you make a decision, so you clicked on the oldest post.
Almost all the posts had mentioned Haknyeon, how you interacted with and talked about him, it was obvious you were head over heels for him, there wasn’t any doubt in your head he felt the same. You felt a lump form in your throat, you seemed very happy with him, so free from the trauma, safe? Chanhee said to believe in the you that chose him, seeing the love you had for him displayed in front of you so plainly, you did trust him so much. It suddenly hit you, finally realizing just how terrible you’ve been to him. You’ve been so selfish not for a second taking into consideration how he’s doing.
You never apologized for what you did at the hospital, just how awful he must have felt in that moment when he was waiting for you so earnestly for you to wake up. The talk you had together, was all one-sided, you didn’t ask what he wanted to do, how he felt about the situation, you just said what you wanted. Even though you don’t know him, he is like a stranger to you, he didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You felt tears plop on your chest, you didn’t know when you started crying.
You felt sorry for Haknyeon and yourself. Hurting him was never your intention, but you were sure that’s exactly what you were doing. Why did you have to lose your memory? You found yourself yearning for that happiness that freedom. You wanted to apologize to him, you wanted to move forward.
Roughly wiping away your tears you calmed yourself down. Chanhee was right, wasn’t he? Even if we don’t stay together, It would be better for me to remember everything. I want to try and take a chance on him again. You thought about how you would apologize to him when he came back.
***
The sound of the door unlocking interrupted your thoughts. You got up from the couch and moved closer to the door. As it opened your eyes met with the back of Haknyeon’s head, facing the person behind him as they pushed him into the house. The person behind him faced you, giving a smile in greeting. This must be Hyunjae.
Seeing this, Haknyeon followed Hyunjae’s eyes turning around almost jumping in surprise. He didn’t expect you to be waiting by the door and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned over you, it had been too long since he got a proper look at you, admittedly that was his fault. He noticed that your eyes seemed to be puffy. Was she crying?
He was brought out of his thoughts when Hyunjae pushed him forward. “I’ve brought Haknyeon as per Chanhee’s request,” Hyunjae said in a tone like he was stating serious orders. It made you smile a little.
“Thank you, Hyunjae.” He nodded back at you.
“I hope you two can... figure things out. Bye.” He waves his hand at you and pats Haknyeon’s back as he leaves.
“Let’s sit down, we need to talk.” Saying this you step out of the way letting him go ahead of you.
“Yes, we do.” Haknyeon sits in the same spot as last time. This time instead of sitting on the couch again you sit on the floor across the coffee table so you both are at eye level.
“I know I was the one that did most of the talking last time, but can I go first again, I need to say something important.”
“Yes, go ahead.” He had some important things to say too, but to him, you were a priority.
“First, I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for the things I said and did at the hospital. I’m sorry for being selfish,” you clenched your hands together as they rested on the table. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for not being able to trust you. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done since I woke up.”
“I need to apologize too. I’m sorry that I left you home this whole time when I could have been helping you. I was selfish, too scared to see you, I’m sorry that I didn’t put you first, considering your situation. I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you and didn’t say what I felt.”
“No, but you wouldn’t have done any of that if it weren’t for me.” Your face was full of remorse. Haknyeon put a hand over your clenched ones, pulling you out of your self-loathing. He pulls his hand away after catching your attention.
“Don’t say that y/n. We could play the blame game all day long, but we both did some wrong things, in the end. I think… instead of trying to blame ourselves, we should try and right our wrongs.” You look into his eyes and slowly nod your head, his words giving you the courage to say the rest of what you need to say.
“I’ve told you about my stalker before, haven’t I?” Haknyeon is shocked that you brought up that topic suddenly.
“Yes, a long time ago. But why are you bringing this up, did something happen?” He became a lot more concerned.
“No, thank God. I-I just need to tell you about it.”
“What? I already said you told me, you don’t have to, I know.”
“I know. I’m doing this for me. I think if I don’t talk about it with you, then I won’t be able to move on. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for that, just… please, don’t push yourself.” He could tell you were very serious about wanting to tell him. If it was going to help you, he wouldn’t tell you not to do it, but he still didn’t feel good about it. He remembers just how hard it was for you to tell him the first time.
“Mh,” you take a deep breath to calm your nerves, calling these memories to the forefront of your mind. “I had a co-worker I was acquainted with. I would only see him the few times I went to discuss business at my company, we chatted a few times. One day he asked me out on a date and I thought, why not, he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. So we went on a date, it wasn’t too bad, so we went on another.
“After the second date, I realized we wouldn’t be a good fit for each other. So when he asked me on another date I said, no, I didn’t want to string him on when I wasn’t interested anymore. I thought he took the rejection pretty well, soon after I started getting a lot of messages from him. I didn’t think much of it at first cause we had become a little closer, there shouldn’t have been a problem just being friends, but then he started asking questions that were too personal and intrusive. It made me uncomfortable and I asked him to stop, but the same kind of messages kept coming so I blocked him. I didn’t see him again till I came back to the company, but we didn’t talk to each other, so I thought that he was over me and that was the end of it.” You rubbed and squeezed at your hands.
“Just breathe, you’re doing great.” Following his words, you take another deep breath.
“Me and Chanhee’s apartment building wasn’t too far from my company and we didn’t have a car, so I would just walk there. On my way back I felt like someone was looking at me, following me. I thought I was just paranoid, there were so many people on the street at this time there is a lot of people going the same way as me, and I went home without a problem. After that, I would get that feeling a lot when I was outside, but I never noticed anyone out of the ordinary, so I didn’t know if I was just being paranoid. There were times I was so scared I would go into the nearest building and call Chanhee so I wasn’t alone. I stopped going out as often as I did.
“Eventually, a box addressed to me came, inside it was a note that said, ‘let’s meet soon.’ There were also pictures of me walking outside… and one of me and Chanhee talking on the balcony, his face was X-ed out.” Your face twisted as you thought about back then. It wasn’t just you that was in danger, Chanhee was too and you had no idea who you should be looking out for.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, Chanhee is okay. You can stop if it’s too much,” Haknyeon said with concern, he wished he could hold you and comfort you like the first time you told him.
“No, I’m almost done. Chanhee said we should keep it as evidence, take it to the police but we couldn't do anything because we didn't know who it was. When we could, we would go out together to do even the smallest of errands so we wouldn't be alone. One of the days we went out together to buy some stuff from the convenience store, Chanhee was busy that day so it was a little late. We realized we forgot to buy something while on our way back, we were pretty close so we walked back.
“I waited by the corner outside with the bags so we wouldn't look like we were stealing or anything, while Chanhee went back inside. Then I began to feel uncomfortable being out by myself, others were walking out every once in a while but not many. So I decided I would just go in too, but someone pulled me back before too long. It was him, the one I went on a date with. I didn't suspect him at first, but I told him I needed to go.” You closed your eyes, heart-pounding, reliving the moment again.
“He didn't let go, so I said it again, but I was upset that time. He grabbed my face saying that he waited so long to meet me again. I knew this wasn’t some coincidence at this point, that man was the one stalking me, so I tried to retaliate by swinging the bags in my arms at him and yelling. I could only keep him away for a little bit before he got the best of me, taking the bags from me. He pushed and held me against the wall.
“I don’t know exactly what he was planning to do to me, but It was thanks to your friend..., our friend, Sangyeon, that nothing else happened to me. He pulled him off of me and asked if I was okay and if I knew him. All it took was a word from me and Sangyeon decked him." A sneer came to your face thinking about Sangyeon giving that man what he deserved. You found yourself wishing you could have gotten a few hits on the disgusting prick yourself.
Looking at your expression, Haknyeon was a little surprised. Compared to the last time you told him you seemed to be a lot more ticked off and agitated. It was understandable because he felt the same. Haknyeon wasn’t a violent person, but that man would have to count his blessings if Haknyeon ever saw him. He also felt incredibly grateful to Sangyeon again.
"Thank you for telling me again, but why did you feel you needed to tell me specifically?"
"Well, that's part of the second thing I wanted to talk to you about. That whole situation is the reason I was pushing you away, I was scared, I didn't know if I could trust you, I was too afraid to try. I looked through some things and I came to realize that I was in love with you and I trusted you a lot." The words that came out of your mouth were exactly what you thought but saying it that bluntly was a little embarrassing, it was like a confession.
"Mhh." Haknyeon felt a little embarrassed by her words too, covering his mouth with his hand discreetly, he felt a smirk coming to his face.
"Well um, I want to move on, I don't want to be held back by those bad memories. Chanhee said that regardless of what happens in the future it would be best if I could try to remember the things I’ve forgotten. There isn’t much I can do if I don’t remember, but I won’t try to avoid my past anymore. I have a question and I think I already know the answer, but I want to hear you say it, so I know we can do something we both want to try. Haknyeon, do you love me?” Haknyeon shifted in his seat and he put his hand back on the table.
“Yes, I love you.” Your eyes met his steadfast gaze, he was so serious at that moment.
“Then if it’s okay with you, can we try again?”
“Do you mean try dating again?” Haknyeon tilts his head to the side.
“Yes.” Haknyeon laughs a little.
“Ah, that’s what I was going to ask.”
“I can’t promise that I can give you my full trust immediately or that I will fall in love with you again, but I’ll try to be more open with you.”
“y/n you don’t have to push yourself to open your heart to me when you don’t feel ready. We are partners, so we will work together to make this work. I will also work hard to gain your trust and be someone that you can be comfortable around.”
“That’s… right.” You gave a small smile, he really is so kind and understanding of your feelings.
“I love you, but I don’t want my feelings to burden you. If there comes a day when you feel like I’m not right for you anymore…, then just let me know. I won’t try to keep you by my side.”
“... What about you? We are engaged, we had the intention of spending the rest of our lives together. Will you be okay?” He said it with such ease it put a bad taste in your mouth.
“No, I won’t be okay.” Haknyeon’s eye trialed down looking at his hands. “It hurts to even think about you not being with me. But I don’t want you to stay with me because you feel burdened by my feelings, but because you love me. Knowing that you stayed because of guilt or pity, that would hurt more than just letting you go. If being with me only makes you unhappy, you might even come to resent me and that’s the last thing I want.”
His voice had a slight tremble to it. He brought his hands up to cover his eyes, apologizing. You wanted to do something, but you weren’t sure what you could do to comfort him.
“Don’t apologize, I understand. Let’s… just try to live life in the moment and instead of worry about what could happen in the future, we can try to make the best of the present.” Maybe your words were a little hypocritical, but you would try your damndest to live up to them. Haknyeon sniffles and nods at your words, still covering his eyes. He inhales deeply.
“I’m okay I’m okay.” You weren’t sure if he was saying that to you or himself. He rubs at his eyes then pulls his hands away and tries to give you a reassuring smile. This was a truly pitiable man.
“Alright alright, let’s stop being so depressing right now. Um, question. I’ve been wondering how you were able to avoid me so easily?” This is a little more light-hearted, right?
“Oh, well you are a pretty deep sleeper, and I figured out your sleeping schedule a long time ago, well at least when you aren’t working.”
“What about the shower?”
“We have showers at the dance studio, so I would just take a bunch of clothes.”
“So sneaky.” You say playfully while pouting your lips.
“Hey, I’m about as sneaky as you.”
“I feel like that doesn’t really help your case.”
“...Touche. You are pretty sneaky too.”
“Oh my goodness, before I forget! My parents are coming over tomorrow around noon, sorry for not telling you.”
“Oh actually, your mom texted me and told me.” You give him an inquisitive look.
“Are you close with my parents?”
“Not to brag but they kinda love me.” Haknyeon displayed a smug smile on his face.
“Ha, really now? We’ll have to see about that.” You yawned after those words. You weren’t too tired yet, but you figured it’s better to sleep now and wake up early, to get the house in order, for your parents' visit. “I think I’m gonna go crash now. I need to wake up early and clean up the house a little bit before my parents come.”
“I can help you then.” You smiled at the offer.
“Thanks.” You stood up stretching in place, needless to say between the two of you sleeping together in the same bed was a little too intimate, though you still felt bad about making him sleep on the bed all this time. I’ll make it up to him soon! “Also, if you didn’t get to eat yet there are still some leftovers in the fridge.”
“I ate before I got here.” Courtesy of Hyunjae, he thought food would cheer Haknyeon up and give him a little more time to think.
“Mh, Good night then.” You got out of his way so he could take the couch.
“Goodnight, y/n.” You were comforted by the gentle smile he showed you. Maybe we can make this work. You turned your back to him going upstairs to your room. Plopping yourself on the bed, you moved around making yourself comfortable, pulling the blanket over you.
Sleep did not take long to come to you, but it wouldn’t be peaceful.
You jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath. You could only be thankful that the nightmare wasn’t related to that incident. Fully awake now you felt hyper-aware of everything. The hum of the a/c and rustling of the leaves blowing in the wind, the shadows that danced across the room walls from the window, and how small you felt in this big bed.
You check your phone for the time, 1:26 a.m., and decided that you couldn’t sleep up here tonight. Sitting up and moved closer to the big window, looking out into the living room where you saw Haknyeon sleeping cramped on the couch. Crawling out of bed you take the comforter and your phone with you. You didn’t have any intention of waking Haknyeon up, seeing and hearing the presence of another person around you was enough to calm you down. You quietly laid the blanket out close to the couch.
Laying in one half you use the other half to cover your body. It wasn’t as comfortable as the bed, but you felt better as you listened to Haknyeon’s soft breathing. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, relaxing, letting yourself slowly fall back to sleep.
***
Haknyeon turned on the couch, well, as much as he could. Moving positions was a hassle and tended to wake him up for a bit. After turning he laid there for a few seconds then let a deep sigh through his nose out, restroom. Shifting up he gets off the couch, eyes almost closed as he tries to make his way to the restroom. He didn’t expect to trip and fall on the ground, completely waking him from his stupor.
“Owww.” A groan came out from the object he tripped on and out popped, y/n’s head from under the blanket, sending a frown to Haknyeon. He squints his eyes trying to focus on you, making sure he isn’t still dreaming. His eyes went wide when he realized you were actually there and he scrambled to his feet, going to your side.
“Oh my God, honey, uh, y/n, I’m sorry!” Well, you were fully up again, and it didn’t feel like you got any more sleep.
“It’s whatever, I’m fine,” you say with a pout. Haknyeon could tell he upset you and he felt terrible. Who wouldn’t be upset about being kicked while sleeping, even if it was an accident? “Are you okay?”
“Huh, oh yeah, I think so.” He smiled apologetically at you. It was an accident so you couldn’t stay mad especially when he looked at you like that.
“Why did you wake up?” Haknyeon wondered why that was important right now, but he still answered you.
“I needed to use the bathroom.”
“Go then.”
“Eh?”
“Go. I’ll still be here when you get back.” You looked like you accepted your fate of getting little sleep tonight. Haknyeon left for the bathroom and you sat up, uncovering yourself. You take the comforter and spread it across the floor. You go to get the pillows left in your room, bringing them downstairs.
The living room still bathed in darkness, you made your way back to the makeshift bed, placing the pillows a reasonable distance from each other. Taking one spot, you lay back down waiting for Haknyeon. When he comes out of the bathroom he sees you laying there looking off to space.
"What's going on? Why did you come down here?" He says as he walks up to your laying body and looks down at you.
"I had a nightmare…"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, I'm fine and don't worry it wasn't about that. I was just a little scared to sleep alone after it…" Okay, that was way more embarrassing to say out loud than I thought.
"And what about that?" He points at the pillow next to yours.
"Well, I was hoping that you would keep me company and I figured that the floor would be better than our small couch. You don't have to sleep like a sardine over here." The last part sounded like you were trying to convince him, which sounded a little funny to him.
"Are you sure? This is like the same as sharing a bed isn't it?"
"No, it's not, we're on the floor. Plus my pillow is here and yours is over there, they aren't exactly next to each other." The mental gymnastics you went through to try and differentiate the two. Haknyeon wouldn't argue it if you were comfortable with it.
"Alright, let me get some blankets." Haknyeon goes to the small storage closet and pulls out two blankets. Walking back he takes the spot across from you, handing you a blanket and awkwardly laying down. "Can you not fall asleep?" You both cover yourselves.
"Hmm, I think I was asleep for a while, but then there was the nightmare. After that, it took me a long time to fall asleep. Then you woke me up, but it honestly felt like I didn't even get an extra second of sleep. So, I feel like I'm completely awake right now."
"Sorry."
"It was an accident, I forgive you." You turn your body to the side facing Haknyeon. "Anyways, can we talk for a bit? If you're tired it's fine, we don't have to."
"Lucky you. I also happen to be very awake right now. What did you want to talk about?"
"I don't really know much about you. Tell me about yourself."
"Be more specific."
"Uh, like your favorite color or your hobbies." Haknyeon smiled, these questions were like basic first date questions. He answered your questions thoughtfully, both of you having moments where you went on long tangents, hours passing you both by without notice. The sun starts to peek through the horizon, making the room brighter little by little, going unnoticed as you both happily chat with each other.
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oidheadh-con-culainn · 3 years ago
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What are the major details that confused you about the Hound blurb? The major one that stood put to me was the "way of the farmer opposed to the sword" thing which felt very...un-Cú Chulainn. Also, if you don't mind expanding further, which details didn't you question/be confused by?
and also for anon:
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okay so it is like. 2am so there are not going to be any sources here but i can't sleep so here goes!! i will go through this blurb line by line and give youse my thoughts
In 50 BCE,
reasonable. this is roughly the right time period for when the ulster cycle is set. maybe marginally earlier than i'd place cú chulainn, but i'm talking a few years, nothing to get worked up about.
Morrigan, the goddess of war,
fine. normally i'm wary of pantheonising impulses with regard to irish characters (almost none of them can be identified as a god of anything in particular, it doesn't work like that) but tbh the morrigan is like, the most plausible exception to that, so whatever. normally her name has the definite article attached to it because it's kind of a species term as well but whatevs.
has become restless as a long-lasting peace settles over Ireland.
dubious. closest i can think of to peace being reference in any texts is togail bruidne da derga talking about conaire mor's reign being like, prosperous and peaceful and whatever, and even there you've got díberg (plundering/reaving) which is what eventually fucks him over and starts the otherworldly hell spiral situation. that's roughly the right period here but conaire's doom proves you don't have to do much to nudge peace into war, and connacht and ulster are at each other's throats for years before cú chulainn comes on the scene anyway
Deciding the time of peace must end, she chooses Setanta, the nephew of the king of the north, to become her ward.
hmm. i mean. like, this isn't the WEIRDEST choice they could have made. it's still completely made-up, don't get me wrong -- cú chulainn has a lot of different foster parents in different texts and they don't agree with each other but none of them ever mentions the morrígan. but like, they do have a connection of some sort, as evidenced by their conversations. and there's that one moment in the r1 boyhood deeds where little cú chulainn is out on the battlefield and hears her (not sure which name is used here) calling out to him and it like. motivates him to do some deeds or whatever, and i guess you could extrapolate that into some kind of teaching capacity.
so like. could be weirder. if you're gonna pick anyone, you could do worse. still seems weird to me! but not on its own a major issue, i could get past this and consider it a Fun But Unorthodox Creative Decision
(the fact that she tries to seduce him in the táin probably wouldn't get in the way of this considering sleeping with his teachers/foster-mothers is far from unheard of where cú chulainn is concerned)
After a young Setanta slays the demon-hound of Cullan, he becomes known as Cú Cullan—The Hound of Cullan.
weird spelling choices, they could have at least bothered to use the genitive properly. also the hound isn't a demon, it's a ferocious watchdog -- making it sound all Otherworldly and Hellish like this kinda confuses the issue of why he would need to take its place. he needs to take its place because the cattle and people still need protecting because it is a watchdog!! but whatevs, again, it's a brief summary so they can't exactly give us all the details and this is not actively objectionable
As Cú Cullan grows older, it is apparent that an extraordinary power lies within him … and a great darkness.
ugh boring. this makes it sound like he's going to be ~tortured~ and angsty about it. give me an unapologetic murder teen please. is the ríastrad dark? sure i guess, if you're going to be boring about it. it's more like, grotesque neon in my head
When he chooses the quiet life of a farmer over the sword,
this would fucking never happen on like five different levels. obviously like anyone who has ever read anything about cú chulainn can see that this is not in his nature. he is never going to choose a quiet life. this is the kid who tricked his way into taking arms before everyone thought he was ready. also juxtaposed with the "darkness" comment makes it sound like he would Angst his way into this quiet life which. again. have you seen this kid. he is an unapologetic murder teen
the only thing i can think of that might make him temporarily want to walk away is connla's death which... depends where you position that in the timeline really, he does seem a bit fucked up by it and maybe he'd want a holiday although i can see that lasting precisely 5 minutes before someone pissed him off enough for him to murder them. but if he's being raised by the morrígan i can't see him going to train with scáthach so then he'd never meet aífe and therefore connla would never be born so that wouldn't happen. so like. whatever.
but also like. he would not become a farmer. he just wouldn't! it doesn't work! the ireland of the stories is super hierarchical, right? and this blurb has already fucking told us that he's the king's nephew (canon) so we can tell that being a farmer is Not His Place. when we see upper class figures becoming menial labourers in texts, like in cath maige tuired, it's because Things Are Fucked, Shit's Gone Wrong. people don't just decide to change their entire social class on a whim lmfao
if cú chulainn really wanted to turn his back on being a warrior he could probably make recourse to certain other Suitable Professions ... his grandad's a druid so he might have a route into that, though his dad's not so that might fuck things up a bit bc it's one of those things that's usually inherited. he does give "wisdom" in at least one text though and we also know he can write (he carves riddles in ogham in the táin) and he composes verses on various occasions so idk, maybe something in a poetic direction, though again, usually requires two generations of inheritance to be a real poet and not just a lower-class bard. warrior's kinda the main thing he's got open to him tbh. but farming? i'm not a legal expert but as far as i'm aware based on what i have read, that would fuck shit up
more likely an upset cú chulainn would just go off in search of an adventure somewhere conveniently far away until he'd calmed down (alba, or the tyrrhenian sea, or -- if we're going to get early modern about it -- somewhere like india, which frequently gets thrown into the texts with absolutely no cultural context and it's always hilarious)
Morrigan, angry at the betrayal,
of the entire social order, yes,
instigates an invasion of his homeland
i mean. if they intend this to be the táin then.... táin bó regamna does kinda make the morrígan responsible for it? not in the sense of triggering the pillow talk argument that it's in the book of leinster -- it's her getting up to her usual cow-nicking behaviours for shits and giggles. [note to readers: it is probably for more than shits and giggles but did i mention it's 2am]
but all in all, not particularly out of character that she would be at least some way responsible for this so i can vibe with this. echtra nerai also supports the TBR explanation with her fucking around with otherworldly cows and pissing people off so, yeah, whatever. the morrígan engineered this. sure.
and Cú Cullan must challenge fate itself
this is probably a controversial stance but fate feels like a difficult concept to apply to medieval irish texts. like are people sometimes Doomed? yes. there are prophecies, there are gessi, there's all manner of otherworldly fuckery that can trip you up. is that the same thing as fate? no idea. considering cú chulainn comes out alive from the táin though and his doom prophecies don't catch up to him for like, at least another decade, maybe 16 years depending on who you listen to, hard to see how that would apply here
to keep the goddess at bay.
again like she IS causing fuckery in the táin but also it's like... one time. really not the main character. but she or maybe just some crows, hard to say, do get implicated in the death tale so maybe they're doing what people often do and conflating the two? even though there's like 10-16 years in between them?
anyway as you can see i don’t think it’s wholly terrible / i’m not completely thinkshaming it. like, having cú chulainn raised by the morrígan is unorthodox but it could be a fun and creative direction so i don't object to it. making cú chulainn get sad about murder and choose to be a farmer is just fucking laughable tho, and makes me doubt their characterisations in general. so that's offputting and would probably make me think twice about buying it, if that had ever been on the cards.*
and of course sure, their cú chulainn can be a Sad Boy Who Likes Sheep, but that means he's not the cú chulainn of medieval irish lit / irish myth, because that cú chulainn is a feral murder teen who keeps killing his friends and also is way too high social status to ever be a farmer, and whose only relationship to livestock is as the watchdog who kills anyone trying to harm them (which is an important role on a farm! but like. not the same thing as Being A Farmer. mostly because it involves more murder and is essentially just an extension of his role as a warrior. or rather the other way around. he promises to protect mag muirthemne as a watchdog and this like. gets extended into him becoming its sole defender)
this has been my analysis of this blurb i hope you enjoyed it
it's now 2.30am i should try and sleep now that i've exorcised a few thoughts from my head
*as i mentioned in the tags of my other post, i don't tend to read graphic novels due to disability stuff. they're much harder for me to understand and follow than prose, to the point where some are incomprehensible, so i don't really enjoy them. there are a few i've read, but they tend to be short ones, and i'm usually not reading them in order, just admiring the art separately from the text. so it's unlikely i would read a graphic novel of this size anyway.
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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago
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Ginger Snap, Chapter 2
A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP.  But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster.  Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.
For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr.  See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.
Oh, and funny story.  When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”.  If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is.  The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events.  I have yet to set anything on fire, though.
I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.  
Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus.  Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip. 
When I finally reached the address, I had to smile.  No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering.  Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services.  The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day.  Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.
A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial.  She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor.  I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.
“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down...  aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye?  Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here.  Alright, soon.”
The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.
“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting.  What can I do fer ye t’day?”
Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.
“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly.  Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”
Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.  
“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.”  At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor.  Would you mind if I took a closer look?”
Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal.  Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever.  If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.
“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass.  He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent.   Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”
My stomach jumped.  “Wee Jamie?  Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”
“Aye, tis his nephew.  I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny.  Ye ken my brother, then?”
The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.
“We’ve spoken before,” I explained.  “I’m Claire Beauchamp.  You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday.  I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”
Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance.  She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston.  Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie.  I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.
After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work.  I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself.   As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class?  My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche.  Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”
Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck.  My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning.  I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.
I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left.  A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips.  Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy.  She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.
“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.
“Claire Beauchamp.  Pleased to meet you.”
“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?”  At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”
Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.
“Good afternoon, everyone.  Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day.  I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”
Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body.  He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch.  I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.
“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures.  “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”
I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe.  Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation.  Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others.  I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time.  The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan.  I was inordinately proud of myself.
Things went very badly, very fast.  First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands.  To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.  
A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind.  My pie crust!  Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan.  Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.  
Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class.   We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke.  With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water.  A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls.  I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.
“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”
I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision.   She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking.  It looked like a magazine cover.  Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.
While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better.  She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness.  Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion.  Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated.  She was also a hard-core gossip.
“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair.  “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty.  They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”
I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display.  I suppose I couldn’t blame her.  I wasn’t here for the quiche either.
The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended.  I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment.  Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.
“Ms. Beauchamp!”
I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.
“Please, call me Claire.  After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”
Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.
“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama.  Will ye be joining us next week?  We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”
“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk.  “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook.  It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”
“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity.  “Tis an art.  Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”
“Perhaps it is.  But in that case, I may as well give up now.  I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”
His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly.  Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.
“I canna say as I agree.  Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”
I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting.  He knew about Frank.  He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake!  Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft.  Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.
“I’ll take that under advisement.  Thank you again, Jamie.”
“Until the next time, Arsonist.”
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notmrskennedy · 4 years ago
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The List
(Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral?Reader)
A/N - In order to curb the crushing weight of being bested by a vacuum cleaner at work and stressing about my calc test, I’m posting this. I hope you all like it as much as the last one. Y’all are just the fuckin sweetest. 
Also, this was inspired by @definitelynotkatesblog and her awesome work Something to Cry About. It’s the cutest freakin thing. 
Summary - A little list on what makes Reader fall asleep at night...
Word Count - 2.2k
Warnings - swearing, but what’s new?
----
1. A Podcast Episode on Epicurus and the Hellenistic Age
“Spencer, christ,” you laugh, fluffing your curls. “I can assure you that I am not touchy and sharing a bed won’t kill us.”
Spencer fidgets in his spot in the doorway, crossing his arms to keep from shaking too much. Is it wrong to be jealous of your casualness surrounding this? Is it wrong to wish away that massive crush he’s got? Just at least for one night—pretty please with a cherry on top.
You wait with a half raised eyebrow at the side of the bed he clearly doesn’t sleep on. Your hand poised above the comforter like it’ll make his decision any quicker. Like you can’t see the turmoil that has to be written across his face.
Because what does this mean? What does it mean to sleep in the same bed with your best friend for the first time? What if you end up snuggled up in the morning? Is that bad? Is that good? Is he totally secretly wishing that’ll happen and spur you in falling in love with him just as much as he’s fallen for you?
He glances one more time between your calm eyes, the made bed, the clock, the giant college t-shirt you’re wearing, finally back to your face. He nods. Adds in a dash of blushing. A teaspoon of agreeing words.
You shake your head, smile at him like he’s an idiot—though he supposes he is with you—and wrench the covers back. Like you belong. He wants you to belong.
There’s still time to back out and sleep on the couch. Does he really want to?
He wills his feet forward. Tries to tell himself that this is just like every night. Sets his watch on the nightstand, plugs his phone in, slips into the covers.
“Hey, bud?”
He hums as he turns his head to look over at you. He’s still sat up in bed, hand poised over his stack of books. Are you going to tell him to turn out the light?
You smile, shifting your weight ever so slightly. You’re the restless sort and he wonders how you work the boring middle management job that you do. Pulling your lips back into a nervous smile, you gently say, “I can’t fall asleep to the quiet, do you mind if—“
“Do you want me to read to you?”
He hopes the excitement goes unnoticed. It seems to as you chuckle. “I wish it would work. You’re too interesting, Spencer Reid. Podcasts on Hellenistic philosophy however—do you mind if I listen? It won’t be too loud.”
He shakes his head. “Not at all.” Never for you.
“Thanks, Spence,” you chirp through a stifled yawn. And as you turn the podcast on and flip over to press tightly onto the pillow, you say, “and don’t worry. I promise I keep to my side of the bed.”
And unlike the liar he wishes you are, he wakes up to find that you are very true to your word.
2. Discovery Chanel, Documentary on Revolving Door Manufacturing
He’s never seen you cry before. You make it a point to keep saying between sobs, “I hate crying in front of other people. I’m so sorry.”
He can’t fathom why it’s you that’s sorry, not after you asked him to pick you up from your mother’s. The same mother who’s apparently found it within her purview to explain just how much she hates you over a nice dinner. He’s buzzing with anger on your behalf—anger that clearly isn’t shared, though he knows it’ll come later.
It takes roughly 20 minutes to get you over the hill, trading tears for tissues. Snot for begrudging smiles at his bad jokes. He’s promised himself that he will listen—for once in his goddamn life—to your whole story without interrupting. You seem to appreciate the sentiment, punctuating the whole experience with asking for one of those hugs that just never ends.
You try to explain it—“like cats, Spencer, you know?”—like he doesn’t already empathise completely.
And weirdly enough, it gets to a point where you two switch positions without breaking the crushing amount of contact you have. It gets to a point where you insist on watching the most boring documentary he’s ever seen on revolving door manufacturing. It gets to a point where you pass out after 15 minutes and turn over into his chest.
He doesn’t dare move. Not until he’s effectively sure you won’t be waking up anytime soon. Spencer falls asleep with your soft breath fanning across his chest and his hands tangled in your hair.
5. A Librivox Recording of ‘The Five Orange Pips’
Now this is ridiculous. And he says as much as you roll your eyes. You’re both sweaty and exhausted and he’s sure he’s never met someone who looked this awake after a romp at one AM. Your eyes are twinkling the same way someone does after they’ve run a mile and feel like they need to run another. You’ve got energy and he can’t fathom it.
“Spencer,” you whine, falling back into the bedsheets. It’s really the first official time you’ve spent at his house as more than a friend—much more. He’s gotten accustomed, understanding even, to the little podcasts you listen to to fall asleep. There’s no sense in understanding your sleeping habits, not yet at least, but he understands the boring, droning voices you let lull you to sleep.
But this! Sherlock Holmes?
“Y/n, I literally have the story on my bookshelf. I could read it to you if you’re so choosy!” he mirrors your position with a huff, already reaching out to drag you over into his side. The feel of your skin is addictive. The safest kind of high he can get. The only one he really wants.
You pout, sticking out your lip. It’s adorable and breaks the tweak of frustration resting hard in his features. “Love-bug, with you talking to me, I’d never fall asleep. It just doesn’t work like that and I don’t make the rules.”
“Fine,” he mutters, effectively pulling you close enough you can share the one pillow. You giggle, kiss his nose, and reach behind you for your phone. It takes five seconds for the Librivox recording to start and he realises that as he listens to the intro, he’s already dropping off. It’s understandable—he guesses—but he hopes that one day you’ll pick a story he hasn’t read already.
9. News in Slow Spanish
Listening to you get ready for bed will never be tiring, Spencer thinks. Not when he’s playing a game with himself. He’s so terrible at guessing what you’ll choose to listen to. There’s never any rhyme or reason. Never a solid thought process that he can decipher. He’s kept to making a list—half because he likes lists, half because he wonders how long it’ll get.
Four months in and he’s at number 9—more or less.
This one shocks him though. Has him poking his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. You’re pulling your hair out of a pony tail, humming along to the intro music for a newscast in Spanish. Do you speak Spanish?
“Sugar plum—“ he loves every weird nickname you’ve given him over the months— “I can hear the whine of your brain from here.”
It’s then you turn to really look at him. Smirking. Gleaming in the shadows of the bathroom light. Wearing nothing more than a sports bra and shorts. His mouth runs dry as he tries to keep his thoughts present and clean.
He takes the toothbrush from his mouth. You giggle as he speaks through the spit. “Do you speak Spanish?”
“I must not talk about work enough,” you mutter to yourself, slipping into bed. Like you belong. “My entire job is setting up relationships between the hotel company I work for and Latin American, well, anything. Hotels, river cruises, restaurants—I speak Spanish more than I do English some weeks.”
He nods, finishes brushing his teeth to process the thought. No, you don’t talk about work enough, and he’s suddenly worried about what you don’t talk about. It suddenly feels suffocating. Like he doesn’t know a single thing about you. Like he’s never known anything about you.
But as you drag yourself into his side once he’s beside you, as you kiss his cheek and settle in, he’s reminded that he doesn’t need to know everything to care. For you to care back. There’s enough time in the world to figure out all the other stuff. He’s content to learn as it comes. Appreciate every new thing he can get his hands on.
And, hey, if you listen to this podcast enough, he might learn Spanish too.
11. Whose Line is it Anyway? Reruns
“No, absolutely not. I’m putting the kibosh on this. The applause will drive me wild. Please, y/n, anything else.”
15. Spencer
If there hadn’t been a nightmare involved, it wouldn’t have been as terrifying to find you not in bed. To hear the door latch click with someone’s arrival. Or someone’s departure.
He’s out of bed before he can process. Before his brain can calm down enough to remind him that it’s fine. That there’s no way a burglar is going to be as loud as you’re being in the next room over.
He jumps out of the bedroom, ready to strangle the intruder with his bare hands, when you give a startled shout, “Jesus christ!” 
Spencer settles. Realises that it’s just you in a sweatshirt and slippers. You look utterly exhausted in the dim light of the apartment. Fidgeting and restless despite the slump to your shoulders. He vaguely wonders if he should make you a pot of coffee to calm you down.
The world catches up to him and he slumps into the wall. Is it so wrong to be this decidedly tired after a nightmare that he could’ve sworn wasn’t coming back? The two of you stare each other down, both equally apprehensive to the other for decidedly similar reasons.
Spencer’s entire body is beginning to light on fire. He doesn’t want to burn you in the process.
You’re buzzing and tired and angry and there’s no reason to take any of that out on him.
“Can’t sleep?” he finally prompts.
You scrub your hands over your face, fluff your curls, in response. “I walked the stairs four times, bug. I’m so—“
“Frustrated?”
“Yes.”
He nods his head, waves you over. You half heartedly trudge over to him, lean your head into his chest and feel at least a tiny amount of frustration drift away. He pulls you both back to bed—he can’t believe he’s functioning this well, but maybe it’s just because he’s fulfilling the need to think about anything else. There’s a hesitance as you lay back down and he knows that you’ve probably tried everything. That you don’t believe you’ll get any sleep at 2:45 in the morning.
“You’ve worked through the list then?” he asks. Your eyebrows pinch as you settle onto your side, giving him your full attention. “The things that make you fall asleep,” he clarifies, “you know, that list.”
“Do you—do you keep a list?” your voice is almost judgemental, but decidedly too curious. He nods. “I’ve never had anyone care that much.”
“So where are you at?” he says instead. There’s too much to unpack. Too much for his still swimming brain. He needs something concrete. “What’ve you tried?”
You go through your list, letting every inch of agony you’ve faced for the last four hours creep over your face. Spencer watches as you turn over one more time and groan into the pillow. “I think I’d rather just suffocate at this rate.”
He chuckles. “Stop being dramatic. Come here, let me try something.”
“But—“
“Just—please, y/n?” he doesn’t understand your refusal to trust him sometimes—it’s always about such strange things, like how he does the dishes or what brand of milk to buy. You scoot over to him, settle into his chest with an indignant huff. As if you aren’t tightening around him like a vice.
He clears his throat, drags his fingers softly up and down your spine, and picks the most boring thing—for you at least—he can think of to recite: quantum physics. He feels you relax after a minute. Your eyes close and your nose sinks a little deeper into his shirt. It takes nearly two chapters to get you to zonk out. Long enough that he’s worried you were right, that he was just too interesting for you. Even if he was reciting quantum physics literature.
He keeps droning for a little time after he thinks you must be—have to be—asleep. And just as he settles, just as his eyes are closing and he could drift off peacefully, he doesn’t miss the ever quiet, ever gentle words, “You’re too interesting, Spence, too goddamn interesting.”
You roll over, your back pressed against his side. He wants to laugh. He doesn’t, just ends up dreaming of something nearly as peaceful as falling asleep beside you.
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firefly464 · 4 years ago
Text
The Real World - Chapter 9
:insert eyes emoji here because shits about to get real:
@i-have-this-now​ wrote the last part because she’s great and amazing and wonderful :D
Master Post
First - Previous - Next
~~~
Wilbur sat in his office, staring at his computer screen in dismay. It had been roughly a week since him and Tubbo had gone and visited Tommy. Roughly a week since his friend's panic attack. A week since Tommy had started acting differently. His friend had been acting secretive all week, almost terrified in a strange way. He acted as if no one could see the way he flinched at loud noises, or the fearful look in his eyes whenever someone came too close. He had fumbled around with the phone, as if not even knowing how to use it. He had talked to Dream in an almost pleading tone, begging for… something, and Will didn’t know what it was. He had never seen his friend acting like that before. 
His hand traced over the long scar on his arm that Tommy had given him during his panic attack. He didn’t blame his friend at all for the wound, in fact it was mostly his own fault for trying to comfort him. At that moment, it had been clear that Tommy hadn’t actually been seeing him. He had seen someone, or something else. In Wilbur’s concern for his friend, he had reached out to comfort him, despite the fact that he knew it was a bad idea. 
His stupidity had earned him a long, jagged cut down the side of his forearm from the pencil that Tommy had been wielding as a weapon. He had jerked back with a hiss of pain. “Get the fuck away from me! I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Tommy had screamed. 
Tubbo took a small step forward, his hands out in front of him comfortingly “Tommy, you’re ok, I promise. No one is going to hurt you.” His voice was soft and calm, as if he was talking to a wild animal. Based on the look in Tommy’s eyes, it wasn’t too far off from the truth. 
Tommy’s blue eyes had snapped over to Tubbo, as if trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. “Tubbo? Tubbo you need to run! He’s going to kill you, he’s going to fucking kill you and burn our home to the ground!” 
“Hey, it's all right. I’m fine, see? No one is going to kill me.”
Desperately, Tommy grabbed his friend's shoulders, trying to get it through Tubbo’s head that he needed to run. “You don’t get it. H-He’s going to kill all of you. You need to find the others and warn them. I can’t… I can’t fucking lose you.”
“Tommy, take a deep breath. You’re safe. I promise that we’re both safe.”
“But Dream-” he shuttered, a wave of sobs running through him, “God this is my fault. Why the fuck did I listen to him? Now you’re all going to fucking die because of me!” 
Wilbur stared intently at the scar on his arm, trying to figure out what the hell Tommy had meant. Clearly, Dream had done something to him. But what? What had he done that was so terrible, it had caused the boy to collapse over a simple video clip? Will had rewatched the clip several times, trying to pinpoint exactly what could have possibly triggered the terrible PTSD. He had found nothing.
After WIlbur and Tubbo had left Tommy’s house, it had seemed like things were slowly but surely returning back to normal. Tommy had quickly gone from acting as if he knew nothing about the world around him or how to do anything, to slowly but surely returning to his old, chipper self. Even so, it didn’t feel right. Something was still wrong. His jokes all felt forced, his smiles all fake. Whenever they were in a call together, his words all felt carefully planned out, as if he were scared of saying something wrong. No one brought up his outburst, but it was clear that they were all thinking about it. 
At one point, Tubbo had hesitantly suggested that Tommy get on the DreamSMP, clearly scared of triggering another panic attack. 
However, Tommy had just gone silent, before very quietly saying, “What…?” His voice had been filled with a hesitant hope. Hope for what, Will didn’t know. But it was something that he hadn’t heard in his friend's voice all week, and he wasn’t going to question it. 
“The SMP? The server?” “How do I… How do I do that?” He had asked quietly.
Tubbo had ended up walking his friend through the entire process of getting online, never once asking why or sounding annoyed. It was clear how important this was to Tommy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin it by teasing. 
As Tommy had logged onto the server, the discord call was silent. No one spoke as he spun in a slow circle, taking in everything around him. Not a word was muttered as he cautiously moved around. The only sound that could be heard were the quiet sobs being picked up by his mic.
“Home…” He had whispered quietly, the sound just barely loud enough to be picked up over discord. 
God, none of it made any sense. None of it made any damn sense, and just thinking about it made Wilbur’s head hurt. Tommy acted as though he was an entirely different person. At first, Will had just attributed his strange behavior to PTSD. A strange way of coping after whatever hell he had gone through. But now… Now he wasn’t so sure. Tommy was recovering far too quickly for it to be merely PTSD. So what the hell was going on? He needed to talk to Tubbo. They needed answers.
~~~
The next day, Tommy was sitting in front of his computer, staring at the walls of L’manberg. Looking at it made his chest hurt with homesickness, but it was his only connection to his old life. It may not have been as impressive as the real thing, but it was still beautiful in its own right. Ever since the others had shown him the server, he had spent most of his time on it. He hadn’t exactly done anything, but simply walking around the familiar lands of his home felt calming. 
A ring sounded from his computer, making him jump. It took him a couple seconds to calm down enough to register that it was only an incoming call, and not any sort of attack. With a slightly trembling hand, he answered. 
Silence. “Hello?” he asked, trying to see what was going on. 
“Hey Tommy.” Tubbo’s voice was reserved, almost nervous in a way. Tommy could feel his muscles tense. The last time he had heard his friend speak like this was during the war. Something had happened. Something must have happened.
“What's wrong? Are you ok? Did something bad happen?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on. 
“What? No, no. We just uh… We just wanted to ask you something.”
“I mean, go for it…? Are you sure everything is alright?” 
“We’re fine. Tommy, I want you to answer me honestly, got it?” Wilbur’s voice cut interrupted his rampaging thoughts. Thoughts of how his friends were hurt. Thoughts of what had gone wrong. Thoughts of how Dream might have gotten to them… “Tommy, what happened to you?”
“I told you already. I don’t remember,” he replied half heartedly, his mind elsewhere. 
“I think we all know that isn’t true. Tommy, what did Dream do?”
That brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. What did they know? How did they figure it out? What had he done wrong? “W-what? What do you mean?” 
“Alright, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tommyinit wasn’t this shit of a liar. He was bad at it, yeah, but at least he could lie without sounding like a moron. I’m going to ask this once, and I expect a straight answer. Who the hell are you?” 
Tommy felt like his blood had frozen in his veins. They knew, they fucking knew. Dream was going to kill him. Dream was going to follow through with his threat. “I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wilbur ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. If you aren’t going to give us a straight answer, I might as well ask Dream himself.”
“NO!” He screamed. If Will went and asked Dream, then Dream would think that Tommy had snitched. Then, who knows what would happen. “Please don’t talk to Dream about it. Please.” 
Will had already left the call.
~~~
“Yeah, you’re right, chat. Hold on let me check if he’s online,” Eret said, switching browsers from Minecraft to Discord. “Yep, he’s in VC 3 with Tubbo.” 
Eret clicked on the voice chat. He tried to talk yet Tubbo cut him off. “Oh fuck, we aren’t in a private VC.”
“Sorry, a wha-”
“Er… Hello?” Eret said. The two of them suddenly stopped talking. “So, what’re you two up to?”
“...Eret?” Tommy said, it sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Am I intruding on something? I can go if you’d like.” Eret replied, hoping to lighten the tension on the situation. Eret’s twitch chat was going insane, spamming questions and shouting. Eret wasn’t really focused on the chat.
“Hold on, I think we should go to a privat-” Tubbo spoke but was cut off.
“No, that- that’s not right- I- you fucking-” Tommy started, and was immediately removed from the VC. Tubbo also exited the VC seconds after.
“It is actually getting a bit late here so I guess it’s time to end the stream.” Eret tried to make an excuse to end the stream. “I’ll see you later guys. I love you all so much, thank you for all the support this stream. I think I’m gonna be streaming tomorrow? Still not sure. Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. Peace.” 
He quickly exited Twitch and stopped streaming. Tommy sounded… mad? Upset? Scared? Eret didn’t know. He opened Discord and sent a message to Tommy. 
TheEret Today at 8:52 pm
You alright? 
He instantly got a Discord notification back, but it wasn’t from Tommy. 
Tubbo_ Today at 8:52 pm
can we private VC?
TheEret Today at 8:53 pm
sure
The second he sent the message, he got a call from Tubbo. “Hey, Eret.” Tubbo said. “I… I don’t think Tommy’s feeling too well. I’m really not sure what happened.”
“Oh god. Is he okay?” Eret asked, concern creeping into his voice. 
“I- hold on, I’ll dm him and see if he wants to talk.” 
“Alright.”
A few seconds passed. “Oh. Oh no.” Tubbo said.
“Wait, did something happen? What’d he say?” 
“He’s very… mad at you. I- Oh jeez, that’s a lot of messages- I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Do you think it’s because of the SMP? I- you know it was just a bit, right?” Eret asked. Surely, Tommy can’t be mad at him because of a video game right?
“Yeah, yeah, but he’s… he sounds pissed, man. I don’t know wha- Oh. Shit, hold on, he wants to be added in the call. You okay with that?”
Honestly, Eret wasn’t sure. “Uh- yes?”
“Eret.” Tommy’s voice rang through the call. His voice was quiet and stable, unlike his usual self. “What the fuck.”
“I- I’m sorry? I don’t know what I did wrong. Was it the SMP? You know that was a-”
“You could’ve been on the right side of history, Eret. You could’ve-” 
“Tommy, calm-”
“Instead, you chose to loot us and leave us for dead. You chose power. You chose to be with Dream.”
Wait, were they supposed to be in character? Eret just ended his stream, so was Tubbo streaming? Or was it something else?
He immediately switched into character, hoping it was the right move. “Well, it wasn’t hard for me to choose. You were fighting for something futile, something you didn’t guarantee. I chose Dream because you were fighting a losing battle, and I didn’t want to get the short end of the stick.”
Whilst he was talking, Eret sent Tubbo a Discord message.
TheEret Today at 9:12 pm Are you and tommy streaming?
Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm no?
TheEret Today at 9:12 pm so i’m not supposed to be in character?
Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm uhh yeah
Before Eret could wrap his head around the situation, another person joined the call. It was Wilbur. “Dream said you have 48 hours, Tommy wh- wait, why is Eret here?”
Before Eret could respond, he was kicked from the call. He stared at his monitor in stunned silence, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Tommy had seemed so mad at him for his “betrayal,” even though none of them were supposed to be in character. Why was he so upset? And why did Wilbur react to Eret being there in the way that he did? Had he said something wrong? Was there some sort of planned stream that Eret wasn’t told about?
Eret turned off his computer with a sigh. His mind was racing with possibilities of what had just happened and why, but he wouldn’t be able to act on his thoughts until tomorrow. All he could do now was sleep.
~~~ On the other side of the country, a man sat in front of his computer. A sadistic grin sat upon his face as his green eyes pierced through the dim light. “I warned you not to tell them Tommy. Now, it's time to face the consequences of your actions.”
~~~
Master Post
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sapphirestarxx · 4 years ago
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Customer Service
Find it on AO3
SUMMARY: Customer service is a thankless job, a fact Kagome knows well. Customers can be downright nasty; that’s just to be expected. What she isn’t expecting is for one of those customers to get physical or for a handsome and gruff stranger to swoop in and save her. How can she thank him? ONESHOT.
NSFW. SMUT. Lots of smut at the end. 
This is a birthday fic for @lavendertwilight89!! Her birthday isn’t for another couple days but I thought I would post this early after the terrible day she had yesterday. I hope you love it dear!~
Also, thanks go out to @neutronstarchild for helping me brainstorm some ideas out and to @fawn-eyed-girl and @hnn-wnchstr for being kind enough to beta it.
Tag Wall:  @lavendertwilight89 @hnn-wnchstr @cstormsinukagblog @fawn-eyed-girl @ruddcatha @liz8080 @itzatakahashi @kagometaishostory @neutronstarchild @bluejay785​ @ravisk @dangerouspompadour​ @omgitscharlie​ @arcprz​
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Kagome was not having a good day. It had gotten off to a terrible start and showed no signs of improving with the day’s passing.
Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and when her eyes finally opened, she’d only had five minutes to throw on her things before racing out the door, skipping breakfast. She hadn’t gotten very far because her car hadn’t wanted to start and she had fought with it before finally resorting to shocking the engine with her reiki in a last ditch effort. It had appeared to work (much to her surprise) but she had no idea when the effects would wear off or if it would even work again. Not that she had had time to worry about that, because the whole ordeal had made her roughly forty minutes late to work, where she proceeded to receive a lecture on punctuality from her boss, even though she had never been late before. And then, to make matters worse, she had used her entire break trying to call auto places to get her car in. Turns out every nearby place was booked out for the next two weeks because of course they were. So not only had she been unable to schedule an appointment for her car, she hadn’t eaten all day either.
Her car was a mess, her mood was a mess, and her life was a mess. And her store was also a mess. 
Stifling a sigh of frustration, Kagome tucked the wayward strand of black hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear and straightened the apron she was wearing. Just another year… she just had to deal with this job for another year until she finished her Masters in Reiki Manipulation. In the meantime this job was vital for her income. Customer service had never been her first choice but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She had been working at Shikon Styles for roughly four years, give or take a few months. After the first couple years as an associate, she’d been able to work her way up to manager. With that title came the guaranteed hours, benefits, and most importantly-- better pay. Still not even remotely close to what she felt like she deserved considering everything she had to put up with, but wasn’t that always the case?
She finished cleaning up the mess someone had left behind (because no one seemed to know how to pick up after themselves ), and scanned the store to see if any shoppers appeared to need help. Turning her head towards the entrance of the store she saw another customer enter and her heart stuttered in her chest for a few beats. The person who had just walked in was quite possibly the most attractive man that she, Kagome Higurashi, had ever seen in the entire twenty-five years of her life. 
He was tall with a lean but muscular build, the features of his tanned face chiseled and sharp. The effect was softened slightly by a mane of gleaming silver hair that hung all the way to his no doubt perfect ass, but more intriguing to her were the dog ears atop his head; white and fluffy, and her fingers twitched with the need to touch them. And his eyes . Even all the way across the store, the piercing gold of them was unmistakable. When those gold eyes turned her way, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks in equal parts awareness and embarrassment. She couldn’t have been more obvious about checking him out. She also couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his, completely caught in his spell.
His face had been set in a scowl, but at the sight of her blatant staring, the edge of his mouth kicked up, hinting at a smirk. She felt lightheaded for a second, her heart beating faster while butterflies stirred in her stomach. She flushed further, but this time for... other reasons. It was like everything around her had just fallen away and there was only her and him. She wanted to get closer, feeling an almost magnetic pull towards him. It was ridiculous and crazy but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
Her feet started moving his way as she licked her suddenly dry lips in preparation to give some semblance of a greeting, but the sound of one of her employees asking for help over the headset quickly curtailed that plan. 
“Can I have a manager up front please?”
Kagome frowned at the distress in the girl’s voice. Her momentary annoyance was replaced with concern. Normally a bright and cheerful girl, Rin sounded close to tears. The radio picked up the slight sounds of someone raising their voice and once it clicked off, Kagome could actually hear the irate customer from where she stood near the back of the store. Several of the nearby customers were turning their attention towards the source as well. This did not bode well. 
“I’ll be right there,” she responded.
With quick steps Kagome made her way to the registers, mentally preparing herself. With that much yelling, she wasn’t expecting a smooth resolution. As she drew near, she saw that the customer in question had his hands on the counter and was leaning close in a move meant to be intimidating. It was a boar youkai, and she held back a wince; they were not known for their sweet temperament. Rin’s eyes were wide and she had her hands raised in a placating gesture. When she caught sight of Kagome the relief on her face was palpable. Kagome pasted on her customer service smile and came to stand beside the young girl.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem is this bitch won’t give me what I’m asking for! I’m a paying customer, dammit!”
The use of the word bitch had Kagome’s mind screeching to a halt as she stared at him in stunned silence. She'd had lots of customers get nasty before, but few had resorted to actual profanity. Finding her composure again, she attempted a polite expression, even though inside she was seething. How dare this youkai use obscenities, especially at such a sweet girl like Rin! She was one of her best employees and Kagome didn’t care for the way he was trying to bully her.
“There’s no need for such language, sir. I’m the manager here and would like to assist you if possible. What exactly is the issue?”
He scoffed at her rebuke, rolling his eyes, and her blood boiled. Asshole.
“You said you’re the manager?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. Maybe I can actually get some real help from someone competent, who knows how to take care of the customer.”
It was a struggle to keep her fake smile from slipping but she somehow managed. Ugh, she hated this man already. Rin was doing nothing to hide her own expression of displeasure and Kagome couldn’t blame the girl. 
“I’m listening,” she said.
“I’m spending 31,000 yen today but this dumb girl can’t give me any discount. I even have a coupon!! And she tells me you don’t have your gift-with-purchase available anymore and she can’t give me anything in place of it, either! My girlfriend was looking forward to it. You guys never have any left when I come in! This is BULLSHIT!!! I demand SOMETHING!!!”
Ah, profanity again. With more yelling.
“As far as the GWP goes, unfortunately they are only available while supplies last, and if you look closely on the back of the GWP coupon, it says it was only good until the 10th of last month. They tend to only be valid for a week before they end,” Kagome explained with a patience she did not feel.
A month. The man came in a month after it started and expected them to still have any left? She wanted to tell him maybe waiting too long was the reason he was always unable to receive one, but she held her tongue. Instead she reached her hand out for the other coupon he held, already sure of what it was going to say.
“May I see the other coupon, sir?”
He practically threw it at her and she blinked. Okaaaay…this man was seriously getting on her nerves. Feeling like her face was about to crack from the force of faking a pleasant expression, she picked it up and looked at it. Just like that, her customer service persona shattered. Her face went slack in disbelief. She looked up at him and met his angry red eyes.
“Sir...this coupon expired four years ago. On May 2016.”
“So? I’m here now!” He insisted belligerently, his lip curling as a nasty look overtook his face. The tusks on either side of his mouth stood out in sharp relief at his anger.
One thing working in customer service had taught Kagome was the sheer entitlement of some people. It truly baffled her, the things people thought she should do for them. They all thought that an exception should be made for them for whatever reason. You’re not special and the rules do apply to you, she wanted to say to them all.
And honestly, there was a similar public offer currently available on the website, and if he had been nicer maybe she would have mentioned it and taken care of him. But no. He was being a complete asshole so she wasn’t inclined in the slightest to help him in any way. She just wanted him out of her damn store.
“Yes, but the coupon you have is very expired. I’m very sorry but there is nothing I can do for you.”
“That shouldn’t fucking matter! You’re just as useless as that bitch, you damn cunt!!”
Alright, that was it. She was pissed.
“Sir, you need to leave.”
“Excuse me?!” 
“I said you need to leave this store now. We do not tolerate abusive language towards anyone.” There was an edge to her voice now, but she didn’t care anymore. Let him know she was angry. 
“Fine but I’m takin’ all this shit!!” The youkai snatched his haul off the counter after slamming down a few bills and started to stalk towards the doors. A quick glance revealed it wasn’t nearly enough to pay for the items he had grabbed and she rushed after him, cutting him off at the end of the registers. And then her bad day became worse.
“Sir, you still nee--” 
That was as far as she got before he pushed her roughly. She hadn’t been expecting to be physically assaulted and the move caught her off guard. Stumbling backwards, she fell hard on her side. There were gasps from her employees and the other onlookers. What the hell?!
“Out of my way! You want me to pay for them then give me my discount, bitch!!” He spat over her form.
Kagome was so angry she was literally shaking. Her breath was coming in pants and her reiki was beginning to swirl around her in a cloud in response to her strong emotions. If she thought she’d been pissed before, it was nothing compared to the rage that now coursed through her veins. 
“How dare you!!!” Rin was yelling at him while rushing over to her side.
Don’t zap him, don’t zap him, don’t zap him. Kagome chanted it like a mantra in her head, trying to tamp down the urge to fry the asshole with her power. You need the money, so far the only one here at fault is him. Don’t touch him
“You just gonna lay there like the pathetic bitch you are?”
Fuck it.
Pushing herself to her feet, Kagome was prepared to rain down fury on this customer, consequences be damned. Rin helped her up, then gasped, tightening her grip on Kagome’s arm. Kagome looked up to see what had elicited the sound of surprise from her employee. If this asshole had done anything else… Her eyes grew wide, the death glare slipping from her face as shock replaced it.
The hot guy from earlier was there and holding the nasty customer by the throat. It was a testament to his strength how he was able to lift the youkai off the floor with his grip alone. 
“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” The boar youkai wheezed around the man’s grip on his neck. The merchandise he had been about to make off with lay at his feet in a pile.
 "You need to leave. Now. She's been nothin’ but nice while you've been a total dick. Get the fuck out," he replied in a dangerously low voice.
“I barely touched her.”
“You shouldn’t have touched her at all. Period.”
“Let go of me!”
“Are ya gonna leave?”
“Yes!” 
The sound was pitiful but Kagome couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry for him. She was still shaking slightly from the sheer force of the anger that had gripped her moments earlier. Her temper was now fading, the sight of this man serving justice in her stead somehow calming her down. Perhaps it was petty, but she took great satisfaction at his discomfort. It was what he deserved, in her opinion. Judging by how no one was protesting his treatment, everyone else in the store seemed to feel the same.  
She took a closer look at her savior while his attention was fixed upon the boar youkai. His dog ears twitched in irritation, the scowl back on his handsome face. He was even more attractive up close, the muscles of his biceps and triceps standing out in the red t-shirt he wore as he flexed his grip once more before releasing the customer. 
The boar youkai coughed a bit before glowering at her rescuer. 
“You’re brave for a half-breed, putting your filthy hands on a full-blooded youkai.”
Half-breed? Kagome frowned at the slur, wondering if it was impossible for a kind word to pass the other man’s lips. That must mean this man was a hanyou, and probably an inu youkai if she had to guess, based on the fluffy ears that were still calling her name. She longed to touch them but that would be all kinds of inappropriate.
The inu youkai scoffed at his words, seemingly unbothered by them.  
“Whatever. I could still kick your ass. Wanna find out?”
The boar youkai sputtered in indignation for a few moments before collecting himself, trying and failing to intimidate the hanyou as he puffed his chest out.
“That’s it! I’m going to leave a complaint!”
The hanyou rolled his eyes.
“I don’t give a shit. I don't work here so good fuckin’ luck with that. Now get the fuck outta here."
Walking back to the counter to grab the money he had left by the register, the man then beat a hasty retreat. He deliberately walked over the items he had left piled on the floor and Kagome rolled her eyes at the childish move, just grateful he was finally leaving. Never in all the days and years she worked there had she ever had someone lay hands on her. She would have to call her boss, who had already left for the day, and probably file an incident report about it later. What a pain in the ass.
“You okay?”
Kagome blinked, turning her eyes from the doors, where the man had just exited, back to the hanyou standing in front of her. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of molten amber and her heart rate kicked up again when she found herself swallowed up in his gaze. She cleared her throat in an attempt to find her voice.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good.”
He turned and began to walk away and for some inexplicable reason Kagome felt her stomach drop at his absence. It was strange. As if fate had presented her with an opportunity that she was letting go to waste. She had no idea why she felt this incredible pull towards him, but the feeling didn’t appear to be mutual. And why would it be? She had literally just met this man. She didn’t even know his name. Why would he stay and chat?? You’re being ridiculous. The thought did nothing to dispel the notion that she had let this chance slip through her fingers.
“Get his number!” Rin whispered in her ear before returning to the registers to ring out the next customer. The show was over and people were ready to resume making their purchases. Rin was happy to gossip about it with all of them and Kagome didn’t have it in her to reprimand her about it. Instead, she chased the unknown man down.
“Wait!”
He stopped, turning to look at her. A dark brow was raised in curiosity. She faltered a bit, her sudden confidence from Rin’s encouragement fading a little. It was hard to read the look that passed over his face but what appeared to be his trademark scowl was taking hold again.
“What?”
His tone was laced with annoyance. Not exactly a promising response. Kagome tried to stay positive by reminding herself that the actual target of his ire had already left the store, so she didn't hold it against him. Much. He was just another customer, one who had stepped in to help her when he'd had no reason to. There had been nothing in it for him. She wasn’t sure why he had, but it didn’t really matter. 
“Um, I wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to step in but you did.”
“Keh. It was nothin’.”
“It wasn’t nothing. You probably saved me in more ways than one.”
“Listen, a thank you is fine. Don’t get all mushy on me. It was no big deal.”
“I would have probably lost my job if you hadn’t intervened. I was about to fry him with my reiki, I was so angry. So thank you. Really,” Kagome insisted.
She wasn't sure why he seemed so determined to brush aside her thanks, but her confession of potential violence seemed to catch his attention. He looked at her with new interest, giving a short laugh and exposing the tip of a fang. Amusement sparked in his eyes.
“Now I’m sorry I did.” 
“I’m not because I would have probably been fired.”
"Eh, don’t mention it.”
He looked a little embarrassed now. It was faint but there was definitely a light flush across his cheekbones. Kagome had to bite back a grin at the sight. Maybe he just wasn’t used to kind words from a stranger? She didn’t have a chance to ponder that too much, though. She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she found herself speaking before her mind caught up with her mouth. It had to be Rin’s influence.
“I want to repay you somehow! Like...with more than words. What can I do?”
The scowl disappeared and in its place was that hint of a smirk she had glimpsed earlier at his entrance into the store. Her knees went a little weak while her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t fair for someone to be so incredibly attractive.
“Do ya always ask out your customers?”
“I-I’m not asking you out! I’m just trying to thank you…” Kagome stammered, her cheeks flushing pink. Ugh, she was failing miserably at this. “Like maybe a drink?”
Something shifted in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put her finger on while she waited for his answer. This wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t chase after guys. But she really did want to thank him and if that meant she got to spend more time with him in the process and learn his name then so much the better. It wasn’t like this was going to be a date; it was just a show of appreciation for him saving her ass.
“Your boyfriend won’t mind?” he asked, his scowl deepening.
“I-I don’t have a boyfriend,” Kagome answered, blushing harder.
He considered her words, his expression lightening at that.
“Fine. You can buy me a drink if that means you’ll shut up about thanking me.”
Okay, not the most encouraging response but she would take it. At least he wasn’t scowling at her anymore.
“What’s your name? And your phone number?”
“Inuyasha Taisho. Gimme some paper…” He peered at her name tag and grinned. “Ka-go-me.”
She had no idea why he had said her name in such a drawn out way but she decided right then that she loved it, and she wanted to hear him say it again. And again. God, what was wrong with her? She had met plenty of attractive men before, and her exes had all been pretty good-looking. But none had ever affected her so strongly before.
Retrieving a sticky note from her apron along with a pen, she scrawled her name and number onto it, then held it out to him.
“Here.”
He took it from her, his fingers brushing over hers. A tingle of electricity ran through her at the contact and sent her heart racing. His golden eyes sharpened and it occurred to her then that with his inu youkai senses he could probably pick up on little things like that. She was so obvious.
“Um...I should probably get back to work. Unless you need help with something?”
“Nah, I’m good. I have everything I need.” 
He held up the piece of paper with her name and number, the tilt of his lips turning into a devastating smirk, then walked away to continue shopping. She wondered for a minute if there was a double meaning behind his words or if she was reading too much into it. Shrugging it off, she resumed her managerial duties, continuing to make sure everyone on the sales floor was taken care of. After several minutes she realized she had forgotten to get his number, too, and glanced around. She caught sight of him just as he was leaving and sighed. Chasing him down once was enough; she wasn’t about to do it twice. Oh well. If she didn’t hear back from him then that was that. 
A few minutes later as she was finishing up with another customer she heard her phone chime and glanced at it. It was a text from an unknown number. 
[Hey it’s Inuyasha. Text me the days you’re free.]  
He had texted her! A flood of giddy excitement rushed through her.
“So did you get his number?” 
That was Rin’s coy voice over the headset. Kagome couldn't contain her smile, feeling a sense of triumph. At least something had gone right today.
“I did.”
She could hear Rin cheering loudly all the way from the front of the store.
 *****
 “It’s not a date.” Kagome told her roommate and best friend for the fifth time.
“It sounds like a date,” Sango insisted, sitting on the foot of her bed as Kagome finished up her makeup, sipping her soda. “Look at you. Putting on makeup, dressing up. Going for a drink. With a man you find attractive. We call that a date, Kagome.”
Finishing the swipe of cherry-red across her lips, Kagome capped the tube of lipstick and turned to face her friend. Ok, so maybe Sango had a point. She had definitely dressed a bit more flirty than casual attire called for, wearing a pleated knee-length skirt in green that flared at the hem and a white off-the-shoulder blouse to go with it. Her long hair was hanging free in natural waves, the silky black a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. 
“It’s just a thank you. He basically saved my job,” Kagome mumbled, but even she wasn’t convinced anymore. 
Sango rolled her eyes. 
“Well have fun at your not-date. Maybe it will lead to an actual date.”
"Yeah, yeah. Alright, out of my room. I'm leaving."
Sango laughed and threw her a wink before rising to her feet. 
“I want to hear all about it when you get back home.”
“Sure, sure.”
Kagome grabbed her purse and car keys, slipping out of their apartment. Sango managed to get in one last remark just before the door shut. 
“Let me know if he has any cute friends!”
“Good bye! ”
It had been three days since her encounter with the hanyou at her store, and aside from the rather short texts asking about her availability and figuring out the where and when to meet, there had been no real conversation between them. She had been hesitant to come across as too eager and he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming either. It’s not like it’s an actual date, so it doesn’t matter.
Maybe if she told herself that enough times she would start to believe it. 
She hoped that maybe texting just wasn’t his thing. A lot of guys were like that, after all. Also, he hadn’t exactly struck her as the talkative type, but more so a man of action and gruff words. It was also entirely possible he had just been busy. She had no idea what he did for a living, or anything else about his life, for that matter.
Whispering a quick prayer, Kagome turned the key in the ignition. When her car started, she released a relieved breath, beginning to drive to the bar they had agreed upon. Her car hadn’t given her any problems since that day, but Kagome knew it was only a matter of time. Most of the drive it behaved...until it didn’t. And then, as if her thoughts had summoned everything terrible in the universe, her car shuddered and started making a sound she was pretty sure cars weren’t supposed to make.
It sounded like a cat was dying beneath the hood.
“No, no, nooo! Come onnnnn.” 
The car remained unmoved by her desperate pleading. A glance at the dash revealed every warning light lit up like a Christmas tree and flashing at her. The engine stalled and her car began to slow, despite her frantic pressing of the gas pedal. Admitting defeat, she turned on her blinker and managed to pull over onto the side of the street right before it idled then completely died.
She turned the key again and nothing happened.  
Giving the steering wheel a smack of anger, Kagome then lowered her head to rest upon it for a moment, releasing a scream of all her pent up frustration. She banged on the dashboard some more. Her eyes grew wet with the promise of tears and her throat hurt from the effort of holding them back. Why did everything always seem to go wrong for her? This sucked. She had almost made it there. Well, halfway. Digging her phone out of her purse she typed out a text to Inuyasha.
[I’m so sorry but my car broke down. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.]  
Wrapping her arms around the steering wheel, she lowered her head back down and just sat like that for a bit, sniffling. She was allowed to wallow in self pity for a few minutes. Surely she deserved that much. Her phone chimed in her lap and she groaned, unlocking it and looking down at the new message.
[Yeah I can see that. Look up.]
What?
Kagome raised her head and yelped in surprise. Standing in front of her car, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, was Inuyasha. His hands were in his pockets and he looked like he was fighting to keep his expression neutral. With a growing sense of horror she wondered if he had witnessed her mental breakdown. The answer was most likely yes. She groaned again. Way to make a favorable impression, Kagome. Meanwhile he was just as hot as she remembered. As she stared at him confusion mingled with surprise. How…? 
He walked around to the driver’s side and rapped on her window with a knuckle. Sighing, Kagome undid her seatbelt and opened the car door. He moved back as she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut harder than perhaps necessary. He raised an eyebrow at the excessive force and her bleak expression.
“Having another bad day?”
“It was going fine until my stupid car decided to break down!” Kagome answered darkly, giving one of the wheels a solid kick.
“Kickin’ it ain’t gonna help.”
“Well it’s helping me because it makes me feel better!”
“What’s wrong with it?” Inuyasha asked, grinning at her antics.
“I don’t know! Everything!” She wailed.
“I can take a look at it, if ya want.”
Kagome threw him a sidelong glance.
“How did you find me out here, anyways? Are you some kind of stalker?”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, to be honest. Inuyasha scoffed, looking offended at the idea.
“Please. I got better things to do than follow ya around.”
“So you’re telling me you just happened to be here?”
“Listen, I live nearby. I was walkin’ to the bar when I heard that god awful screechin’ your car was makin’. Looked over and saw it was you.”
Yeah, he had definitely seen her mental breakdown. Perfect.
“You want me to take a look at it? I’m a mechanic,” he offered.
“What?”
“I can probably fix it for ya.”
“No! Absolutely not. Then I’ll owe you even more.”
He paused a moment, seeming to hesitate before speaking again.
“Just call this a date and we’ll call it even, then.”
A date? All the blood rushed to Kagome’s face as her cheeks reddened. He had managed to make it sound so casual, despite his slight hesitation. Had he thought she would say no? The thought was oddly endearing but did nothing to dispel her nerves. She stammered a little bit before finally managing a response.
“O-okay,” she squeaked.
He graced her with one of his fanged smirks and her heart pounded wildly, trying to escape her ribcage. A thrill of excitement zipped through her and she silently conceded that Sango had been right. He’s actually interested in me, too!
Although she had hoped for it, she hadn’t really been expecting it. His demeanor around her had been less than enthused, after all. But then again, he had come to her rather valiant rescue days earlier. And he had seemed pleased when she had given him her phone number. Maybe the trick was learning to read between the lines with him.  
Inuyasha pulled his phone out and made a quick call. Kagome tried not to be too obvious but it was impossible not to listen in.
“Hey. I need ya to come out here. Her car broke down.”
Inuyasha’s expression darkened before he rolled his eyes in response to whatever the person on the other end of the line said.
“Look, just get the fuck over here with the tow truck, would ya?...I don’t fuckin’ know, Miroku. Ask her yourself.” He made a disgusted sound. “Damn straight, you better.”
He rattled off the street they were at and then hung up the phone.
"It's a shame we won't actually make it to the bar because I could really use a drink right now," Kagome said morosely as they stood there.
Inuyasha barked out a laugh and Kagome found herself taken in at the sound.
"Yeah, it's too bad. Maybe another time."
"Mmm. So who was that on the phone? You sounded close."
"My friend. We work together," he said by way of explanation.
"Surprised you have friends with that surly expression you always wear," she teased.
"You tryin' to pick a fight?"
"No, just stating a fact. Your glare could make small children cry."
"Oh yeah? Well at least I didn’t stare at a mirror so hard that it broke, Miss Misfortune."
“Are you calling me UGLY?”
His ears twitched as he realized how it sounded and she did her best to keep a straight face.
“No, not at all. Just tryin’ to figure out how many black cats you pissed off.”
Kagome gave a mock gasp, feigning offense, and Inuyasha grinned.
“I hope you step on a Lego,” she said, unable to contain her own grin.
“Really? That’s all you got?” He chuckled. “I think your luck has been cursed enough for us both, girlie. Don’t tempt the Lego Gods.”
“Rude!”
They were still trading barbs when a tow truck pulled up to their side of the street in front of where they were standing. They were so engrossed in each other that it wasn't until the man in the truck rolled the window down and spoke that they realized he was there
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said cheerfully.
Kagome turned her gaze to the newcomer and took in his appearance. He was handsome, with dark brows, high cheekbones, and full lips. His most striking feature, however, were his indigo eyes, brimming with amusement at the display before him. A light breeze floated through his open window and teased the strands of his black hair, currently pulled into a short ponytail. His arm came up to rest on the window sill almost lazily.
"About fuckin' time," Inuyasha greeted him rudely. The other man, presumably the Miroku from his phone call, just shrugged.
"I got here as soon as I could," Miroku replied, unperturbed by Inuyasha’s attitude. 
"Um, hi. Thank you for coming out here on such short notice," Kagome said politely.
At her words his attention turned to her. He blatantly looked her up and down before settling his indigo gaze back upon her face, smiling pleasantly.
“My pleasure; I’m Miroku. You’re the girl?”
“Um...yes...?” The girl? Had Inuyasha been talking about her?
“I can’t believe you agreed to go on a date with this brute here.”
“Hey!” Inuyasha protested. “I don’t want to hear that from a pervert like you.”
"He seems feral but I promise he's house-trained," Miroku went on.
"He doesn’t seem too bad to me, aside from his permanent scowl." Kagome felt compelled to defend him but she couldn't keep the smile off her face at their banter.
“You’re far too lovely for my friend. Are you sure you have the right guy?”
“At least I don’t flirt with anything female,” Inuyasha shot back.
“Please, I only do that to see their faces light up. Meanwhile, you make every woman run away crying. Except for this one, apparently.”
“At least I have standards.”
“Hey! I have standards, too,” Miroku insisted.
“Then you need to raise them.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Miroku agreed amiably. “I’m turning over a new leaf tonight.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Inuyasha scoffed.
“So you're clearly off-limits, but do you have any pretty friends?” Miroku pushed on unabashedly, turning his attention back to Kagome.
She giggled and Inuyasha glared. 
“It’s funny because my roommate said the same thing." 
"Same thing?"
"To let her know if Inuyasha had any cute friends,” she explained.
Miroku looked delighted.
“What is this roommate’s number?”
“Don’t you have a job to do?” Inuyasha cut in, rolling his eyes.
“Of course. Can’t keep a lady waiting.” He winked at Kagome and it was her turn to roll her eyes.
Together, Inuyasha and Miroku got her car loaded up. And by ‘together’ it was mostly Miroku doing the work while Inuyasha stood on the sidewalk making disparaging comments about Miroku’s skills. He took it in stride and made some cleverly sharp comments of his own right back. 
“Sorry about the tight squeeze,” Miroku apologized as they all piled into the truck. “This isn’t exactly made for three people.”
“No, it’s totally fine. I appreciate this. Both of you,” Kagome replied.
She was squished against the door with Inuyasha sitting to her right. He had refused to let her sit in the middle lest she be pressed up against ‘that damn flirt.’ She didn’t particularly care, to be honest, but his slight possessiveness warmed her. Or maybe that just was his body heat seeping into her, making her skin tingle in awareness.
The drive passed surprisingly quickly and they arrived at the garage as the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The place was quiet and Kagome realized it must be after hours for them now, which made sense. She suddenly felt kind of bad about Miroku coming out after what had likely been the end of his shift. 
“Sorry, you were probably about to head home when you came to help me out,” she said, her voice contrite.
He waved her apology off. “It was no big deal.”
“Is that why you bitched to me about it over the phone?” Inuyasha snarked.
“Now now, let’s not split hairs. Dealing with you is different than dealing with a pretty lady.”
Inuyasha snorted.
The two of them got her car set up and then Miroku turned to Inuyasha. “You want me to stay and help?”
“Nah, I can handle it,” Inuyasha replied. “Get out of here.”
“Then on that note, I’ll take my leave. It was nice to meet you, Kagome.” Miroku said, giving her a nod.
“It was nice to meet you, too.”
“So about your roommate’s number...” He let the sentence trail off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Inuyasha rolled his eyes.
“I’ll ask her about it. Goodbye!” Kagome said emphatically, but she was giggling.
After Miroku had taken off, her attention returned to the hanyou examining her dumpster fire of a car. He had removed his t-shirt, leaving him in a white wife-beater and a pair of jeans. His back was to her and he was putting his hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way. She watched his motions, observing the way the muscles of his back moved beneath the fabric, the corded strength in his arms as they bunched and flexed. A rush of warmth pulsed through her as he popped the hood of her car.
“Fuck, woman. When’s the last time you got an oil change?”
“Huh?” She looked up, snapped out of her reverie; she must have zoned out for a minute. “Um...I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe a year or so ago?”
“You fuckin’ serious?”
“What?” She said defensively.
“You need to be gettin’ it changed every 5k miles. Everybody fuckin’ knows that. And that sticker on your windshield? It tells me ya should’ve gotten it done 3k miles ago.”
“I’ve been a little busy to think about things like that!”
He scoffed harshly but said nothing else as he...well she wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, to be completely honest. She knew next to nothing about cars. The same was obviously not true for him, which was fortunate for her. He leaned over, getting a good look at her car’s inner workings and giving her a good look at his ass. It was perfect, just as she had suspected. 
“You seem more relaxed around me than you were before. I thought you didn’t like me,” he commented as he continued his work.
Kagome’s eyes snapped from his ass to the back of his head, feeling almost guilty about the way she had been checking him out. 
“I thought you didn’t like me ,” she admitted.
He turned around and gave her an incredulous expression.
“Why the fuck would you think that?”
She just looked at him and he sighed.
“Right. I s’pose that’s fair.”
“You seemed so...annoyed when we first met, and I didn’t know if that was because of the customer or me,” she explained.
“Definitely wasn’t ya. Sorry you got that impression.”
“It’s okay.”
“When you insisted you weren’t askin’ me out, I thought...well...”
“What??”
“Because I’m a hanyou.”
“But that doesn’t matter to me. It was because I just didn’t want to seem...forward, I guess. I don’t know, this kind of stuff doesn’t really come easily to me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”
Kagome blushed furiously and he looked a little embarrassed at his honesty.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, caught in the spell of his amber eyes. She resisted the urge to bite her lip out of nervousness. “I guess I just don’t tend to think of myself that way.” She gave a slight shrug.
“Well, ya should.”
With that pronouncement he turned back around and resumed his work on her car. His words had warmed her more than sunshine on a cold day. As she watched him work, something else began to warm her. She walked closer to get a better look at what he was doing and to keep her eyes from wandering to places they shouldn’t be.
“Why the fuck didn’t ya get this fixed sooner?” Inuyasha demanded suddenly, raising his eyes to meet hers. “This is a mess.”
She blinked.
“Well...I mean, it’s been giving me problems for a while, but every place is booked out for weeks now. I don’t have the time between work and school to drive far away to an auto place in a car on the verge of breaking down. With my luck it would die in the middle of the highway.”
“You have a point.” He laughed, and she suppressed a shiver at the sound. It washed over her in a wave, husky and rich.
"You know, your customer service is lacking," she teased. "Do you talk to all your customers like this?"
"Sometimes. Miroku usually has to smooth things over," he admitted.
"You could learn a few things from me."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Not cursing at your customer, for starters."
"But you're not really a customer, are ya?"
"I guess that's true." She smiled.
She didn’t know how much time passed as he worked. The conversation between them was light and fun and didn’t touch on anything too serious. He took parts out of her car, put parts in, occasionally asking her to hand him a specific tool then making fun of her when she didn’t know which one it was. At those moments she would jokingly threaten to zap him with her reiki if he wasn’t careful and he would just chuckle at her empty threats.
The longer he worked on her car the harder it was to keep her mind from straying to less-than-innocent places. There was a fine sheen of sweat coating his arms, making his muscles glisten faintly. Her eyes took in every dip, curve, and swell, her mouth going dry at the sight. The way he was handling himself with confidence and ease spoke of his skill and it was...attractive, to say the least.
“So. A miko?”
Kagome mentally shook herself, trying to fight her growing arousal.
“It seemed like the natural choice; it’s always come so easily to me. It’s like flexing a muscle, an extension of myself. It’s part of who I am. While I could have chosen something else...why would I?”
“Makes sense,” he grunted.
“Did you always want to be a mechanic?”
“Well, I’ve always been good with my hands,” he shrugged.
I’m sure you are, she thought, biting her lip, her eyes inevitably drawn to those hands now. They were large and covered in black grease, tipped in claws. She wondered idly what those claws would feel like tracing the lines of her body and felt heat curl low in her belly.
Inuyasha inhaled, his nose twitching, and jerked upright, nearly hitting his head on the hood of her car. She frowned for a moment, wondering what had caused him to jump. Then realization dawned and she turned tomato red. Oh God. Embarrassment filled her.
Inuyasha was an inu youkai hanyou. He could smell her. His gold eyes practically burned as they turned her way.
She swallowed, fidgeting with her hands, and her cinnamon eyes skittered away from his form, hoping that would help to quell the rising desire in her. A desire for him and his touch. The force of it surprised her; she barely knew him! Despite that, everything with him just came so...naturally. She felt like she had known him forever, and feelings that normally took days and weeks to form had taken mere hours. It was insane, but she couldn't deny it.
She liked him so much it was crazy. 
Silence stretched between them as her mind cast about desperately for something to talk about. Something to divert attention away from the change in her scent and what exactly that meant.
"So, have you taken many dates to your garage?"
"Nah. You're the first lucky lady who's had the honor," Inuyasha replied with a fanged smirk, giving her a long look before turning his focus back to her car. 
Kagome breathed a soft sigh of relief and let out a small laugh at his answer.
"They really missed out. This is so romantic," she joked, gesturing about with a hand for good measure.
"Yeah, sorry." He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "This is probably a shitty date, but at least your car will work tomorrow."
"It's not, though," she told him sincerely. "I'm actually really enjoying myself. I have had way worse dates than this. This doesn't even rate on the scale."
And no date has ever had me so ready to be pressed up against the nearest surface with the need to have their hands all over me. Her mind was veering into dangerous territory again. She was completely ready to forget all propriety. Not good.
"You're kiddin'."
"Definitely not."
"Yeah? Then what's the worst date you ever been on?"
"Oh, let's see. There are a few contenders for that spot."
Kagome seized on the question. Talking made it easier to focus on something other than the way his lips would feel against hers. Or the way he might use his fangs to gently nip at the sensitive skin of her neck…
She needed to get a grip, and fast, or he was going to start smelling her again. She hastily tried to tamp down her libido with minimal success.
"There was the time I went on a date with a guy and he got so drunk he kept falling asleep at the bar,” she said, relieved when her voice came out steady and not breathless.
“Shitty, but not that bad.” 
“Oh, it gets worse. So I paid for my tab while he was in the bathroom; I just wanted to get out of there. As I was getting in the cab, he came running out after me, trying to keep me from leaving.”
“Guy obviously couldn’t take a hint.” 
Kagome gave a small laugh. “No. And well, just as I closed the door he projectile vomited all over the cab window.”
Inuyasha laughed so hard he had to stop what he was doing for a minute and Kagome grinned at his obvious amusement. It had been a gross and terrible experience at the time, but it definitely made for a hilarious story now.
“Ok, shit. That’s pretty fuckin’ bad.”
“It was horrifying. Then he texted me the next morning asking about a second date.”
Inuyasha laughed harder and Kagome began to laugh too.
“Needless to say, I said absolutely not.”
“Somethin’ tells me he didn’t take no for an answer,” Inuyasha grinned.
“I ended up blocking him,” Kagome confirmed. “So what about you? What’s your worst date story?”
Inuyasha straightened, surveying the innards of her car and seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. About what, she had no clue but he seemed satisfied, giving a short nod. Then he faced her, the corner of his mouth tilting up.
“I dunno about the worst, but probably the weirdest. I went out with this chick, and after we had dinner she said she just had to pick somethin’ up. We stopped at her twin brother’s place and there was the weirdest vibe goin’ on between them.”
“You don’t think…?” Kagome gasped.
“Fuck, I got no clue but they both basically ignored me and focused on each other ‘til I said I was leavin’.”
Kagome giggled. “Yeah, that’s pretty weird.”
Inuyasha lowered the hood of her car then grabbed a rag and wiped the grease off his hands before tossing it aside into a bin. When he looked her way again he stretched and his shirt rode up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his taut stomach. It whet her appetite for more and with a jolt she realized she was staring. She was also more than a little turned on. Even if she hid it well, there was no hiding her scent; Inuyasha would know exactly what kind of shameless thoughts were circling in her head. There would be no shrugging it off a second time.
She wasn’t that type of girl! But something about Inuyasha made her want to be.
“All done a-already?” She stuttered out, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of her now. Her heart was beating faster, making it nearly impossible to keep her breathing even. She cleared her throat.
“Yup. All done. Was a fuckin’ mess but thankfully I know what I’m doin’,” Inuyasha answered.
His feet came into view as she continued to stare at the floor. They stopped right in front of her, but she didn’t need to see his feet to know that. Her awareness of his body so near to hers was a signal all on its own. His aura brushed up against hers and she swallowed nervously, her cheeks warming.
“Y-yeah, for once luck was on my side. Thank you so much,” she said, still looking at the floor.
“You thankin’ the floor?”
She hesitantly raised her eyes to his face and heat flooded through her at his expression. An answering heat burned in his golden orbs while a smirk teased at his lips. He knew. He knew and he was not going to let her off lightly. Not this time. That thought allowed some of her ardor to cool and she scowled. He was standing incredibly close so she pushed against him, her hands lingering on his stomach, noting the ridges of his abs beneath the thin fabric of the wife-beater he wore. He retreated a single step and no more.
“Thank you,” she said again, this time looking into his eyes as she spoke, and his smirk widened. She wanted to be annoyed but that look was giving her butterflies and making her knees weak. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that made her feel almost hypnotized.
“You hungry?” he asked in a low voice.
“A little,” she replied, unable to look away. But I’m more hungry for you.
“There’s a takeout menu on the fridge in the living space through that door. Go ahead and order whatever ya want.” 
Without breaking eye contact, he pulled his wallet out and removed a card, then reached down to grab one of her hands. Her breath caught as he placed it in her palm then curled her fingers over it, his claws lightly scraping over the skin of her wrist before pulling away. She couldn’t suppress the shiver it caused.
“O-order?”
“What? Ya need help orderin’ food?”
“No! Of course not.”
Kagome tried to muster up a glare but failed miserably. Inuyasha just looked terribly amused and smug. Ugh.
“While you order I’m gonna go take a shower.”
“You need help with that?”
Kagome tried to make it sound like a joke, to play off his previous words, but her voice came out breathless instead. The teasing smirk disappeared from his face and his eyes sharpened as he crowded her space, standing so close his body heat warmed her. Leaning down, he spoke, his breath brushing over her lips.
“If you’re offerin’.” 
Kagome’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out. All the desire she had been trying to keep at bay rushed back, overwhelming her senses for a moment. Her brain short-circuited as lust flooded her, making it impossible to fight.
“I-I wasn’t being serious,” she finally managed. “Your customer service needs work.”
He leaned closer, and she became acutely aware of how little space there was between their lips. 
“That’s not what your scent is tellin’ me.”
He definitely knows. Oh God. Mortification and arousal vied for dominance, arousal winning out. And Kagome suddenly found she didn’t care that he knew anymore. For once, she didn’t want to be a good girl; she just wanted to give in. But still, she couldn’t make the first move.
“What is it telling you?” she whispered, hoping he would.
And he did.
Instead of answering her, he closed the last bit of distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. It started out soft at first and she sighed in bliss, leaning into his kiss while her hands ran up his stomach to rest upon his broad shoulders. His credit card dropped between them onto the floor, forgotten as they kissed. The taste of his mouth sent her head spinning. His hands reached up to cradle her face as their lips moved against each other and she shivered at the delicious heat spreading through her body.
It quickly turned from sweet and hesitant to something more demanding and deliberate. Kagome offered no resistance, opening her lips to him almost reflexively. His tongue dipped into her mouth while she traced the length of his fangs with her own and he growled in approval. At the same time, her hands moved to his head, reaching back and undoing the bun holding his silver hair in place. The silky mass tumbled down his back and she ran her fingers through it as their kisses grew more insistent. Her blood was singing in her veins for his touch and, as if he could read her mind, his hands began to roam her body. They slid from her face to her shoulders, down her back, skimming her waist and coming to a stop on her ass.
His hands cupped her, pulling her flush against him and allowing her to feel the evidence of his own arousal. A soft whimper caught in her throat and she clung to him tighter. He dragged his mouth away from hers, his eyes almost wild, as if surprised at the force of the connection between them. They were both panting as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“It’s telling me you wanted that. And more. Fuck, I want more,” Inuyasha said, his voice husky.
“So do I,” Kagome told him hotly.
“If I kiss ya again, I dunno if I can stop.”
Kagome smiled at him shyly, her cheeks heated with a blush.
“What if I said I didn’t want you to stop?”
She wasn’t the type to have sex on the first date, but whatever was building between them was undeniable. For once, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and indulge herself, and if the bulge she felt in his pants was anything to go by, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And this thing between them was more than physical; at least it was for her. She only hoped it was the same for him, too.
“Then I ain’t gonna stop.”
“I-I don’t ever do this, especially not on the first date, but I just feel something so-- so--...”
“I feel it, too.”
That was the only reassurance she needed. Her hands moved across the expanse of his muscled back while his lips captured hers again. She felt like she could get lost in the feel of his mouth over hers, the taste of his breath, the way his fangs nipped at her bottom lip. The need to touch him was strong and she tugged at the wife-beater he wore in silent demand. Breaking the kiss, he smirked at her and removed it in one fluid motion. She stared, transfixed, her eyes charting every ridge and dip of his abs and pecs. 
He was beautiful . 
Before she could lose her courage, she leaned forward and ran her mouth over his skin, pressing kisses over his bare torso while her hands mapped his body. His breathing quickened and he growled, the verberation from the sound tickling her lips as her tongue darted out to lick the sweat from his skin. 
While she explored him, his hands went to work, running down her back in a caress before gripping her ass possessively. He squeezed, relishing the feel, then surprised her by using his grip to effortlessly pick her up. She squealed, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her core right against the hardness of his cock. Gasping at the sensation, a rush of hot arousal raced through her system and left her lightheaded. She barely registered him carrying her until he set her down on the hood of her car as he kissed her. Then his lips trailed from her mouth to her ear, down to her neck, where his fangs played at the sensitive skin there.
“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he said, his breath hot. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in.
Moaning softly, she shifted her hips against him, hoping to ease the ache that was beginning to build at the apex of her thighs. Heat jolted through her core at the intimate contact as he groaned. 
"Clothes...off…" Kagome managed, her mind in a haze.
Inuyasha complied, removing her shirt and tossing it aside. Without wasting any time, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, his claws lightly brushing against her porcelain skin as he slid the straps from her shoulders. Nervousness gripped her again as her bra fell away and left her bare to his gaze, but excitement quickly replaced it at the hunger in his eyes.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” 
She held her breath in anticipation for his touch while he stared, drinking her in. The look in his eyes made her feel like a goddess. He didn’t keep her waiting long, his large hands reaching for her and lifting her breasts, savoring their weight as a calloused thumb brushed over each nipple. They pebbled beneath his touch and a soft sigh passed her lips as he repeated the motion before massaging the globes. Then his mouth took the place of his hands and Kagome cried out as he sucked at her nipples, his fangs gently scraping over the sensitive buds. 
As he lavished his attentions on her breasts, her hands buried themselves in his hair, holding his head in place. Unable to help herself, one hand freed itself to stroke along his soft ears and his grip tightened on her in response. She grinned wickedly; they were clearly sensitive. Lightly running her tongue along the edge of one of his furred ears, she gave it a small nip. He growled, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasurable vibrations through her body, making her moan. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.
Slowly, he kissed his way from her breasts all the way down her belly until he reached the waistband of her skirt. He gave it a playful bite while the longing in her grew stronger.
"Inuyasha…" she breathed, his name a plea.
Sliding his hands beneath the green satiny fabric, he ran his palms up her smooth thighs and took hold of her panties. She lifted her hips in consent and he removed them, his claws trailing along her pelvis and the inside of her thighs. A small whimper lodged in Kagome’s throat as the tension inside her built.
Rather than toss them aside like he had her shirt, Inuyasha held them up to his face. The crotch was soaked with her arousal and she watched as he slowly and deliberately dragged his tongue across the wetness, closing his eyes as if savoring the taste. Then he gave her a wicked smirk, locking eyes with her.
It was the hottest and most erotic thing she had ever seen. Lust gripped her, hot and immediate. The pressure was almost unbearable now, she was so fucking turned on. She throbbed with the need to feel that tongue licking and teasing her dripping pussy.
"You taste amazing. But it'll taste even better right here," Inuyasha said, dropping her panties to the floor in favor of spreading her thighs.
"Do it. Taste me," she panted, her fingers curling into fists at her side to keep herself from grabbing his head and pressing him into her.
Then his mouth was on her and oh. Fuck. Her skirt bunched around her waist as his tongue lapped at the juices pouring from her opening, darting in and out and making her breath catch. After teasing her entrance, he gave her pussy a long, slow lick, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit. Kagome gasped, her thighs tensing, as he spread her folds and licked at her faster, mercilessly tonguing her bundle of nerves. She cried out, her back arching.
“Ah! Ahh! Yes, oh fuck!”
Tracing fast and hard circles around her clit with his tongue, he positioned one of his hands at her opening and slid a finger inside her, being careful of his claws. Her response was instant, her hips bucking up against him to take his finger all the way inside her as she moaned loudly. Yes. God yes. 
Inuyasha gave a growl of approval at her reaction and the vibrations went straight to her clit, enhancing the pleasure. It was pure bliss. His tongue worked her nub furiously as he fingered her, adding a second digit to the first and causing a cry to escape her again. His fingers moved in and out in a quick rhythm, stretching her and making a slurping sound as wetness continued to spill from her. As he continued to devour her hungrily.
Her head fell back as she lost herself to the sensations, feeling the coil of her release wind tighter. The cool metal of the hood of her car against her skin was a stark contrast to the heat of her body as she burned from his touch. She couldn’t believe she was doing this , here, on her car, but she was too far gone to care anymore. Fuck, she was so close .
And then he began to suck on her clit while his tongue and fingers continued to stroke her and Kagome lost all control of herself. Moaning incoherently, uncaring of how loud she was being, she writhed under his mouth. When he gently scraped one of his fangs over her sensitive nub she came apart, her hands grasping for something to anchor her while the ecstasy took her sky high.
“Ah! Ahhh! Inuyashaaa!”
“Delicious,” she heard him say, and thought he might have been licking his fingers of her essence. She wasn’t sure.
The world spun for a minute while she panted, trying to catch her breath. When her eyes refocused she looked up and saw Inuyasha had divested himself of the rest of his clothing and stood in front of her, gloriously naked. He looked like one of those statues of a Greek god, his body chiseled and well-defined with muscle. There was one notable difference between them and him, however, and it was the rather large appendage jutting out from between his legs.
Kagome stared for a second. He was definitely bigger than average, and she wondered for a moment if he would even fit inside her. Her eyes must have given her away because Inuyasha chuckled, pulling her close and kissing her senseless, and any doubt regarding that faded away. 
He was going to the best she ever had: she just knew it. 
As he kissed her, her hands caressed his ears again, rubbing the edges between her fingertips. Inuyasha’s own hands traced patterns up and down her back, one of them breaking away to grab a fistful of her hair. Languid warmth bloomed inside Kagome from the way he was making her feel and she wanted to return the favor.  
“Your turn,” Kagome whispered against his lips.
Holding onto his shoulder to steady herself, her other hand trailed south across his skin. The muscles of his abdomen clenched under her feather-light touch before she reached her target and gripped his cock firmly. Squeezing, she ran her hand along the length of him, the pad of her thumb pressing against his tip and spreading the precum around in soft circles. He hissed out a breath, snarling softly.
“Fuck, your hand feels so good,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck.
Dragging her fingernail gently up the side of his cock as she pumped him, her hand tightened its grip, moving faster. He grunted out his pleasure, thrusting in time with the rhythm of her hand while his tongue rasped over her neck. Her head lolled to the side, allowing him better access as she stroked up and down, her hand giving a twist with each upward motion. His breathing became harsh, coming in pants, and Kagome gave a moan herself at the way his fangs scraped against the column of her throat.
She was already wet for him again.
“Smell amazing...fuck, gotta stop or I’m gonna....”
His voice was thick with desire and the sound sent tingles down her spine. Giving her neck one last nip, he raised his head and, reaching down between them, grabbed her hand in his, stopping her. She looked at him in confusion, uncertainty quelling her own desire, but the look in his gold eyes put any insecurities to bed. They were molten embers that burned for her and made her ache for him. A slow smile spread across his face and her body flushed.
“Why...why did you stop me?”
“I’m not gonna cum in your hand on the first date.”
But I came on yours . The words never made it past her lips as he spread her legs wider and rubbed his cock over her soaked pussy, pressing the head against her clit. She whimpered, falling back against the hood of her car as he repeated the motion before lining himself up at her entrance. She held her breath, waiting, and looked into his eyes. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw a hint of red at the edges and it thrilled her.
Then a thought occurred to her.
“W-wait! What about-- about protection?” 
“Not to be weird, but I can smell ya, and you ain’t fertile right now.”
She blinked, absorbing this information, and felt equally aroused and appalled that he could apparently smell every facet of her being.
“You still want this?” His voice was a deep rasp.
“I still want it. I want you,” she answered.
The blunt head of his cock pressed against her and, at her consent, he slowly worked his way inside her until every inch was sheathed within her hot, dripping core. She moaned as sparks of pleasure danced over her skin and he gave an answering groan of his own. He was stretching her to the limit and the feeling was incredible. It made a delicious ache begin to swirl within her, radiating out from where he was buried so deep inside. And he hadn’t even moved yet.
“Ah, God,” he breathed, holding still for a moment as her body adjusted to the size of him. His hands were on either side of her head as his body loomed over her. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re not--?”
“--no. But it’s been a while,” Kagome breathed back. “Please, keep going. Don’t stop.”
Inuyasha growled and withdrew before thrusting back into her and she gasped, her breath hitching on another moan. And he didn’t stop, pumping into her hard, while her wet pussy gripped his cock tightly. She shifted her hips up against him with each thrust, trying to take him even deeper. The demanding ache inside of her was building and it needed more. She needed more. The shaft of his cock rubbed against her walls with each urgent movement, pressing against places she hadn’t even known were sensitive until they began to send jolts of ecstasy through her body while he fucked her.
Some distant part of her mind registered that Inuyasha was fucking her on her car. And she didn’t care. She loved it, wanted more, all her inhibitions slipping away. Each fierce thrust was making her breasts bounce wildly, something that didn’t escape his notice. Her back arched into his touch as he brought a hand up to possessively grasp one of her breasts, claws playing with her nipple as he squeezed the flesh.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted as he pounded into her. “Uhn!! So fucking good!”
She didn’t even realize she was crying out at first, but she couldn’t seem to silence herself either, helpless against the way he was making her feel. Looking into Inuyasha’s face she decided she didn’t want to, anyways, because at each sound of pleasure that fell from her lips his eyes seemed to glow brighter, his breath catching, and his thrusts coming faster.
“Ahh! Ah! Inu-Inuyashaaa! I-- please-- Mmm! Yes!”
The coil of her release was wound so tight she was going to come apart any second. Inuyasha leaned down to scrape his fangs over her exposed neck, his tongue licking away the sting. When he moved his other hand from her thigh to her clit, rubbing in taut circles, the feeling sent her over the edge. She came hard, her legs trembling as she moaned loudly, her whole body shuddering.
“That’s it, Ka-go-me,” he panted at her, still thrusting into her wet, hot core and she whimpered.
Then he withdrew from her and she blinked, in a daze, wondering why he was stopping; he hadn’t reached his own release yet. She never got a chance to ask, his lips claiming hers in a kiss so tender that it belied the intensity of the way he had just been fucking her. Pulling away, his hungry eyes traced the length of her body before he gently picked her up, putting her feet on the ground, and flipped her over so her stomach was now against the hood of her car, her back to him.
Hands spread her thighs and in one swift motion he was buried inside her welcoming heat again. She whined as his cock stretched her, her fingers fisting. God, he made her feel so fucking good. Those strong hands of his held her in place as he began to thrust in and out, one splayed around her waist while the other slid around her front to play with her breasts.
“Ya didn’t think I was stoppin’, did ya?” His breath teased the shell of her ear.
A shudder of need ran through her at the feeling.
“Good...don’t stop!” She managed before the pleasure took her over again.
All she could do was moan his name as he fucked her harder, his cock hitting deep. Filling her up in the most delicious way possible. With each rapid thrust she was pushed up against her car, causing her clit to rub up against it and sending tiny shocks of euphoria through her body that left her gasping. The delicious friction of his cock pistoning inside her, coupled with that, had her crying out again, moving her hips back into him as she keened.
Inuyasha was groaning and grunting behind her and the sound turned her on even more. The noises he was making were almost animalistic and it excited her. Desire shot through her, the evidence of how good she was making him feel intensifying her own arousal, and the coil of her release tightened in response. 
Raising her head, Kagome caught sight of her reflection in the windshield of her car and her eyes widened as she stared. Transfixed, she watched, her breath coming faster. Watched as she was fucked from behind, against her car, by the only man who had ever made her act in such a way. A man who should by all rights be a stranger, but who made her feel like no one ever had before. She had never witnessed anything like it, and a hot, sharp wave of lust pulsed along every nerve-ending before coiling low, right at her core. 
The blissed out look on her face, the almost feral expression on Inuyasha’s... It was such an erotic vision, one she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from. More liquid heat pooled between her legs as her arousal and need heightened, the pressure building to unbearable levels.
His rhythm quickened, his breathing turning shallow, and Kagome could tell he was close to his climax. She was close, too. Her heart was a staccato beat in her chest, her breathing ragged, her skin slick with sweat. The slapping sound of skin and their moans, harsh pants, and gasps permeated the air. Reaching behind her, she grabbed onto his perfect ass, rolling her hips back into him, meeting his hard and deep thrusts.
“Inu-Inuyasha--ahh! Ah! Oh fuck, yes!” she cried out.
“Fuck...Kagome, I’m gonna--” Inuyasha grunted, leaning over her to wrap his arms around her as he thrust. Harder. Deeper. Faster. His mouth found her neck again and she threw her head back.
“--do it! I want it!” she said breathily.
His body went rigid behind her as he spilled himself inside her, breathing heavily and groaning from the force of his release. The warm sensation of his cum shooting up inside her combined with everything else sent her over the edge and she came right after, her orgasm almost blinding her in its ferocity. It spread through her like wildfire, strong and immediate, more intensely than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she saw stars and the world fell away. When she came back to herself Inuyasha was smoothing her hair to the side and pressing kisses to her shoulder.
“You good?” he rumbled into her ear.
Kagome smiled, almost laughing at the question. She was completely sated.
“More than good.” 
“Good.”
He pulled out of her, turning her around so that she faced him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly while she waited for her legs to support her again. As the languid heat of her satisfaction began to dissipate, other thoughts took hold again, making her heart beat faster for an entirely different reason.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, suddenly feeling almost horrified. It made no sense after everything they had just done, but her sense of shame was returning along with her good sense.
Inuyasha frowned, his ears flattening.
“What’s wrong?”
Kagome buried her face in his chest as she spoke.
“I--I can’t believe I just… I mean, I know I said I wanted to, and told you not to stop, but--”
“--you regretting it?” His voice was low. 
Kagome didn’t miss the underlying emotion of hurt beneath it. She rushed to explain.
“No! No!! Not at all. I just… I never do this. And I did. On the first date. I just feel something so-- so strongly for you, and I wanted it so much, but-- God, I can’t imagine what you think of me...” 
Inuyasha seemed to relax at her confession, and he had the audacity to laugh. She glared against his chest.
“You said somethin’ like that before everything got heated. Listen, I told ya already. I feel it, too. And besides, I think you’re the hottest, most interesting woman I ever met.”
She raised her head from his chest to cautiously peek at his face. He gave her a fanged smile and she relaxed against him, sighing softly. 
“You mean that?”
“Absolutely. Though your luck is cursed and the way you take care of your car is a crime.” 
“Such sweet words. Keep talking to me like that and I just may believe you,” she teased, smiling back at him now.
“So...would it be weird to ask ya for another, actual date, now?” 
“Not at all.” 
She leaned up to kiss him and he returned it with interest. His mouth on hers, his body pressed against her...it was intoxicating. It was perfect. When they broke apart they were both breathing heavily again.
“Now, what was that about my customer service lacking…?” Inuyasha said, his gold eyes burning for her.
“I changed my mind. Five stars. Glowing reviews,” Kagome replied, her smile turning seductive.
And he proceeded to earn every word of praise.
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liladiurne · 3 years ago
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Brighter Than Bright - extract from chapter 14
Look at me, with chapter 14 already underway barely a week or so after posting 13. Isn’t that a good omen?
Once more, here is the beginning bit, because I don’t have anything at this point that wouldn’t spoil too much for you. I thought this would be perfect, because it announces a little what’s coming in the chapter without actually introducing the new characters. There is so much good stuff coming this chapter! I may share another extract before it’s finished, but we’ll see, because this is a bit longer than what I normally share, I think. Either way, I think this is going to be a long chapter!
This extract may change and differ a little in the finished chapter, as I tend to move things around when I edit. I have proofread this a bit quickly, so there may be some typos, which you can disregard because they will surely be fixed at some point. I hope you enjoy!
EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 14
While Harry’s second heat does not last quite as long as the first one did, a few more days must pass before he feels strong enough to leave his bed. Charlie remains by his side throughout, drawing while Harry reads or sleeps. From the way he dutifully attends to Harry’s every need, constantly asking if he is hungry or thirsty or tired, it is evident that he still feels guilty at having left his little brother to such torment, regardless of how many times Harry has told him that it was probably for the best.
When Harry thinks back to those dreadful few days, he is filled with a combination of fury and shame. Perhaps worse than the memory of his suffering is the knowledge that, although he does not remember it, he seemingly called out for Mr Snape. Fanny said that the heat is meant to coerce him into mating, and he tries to console himself with these words. He suspects that this irrepressible, forceful longing does not discriminate between one Alpha and the other, and for this reason, he is nearly grateful that Charlie was absent. As he is so often reminded, he is not truly related to Charlie after all. If his reason can be so addled, if this strange instinct inside his chest, this part of him that does nothing but crave and crave, can resort to yearning for a despicable Alpha such as Mr Snape, Harry dares not imagine what could have happened if his brother’s scent had been nearby when he was in the throes of the heat. The oestrus has a mind of its own. If it can turn abhorrence into attraction, who knows what it can make of brotherly love.
Most of what occurs during the heats does not stay with him for long. He cannot recall much apart from the pain and some vague, feverish recollections of waking up and then sleeping again. He knows that he dreams, sometimes vividly, sometimes rather hazily, in wisps of thoughts and images, but all remembrance of what those dreams contain leave him swiftly as the fever fades. He is unsure whether these lapses in memory are caused by the fever itself or simply by the laudanum. Perhaps it is a combination of the two. But it is just as well that he cannot remember. Harry has no desire to know what feverish delusions might have resulted in him saying Mr Snape’s name.
At least he did not ask for Mr Malfoy. He does not think that he could live with such ghastly knowledge.
When Harry finally leaves his room for good, he finds that a thick blanket of snow has covered the world, thus putting an end to horseback ventures with his brother until spring. He is somewhat disappointed at having missed the last days of autumn, but as soon as he is well enough to leave the house, he heads outside with Charlie and the two of them engage in a great snow battle, to which even their father participates. Later in the afternoon, as the sun sets, they construct a great snowman in front of the house and dress him in a scruffy hat and scarf before retreating inside for some mulled wine.
Harry usually finds winter most inconvenient. As beautiful as snow can be at the beginning, it never takes long for him to miss the smell of the warm summer air, the loud humming of the cicadas, the wide, green expanse of his field. Unable to retreat to his habitual refuge under the shadow of the beechwood tree or to go on long walks by the river, Harry must spend most of winter confined to the house, forced to read every book he can find, often ones that he has already read countless times before. When he is truly unable to find entertainment, he sometimes sits at his desk and writes short little stories for his own amusement, or he plays with Hedwig, sprawled on the floor and throwing a ball of twine around for her to catch.
This year, of course, with Charlie present, there is no such lack of distraction.
On the first week of December, after a particularly heavy snowfall, Charlie spends at least an hour rummaging through the shed behind the barn until he finally unearths the old sleigh that Hagrid made for them years ago. It needs a little fixing, having been buried under some tools and refuse for nearly a decade, but as soon as it is good to use, it is attached to one of the draft horses’ harness. Once they are dressed thickly and warmly enough, Harry and Charlie settle on the sleigh, which is barely big enough to hold them both now that they are grown, and spend the afternoon being dragged around speedily through the snow, laughing and yelling and causing quite a raucous through the village, for which they are promptly scolded at supper. Their mother is not shy in expressing her disappointment at finding out that she has not, as she believed she had, raised respectable young men, but rather careless little ruffians.
As much as he loves the warmer weather, Harry is rather looking forward to the colder days, hoping that the river might freeze, because Charlie has also found their old ice skates hanging in the back of the shed. At present, however, the water still flows merrily, with no sign of stopping.
“It is so unfortunate that you were not here last winter. It was frozen for months,” Harry says regretfully one morning as they stare at the river, having taken advantage of the sunny day and the melting snow to walk alongside it.
“It is not cold enough yet. Perhaps in January.”
Harry shrugs. “It may not even harden enough for skating.”
“Do you remember that big pond in Hampstead, behind the marketplace?” Charlie muses, nudging Harry with his elbow to try and shake him out of his sombre mood. “It was always fit for skating. Do you remember? Grandfather would take us there when we visited in the winter.”
“I remember,” Harry says distractedly.
His mother never wanted him to go. She would insist that his brothers and cousins were too rough and that he would get hurt and that it would be better if he remained at the house with the girls. But Grandfather would not hear it. He had never once left Harry behind, even if it meant arguing ceaselessly with his daughter. It is true that the boys were terribly rough, however. Harry remembers how they darted around dangerously on their skates, crashing into one another at terrible speeds, and Grandfather was aware of the danger their carelessness posed for Harry, who was much smaller than they were. He would pretend that he was afraid to fall and hurt his old bones, and he would ask Harry to remain nearby and please not let go of his arm while they skated around the edges of the pond safely. Harry should perhaps have been upset at being subjected to this protective treatment while his brothers were free to play however they wanted, but he took a sort of pride at being kept close as the favourite. He still remembers how Grandfather’s steady hand would hold him up whenever he lost his balance or whenever the blade of his skate would catch into the ice and threaten to trip him. All of his brothers and cousins would get regularly hurt whenever they went out skating, but even if Harry had never been a good skater, he had never fallen once with Grandfather by his side.
“It must be nearly ten years since I last saw him,” Charlie adds disbelievingly. “Eight years, I believe.  Yes, since I joined the military. It will be good to see him again.”
Harry turns to his brother in confusion. “Again? Are you going to Hampstead?”
“Yes. All of us shall be visiting for Christmas,” Charlie reveals with a grin.
Harry grips his arm suddenly, a bit roughly perhaps, but Charlie only laughs. “What? When was this decided?”
“I told Father that I would need to leave for a few days next week,” Charlie says in a more serious tone. “I was going to perhaps find a room in Hatfield, but he suggested I go to Hampstead. I have done so in the past, after I came of age, if you recall.”
Harry nods, looking away in embarrassment. When they were younger, Bill and Charlie both would visit their grandfather whenever the time for their rut was near. Harry has always felt a certain guilt over this, especially now that he knows how much easier it is to be at home during such a trying time. But they would both rather leave The Burrow than have Harry being sent away, even for a few days. Besides, Grandfather Prewett is himself an Alpha, and he was always in the best position to provide a comfortable environment for them.
“And so, I wrote to Grandfather, and he was the one who suggested everyone should follow suit after me. I shall be leaving on Monday, and Mother, Father and you should join us the week after. Everyone will come for Christmas as well. Uncle Fabian and Aunt Mable, with Catherine and Caroline. And Ron and Ginny. And Percy, Fred and George will certainly come as well. I believe even Robert will come with his wife and the children. Are you happy?” Charlie asks, quite unnecessarily, because surely it is obvious from Harry’s wide eyes and grin that he is ecstatic. “We shall have a big family Christmas, just like when we were little.”
“I am happy,” Harry can only mumble, holding Charlie’s arm tightly still and pressing his cheek against his brother’s shoulder. “It will be just like before. As if nothing had changed.”
Harry is nearly certain that his brother smiles sadly at this, but Charlie does not reply as they continue walking, the soggy ground squelching under their feet.
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sociallyawkward--fics · 5 years ago
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Things Done in the Shadows
I think this was one of the first Witcher oneshots I ever finished, almost directly after the show, and honestly it is weeks and WEEKS old because this was back when I was still too chicken to post any of my Witcher fics for fear of them being terrible lol. I went through and edited this one a bit (for once lol) and then decided it was good enough to post since I need to stop anxiously hoarding fics and actually post the things I finish lol. Hope y'all enjoy it!!
Word Count: 1438 words
[ao3 link]
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Jaskier knew this one was on him.
In his defense, he had been drunk and on another one of his “try and get over the idiot witcher you’re in love with” binges, but that didn’t really solve the situation as it was now.
Which just so happened to be sleeping with a person with a very powerful and very jealous spouse. They hadn’t even bothered to mention they were married beforehand! Not that that information tended to stop Jaskier anyway, but now he was in deep trouble.
Jaskier raced through the streets as quickly as he could, but he knew the “friends” of the spouse were gaining on him. He also wasn’t Geralt, and he could feel his stamina quickly waning. The men shouted behind him, waving weapons, and Jaskier tried to put on another burst of speed, but there was simply nothing left.
But speak -- or think -- of the devil, and he shall appear, because Jaskier saw Geralt turn the corner ahead of him, still bloodied and dirty from a job.
Geralt seemed to notice him a moment later, his expression shifting minutely to one of recognition. Then, immediately after, a less minute shift to an expression of exasperation. He watched Geralt’s lips form his name in that annoyed way of his, but it didn’t matter. Geralt showed up, Geralt was getting roped into it.
So Jaskier grabbed his arm as he ran past.
Jaskier knew Geralt was fully capable of resisting him. The man was built like a brick shithouse, Jaskier probably couldn’t forcibly move him even if he threw his entire weight into it. And frankly, he almost expected Geralt to stand his ground.
But Geralt allowed himself to be pulled along and jogged (jogged, the audacity, Jaskier was sprinting) alongside him.
“What did you do now,” Geratl growled.
“Oh, you know,” Jaskier said between gasps of breath. “A little of this, a little of that. The usual.”
Geralt growled, wordlessly this time, and grabbed him roughly by the arm. Jaskier yelped a protest, but Geralt ignored it, either not caring or not hearing (most likely the former, given his witcher senses). He practically carried Jaskier through the streets, racing through them and taking various twists and turns.
The sounds of the men behind them grew quieter, so Jaskier risked a glance back. They were further away, thanks to Geralt’s speed and twisting path, but they were also angrier. And angry was almost just as dangerous as too-close.
“Geralt!” He said.
Geralt grunted and took another sharp turn, nearly accidentally running Jaskier into a wall in the process.
Only now they were in a dark, spooky, dead-end alley with no escape.
“Shit,” Jaskier hissed.
The footsteps were growing nearer again, and not even Geralt seemed to know what to do, now. Seeing no other solution, Jaskier dragged them deeper into the alley, trying to hide in the shadows. He backed himself up against the furthest wall and pulled Geralt in front of his body, hoping his dark armor and cloak would hide Jaskier’s colorful fashion sense. He quickly pulled Geralt’s cloak over his head to hide his blinding hair.
“They’re going to see us,” Geralt grumbled, moving in closer and practically pinning Jaskier to the wall as he glanced over his shoulder. “It’s only dusk. Shadows only do so much.”
“Well, what do we do, then?” Jaskier hissed.
Geralt just gave him a look. Practically his version of a shrug, if Jaskier interpreted it right, and Jaskier prided himself in being rather fluent in Geralt, at this point.
The footsteps were too close, now, and Jaskier wasn’t keen on dying today. He was even less keen on risking Geralt having to injure or maim or kill humans because Jaskier fucked up.
So he followed his instincts and did the only thing he could think of doing.
Which, admittedly, was a rather stupid plan.
But Jaskier gripped Geralt by the hood of his cloak and dragged him in close. Geralt’s eyes widened just barely in surprise, but he had no time to protest or react before Jaskier was pulling him into a sloppy, bruising kiss that tasted like the blood that spattered Geralt’s body.
Oh, please forgive me for this, Jaskier prayed as their teeth clashed.
Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and hoped beyond hope that the kiss looked real from the outside, like two lovers stealing a moment away from prying eyes. Really, he knew it was just an uncomfortable press of lips, and he was too chickenshit to make it anything else because he’d already caught feelings for the emotionally constipated idiot, he didn’t need to make them worse.
But apparently Geralt didn’t get the memo.
Still maintaining the kiss, Geralt gently took Jaskier’s hands in his own and pulled them off his hood so he could pull back slightly, softening the kiss. Jaskier made a soft, questioning noise, but relaxed against the wall and let Geralt lean into him, truly pinning him against the stone, now. 
Geralt dropped his hands once he relaxed, and they instinctively moved to touch him once more. One slid under his cloak to grip Geralt’s waist, cursing the armor blocking his touch and tugging the man into him. The other went up to thread into his hair, barely being aware enough to not knock the hood back off his head.
Jaskier angled his head a bit more, truly giving up, now. The barely-perceptible sigh that came from Geralt at the action, only detected because Jaskier felt the stream of air leave Geralt’s nose against his cheek, made something inside him melt. If his feelings got worse after this, then his feelings got worse after this. He wasn’t going to get a chance like this, a chance to kiss Geralt, again, so he might as well get the most out of it.
So Jaskier started putting his all into the kiss, all the tips and tricks he learned over the years with various lovers. He felt Geralt’s hands finally meet his body, one slithering around his back to arch him into Geralt, the other gripping his hip gently.
And the thing was… Jaskier didn’t expect Geralt to be so gentle in his… affections. The Geralt Jaskier knew yes, certainly had a soft side, but he was aggressive and crass and, frankly, rather rude. Geralt seemed like the kind of lover to come in with fire and heat, the kind of lover who would ravish his partner, to leave them bruised and breathless and gasping for more.
But Geralt was soft and gentle. His grip wasn’t bruising, like Jaskier expected, and neither were his kisses. He wasn’t gripping Jaskier’s clothes so tightly he worried they ripped, in fact, it was nearly feather-light, allowing Jaskier to pull away the moment he chose to.
But Jaskier certainly wasn’t going to choose to do so any time soon, if he could help it.
He opened his legs and tried to hook one of his ankles around Geralt’s to drag him closer. Geralt resisted for only a moment before he gave in and slid a thigh between Jaskier’s legs, leaning into him even more.
Jaskier groaned into Geralt’s mouth and decided fuck the hood, flipping it off to get both of his hands into Geralt’s hair, despite how flithy it was. Geralt hummed and pulled back. Jaskier made a disappointed noise at the loss of contact, but Geralt’s lips almost immediately attached to his neck and the noise melted into one of pleasure.
Geralt’s lips pecked and nibbled and sucked gently, and Jaskier sighed and tilted his head back to give Geralt more room. Geralt was just starting to pull his chemise lower to get to his chest when--
“Damn bard,” someone outside the alley hissed. “We lost him.”
“Forget it,” another voice replied. “He’s not worth our time.”
Geralt slowly pulled back and Jaskier mourned the loss of heat, frowning. Geralt looked at him thoughtfully and reached out with a thumb to brush something off his jaw. Flakes of the blood that was drying and crusting all over Geralt’s face and clothes.
“You could use a bath,” Jaskier said, mouth suddenly dry despite the fact that he’d just had Geralt’s very moist tongue in it moments ago.
“Hm,” Geralt said, looking Jaskier up and down. “We could use a bath.”
Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat.
He didn’t dare say another word, for once. He simply dragged Geralt off, trying to ignore how the witcher just radiated smugness, and marched straight toward the nearest inn.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t need anymore “try and get over the witcher you’re in love with” binges after today.
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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago
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charity fic: all in the stars
So, some of you might be aware of the Move to Higher Group fan-zine that was being put together. It is an awesome project and I cannot wait to see the final product. 
I’ve decided to release my fic independently, with the same goal of raising money for the Quileute Tribe’s Move to Higher Ground Project. There is an amazing post right here by lemonadebottlecap that covers the history of the tribe and the misconceptions that Twilight spread - I’ve also reblogged that right below here. 
So I will cheerfully suggest and implore you to donate to the Move to Higher Ground Project - even just $1 would be amazing. 
I’m not asking for anything for the fic, but in the spirit of the zine and the fandom renaissance, please consider it. <3
Onwards to the fic
all in the stars.
Mary-Alice doesn’t speak much. She hasn’t for a long time. Mostly, she rocks and murmurs and stares. Sometimes she cries or shrieks, but that happens less and less since the doctors started her on the shock treatments. She shivers and stares and mutters, and the staff leave her well enough alone. Mostly.
(Matron hopes she dies this winter, she heard her say it to the nurse; she’s a fragile thing, all bird bones and sharp edges from her body eating away at itself. Her lungs rattle and her chest aches and her head always hurts and she knows that, one way or another, death is coming. It won’t take much to send her on her way.)
The nights are bitterly cold, and she shivers as she stares out the tiny barred window at the stars. No one knows what she’s looking for, or looking at; she’s been having treatments so long, and lived in the dim gloom of her cell for so many years, that her eyesight is greatly degraded - if she were free, she would be considered legally and irreversibly blind. But she stares, right at the stars, as if she’s searching for something.
(Her sight in the real world is nearly gone - she sees shapes and the shift of shadows, but everything is quite smeared, like looking through deep, murky water. But her other sight, of things that are to be and things that could be, that is still as sharp as ever, even if it doesn’t always make perfect sense.)
When she eats, she struggles to focus on her tray, to judge space and distance. Some of the orderlies laugh at her fumbling (hands shaking, eyes squinting, tiny body hunched over her singular meal of the day) and she is left to try and feed herself, barely managing to consume half before she has spilt it everywhere, or she gives up out of frustration and exhaustion, out of disgust of the taste of turning milk, of cooling animal fat and rancid vegetables. When she is taken to her treatments, and sessions with the doctors, she tries to guide herself with one thin hand on the wall. Mostly, she’s manhandled - dragged into the rooms with the report she was being ‘difficult’ and the unspoken promise of punishment, or ferried about in an ancient wheelchair.
(She used to count her bruises like the constellations in the sky, blooming black and blue, purple and green. Her very own Aurora Borealis. Back then, they were just needle sticks. Then they stretched out, wrapping painfully around her torso, her thighs. They swelled with blood and kept her from sleep. They made her easy to manipulate, fingers roughly pressing down on a raw spot to make her bend to their will. Now the bruises don’t fade, they linger - overlapping and constant, and it’s too hard to see them to bother counting them. She cannot tell the difference between a shadow and a bruise now, anyhow - her cell is dark, her eyes are dying, and there is always pain, no matter where she touches on her skin.)
Elias arrived (arrives? Sometimes the passage of time is hard to track) sometime ago. He was… he simply was, in the beginning. Another set of hands moving her around, sticking her with the needles, frowning and judging and damning her. And then one day, for no reason at all, he brought her an extra blanket and wrapped her up tight against the cold. He brought her cold tea, over-steeped and bitter on her tongue, but insisted she drink it. He looked at her with eyes that had seen too much, had tried and failed and run right through every ounce of hope and benevolence he could manage, so he had given up. Until now (then?).
(She knows she would have died that night, from the cold of the night and the shock of the ice bath, for want of a blanket and something to drink. Except he swept in, with his red eyes and the clean blanket and bad tea and held her hand in his, his gloves warming her skin. He stayed, she lived, and the future went spinning off into a kaleidoscope of possibility, lighting up her mind. She’s already lost her words by then, but she wants to tell him, however this all falls together, she forgives him and thanks him for his kindness. That she knows what he is, what he has done, and it is not her place to pass judgement on anyone, man or immortal.
That any kind of light in the dark is a beautiful thing, no matter how long it is lit.)
To say she dies when Elias bites her, when he presses venom into her wrists and throat and prays to a god he hasn’t believed in for many years, is a fallacy. It is a polite lie, a bedtime story for children. It is fiction designed to absolve the villains of the piece - doctors in clean, white coats; nurses with shark-smiles and vindictive natures.
(She has died a little every single day since her parents sent her to the asylum. That is true, if quite dramatic.)
What killed her, truly? It might have been the distracted nurse, overzealous in her dosage; it could have been the blow to the head when she fell against the desk in the doctor’s room, shoved by an irritated orderly in charge of shepherding her around. It might have been the addition of an imprecise voltage or two from a dismissive doctor. It might have been all those things bleeding together. But by the time Elias bites her, changes her, there is very little of Mary-Alice Brandon left - just a failing body struggling so hard to make it to the next hour, minute, second. Her heart thumps slowly, her lungs rattle with oxygen, her eyes glassy and unseeing. She does not know what is coming for her, and how Elias intends to protect her.
(If she could speak, she would talk of the change like being in the middle of space, of watching the rush of stars and galaxies, of colours and combustion and the swoop of the unknown, great and terrible. It was like being a tiny spot of dust in an expansive, ornate concert hall - terribly insignificant and in the presence of true greatness. But she is far enough gone that she doesn’t even know of the Hunter that stalks her, doesn’t know that when she wakes, she will be a brand new girl, an entirely new person who will be able to speak and think and run and see.)
It happens exactly how it is supposed to. Elias is old enough to know the tricks, to leave a false trail miles long that sacrifices more than one innocent, maybe a mad little inmate or two, as he carries Mary-Alice to sanctuary. She is an easy burden, still and silent, and Elias continues his futile pleas to god that this will work, and she will be born anew, and he won’t have immortalised her misery and suffering. In his long life, he has never seen an impaired vampire, one that has carried their damage and their disease over into eternity, and he hopes Mary-Alice will not be the first.
(Her galaxies surround her, in black and navy blue, violet and emerald. Rich gold, too bright to look directly at, streaks across the endless space. The stars wink at her, and some of them blink out - futures that are not hers to have, she decides. The light of the remaining stars is warm on her face and limbs, fills her chest to bursting, and she wants to cradle them in her arms, hold them tight forever.)
They nearly make it, you know. One day, two days, the third day dawns with no sign of the Hunter; not a scent on the breeze or the still of the woods. Just little Mary-Alice’s thin little breaths and faltering heartbeat, curled into a ball of blankets in the grass. Elias’ hand strokes her hair, and he remembers another sickly girl, brittle and dying. Long gone, in a forgotten grave in a corner of the woods an ocean away. It makes him feel ashamed, like he only helped Mary-Alice to fit her into the place left by another; that he is not so good to help her simply because of her suffering. But in truth, why else pick her, of all of the poor souls in that ward?
(Her old self is almost gone, as the stars slowly decline and the colours begin to fade. She cannot excuse his motivations when she does not know him or remember him. Or remind him why he was precious and good and kind to her. In her memory, his star has blinked out and gone, another lamp extinguished.)
She whimpers then, and it is their undoing - he is startled by her sudden noise; hope and concern knotting in his chest as he leans over her. It is also enough for a lurking Hunter, downwind to surprise his target. He is angry, a rippling red rage, at being tricked and turned around - at his precious quarry being snatched from under his nose and the stench of Elias’ venom taking hold of her blood. The Hunter is no loser; he is his own champion, one that takes sick delight in broken, bloodless girls whose throats are raw from screaming, and whose bones never fit back together right. One that has lost the battle but will win the war, and salt the earth just to spite Elias.
(In her last seconds, Mary-Alice sees. She sees Elias and the Hunter locked in battle; she sees Elias’ destruction and then she sees the Hunter come for her, still lost to the change. She sees what he does to her, how he mutilates and breaks her to punish her saviour, who is already ash in the air. And as quickly as the images press around her, they are gone, like confetti in the air.)
Elias is angry, angrier than he has been in a long time as the Hunter is upon them, and he drags the Hunter away from his charge’s prone body.
(Just a little longer. A little more time…)
She has a choice to make now; one she won’t remember. There are only a handful of her stars left, and she needs to pick one.
(She sees herself rise, red-eyed and confused but determined. It’s an easy trail to follow, watching the Hunter feed broken limbs into his fire with a smirk on his face and delicious plans for the girl in the glade. He’s taken the other man’s coat, and that strikes rage into her heart. He doesn’t have time to turn around before she has his head off and into the fire. She crouches in front of the fire, and watches carefully as it burns lower. It’s only when she’s left with ash and smoke that she rises, feeling heavier and sadder than she thinks she should be able to feel and slips off back into the forest, to a future yet to be decided.)
No, she doesn’t want to be sad anymore. She was sad before, she’s tired of sad.
(She runs south. She runs through the forest, faster and faster, to escape the one that is coming for her. When she stops running, she hides. She’s frightened, fearful, like a hunted rabbit. Her heart is quiet, but it still feels like it wants to burst from her chest in fear and she is completely and utterly lost, in all the ways that someone can be and she doesn’t know what to do.)
She doesn’t want to be afraid either.
(Golden eyes. A warm smile, one that makes her feel like her chest is full of starlight again. A scar on his neck that her fingers worry over, as if she can protect him from the pain. A kiss on her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth before his lips graze her ear.
“I love you, Alice. Irreversibly and forever,” he murmurs and, and…)
That one. That’s her. She’s Alice; she gets to be Alice, chooses to be Alice - Alice who is happy and loved and safe and precious. Alice, who loves him more than anything in existence. She could burst with how much she loves him. She could have a million choices, a million stars, and that will always be the one she chooses and holds tight.
(“Forever.”)
And she opens her eyes, clear and bright and ruby-red. She spies the moss and the ferns, her discarded blankets, the bugs in the dirt. She sees feeble light of dusk pushing through the trees. She smells water and dirt and trees and … smoke.
(“Alice.”)
Getting to her feet, her throat burning and her mind too full of everything that is new and unknown around her, and the ominous promise of the smoke hovering in the air, she holds the image of the man with the golden eyes in her mind and she begins to run.
(“I love you.”)
She runs North with nothing but hope and a name, spoken by the one who loves - or will love (she forgets that time moves differently when you can’t see what’s coming) - her best. She runs away from disaster, from pain and fear and sadness, and everything she came from, a brand new girl on her way to a brand new life.
(“Irreversibly and forever.”)
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