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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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bakubub · 3 years

Text

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00 for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.

Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.

She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.

And you’re afraid.

That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?

The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?

She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.

When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.

“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”

She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.

“Walk me there.” she orders.

You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.

She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.

You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.

You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.

But.

When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…

It no longer seems so bad.

“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.

“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.

“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.

Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”

“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”

“How is that fine?”

The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.

You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations… but why would the cold be an issue?

The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.

Another part of you… just plain worries.

“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.

“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…

Except.

“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”

Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.

“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”

Wait.

What?

You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’

Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.

And— you freeze.

Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.

There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.

“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.

“Uh—” you can’t really form words.

“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.

Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.

The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.

You manage. Somehow.

Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.

Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”

“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.

Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.

Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.

“Show me your house.” she says.

You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.

Nothing is.

Maybe nothing ever was.

And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”

You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.

Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.

Her other hand comes up to your neck.

You can’t, you can’t—

“Alexia.”

Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.

“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”

As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.

Haunts you.

You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.

“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.

You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.

From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.

You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.

You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.

She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.

Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.

Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.

“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.

“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”

Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.

Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.

“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #resident evil village #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #fanfiction #because i've read on spoilers of sadness and heartbreak and we all need something soft to take the pain away #cue our fav pillow princess being mega darling to her girl

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

Text

Becoming Mine (Vincenzo)

Summary: Y/N is working with Vincenzo and a loyal ally from Italy. Han seok captures her and tortures her for information. She holds out longer than he hoped and wants her loyalty for himself.//SMUT WARNING, MINORS DNI

Jang Hanseok sent Ms. Choi to get her hands dirty and oversee the torture of Y/N for information. Y/N and Vincenzo grew up in the Mafia together. They taught each other everything.

He has asked Y/N for help with taking down Babel and she said yes without any questions asked. And now she has to suffer the consequences of loyalty.

First they started with electrocution. They tied her to a metal chair and put spark plugs on the back side of the chair. They would send a jolt, each longer than the last. "Go to hell!" She yells at Ms. Choi after the jolt that lasted 20 seconds.

Then they moved on to cutting with the thinnest daggers. Death by a thousand cuts, she always thought it was a cliche thing to use. But hey, to each their own torture method.

Her hair sticks to her forehead and the sides of her neck as he digs his knife across her collar bone. "Fuck!"

Ms. Choi walks into Hanseok's office with a grimace. "What's wrong?" "She's not breaking. She's a lot stronger than I thought." Ms. Choi says, linking her hands behind her back. Hanseok stands from his chair and rounds the desk.

"What tactics have you used?" He asks. "Electrocution, cutting, waterboarding, fire and even bludgeoning and she still tells me to go to hell." Choi rambles.

"I could use someone of her loyalty," Hanseok states. "I want to meet her," he adds. "With all due respect, sir, she'll never agree to that. She's endure days of torture for Vincenzo, she isn't going to give him up or betray him. She's willing to risk her life for him." "Will you risk your life for me?" He asks, searching her face for a response.

"I'll kill anyone you tell me to, sir," "That didn't answer my question. I still want to see her." He says. Ms. Choi drives him to the warehouse where they keep Y/N. She was currently unconscious from the pain she has endured. Hanseok's face grimaced and he says, "You took get your hands dirty a little too literally."

Y/N gasped as she regain consciousness and she groaned softly. She looked up to see Jang Hanseok and he smiles. "Who the hell are you?" She asked before spitting out some blood in her mouth. "Hopefully, I'll be your new boss." He says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "In your dreams, tough guy." She snarks.

A man punches her across the face and she looked at him with pure annihilation and vexation. That look gave Hanseok butterflies in his stomach. The feeling was beyond the norm and he had no idea what the origin was. She opened her mouth to say something else but Hanseok intercepted.

"Touch her again, and I'll have you thrown off a building." He threatens. Hanseok watched as the man stepped away from her. "You, cut her loose," He adds, pointing to another man.

"Sir, are you sure about this?" Choi asked and he didn't answer. She was cut free and the first thing Y/N grabs is the man's throat before breaking it.

Another man came at her and she ducked under the punch before punching him twice in his armpit before punching his throat. She limps over to the table where her weapons were and grabbed her smaller knives.

She tossed them in the air and within seconds, three men dropped dead with the knives in their skulls. Which only left Ms. Choi and Jang Hanseok.

She grabs a gun from one of the corpses and aimed it at them. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you both," "Do that and my men sets that entire plaza on fire with everyone inside."

"I'm calling your bluff lady, you're just trying to save your ass because you know that I'll put bullet in your head without blinking," she says as she cocks the gun and applies steady pressure on trigger.

"Wa-" she pulls the trigger and sends a bullet straight through Ms. Choi's head. Hanseok chuckles wryly before saying, "Now I'm in need of a new lawyer and strategist," he says, his hands still stuffed in his pockets.

"Who are you?" "The CEO of Babel," he answers nonchalantly. "So you're the one who started all this,"

"Well I can't take all the credit. She had her fair share," he says, referencing to Ms. Choi. Red dots appear on Y/N chest and she notices. "I have this place surrounded. One move to shoot me and you'll get shot to pieces. Just take the easy way and work for me. It'll be a lot of fun." "Right, like killing innocent people is fun,"

"It seems like you enjoy killing people." "Only those who deserve it," she snaps. "Regardless of your intentions, my guys wills drop you before you can fire. Question is, do you want to live and be treated like a queen?"

She doesn't respond and he adds, "Or I can kill both you and your mother. She loves to visit a little shop in.. Siena, right? What's it's called again?"

Her grip tightens on the gun before tossing it across the room. "Kill her and I promise to kill you and every single one of your sponsors," "Looks like you and I have more in common than we thought. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He walks out of the warehouse and she hesitantly follows.

Y/N's POV

You sigh softly as you stepping into the cold, crisp in contrast of the warm, misty air in bathroom. You had pulled your hair into a loose ponytail before you put on Hanseok's shorts and t-shirt. You hate to say it, but his clothes were extremely comfortable. He promised to take me out shopping tomorrow for clothes.

"I didn't know what you liked so I bought everything," he says, referencing to the various plates of food on the kitchen counter. Your eyes settle on kimchi jiagae and you make your way over to the table.

You a grab a few bowls to try some of the kimchi jiagae, bulgogi, dakdoritgang, dakgangjeong and mixed rice. You set them on the tray sit on the pillow he prepared for you.

"You like spicy food, huh?" He says and you nod. "Yeah, my brother likes spicy food too." You wait until he comes back with his tray of food to dig in. You hum lowly as you eat your bulgogi and you feel a hand touch my chin. You pull away and look at him with confused.

"What the hell are you doing?" "I'm sorry, I just.. you look.. you're beautiful," "If you think that you can someone convince me into sleeping with you, you have another thing coming,"

"What? I can't appreciate your beauty without something in return?" He asks innocently. "Hell no," you sneer. He chuckles before saying, "I'm going to have some fun with you."

Over the next few weeks, he has bought you a whole new wardrobe, shoes and jewelry. He's even made sure my hair and nails are done with complementary spa days.

He's been pampering you ever since you were a part of his life. You've been enjoying it but you've developed a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It also raises questions. Why did he choose you? How long will this pampering thing last? Is your mom still held hostage? What is he planning on doing with Vincenzo?

"Hey, kitten." You roll your eyes at his new pet name for you. You have no idea where he got it from because you are nothing like a kitten. You were playful or adventurous, but you were high maintenance.

"How many times do I have to tell.." you trail off as you see him in a light blue three piece suit with white leather shoes. His hair was combed to the side with gel and you could smell his cologne from where you sat.

"Why are you dressed like that?" "Do you like it?" He say, nearing you slowly. "No," you lie and he smiles at you. "You sure about that?" He leans his hands on either side of you and ducked his head to be at your eye level. "I bought you a matching dress. Get dressed, we leave in an hour."

He nudges his nose against yours before leaving the room and leaving you hot and bothered. Ever since you walked in on him lifting weights without his shirt, your mind came up with various, filthy scenarios that made your panties soaked.

You stand up from the chair and walked into the bedroom to see a goregous silk, light blue dress with diamond seam around the midrange of the stomach.

You take a shower and apply your favorite lotion and perfume before you slide on the dress. You latch on the sparkly, light blue heels. You put on your robe and sit down to apply some foundation, highlight and mascara on to your face.

You were just about to clip your hair up and leave a few curls out but you hear Hanseok say, "Leave your hair down." You look at him through the mirror to see him leaning his arm on the door frame, pulling his dress shirt taught around his solid biceps. He eyes you with a soft smile on his face. "You look beautiful," he says as he nears you once again.

"I know." You stand up and meet him half way across the room. "Shall we?" He says , offering you his arm. "Let's just get this night over with,"

You two return at one in the morning and you were infuriated. He spent the whole night flirting with random women at the gala. "You make no sense to me, Jang Hanseok." You say, taking off your earring and tossing them on the dresser.

"What makes you say that?" He asks, sitting on the bed to take off his shoes. "You pamper me with all these gifts, clothes, jewelry to convince me to stay in your life and then you spend the entire night flirting with every one you could lay your eyes on." You snap.

He takes off his vest with a sigh and loosens his tie. "I wanted to see if you cared. Cared about me and my attention." "Well, do you?" He adds. "If I didn't care, do you think I would have said anything?" You snap.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you inches away from his face. He tightens his grip and says through gritted teeth, "I've had enough of your attitude, just answer the question."

"I just did." His fingers dig into you neck enough to cause discomfort but not enough to break skin. "Do you care about me?" He asks. "Unfortunately, yes." "Why unfortunately?" "It only makes it harder to-" "

"To betray me?" You push his hand away and say, "What the hell makes you think of something like that? I was going to say it makes it harder to say no but you always think everyone is out to get you. It should be me asking the qu-"

He stops your rant by slamming his lips on yours. One hand rests on the back of your head and the other smooths over the dip of your back.

Your fingers work on unbuttoning his shirt as you walk him onto the bed. He sits on the edge and pulls you into his lap. You pull his shirt off his shoulder and leave kisses up his chest in it's wake.

He moans softly and you could feel his hard on press against your inner thigh. You tug the rest of his shirt off and push his back on the bed. You buck your hips against him and a soft whine leaves his lips.

You quiet him by tenderly biting down on his bottom lip. His lips latched onto yours and presses your core harder against him.

He pulls your hair gently to evade your attention from his lips. He rolls you on you stomach and stands. "Han seok, what are you-" he rips the dress open from the back, making you yell out in surprise.

"Damn it, I liked that dress." "There's plenty more where that came from kitten," he smooths his hands up the back of your legs and squeezes your ass.

You pull off the rest of your mangled dress, leaving you in your white lace set. "And don't you dare rip-" he rips the lace underwear in two and pulls you so your knees are on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to kill you, Han seok."

"I've been wanting to get a taste of you since I set my eyes on you." You let out a squeak when you feel his hot breath agaisnt your core.

You've never been in the position before so you have no idea what the expect. He licks up the stripe with slow, deep licks, each lick lasting longer on your clit. "Oh God," you grip the sheets with a white knuckle grip when he curls his tongue along the upper wall and caresses a g-spot. Your legs started to shake and loud moans leave your lips when he slips in two fingers and curled them hard.

You tried crawling away from him, feeling overwhelmed of the pleasure but he holds you back by your thighs. With a few more licks, you release yourself on his tongue and he hums with satisfaction.

"You taste a lot better than I thought, baby." Your body already started to twitch and you could tell that this was going to be a long night.

You roll onto your back and chills roll down your spine when you see him licking your juices off of his fingers. Pushing yourself backwards, he pulls you closer to him by your ankles. "Han seok, please. It's too much."

"You're doing great, kitten. Just relax and let it wash over you." He says softly, pecking your lips before settling himself between your legs once again.

He spreads your legs wide before he sucks on your clit harder and faster than the first time, sending shock waves through your body. "Fuck! Oh my God!"

Looking down at him, he locks eyes with you and he completely devours your bundle of folds. He alternate between licking side to side and up and down with a curl of his tongue.

Your back arches and stars cloud your vision as you come down from your second high. He pulls away from you with his lower face covered in your juices. "Come here," he lifts your trembling body and dropping it into his lap. He smooths his hands over your ass before unbuckling his dress pants.

He pulls down his boxers and his erection stands up tall, making your whimper. He's going to destroy you. "I'll be gentle," he whispers, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

You nod your head in agreement and lines himself up at your entrance. Throwing your head back as your walls expand and contract around him. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck and he bounces you in his lap.

Time slows a few seconds when you meet his gaze. "Oh God," you chant as the knot intensified in your stomach. "I'm close, Han seok."

His lips locked with yours and your boys jolts forward when his thumb rubs hard circles on your clit. Your entire body spasms as he cums inside of you but he continued to rub circles until you came.

He stayed buried inside of you while you sat in his lap as you both catches your breaths. Resting his forehead against yours, he says, "I love you. You believe me what I say that, right?"

You nod and holds the sides of your face. "Say it," "I love you," "Good girl," he pulls out of you and slides you both under the covers.

You lay directly ontop of him with a thin sheet covering the both of you, sighing as he draws circles on your back.

#kdrama fanfic #vincenzo #kdramas #smut

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akitokihojo · 3 years

Text

Monster - Chapter 12

chapter index

damn near almost forgot it was Friday... anyway, this one's a little shorter, but necessarily so. I hope you enjoy it, nevertheless! <3

----------

Kagome was in a grouchy mood from the rude awakening she’d received early that morning. She wasn’t outwardly expressing herself, but it was a little too difficult to wipe it clean from her face. And, Shinosuke was too amused by it.

It was a young lady who’d woken she and Inuyasha up, and immediately Kagome knew she was there to change Inuyasha’s bandages. When Kagome had first arrived the night before, a small stain was noticeable, but as she sat up from Inuyasha’s side, the front of his bandages were completely soddened with his blood. He was weak and fatigued, eyes opened from his own awakening but irises dull, and didn’t even have enough energy to really grasp her hand anymore. His breathing was shallow, but he tried to narrow a brave look at her. Still, she froze with fear.

The woman, Wakana, wouldn’t allow Kagome to help and insisted she leave. Though Kagome persistently objected, demanding she needed to stay by his side, again she was torn away by the strong arms of Shinosuke.

“He was okay last night!” She frantically cried as he let her go just outside of Inuyasha’s room.

“And, he’s okay now. I swear. This is normal with blood loss, but he’s part demon. He’s going to be fine.”

“No, but -“

“Kagome, I promise! He’s just fucking exhausted from healing, and the medication from last night has most likely worn off. I’ve seen this on numerous occasions. And, you want to be with him twenty-four-seven, I get it. You want to personally witness his progress, but you can’t. It’s not good for you. Wakana’s right, you shouldn’t see him like this right now. You both need a little space from each other.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense. He would never leave my side if I was hurt like that, and I don’t want to leave his.” Kagome argued, bleary eyed.

“Don’t you get it? If you’re in there, he’s going to be focused on your well-being the entire time. He wont want to rest because he’s going to want to make sure you’re calm. I already saw him trying; I was right there. And, you? You’re going to see the most traumatizing wound you’ve probably ever laid eyes on. Trust me, something like that doesn’t just leave your memory. Especially, when it’s happened to someone significant to you. It’s going to scar you, and each time you look at Inuyasha thereafter, you’ll either see the infliction or you’ll be absolutely terrified it’ll happen again, so you’ll overcompensate to prevent it. You both need to be apart. You got pretty banged up yesterday, too. When was the last time you just focused on yourself?” That last question came off playfully sarcastic, but Kagome couldn’t perceive anything but literalism at the moment.

“I don’t know, like thirteen years ago.” She responded blandly. “I have a little brother.”

“Oh my god.” He deadpanned, blinking. “You need to eat something.”

“No, but -“

“Kagome, come on.” Shinosuke placed his hand in the middle of her back to guide her. “I promise, he’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, need some food.”

“I don’t want food.”

“You’re eating food.”

And, so here she was, porridge and fruit placed on a tray before her as she sat on a rather large bed in a rather large room she hadn’t been in before. Kagome nibbled on a strawberry, feeling the grumpy pout written all over her face, her stomach in shambles, and Shinosuke snickering at her from a chair by the door.

“Are you going to watch me all freaking day?”

“That’s literally my job. So, yes.”

“Go away.” Kagome grumbled, half a strawberry in her mouth.

“No.” He smiled.

The door opened slowly, cautiously, Wakana walking in with a soft smile on her face. She pulled her long, brown hair from the low ponytail it’d been in, allowing the straight, flowing strands to hang freely now around her shoulders. Immediately, Shinosuke respectfully stood, giving a light bow of his head when their eyes met.

“He’s perfectly fine.” She assured Kagome, approaching closer. “The hole’s actually a bit smaller already. I was surprised to see such quick improvement. The wound is lathered in some herbs, he’s wrapped up nice and tight, and I had him sip on an herbal remedy to help alleviate some pain.”

“Can I see him?” Kagome softly asked, lowering the strawberry from her pink-stained lips.

“He’s asleep.” Wakana grimaced slightly.

“Can I - can I see him, anyway?”

“No.” Shinosuke chimed, robbing a grape from her fruit bowl.

Kagome scowled at the audacious guard, flickering her attention back at Wakana. “Why is he like this? I don’t think I like him.”

“I don’t think I do either.” She sighed, elbowing him in the side. “Sorry. I know he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s the head of our guards, and papa was right to have him watch over you. Though, your friend doesn’t appear to care as much as we’d thought he would. He can’t even move and he seems to think he can do better.”

“Oh, you told him?” Kagome asked, wondering when the topic could have come up. Though, she couldn’t deny that the response sounded very organic to Inuyasha’s nature. Processing everything else she’d said, her head cocked to the side in a quick subject change. “Wait, papa?”

Wakana gave a small laugh, smacking Shinosuke’s hand as he reached for another piece of fruit. “It’s like clockwork. I walk in, Inuyasha asks for you. We’ve told him multiple times that you’re being protected, but much like you, he wants to be by your side. And, yes. I’m the headman’s daughter. I asked Shinosuke to bring you to my room. Figured it would be more comfortable for you. I also have some clothes that should fit you.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Kagome kindly declined, handing Shinosuke the fork she hadn’t been using with a slice of honeydew on the end. She wasn’t a huge fan of that fruit, so he could eat all of those pieces for all she cared. “What happened to my clothes from yesterday?”

Wakana arched a spekulative brow. “Ruined?”

“What do you mean, ruined?”

“You didn’t actually expect that blood to come out, did you?” Shinosuke asked after swallowing his fruit.

“Oh, shit.” Kagome hissed. “I forgot! Crap, that was my last shirt.”

“I might be able to save the bodice, though.” Wakana mentioned, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Kagome’s eyes widened, a small pout returning to her face. “My bodice? What happened to my bodice?”

“The seams split. And - um - so did the back.”

It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. After rolling around in the dirt to fight a demon, what else could she have expected?

“R-I-P.” Shinosuke satirically said, snagging another honeydew. Kagome pinned him with a threatening glare, one he finally heeded as he recoiled drastically, crossing back over to his chair by the door.

“I’ve got plenty of dresses, love!” Wakana said, trying to lift her spirits. “You’re more than welcome to any!”

“I appreciate that, but what’ll I do when I leave here?”

“Take them with you!”

“No, I couldn’t.” Kagome shook her head. “That’s so sweet of you, but I really couldn’t.”

“I insist.”

“No, honestly. I can’t fight in a dress.”

“Neither can I.” Shinosuke commented, his mouth full.

“Oh my god, get out.” Wakana groaned, rolling her eyes as she scowled at Shinosuke.

“Can’t.” He grinned, pointing to Kagome. “Scout’s honor.”

“Then, quiet.”

“That, I can do.” He agreed, sealing his lips.

“Okay, here’s the thing: The women around here don’t really wear bodices anymore; everything’s sort of built into our dresses, and it’s rare to see a woman in pants around these parts -“

“Barbarians.”

Both women glared at Shinosuke, and abruptly, with a tension of fear, he stood from his seat, opening the door and dragging the chair out with him.

“Anyway,” Wakana groaned, redirecting her gaze back to Kagome now that they were alone. “As I was saying, I can probably make you another, and if not, I can consult the seamstress at the edge of town. Let me brainstorm a little on this, is that okay?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble for you. It’s not a problem. I can -“

“No, don’t worry. I love doing this. It’s the little things in life, right? It’s no trouble at all, and after what you two did for all of us yesterday, it’s a pleasure.”

“Oh. Well, alright. Thank you.” Kagome reluctantly agreed.

“For the meantime, let me replace your bandages and get you out of your pajamas.”

Kagome flexed her hand in their new wrappings, her split knuckle coated in a thick ointment beneath and tingling from the remedy’s properties. The scrape on her head had a light layer smeared on, the bandage poking from her bangs and covering the entire area to keep the ointment in.

She could see the enthusiasm on Wakana’s face as she pulled out a few dresses from the back of her wardrobe. She’d explained that she’d made them herself, but there was something else there. A joy that told Kagome she hadn’t been able to pull them out in a while.

“I’d put my hobbies aside for the past couple of years. Who was I to have lavish taste and ease my worries with distractions such as sewing while my people were in a depression, constantly afraid of the henchmen’s next visit? Not to mention, the healthier you looked - and I mean that in all regards - the worse treatment you’d receive. It was best not to attract more attention, you know? I didn’t want them increasing their inspections. Not when there was -“ She stopped herself, glancing over at Kagome. “Not when I had people to protect. Their fear is our fear. So is their pain. And, sadness. My papa, he does his best for his people, and he stands right with them no matter what.

“Once Moryomaru starting coming around, that was when we all stowed away our irreplaceable belongings. My mother’s ashes, a few knickknacks from ancestors, and things of the likes from the village people were stored here below ground. In fact, they’re being brought up to return to their homes as we speak.” Her happiness was indescribable. It was like Kagome could physically see the weight had lifted off of her shoulders.

“But, wait.” She couldn’t help but ask. “Are you positive we got them all?”

“Actually, yes. I wasn’t there to see it happen, unfortunately. I was here in the courtyard with the women that live in this home. With Shinosuke and the guards. Moryomaru was in the midsts of taunting us when they left for whatever was going on, and I remember being so confused in that moment. But, papa told me everything. Inuyasha singlehandedly took all of the henchmen on. More importantly, you two killed Moryomaru. You killed the henchmen’s commander. Their leader. I’m not sure if that’s the end of all inspections, but the henchmen are like chickens running around without a head without someone to tell them what to do. And, I may have never met Naraku, but I certainly figure he finds himself too superior to ever sully his hands by speaking with low lives such as them. I’m sure inspections are about to slow substantially from this point forward. I can feel it.”

“Okay, hold on.” Kagome spoke, leaning on the frame of the bed as she digested that information, brown eyes unfocused on the carpet. “Moryomaru. That’s that thing’s name? That creature?”

“Yes.” Wakana confirmed.

“They were - they were the commander? Of all the henchmen? They were the one who called all the shots?”

“Ultimately, yes. Moryomaru liked to boast about their leadership, that was for sure, and while they had a chain of command it seemed - with a leader of each platoon - Moryomaru was the top. Forgive me, but did you not know that?”

“No.” Kagome admitted, glancing up at the headman’s daughter.

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed in contemplation. “This may sound presumptuous, but you guys came in so ready to fight, we’d sort of figured you were hunting Moryomaru.”

“Not at all. Before yesterday, we’d never seen Moryomaru. At least, I hadn’t. Not sure about Inuyasha, but he’d never mentioned them before. We were in the area when we sensed the demons, and then we heard some screaming so -“

“So, you came to help…” Wakana finished, astonished.

“Yeah.” Kagome nodded.

“You came to help even though you’re a conjurer…”

“Well, Inuyasha did. I can’t take much credit there; he’d made me agree to stay behind so they wouldn’t know about me.”

“Even so, he ran in even though he’s a hanyou. I can’t believe… You guys - you still ended up fighting too, you cant tell me you got these wounds from hiding, and I - you two are - I can’t believe -“ Wakana couldn’t finish her sentence. She’d been incredibly grateful to these two from the moment her father had brought them back to their home, and she thought incredibly highly of them from the instant she understood the incident. But, to learn the circumstance a little better, to comprehend that there was plenty on the line for them too, but they still contributed their strengths to save them, and ultimately so many more, Wakana was awestruck. Heedlessly, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Kagome’s shoulders to hug her tight.

Kagome had tensed at first, but recovered quickly, returning the gesture. At first, her touch was light, cautious, but as Wakana leaned further into her, Kagome firmed her hold on the woman.

“Are you okay?” Kagome asked, slightly confused.

“I’m just so thankful to you two.” She leaned back to say, smiling. “To know it was your decision to help and not a job makes it even more meaningful. I can see it’s kind of hard to wrap your head around, but you haven’t just saved my village and people. You’ve saved so many others, as well.”

“But, their leaders… the second in commands, I suppose -“

“Chickens without a head, girl. Chickens without a head.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help but fear that you’re wrong.”

“I understand. I don’t think I’ve seen nearly as much of the world and its cruelty as you and Inuyasha have.” Wakana rubbed Kagome’s arm consolingly. There was a chance that she was wrong. Nothing in this world was certain, especially now, and if Naraku created Moryomaru for this purpose, he could absolutely create another monster to take their place. But, from what Shinosuke had experienced, what he and his father had come back to inform her father of, she wanted to believe that this was the first step in overcoming the evil that clouded their lives. So, maybe hearing it from their guard would help alleviate the worry in Kagome’s frown.

“Shinosuke, come here please!” She shouted over her shoulder.

“Ma’am?” The tall man poked his head in through the large doors a short second later, his brows raised in question.

“In.”

“Ma’am.” He complied, taking the order and shutting the door right behind him.

“Tell Kagome what you know about Moryomaru, please. No jokes. Give her what you’ve learned.”

Shinosuke gave a single nod of his head, regarding the conjurer with his charcoal eyes. “They’re a creation of Naraku, derived from his own vessel. They took leadership of the inspectors, having nearly a thousand men at their beck and call at one point. They’d admitted that as their numbers began suddenly depleting drastically, that was when they’d decided to come forward and monitor more inspections to see where the disruption was coming from. It was more to show that if villagers were beginning an uprising, they were there to scare them back in line.”

“And, Moryomaru’s chain of command?” Wakana requested.

“Useless without Moryomaru. They were too involved, had a need for control, so none of their ‘officers’, so to speak, were allowed to make calls without their issuance. Therefore, without him, the chain breaks.”

“How do you know all this?” Kagome’s question came out quietly, taken aback.

A small grimace appeared on Shinosuke’s face and Wakana’s gaze fell downward. There wasn’t much delay before the guard looked to the woman at Kagome’s side and asked, “May I?”

“Of course.” She nodded.

Shinosuke lifted his shirt high enough to show the abnormally large scar stretching over the outer portion of his ribcage. “A few of us guards were abducted by that fucker a few months ago; myself, my father, and Nobunaga. Said we got too bold in thinking we could protect anybody so they wanted to put us in our place - which would serve as a warning to our other guards.”

Kagome’s jaw had dropped slightly, her eyes widening at the deformed scar. Her breath locked in her lungs from her gasp and it was almost like she couldn’t look away from the sealed wound. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. It should have been fathomable, given everything she’d witnessed over the years, but she couldn’t believe she was in the presence of someone who’d survived evident torture.

“They were in custody for five weeks.” Wakana added solemnly as Shinosuke lowered his clothing. “We didn’t know if they’d return. But, Shinosuke, being Shinosuke, used the opportunity to memorize everything he’d seen while with them.”

“If I lived, I was going to make sure I told everyone who needed to know everything I saw and heard. Tell me, conjurer. Are you someone who needs to know, or who’s just too curious for their own good?”

Kagome couldn’t fight her hesitation. Her fingers curled into apprehensive fists as her nerves gave a small wring of her stomach. No one knew of their quest. No one knew their true objective, Koga being the one exception on Inuyasha’s side. But, even after finding out Koga was part of the war, she still decided not to disclose her purpose. Koga didn’t know what she was, though. That was a huge part of her reason against telling him. There was something different about the circumstances at play here. She’d swooped in with her arrow, and with Inuyasha’s blast from his sword, they’d synchronously created an insanely powerful attack. They’d unknowingly destroyed a war machine. They’d unknowingly annihilated a part of Naraku. The people here knew what she was whether she confirmed or denied, and they were allies. Why hide anymore?

“Inuyasha and I, our mission is to kill Naraku. We want to find a way to end the darkness we’re living in.” She said, leveling her chin confidently.

“That’s what you’re working toward?” He asked, and it wasn’t a test. There was the hint of concern on his brow.

“Everyday.”

“Well, fuck.” Shinosuke sighed. “Sounds legitimate enough to me.”

He walked closer so his voice wouldn’t carry, stopping just a few feet away from the women. Kagome had stiffened slightly, and he knew exactly why. She was afraid. It was a learned reaction. Right now, she was vulnerable, and as far as she was concerned, alone. No matter how many times she was promised safety, assured coalition, it wasn’t always possible to turn off that part of your brain that braced you for the worst. Because, you were trained to expect it after so long. Especially, being someone in her position.

So, as he stopped, he made sure to slowly outstretch his hand. He held it out for her to take, patiently allowing her to register that he meant no harm - only respect. As Kagome slipped her small palm within his hold, he wrapped his fingers firmly around it, carefully stepping inward, bending forward, and whispering in her ear.

“Naraku has five creations. Excluding Moryomaru, I encountered two. They were named Hakudoshi and Kagura.”

—

There was a small abatement from the storm. It was a little humid outside, but Kagome just wanted to be absorbed in the scent of rain. Finally accepting that while she was staying at the village’s headman’s home Shinosuke was an accessory to her person, she decided to drag him outside to take a walk with her.

Wakana had been so patient and kind, so Kagome had allowed her to have some fun and dress her the way she so pleased. Having to put it away for quite some time, Kagome could see the freedom on her pink cheeks as she finally got to dive into her creativity again. It made Wakana happy, and after so much tentative care to both she and Inuyasha, Kagome was glad to be the first she expressed her art on again.

Unfortunately, it was a little obvious she hadn’t worn a dress in well over a decade. Let alone, had never once in her life worn a dress quite this nice. Shinosuke had called her out for her incessant fidgeting three times and kept snickering at her whenever she readjusted the cut around her breasts. It was a little lower than anything she was used to, and the low dip had her feeling extremely exposed. She wasn’t. Each time she instinctually went to put her breasts away she had to keep reminding herself that they were exactly where they were meant to be, but it was just weird to feel so much of a breeze.

The sleeves were off the shoulder, fastened to her upper arms by a material that clung. The rest of the sleeves were long and flowy, cut in the middle for her arms to slip out of had she reached for something. Never in her life had Kagome worn such a pretty shade of pastel pink, nor had she experienced little, blush roses made of silk fastened to her bust, nor had she had the opportunity to feel ribbons made of the same, tied in a bow at the center of her sternum. Tiny leaves were sewn into the fabric just beneath her breasts, cinching the dress to her ribs, and the same was said for her waistline, holding the gown to her as the rest of the length of the skirt was free to flow around her entire lower body.

Kagome’s hair was brushed, waving naturally, but tied half up in a twisted bun that was held in place by pins unseen. Her bangs were in tidy order for the first time in weeks, and Wakana was meticulous to pull the strands that framed her jawline free from the bun. She’d asked to put a subtle hint of glitter on Kagome’s cheeks, and considering it was a huge day of firsts for her, Kagome could only bring herself to shrug in a huge, why the hell not?

Truthfully, the doting makeover was fun for Kagome, too. While she felt more comfortable in pants and a shirt, it was only because it was what she was used to, and functionality called for it. She actually really loved dresses. The look of them, at least. With it being years since she’d even considered wearing one, she wondered so often if she could even pull them off. And, when she finally got a look at herself in the mirror once Wakana had finished, pride gleaming in the woman’s eyes, Kagome couldn’t help but grow incredibly shy. She loved the way it looked on her, but it was so different.

“Tell me you’re not girly without telling me you’re not girly.” Shinosuke jabbed, chuckling at her side as they strolled around the outer pathway of the mansion.

“Hush.” Kagome sighed. “I think I was eight the last time I wore a dress.”

“They’re not going anywhere.” He remarked, regarding the way she kept fixing the bust of her dress. “Believe me, there are women in town with bigger breasts than you that do manual labor in dresses made of thinner material, and they’ll proudly tell you that their tits stay in place.”

Another sigh as she dropped her hands to her side. “I’m just not used to it.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“No, I do. It’s pretty.” Kagome assured, looking up at him and nodding. “I’m just - I mean, like I said, I’m - I’m not used to it.”

“Ah, I get it.” Shinosuke smirked, looking ahead of them. “You’re self conscious.”

She didn’t say anything. She merely looked at the thriving plants to her right, minding how the petals of flowers were still dotted with droplets of rain. The sky was still blanketed in dark clouds, conveying that the storm had yet to fully pass, and the air was thick with the comforting smell of moisture.

“May I compliment you?” He respectfully asked.

Kagome glanced up at him again, curious. “Not if you feel obligated.”

“I just want to make sure I won’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. I appreciate that.” She really did. She understood that he was simply trying to make her feel more secure with his honest thoughts while not trying to offset her by making it seem he was overstepping any boundaries. Not many men had that courtesy. “Sure.”

Shinosuke stopped, turning to the woman at his side. It was interesting to him to see such a strong female who’d participated in taking down a plague to their society seem so small and timid in such a superficial environment. Maybe she was the sort who didn’t realize her beauty. Maybe she was the sort that didn’t really focus on that sort of thing, and this element - delicate femininity - was abnormal to her. Given such, it was irrelevant. Anyone with eyes could see that even when she ran into the courtyard yesterday along her battered companion, covered in scratches, dirt, blood, and fear she was inherently beautiful. Now, cleaned, bandaged, still slightly guarded but overall level, Kagome was enchanting. And, he could easily tell that that was what Wakana was trying to enhance.

It wasn’t that she was merely letting loose and having fun. Wakana was specific to adhere to the minds of others, as well as their hearts. She’d wanted to distract Kagome from her partner’s condition. She’d wanted to make her feel a little better about herself while she knew things, in general, felt off to not have Inuyasha beside her. Sometimes, it was the little things that brought a smile to appear. A genuine smile.

Kagome was brave, fierce, and selfless. That, alone, was gorgeous. And, Wakana was trying to bring that inward appearance outward so Kagome could see the exact way she was looking at her.

Shinosuke took a moment. He noticed the small hint of pink on her cheeks, the way she’d nervously been pinching her lips together since the moment they’d stepped outside - which had inadvertently created a nice, rosy hue, the way her hair was waving just a little bit more than before due to the slight humidity. He smiled softly, tilting his head to the side.

“I think you’re beautiful. I think you worry too much, and that if you just stood up a little straighter, held your head up a little higher, and allowed yourself to step out of your comfort zone, you’d own your radiance. I think you could stop men in their tracks, and I think it’d be cute to see how confused you are when it happens, because you seem just air-headed enough not to understand what sort of affect you have on people. Even looking as worn out as you did yesterday, you were pretty. Right now, you’re - Kagome, you’re beautiful.”

He’d said it directly, compassionately, kindly. It wasn’t from a place that would make her stiffen with shyness, but a place that made her smile from genuine benevolence.

“Thank you.” She said. “You’re pretty, too.”

Shinosuke laughed, patting Kagome’s head and redirecting her to walk along the path through the courtyard.

At the very edge, before the entrance from town and just before Shinosuke turned her around, a little girl with her brother ran up, hand-in-hand. A soft rumble of thunder struck in the distance, and the smell of rain had become just a little heavier in the passing minutes. Yet, the children seemed untroubled by the threat, staring wide-eyed at Kagome.

“Mayu, no. Go home.” Shinosuke quickly said as she opened her mouth. “Not right now.”

“But -“ The little girl quickly went to argue, but her brother was already trying to tug her away. He seemed unwelcoming, protective, and the one that liked to steer a little more on the careful side.

“Has anything I’ve ever said been negotiable?” Shinosuke asked in a firm tone.

“No, but -“

“Then, go home. Your mother probably doesn’t even know you’re out here, am I right?”

“Yes.” Satoru claimed with contempt. “Mayu didn’t want to listen to me and decided to sneak out while mom was napping. So, I came with her. Sorry, Shinosuke. We’re leaving.”

“No, I need to talk to her.” Mayu tried again a little louder, stomping her foot for added effect.

“Not right now, you don’t. Satoru, is your mother unwell again?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.” The identical boy answered.

“Mayu, come on.” Shinosuke bargained, kneeling down before the two children. “Please, don’t stress her out further right now. Wait for the storm to pass, at least. You know how much your mom worries about you. You need to give people time to adjust and recover. You aren’t the only person to consider here.”

Kagome could see the little girl fighting herself. Her dark eyes bounced from Shinosuke to her and then back to the guard, nostrils flaring at her frustrated huff.

“Be patient. Now’s not the time to be selfish. Go home.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, and then darted a glare toward Kagome, catching her completely off guard. “But, I’ll be back!”

Shinosuke stood, returning to Kagome’s side as the two children ran off down the street, taking an alley corner.

“Why - why did I feel like that was a threat?” Kagome warily asked.

“Eh, she’s harmless. Mayu’s rough around the edges, for sure, but she’s a good kid. Satoru’s the one you should watch. He used to be this timid boy a couple of years ago, barely spoke, hid behind his twin sister, the works, but then one day he just switched. Mayu comes off tough, but her brother’s the one that’ll actually scare you. Believe me.” He said, placing his hand at her mid back to turn her around to head back through the courtyard garden.

“Well, what was it she wanted to talk to me about? It seemed urgent.”

“It’s not. She’s just pushy. I can guarantee she’ll be back, hopefully at a more appropriate time, and she’ll be able to bug you then. If you’re okay with that, of course. If not, tell me now. I’ll be able to keep her at bay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

“Because, you’re a conjurer. And, she’s going to bring that up.”

“Ah, that’s right. She asked me yesterday, but the headman stopped her.”

“I know it’s a touchy subject. She’s going to be a ten year old, and she’s not going to understand boundaries.”

Kagome pressed her lips together again, grazing her fingers over the large leaves that waited for their next dosage of moisture as they strolled along.

“Thing about her is, she keeps secrets better than any adult I’ve ever met. So, if you’d like to see what she has to ask you but you’re worried about you’re answers getting out, don’t be. Mayu would take it to the grave. And, Satoru - because they come in a pair - barely speaks to begin with, and his loyalty lies with his twin. If she’s keeping a secret, so is he.” Shinosuke added, carefully maneuvering Kagome around a puddle.

“It’s alright.” She spoke softly, smiling. “I don’t mind. I’ll talk with her next -“

“There you are!” Wakana cheerfully greeted from over the second story bannister, overlooking the courtyard. “I’ve been looking for you two.”

“What’s up?” Shinosuke asked.

“Inuyasha’s awake. Kagome, would you like to see him?”

Kagome’s heart gave a heavy thump in her chest, and her skin ignited in an excited eruption of warmth. With an anxious breath, she nodded eagerly, rushing the rest of the way toward the main house where Wakana agreed to meet them on the first floor.

“Here’s the thing: he’s a little grumpy at the moment. Not very talkative, speaks with more grunts than words, seems perpetually upset but won’t admit he’s in any pain when we ask…” Wakana mentioned as she guided them through the corridors.

“That’s actually normal.” Kagome replied, pursing her lips.

“Is it?”

“Oh, yeah.” She remarked, nodding. “Inuyasha’s not known for his compassion, I’ll tell you that. He likes to handle things on his own, so I’d say, if he’s not wincing or yelling at you, he’s fine.”

“Oh, okay. Well, in that case, he’s pretty lively. He’s sitting up with minimal problem, but he’s been asking for you. I told him to eat and we’d go and find you after, but he refused. Said he didn’t want food. Or medicine. He really should have something in his stomach before his next dose - given he stops declining it. Maybe you could convince him to try and eat?” Wakana inquired, turning to look at Kagome while they walked as she was a few steps behind.

“He doesn’t listen to me.” Kagome objected with a modest shake of her head.

Both Wakana and Shinosuke shot surprised looks at her, and Kagome felt herself go on cautious alert, almost freezing.

“You’re kidding.”

“No?” She replied, confused. “Inuyasha never listens to me.” Kagome reiterated.

“I’m sorry, I sort of thought you two were on a… how do I put it? I sort of thought you two were on a level where you take each other’s advice.”

“Oh, Inuyasha’s stubbornness puts mine to shame. He doesn’t like to be told what to do. All it does is make him want to do the exact opposite. And, if I give him advice, he just thinks it’s nagging.”

“Wait, hold on, hold on. Pause.” Shinosuke said, stopping in the middle of the hall with a hand held out to halt her. Kagome’s wide eyes landed on him, lips parted in question. “What are you two?”

There was hesitation, dubiety, as Kagome did a gentle sway from side to side before finally speaking again. “What - uh - what do you mean?”

“Like, what are you and Inuyasha?”

Kagome glanced back and forth from Shinosuke to Wakana, noticing the same question was written all over Wakana’s face. “I - I don’t -“

“You know exactly what I’m asking.”

“I - uh - we are… friends.”

“Uh-huh, why did that sound like a question?” Shinosuke interrogated, crossing his arms over his chest while he arched a brow, smirking now.

“I-it wasn’t. It wasn’t.” She ended up saying with more confidence the second time. “We’re friends.”

“You’re friends?”

“We’re friends.” Kagome couldn’t help the nervous smile she’d cracked that time. She bit the inside of her lip, her swaying growing more obvious to speak of her discomfort and uncertainty. And, she cursed herself for that as she fiddled with the long sleeves of her borrowed dress.

“Are you sure?”

“We’re friends. We’re friends. We’re friends.” Kagome repeated awkwardly, nodding as she looked back and forth between the two. “We’re friends.”

“Say it one more time, you might just convince yourself.” Shinosuke remarked, chuckling.

“We’re -“ Kagome caught herself, pinching her lips together as she deflated slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Wakana started, grimacing. “I thought you two might have been in a relationship. We all did.”

“Everyone thinks that?” Kagome apprehensively asked.

“Could you blame us?” Shinosuke spoke, amused. “I don’t know friends who sleep that close to each other. Not the way we found you two.”

“Well, maybe you should try it.” Kagome feigned attitude, pursing her lips. “It’s comforting.”

“Mhm, I know. I sleep like that with Wakana.” He sassed right back.

Kagome’s attention snapped Wakana’s way just in time to watch her roll her eyes.

“We’re engaged.” She said.

“Oh,” Kagome nodded. “Well, that makes sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Shinosuke pressed, laughing as he caught Kagome in her own shock.

She’d opened her mouth to speak, to say anything in defense, but nothing came out. She was flustered and confused.

“It’s okay not to know.” He chuckled, patting her head again. “But, I gotta tell you, you’re not just friends.”

An overwhelming sense of bashfulness washed over Kagome then. Her face went hot and she ducked it. She couldn’t remember a time she’d blushed so horribly, and as she gazed down at the floor, she caught how red her chest even appeared at the bottom of her eyes. Her feelings were obvious. By now, she got that. Being called on it didn’t change how humiliating it was, and it only increased her confusion.

Shinosuke placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to walk down the hall while she couldn’t help but continue to hide her embarrassment. She and Inuyasha were friends. That wasn’t a lie. But, she couldn’t speak for his feelings. If anyone were to ask her how he felt about her, the only things she was certain about were his undeniable protectiveness, his caring nature whenever she wasn’t feeling well or they were alone, and that she annoyed the absolute hell out of him. If Shinosuke and Wakana were to have asked Kagome for her individual feelings for Inuyasha though, her answer would have been different. And, much more rattled. Because, she cared about Inuyasha now more than she cared even for herself. She appreciated the hanyou more than the water she drank or the food she ate. She had an attachment to him she never wanted to think about giving up. And, after witnessing his brutal injury yesterday, seeing blood stain his body, having to catch him as he fell, she dreadfully feared losing him in more ways than one. She felt it all so deeply. To the point where she couldn’t sleep last night unless she was touching him. To the point where he was on her mind constantly in their mandatory separation. To the point where the closer they got to his quarters, the more unnerved and stable she felt herself becoming - like a walking case of contradiction.

But, the moment the door was open, and Wakana walked in ahead of them to greet whatever staff was alongside the hanyou, and Shinosuke released her shoulders to enter in before him, and the moment her brown eyes found Inuyasha sitting on his futon, lower body covered by the blanket, back leaning against the wall, and torso heavily bandaged, all of those thoughts faded away. They were insignificant and superficial. They didn’t match up to the way he sat up a little taller at her appearance, bringing a small cringe of pain from his lips. They didn’t equate to the way she watched the breath leave his inflated chest, and how his golden eyes stayed on her as she hurried across the room to him. They didn’t matter in the face of how much she just needed to be right next to him at that very instant, and those thoughts that had her feeling scared had vanished completely. Maybe it was momentarily, but that was inconsequential. Because, she was just inches from his arm now, she could smell his clean scent, and she could feel the body heat that reached her like a hand that pulled her in.

Inuyasha had finally caught her scent again. It was something he hated about stormy weather. Rain clouded his olfactory system, and if something or someone wasn’t close by, he’d never be able to tell where they were. It was different to sleep without her aroma near him, and he was sure that if it weren’t for whatever drugs they kept putting in his body, he’d have never drifted off in the first place. The moment he regained consciousness not too long ago, noticing women by his side that weren’t Kagome, cleaning his wounds, changing his wrappings, he felt out of sorts. All he could think about was her, worry about was her. Who were these women? Where was Kagome? She’d been hurt the day before. Was she being taken care of? He vaguely remembered a woman telling him Kagome was being carefully protected for his own peace of mind the last time he was awake, but that was no fucking comfort whatsoever. He didn’t trust anyone with her, let alone someone he had never fucking met, himself.

The moment her calming scent, subtle and light, found its way into his sensitive nose, Inuyasha was on alert, watching the door to his room and ignoring the staff that had been left with him. They were trying to get him to take medicine, trying to get him to lay back down if he wasn’t going to eat so they could put a cooling rag on his head for his splitting migraine, but it was as if they weren’t even there anymore the second he sensed Kagome coming. Then, she entered, and even coherent thought ceased to exist.

That dress. That dress adorning her fair skin. It was both cruel to him and enticing. It complimented her figure, it flowed around her legs, it belonged to her body and should never be replaced. Kagome sped across the floor to rejoin him at his side, cutting off his clear view, and he found himself dissatisfied. He wasn’t done. She couldn’t enter a room like a goddess here to grace his presence and not give him ample timing to properly memorize the image.

Still, be that as it may, his gaze followed her. It wasn’t an order his brain gave to his eyes and head as she sat by his damaged arm, anxious and relieved. Inuyasha legitimately couldn’t take his eyes off of her. If he had that sort of control, if he did himself the injustice by looking away before he was ready, he would have cursed himself for days to come. If he couldn’t take her all in, he was going to take in as much as he could.

He was breathless, dazed, but in his right mind. Kagome had him captivated. She walked in and her smile reached his soul. All at once, he was stunned and comforted. And, he was grateful.

She’d asked him if he was okay. He hadn’t heard her words, spoken so lightly, but he’d watched her lips move. With his left hand, Inuyasha reached across to her, his finger gently rubbing just beneath her chin as he nodded. He was going to speak, but his amber irises fell to her shoulders, the skin he’d yet to be fortunate enough to really see until now. Small, brown and tan freckles dotted her shoulder. There weren’t an abundance, but there were just enough to steal his focus. With everything in him, he wanted to kiss each and every one, and with everything in him, he reminded himself that it was the wrong place at the wrong time.

“This arm,” Kagome mentioned, looking down at the bandaged shoulder and bicep. “You can’t really move it, can you? I should switch to the other side.”

She glanced to the woman that occupied his left, about to ask if she’d mind switching with her before Inuyasha finally spoke.

Now was his chance. The golden opportunity. “No, it’s - it’d be better if you sat in front of me. My neck’s stiff, so turning it sucks right now.” He fibbed.

“Oh, okay.” She obliged with a nod, scooting herself to sit by his thigh. Her back was now turned to the entrance, fully facing her companion as she gently leaned against his leg. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Better.” Now he could get a perfect look at her.

Kagome was trying not to concentrate on his torso, on the wrappings that dressed his bare core. It would only increase her obvious concern, and it wasn’t something she wanted to immediately bother Inuyasha with. Instead, she occupied her sights with anything else; his fingers that rubbed against the blanket covering him, his soft gaze on her, his long hair that wasn’t held captive in a high ponytail like she was so used to, then the tray of food at his side.

“You haven’t eaten, have you?” Though she knew the answer already, she figured it was respectful to allow him to speak for himself.

Inuyasha looked down to his untouched food, the bowl of fruit, the bread, the meat, the rice. He couldn’t think about eating before when all that occupied his mind was Kagome. He needed to know she was okay before he even considered taking a bite.

“No.” He lightly replied.

“Did you eat this morning?”

He shook his head.

“That means the last time you ate was yesterday morning, Inuyasha.” She gently reminded, her brow curved in concern. “Do you not have an appetite, or -“

“Have you eaten?” Inuyasha interrupted, eyeing her.

He noticed the way the hollow of her throat emphasized with her inhale as her lips sealed for a second, her shoulders tensing the slightest bit. She was quick to relax, her fingers playing with the loose skirt of her dress. “Yeah, I ate not too long ago.”

“Did you?” He questioned skeptically.

“I did.” Kagome nodded.

The hanyou looked over to the tall guard at the far end of the room, standing next to the woman he’d seen more often than Kagome in the last twenty-four hours. “You the one who’s watching her?”

“I am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Shinosuke.”

“Has she eaten? She tends to not be able to stomach much when she’s uncomfortable or anxious.”

Kagome stiffened at the correct observation. She hadn’t realized Inuyasha paid attention to the mundane details of her characteristics, especially well enough to be able to relay it to others. That was something she didn’t much talk about, nor necessarily know when or how to bring up. So, she’d eat a little when food was placed before her to curb worry, but when her stomach told her to stop, she’d heed the warning.

Shinosuke fought his smug grin, watching the conjurer slowly duck her head. Though he couldn’t see her face from where he stood, he knew - just fucking knew - she was blushing again. Yeah, okay. They’re friends, alright.

“She had some fruit a couple of hours ago. Didn’t eat it all.”

“Just fruit?” Inuyasha’s attention shifted back to Kagome.

“More than you’ve eaten.” She remarked.

He chuckled lightly. She had him there. “I’ll share with you. I’m not that hungry, either.”

“We can go get her her own plate. It’s no trouble at all.” The housemaid on his left said, but Inuyasha shook his head.

“We’ll share. It’s fine.” It was his own way of protecting her from feeling obligated to eat more than she could handle out of sheer courtesy.

Kagome looked at the food as he placed the tray on his lap. The heavier stuff was incredibly unappealing. It looked like it tasted great, but the thought of eating it had her tummy turning upside down. In silent communication to her partner, she glanced from the meal to the hanyou, sucking in her bottom lip nervously.

Inuyasha understood what she was conveying. She really couldn’t eat too much right now. “You like strawberries, right?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, her tone small.

“Here.” Inuyasha picked the strawberries out of his bowl, putting them in the corner of the tray nearest her.

“But -“

“I don’t like them.” He lied. Inuyasha knew she was about to reject, not wanting to take the option of something sweet from him that he may enjoy, but he really didn’t care. He wanted her to eat, and if she liked them, she could have them all.

Both Shinosuke and Wakana had pressed their lips firmly together to hide their grins, giving each other little side glances as their surprise continued to escalate. Their hanyou guest was now eating, something Wakana couldn’t get him to do no matter how much she'd tried. How did Kagome question anything? How did she not see what everyone else could see? It was innocent and adorable, and a crime to interrupt.

“Ladies, let’s give them some space.” Wakana suggested, clapping her hands together once. “There’s no need for us to be here right now.”

The few staff in the room bowed slightly in compliance and rose to leave, the patter from their feet heard as they trailed toward the door.

“I’ll be back in a little while to give you some medicine. If you need anything in the meantime, we’ll be down the hall.”

Finally, they were left alone. Inuyasha felt the tension in his shoulders relax a little. Having eyes on him all the time was stressful and he fucking hated it. While he knew they were merely being kind and doing their jobs, it was still something he’d never grow accustomed to. More than that, Kagome was right where she belonged. No one was taking her away, no one was disrupting their time for the moment, and no one was playing bodyguard to the person he was supposed to protect.

“I need you to eat a little bit more than fruit, Kagome.” He tried, tearing off a chunk of his bread for her. “This or rice.”

“Tear that piece in half and you’ve got a deal.” She wagered.

“Nope.” He chuckled again, giving a minor wince from the pain it brought his abdomen. He recovered, hoping she hadn’t seen, but it was Kagome. Of course, she’d noticed. Her brown eyes were large with worry, a frown appearing, and she sat up a little straighter in preparation to help in any way she could had he needed any. “I’m fine.” Inuyasha assured.

She didn’t speak, sights drifting down to his bandaging. It was like she was waiting for blood to reappear.

“Hey,” The hanyou reached forward, taking her chin in his fingers and bringing her attention back up to his face. “Stop it. I’m okay. Eat the bread.”

“Your arm -“

“I can move it.” He mentioned, releasing her and giving her the chunk he’d torn off. “I just cant reach up or anything. Not yet. Give it another day or two.”

Not wanting to upset him right now, she decided not to argue or fight him on eating. If all he was requesting was for her to eat a few pieces of strawberries and a small chunk of bread, she could handle that.

He’d eaten as much as he could too, and as soon as they were finished, he placed the tray off to his side, leaving it there to be forgotten. Inuyasha went right back to taking the conjurer in, allowing the image of her in that dress to burn into the forefront of his mind. That soft shade of pink complimented her so well, especially when her face tinted just a bit darker. The glitter on her cheeks was a nice touch, but her hair dressed half up the way it was suited her so fucking well. It was cute. She was gorgeous. He was awestruck.

Kagome had caught him looking, quickly growing shy. Remembering the lower cut of her bust, Kagome covered the cleavage that showed, desperately not wanting to make him uncomfortable right now. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Inuyasha was swift to assure, reaching for her wrist and pulling it away. “Go back to how you were.”

Her skin was warm, and as her hand landed on her thigh, his own wandered down, playing with the fabric over it.

“Do you like it?” She asked curiously.

“Don’t make me answer that.” He tried not to let his tone convey how imperative it was that she didn’t push him in that direction. Inuyasha would lose his composure. He was already riding a fine line, but if he said yes, he’d feel compelled to further admit just how dangerous it was for him to be so near her while she looked like this. His heart wasn’t fairing well as it was. He wasn’t sure he could handle voicing that on top of it.

Kagome couldn’t help but grow increasingly nervous. He seemed hardened, maybe a little put off. Even though his fingers were continuously playing with the length of her dress, skimming her thigh over and over, she couldn’t help but worry with that answer that the clothing didn’t suit her as well as she’d thought.

“Do you hate it?” She unintentionally asked, her voice carrying smaller.

Amber eyes shot up to hers, then drifted down over the curve of her body. He hadn’t meant to come off any sort of negative way, though he understood how it’d happened. Hate. It was laughable to imagine that, given his current state of mind. If she had a way in, she’d understand that hate was far from what he actually felt.

“No. Not at all.” Inuyasha answered, sucking in a breath to keep himself grounded. Her scent was heavy and soothing, and as he found himself staring at her plush lips, he realized that the strawberry tint had him wanting to kiss her now more than any other time he’d considered it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even blame the medicine for the thoughts that wouldn’t quiet this time. In an attempt to silence them anyway, he continued to speak. “Where did this come from?”

“Wakana. She likes to make dresses.” Kagome answered, a smile curving her lips upward.

“Is she the lady that woke us up this morning?”

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s the headman’s daughter.”

“Oh, that’s right. I vaguely remember her mentioning that, but I was fucking out of it when she did.”

“She’s super nice. Unfortunately, my clothes didn’t survive, so I’m stuck borrowing some until we figure something out. She mentioned making me something, but it might be easier for everyone if we just head to a shop.” She said, fighting her instinct to adjust her dress again.

“Did your bodice make it?” Inuyasha smirked teasingly. As he watched a dramatic pout form on her lips, he really had to put effort into not laughing. The motion would only hurt him, and he wasn’t sure she needed that right now - though she’d have to deal with the amused expression he couldn’t hide.

“It tore.” Kagome whined.

“Called it.”

“Shut up.” She gave a light smack on his thigh, her pout remaining.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the bandage on her head, or the one on her knuckles, and it was impossible to ignore the scrape he’d gotten a peek at on the back of her shoulder and the redness that didn’t belong on her cheekbone. It just wasn’t something he wanted to talk about first. Now that they were in the realm of the subject, Inuyasha grabbed her hand, pulling her to lean closer to him so he could push her bangs out of the way. No blood seeped through the bandage, so at least he knew it wasn’t bad. Still, his memory of her condition was extremely foggy.

He hadn’t forgotten the horrible amount of blood staining her stomach and arm, though. How could he? That, unfortunately, stayed with him even while he was unconscious. Without warning, Inuyasha’s palm found her waist and he pressed against it gently, feeling for wrappings he was worried she would lie about. When he felt nothing, his hand continued to travel over the general area he’d remembered the blood being in. If she winced, he’d feel awful but at least he’d know she was wounded and couldn’t keep it from him.

“What are you doing?” Kagome asked, concerned. Inuyasha didn’t answer, but his earlier amusement had gradually vanished, shifting to something pressing and off. His jaw was clenched, but instead of the furrowed look of his brow she’d grown used to, it was curved upward in distress.

The only flinch she’d made was when he pinched around her ribs, and he knew he’d only tickled her; it wasn’t one of pain. Still, he searched, breaking from her abdomen momentarily to pull her right arm out of the part in the loose sleeve, looking for signs of wounds. The flesh wasn’t broken at all along her forearm, but still she’d been covered in blood. She’d said it wasn’t hers, but there was so much. There was so fucking much. It was like he was realizing his worst fear, and all that flashed through his mind was how that green shirt clung to her stomach wherever the crimson had soaked.

“Were you hurt? What happened, Kagome?” He finally asked, once more touching her waist to feel if he’d missed something.

“I’m fine.” She’d stated, almost unsure. But, then it clicked. She understood what he was looking for. “No, no. That blood wasn’t mine. I was attacked by a demon, but that was his blood. I swear.”

“Kagome, how the fuck…” It wasn’t that he was exasperated. It was that he desperately needed to know. He’d agitated his nerves just now, and all he could think about was her hurt, mortally wounded while he couldn’t get to her.

“Do you want to see? Would that help? There’s nothing there, I promise.”

“Show me.” The hanyou hastily agreed.

She was quick to oblige, reaching for a clean towel off to the side. Skillfully, she shoved it beneath her dress to blanket the upper portion of her thighs, covering up what didn’t need to be seen as she then pulled the skirt up to expose her tummy. Kagome allowed him to look as long as he needed, to feel the skin of her abdomen, to reach around to her back and feel for any bandages or wounds - the both of them ignoring his grunt and wince as he leaned forward for better reach.

“It wasn’t mine.” Kagome swore again, lowering her garment as he sat back against the wall. She discarded the towel and breathed out, ready to relay the events that had unfolded. “The demon came out of nowhere, and grabbed me from behind. My arrows spilled everywhere, so it turned into a head-on fight. I got him pretty good.” She smirked with the hint of pride, raising her right hand as she looked down at her bandaging.

Inuyasha tenderly took her fingers, bringing it closer to him. Her knuckles were wrapped tight, and to his dismay, there was the slightest hint of pink poking through the off-white wrappings. He didn’t release her hand. He didn’t want to. He lightly stroked his thumb over her wound, lowering it to his thigh to hold there as he glanced back at her to get the rest of the story.

“The blood came from me stabbing him. He was on top of me so I used my dagger to get him in the side.”

“With purification?” He inquired.

“Of course.” Kagome answered.

“So, he’s dead?”

The memory of the demon’s body collapsing on top of her lit up in her mind, and her throat tightened. Swallowing thickly to try and subdue the discomfort, to try and keep it all from view so Inuyasha didn’t have that to add to his list of worries as well, Kagome took in a breath and nodded. “Yes. He’s dead.”

The hanyou let that information sink in, remaining quiet as he now held her hand with the both of his. His thumbs played over the bandaging, calloused skin scratching on the cloth’s surface, but when it skimmed down to her soft flesh, he felt a small sense of peace spread over him. So, he kept up that action, over and over rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles and toward the uncovered skin, then back. She took care of herself, just like she’d proved she could. Just like he knew she could. He would have felt better ripping that fucker to shreds, though. He’d said it before and he’ll say it as many times as necessary: no one touches Kagome.

Still, he was extremely proud of her. She held her own and then appeared in the nick of time to help his ass out. What a fucking woman.

“In that case, you look pretty good for someone who went toe-to-toe with a demon.” He lightly chuckled.

“Thank you.” She playfully grinned, raising her shoulders in feigned smugness. “I had to show him who was boss.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think you could actually kick my ass.”

“Nah, that guy was just cocky and talked too much. I used all of that against him, pinned him down, and punched him in the face.”

“You punched him in the face?” He laughed, regretting it but that time he was able to properly hide his discomfort.

“Yes!” Kagome tightened the fingers he held. “He had sharp teeth, so it cut my knuckle, that jerk. But, I still got him.”

She was fucking cute as all hell as she raised her left arm and flexed her bicep, the slit in the long sleeves opening to fall away so he could see the definition. It brought the biggest smile to Inuyasha’s face. She really was okay. She was perfect.

“So, I take it you saw?” Inuyasha had to ask, his grin dwindling to a small, careful one. He found himself needing to know what was going through her mind. Why was she so anxious? Sure, it was unpleasant to be separated while he was wounded; he could see himself physically throwing people off of him that tried to keep him away from her had their positions been swapped. But, he remembered the way she looked when she came in last night. He vividly remembered her visible fear, the frown, but worst of all, there was a vague remembrance of her expression this morning. When Wakana woke them up and Kagome noticed his stomach. The way she’d stopped breathing and looked damn close to panicking. Of course, she’d seen the extent of his damage. He’d hoped she hadn’t seen it uncovered. But, had she seen it take place? “Moryomaru, when he… Did you?”

Her own smile faded then, and after a deep breath, she scooted herself a little closer to his torso, careful of how she leaned on his hip. She took one of his hands then, placing it in her lap as she busied herself, running her fingers over the lines of his palm. Brown eyes could no longer meet amber, instead staring down at the trail she left over his skin. It had been impossible to get that image out of her mind. Kagome knew it was something that, much like Shinosuke had mentioned, would stick with her forever. The only reason it wasn’t crippling her was because she knew Inuyasha was alive, and his condition was only improving.

“Yeah,” She breathed. “I saw.”

“Ah, fuck.” Inuyasha groaned. “I was really fucking hoping you hadn’t since you were busy fighting someone.”

“Our fight ended just before.”

“Kid, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Her gaze shot up to his, her upper lip curled in question. “For what?”

“If I had seen that happen to you, I would have lost my mind. I can only imagine what you felt watching that. I didn’t mean to make you worry. Fuck, that’s why you haven’t been eating, isn’t it?”

She softened, allowing her fingers to trail over the veins of his forearm for a moment. When her nail gently skimmed the thin skin of his inner elbow, she noticed a small twitch from him. A tickle spot.

“No, that’s not it.” Kagome admitted, the corners of her lips very subtly raising. “Well, I guess it’s a contribution, but really it’s because I miss you. I should be right next to you so I know you’re okay every second of the day, but I can’t be and I don’t like that. I don’t feel content not hearing you call me an idiot or kid or something mean because you’re unconscious, and not being able to help in any way doesn’t sit right with me. But, I also understand that they’re right to pull me away. You need to rest. And, you wouldn’t with me here.”

She was breaking him. He could feel any remaining borders between them beginning to shatter like glass with each statement she spoke. Her sincerity was his welcomed demise. The power Kagome had over him with her honesty was so much more incredible than Inuyasha could have ever imagined, and his heart climbed into his throat. How did she say that all so easily? How did she brighten even the worst of his days? She missed him.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he caught the sound of walking approaching. Inuyasha outwardly cursed, knowing that it was Wakana coming to force his next dose down his throat and Kagome’s temporary guard coming to take her away. With the remaining seconds he had, he looked back to the conjurer, bringing her right hand to his lips as he kissed her damaged knuckle just before releasing her.

“Sneak back over tonight.”

Kagome’s heart gave a heavy thump inside of her ribcage, damn near bruising the bones in its excitement. With a nervous agreement, Kagome nodded, trying to keep composure as even she caught the footsteps and comprehended his reaction.

The door slid open and in walked Wakana, the housemaid Kagome had threatened the day before, and Shinosuke with his notorious smirk. The housemaid remained by the wall, visibly uncomfortable as she refused to make eye contact with either she or Inuyasha. With a grimace, Kagome’s attention flew over to her companion, silently communicating with an awkward but amused expression that she knew exactly what the girl’s stiffness was about.

Inuyasha read her well. He’d remembered her mentioning she’d almost fought someone to stay with him, and given the housemaids opposition to near either, and Kagome’s humored but ashamed smile, along with the way her eyes flickered between the woman and he, he put two-and-two together. With as much effort he could muster, he tried - really tried - to fight back his laughter. For the sake of the housemaid’s dignity, Kagome’s embarrassment, and his sore abdomen. Still, a small snort left his nose, and he ducked his head to the side to try and further stifle it.

“Matsu, would you mind brewing the tea? Remember, three dashes this time.” Wakana spoke, putting her aid to work. The woman gave a feeble nod, immediately doing as requested but still keeping her head low.

“That woman’s fine whenever you’re not around.” Inuyasha whispered to Kagome, giving a small tug to a section of her free length of hair. Another amused but embarrassed grimace came from her in response as she covered her grin with her hand so that Matsu wouldn’t see how funny this was to her. “You fucking troublemaker.”

“Ready to go?” Shinosuke asked from the doorway.

Kagome peered at him from over her shoulder, curling her upper lip in disdain before turning back to Inuyasha.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Wait.” He ordered quietly just as she began to stand, wagging his finger so she’d lean in closer. As she did, her brows arched in curiosity, he asked, “This guy, is he trustworthy? Do you feel safe with him?”

“Well, he skillfully protected me from a ten year old so far, so he’s not half bad.”

“Seriously, Kagome.” He deadpanned.

“Um, I’m - I’m not lying.” She liked that Inuyasha couldn’t help but crack half a smile there as he rolled his eyes. “He’s attentive, and pretty cool. Likes to joke around, but I can tell he’s serious about his duties. Follows me everywhere -“

“Has he touched you?”

“Yeah, but only appropriately. Unless he’s being a jerk and carrying me out of the room over his shoulder.”

“Like I’m about to.” Shinosuke commented with a chuckle, strutting forward. “You know, you two don’t whisper as quietly as you think you do.”

Inuyasha leveled a glare at the guard as he kneeled right beside Kagome, looking him once over.

“What’s up?” He asked, smiling, unfazed by the clearly unwelcoming attitude the hanyou presented. “Ah, I get it. You don’t know me, so you don’t know if you can trust me with Kagome here. Alright, what would you like to know? Name’s Shinosuke, I’m twenty-four, used to be a chubby kid, favorite color’s red, I like long walks on the beach -“

“Knock it off.” Inuyasha drawled. “You’re not making me like you.”

“Not trying to. That’s not in my pay grade.”

“Shinosuke!” Wakana warned, approaching. “Inuyasha, I’m sorry. He’s got awful people skills, but he is in charge of our guards. With everything you two did for our people, and with how protective papa noticed you were of Kagome, he felt it would give you peace of mind to know our very best was watching over her.”

“Just leave her with me. She’ll be fine. She doesn’t want to go, anyway.”

“And, what’s to happen to her while you’re in your medicinally-induced coma?” Shinosuke challenged, that smug grin never fading.

“Kagome can take care of herself.”

“So, you’d rather she be left alone to worry about you. Alright. Makes my life easier.” He shrugged, rising to a stand.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” Inuyasha ground out through clenched teeth. He turned to Wakana. “I don’t like the mind games he plays.”

Wakana quickly used the back of her hand to slap Shinosuke’s arm, silently reprimanding him with her scowl. The guard winced, grimacing but still laughing.

“What? I got through to him.”

“Just take her.” Inuyasha rolled his eyes pridefully, giving Kagome’s thigh one last stroke of his palm.

“You heard the man. Come on, tiny might.” Shinosuke boasted, reaching to grab the back of Kagome’s dress and lift her up.

“That name again?” She complained, following his leverage and quickly standing.

“By the way, you don’t have to worry about me touching her inappropriately.” He said down to Inuyasha as the half demon ground his jaw uncomfortably. “Not that kind of guy, and I’m pretty sure your girl here would twist my pinky off. Not to mention,” He gestured to Wakana. “Fiancee.”

It took a small moment, but after watching Wakana nod in reassurance, Inuyasha found himself relaxing slightly. He still wasn’t a fan of the fact that someone else was looking over Kagome, but it surprisingly eased him a lot to know that there was no physical or romantic attraction taking place. Especially while Kagome looked as she did now. Inuyasha found his shoulders dropping an inch, his frown lessening, and a nod of acknowledgment coming forward.

Without another word, Shinosuke grabbed Kagome’s shoulders and guided her toward the door, stopping after just a few steps to make her face the incoming housemaid that carried the brewed tea over.

“See, Matsu. She’s harmless.”

The woman tensed considerably and ducked her head, eyes landing on the floor while her hands wrapped around the tray even tighter. Kagome was taken aback by the woman’s trepidation, her jaw dropping as she couldn’t help but look back over at Inuyasha. Never in her life had she caused a single person to fear her as much as this woman currently did. Not even her younger brother took her this seriously.

“She’s harmless!” Shinosuke urged, laughing. Even he was surprised by the housemaid’s reaction.

“She - uh - she killed Moryomaru, sir.” Matsu softly said as a way to prove Kagome was, in fact, not harmless.

“You know what, I’ll give it to you. You’ve got me there.” The guard bobbed his head. “You seem fine around Inuyasha, though.”

Matsu didn’t say anything. She merely stood there, eyes on the tray of herbal tea as she bounced from foot-to-foot.

“You - you realize he’s half demon, don’t you?”

“I am aware, sir.” She answered.

“Kagome, you damn ruffian.” Shinosuke snickered, shoving her toward the exit and away from the apprehensive housemaid. “You’re seriously gonna tell me the nickname’s still undeserved?”

“I’m sorry!” She guffawed, stumbling, once more looking back at Inuyasha as she laughed. The hanyou merely watched her exasperatedly, his large hand swiping down his face as he silently communicated his dumbfounded nature.

“You scarred the poor girl!” Shinosuke jokingly harassed, pushing her out the door.

Just before she disappeared, she shared one last, bright smile with Inuyasha, waving goodbye to him with the promise to see him soon.

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#inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #monster #akitokihojo

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a-singleboat · 4 years

Text

LA Girl

Word Count: 3.5k

Request: Since requests are open, can I ask for one where Shayne Topp has secretly been dating an Alt girl (piercings, coloured hair, tattoos ect) for months and she has anxiety and is nervous about meeting the squad as she feels like they’re gonna judge her for being so different to him so Shayne introduces her to Damien first alone and Damien automatically likes her and they click really well so she tells him she’s ready to go public and meet the rest of the squad and they all accept her?❤️ - Anon

A/N: I hope you guys like this! It took me a while to conceptualize it at first but then the rest came pretty naturally :D

Warning(s): Mentions of oral sex (male receiving), swearing, mentions of sex, self deprecating thoughts

You never really liked living in Los Angeles. Most days it was too bright and there were too many people, too many tourists. Yeah, you hated living here. That is, of course, until you met Shayne.

At first, it appeared that you and Shayne were as different as night and day. Literally. He was the perfect LA Boy, with his blonde hair and his trim physique, always looking like the sun while you… you liked your dark colors and vibrant hairstyles, not to mention your multitudes of piercings and tattoos. In the mornings that you did spend together, Shayne liked to trace them with the tips of his fingers before the day started.

These past few months with Shayne have been euphoric, for lack of better words. It seemed you were forever stuck in your honeymoon phase together but even you knew that it couldn’t last forever. The first fight you’d have, the first disagreement, stemmed from your own insecurities.

As you’d mentioned before, Shayne looked like the perfect LA Boy, as did the rest of his friends. He didn’t stand out while walking the length of Hollywood Boulevard and he certainly didn’t catch any of the police officer’s eyes when he went to the bank.

Which is why you weren’t so sure you wanted to meet them, his friends that is. You were sure that they would judge you for your alternative fashion choices, just like everyone else did.

“They’re not like that,” Shayne tried to convince you for the umpteenth time that day. You had just finished washing the dishes, using your day off to catch up on chores you’d neglected during the week. Shayne was supposed to be completing his coursework for his degree but instead he’d decided to pester you with this topic once more.

“My friends are super supportive and they just want to meet you,” he tried again. “And if they say anything then they’re not really my friends. They’ll love you, I promise.”

You picked up the laundry basket full of clean clothes from beside your front door, dumping the basket out on the couch. You cleared off a small section on the coffee table so that you could fold your laundry.

“I’m just worried,” you confessed, folding a cropped shirt in half twice before dropping it into the laundry basket. “You say that they’re supportive and that they just want to meet me but you also just said, ‘if they say anything.’ Shayne, if I really didn’t have a reason to worry, you wouldn’t have thrown that in there.”

“Okay, that was my bad,” he admitted, “but I’m serious. You have nothing to worry about, they’ll all love you.”

You gave him a weary look, folding a pair of black cargo pants over your arm. A few weeks ago, you’d met Shayne’s parents and while they were two of the most loving and welcoming people you had met, you could still see the discomfort and unease hidden behind their eyes. They expected someone different, with less tattoos and piercings most likely. They probably weren’t expecting their blonde baby boy to be with a neon-pink-haired twenty-something with daddy issues galore.

“Okay, how about this,” Shayne took the pants from your hands, folding them and setting them onto the coffee table. “I’ll invite Damien over to mine for dinner tonight as a tester. If everything goes well with him, then maybe you’ll consider meeting everyone else?”

You took up your cargo pants once more, settling them in the laundry basket with the rest of your folded clothing. You had less than half the original pile left, the rest of the clothing being mainly bras and socks that still needed to be sorted.

“Okay,” you gave in. What was the worst that could happen?

As it turns out, completely forgetting that Damien was due to arrive any moment at Shayne’s apartment was the worst thing that could happen. His best friend’s first impression of you would forever be this: you on your knees with Shayne’s dick halfway down your throat while you gave him a before-dinner blowjob.

Embarrassment burned through your entire being as Damien realized what was happening before he closed the front door and called out, “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked!”

You looked up at Shayne who couldn’t decide between being mortified and being smug. It took everything within your power not to punch him in the dick, considering it was literally right there in front of you.

“Go… take care of yourself,” you awkwardly chuckled, patting his thigh lightly. “I’ll let your friend in and hopefully not die from embarrassment on the way.”

Shayne scrambled up off the couch and into his bathroom while you opened the container of mints you kept under the coffee table for these types of instances. Not that you and Shayne expected people to walk in during any of that normally. You washed your hands at the sink while you chewed the mint, giving yourself a moment to breathe before even thinking about opening the door.

Once you’d calmed down enough, you opened the door for Damien, unable to meet his eye as you let him in.

“Uh, sorry you had to see any of that…” You closed the door behind him, double checking the lock to make sure it was still working. “We don’t usually do it out here, um--”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Damien tried to save the night. “It’s not like I haven’t seen Shayne’s dick before--I mean--Not in the way you’d think--”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, still thinking of a way to dig your way out of the hole you’d awkwardly made. When Shayne was telling you about Damien, he did mention that he was possibly the most awkward of his friends which made him the perfect ‘test monkey’ for the night.

“I should’ve knocked,” Damien settled, an apologetic look on his face. “Shayne gave me a key a while back and I usually just let myself in but that’s really no excuse. I’m sorry.”

Shayne had also mentioned Damien was the most polite out of them all. Not that the others weren’t polite, because they were. He had meant it in the way that Damien would apologize for existing if he could (which he has done before).

“It’s okay, really. Though, we might have to tweak the story of how we met for future conversations.” You made your way into Shayne’s little kitchenette. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Damien said, moving to sit in one of the chairs at the high table. You grimaced at the couch, making a mental note to grab some disinfectant once Shayne came out of the bathroom. “And yeah, we’ll just leave that part out for future retellings.”

You pulled a glass from one of the cabinets, filling it with water from the Brita. You added a few ice cubes as well, smiling as they clinked against the sides of the glass.

“So, how did you and Shayne meet?” Damien asked, thanking you for the glass. You took up the other seat, crossing your right leg over your left.

“At the tattoo shop I work at, actually,” you played with the end of your belt, twisting the fabric over your hand until it covered your knuckles. For this meeting, you’d decided to tone down your wardrobe--less chains and more softer fabrics. Your pleated skirt had been exchanged for the black cargo pants you’d folded earlier. That paired with a simple side release buckle belt and a structured white top for contrast, this was probably the most “tame” you’ve dressed in a while.

“He came in with another friend of his, Paul, and sat with him while I worked on a piece for his sleeve. After that, I gave him my number in case he ever wanted to get a tattoo himself and the rest is history.”

“I can’t believe Paul technically met you before I did,” Damien said in disbelief. You heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on which meant your boyfriend would be joining the two of you soon.

The awkwardness between you and Damien had faded slightly but you could still feel the tension in the air. Shayne opened the bathroom door and you looked over your shoulder to watch as your no longer disheveled boyfriend entered the room. He’d changed his pants, which was fair, and he was holding the disinfectant in hand as if he’d read your mind.

You hopped off the seat and took it from him, spraying down the entire couch while he greeted his friend.

“Really sorry you had to see that,” Shayne said, laughing as they clapped their hands together. “We would have disinfected the couch either way, just so you know.”

Damien laughed as you finished cleaning off the couch, setting the disinfectant on the coffee table. You couldn’t be bothered with putting it away in the bathroom right now.

“Well, this is Y/n, my girlfriend,” Shayne pulled on your arm until you settled into his side. You gave a small wave. “And she made Italian for dinner so unless you now want nothing to do with me, we can start eating now.”

“Sounds great.”

Once you actually got over the initial awkwardness, your night actually turned out enjoyable. Damien was extremely funny and nice, just like Shayne had said. He’d even asked about your job and your own tattoos, expressing his own thoughts about getting one or two done himself.

“If you get it done at my shop, I can get you a discount,” you offered, taking a sip of your water. “Friends and family get twenty-percent off, though that doesn’t include the tip.”

“Really?” Damien asked. He looked shocked that you’d even offer to tattoo him, let alone provide him with a discount.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Just let me know when and we can set up an appointment.”

“That’d be amazing.”

The three of you were sitting on the couch now, you and Shayne sitting on the side closest to the window while Damien was on the other end. His body was angled toward the two of you as “The Office” played quietly in the background.

“Does this mean I’ll be seeing you around more?” Damien asked. “Shayne always comes alone to out-of-work get-togethers and Courtney’s been pestering him to bring you around for some time now.”

“She has?” you looked up at Shayne, asking if that was true.

He nodded. “Why do you think I’ve been so insistent on getting you to meet my friends? They all want to meet you.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re all he talks about,” Damien chuckled. “I swear, every other word from his mouth is something about you. Whether it’s wondering what you’re doing to wondering how you’re doing, it’s always about you.”

You reached up and patted Shayne’s cheek lightly. “Aw, babe. You think about me? How embarrassing.”

He swatted your hand away, chuckling as you giggled at the shared joke between you.

You talked for a little longer, sharing stories between the three of you before Damien caught sight of the time.

“I should get going,” he said, standing up. You got up as well, giving him a hug before letting him and Shayne say their goodbyes. Once Damien had left the apartment completely, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, you shoulder relaxing. While Shayne was an extrovert, you found yourself physically and mentally drained from hanging out with just one person.

The entire experience was new for you. Since you’d started dressing how you wanted to dress and expressing yourself accordingly, there have been people less than willing to be nice to you or show you any sort of kindness. It was mostly linked to the fact that people thought that if you wore black, put on lots of make-up, had piercings, and had tattoos you were a bad person and an even worse role model. Not only was that hurtful, it made you very self conscious about meeting new people.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Shayne said, pulling you in for a hug. You sunk into his arms, wrapping your own arms around his torso.

“It wasn’t terrible,” you replied, your words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. You turned your head sideways so that you could hear his steady heartbeat, allowing it to lull you into what felt like security. “Though, the beginning could have been better.”

“We’re never speaking of the beginning again.”

“Agreed.”

Shayne started to sway with you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before letting go. “So how do you feel about going to brunch with the rest of my friends on Saturday?”

After meeting Damien, your anxiety had subsided. No longer did you think you would be judged for the type of clothes you chose to wear but this time the anxiety of meeting so many people at once surfaced. When you didn’t respond, he looked down at you worried.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just…” If you said what you were thinking out loud, you knew you were going to sound ridiculous. “It’s nothing.”

“No, really,” he frowned, “tell me what’s wrong. Bottling it all up inside won’t work this time.”

You sighed. “I--Shayne, you’re perfect, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t say perfect but…” You dug your fingers into his side, causing him to laugh. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just that you’re the perfect LA Boy and I look nothing like the perfect LA Girl that you so clearly deserve. I mean, Damien was nice but that’s literally just how he is. What if your other friends think I’m, like, a terrible influence on you with my millions of piercings and tattoos and attention-seeking hair and--”

He cut you off with his lips, arms pulling you in impossibly closer and effectively stopping you in your tracks.

When he pulled away, you fixed him with a playful glare. “Shayne Robert Topp, you did not just pull a movie cliche on me while I was airing out all my concerns to you. Apologize right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “But, Y/n, you don’t need to be the ‘perfect LA Girl,’ you’re perfect the way you are. That doesn’t mean I’d like you any less if you decided that you did want to become whatever you think is the ‘perfect LA Girl’ because I’d like you no matter what. I just like you.”

“Even if I went bald?”

“Even if you went bald.”

You’ve said it once and you’ll say it again: you fucking loved this man.

“I love you,” you said, pouting your bottom lip. You felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him in adoration.

“I love you, too.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, you were ready to meet the rest of Shayne’s friends. Most of your anxieties had been successfully quelled, though they still lingered. You had gotten your hair done again the day before, meaning you were now sporting a bright neon green. You matched your makeup to your vibrant new dye and picked out a heat-appropriate outfit.

“Are you ready to go?” Shayne called from your front room, interrupting your self-admiration session. You gave yourself one last look in the full-length mirror in your room before slipping on the pair of DnD dice filled platform shoes that added at least three inches to your height.

“Ready.” You stopped to pose in the doorway, the bottom of your shirt riding up as you leaned against the wooded frame. “Baby, how do I look?”

Shayne looked up from his phone, his jaw dropping the second he laid eyes on you. A blush settled nicely onto your cheeks, as you grew shy under his gaze. He dropped his phone on the couch and crossed the room in three long strides. He pulled you in by the waist, pressing a kiss to your lips. You melted into his touch, a giddy feeling spreading through your being as your arms looped around his neck, bringing him closer.

“You look amazing,” he breathed, pulling away. You giggled as you realized that a bit of your black lipstick had transferred off onto his lip. You reached up and wiped his top lip with your thumb.

“Thank you,” you giggled, rubbing your fingers together until the black rubbed off. “What time did your friends say?”

“We’ve got some time…” his fingers crept up your side, dipping under your shirt and tracing the band of your bra with his thumb.

You smacked his hand. “Naughty boy.”

You didn’t end up leaving the apartment for another thirty minutes, though you couldn’t complain about it. Still, you ended up making it on time. From where you’d parked on the street, you could see Shayne’s friends spread across two connected tables, laughing on the patio.

Damien was the first to spot the two of you, standing from his seat and calling out, inviting you into the sectioned off area. You took up residence in the seat closest to him, leaving Shayne to take the seat on your other side.

“You guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/n,” Shayne introduced you to everyone at the table. There were nine other people sitting at the table. You recognized maybe six of them from the videos you’d watched, while the other three were most likely spouses (considering how close they were sitting next to who you assumed were their significant others).

“Hi, Y/n!” the blonde sitting next to Damien greeted. You recognized her immediately as the inspiration for Shayne’s alter ego, Courtney Freaking Miller.

You smiled politely as everyone went around introducing themselves to you, from Olivia and Sam to Sarah and Claudio, you didn’t feel out of place for one second. The hand that had been tightly intertwined with Shayne’s relaxed as you grew even more comfortable around his friends.

“So Damien told us that you worked at a tattoo parlor,” Ian inquired, propping an arm up on the table and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. On his left sat Anthony, who also looked interested in your answer. “And Shayne did, too, I guess. Did Damien tell you that your boyfriend literally never stops talking about you?”

You giggled. “He did tell me that and I find it adorable that he can’t go a second without missing me.”

“I wish Peter was like that,” the purple haired woman, Mari, complained playfully, nudging her husband’s side. Peter just laughed it off, casually putting his arm around her shoulders.

“You do not,” he refuted. “You get flustered when I even mention you to my friends.”

She huffed, though there were no traces of anger to be found on her face. “It’s the sentiment that counts.”

Courtney put her menu down, reaching over to grab her glass of water. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. Y/n, yours are so pretty.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you! I actually did most of them myself.”

Courtney’s eyes widened at that. She reached over Damien, who had leaned far back enough in his seat to allow her to do that. She motioned at your sleeve, specifically at the roses that decorated the back of your forearm. They were cliche and most likely overused but you just thought they were pretty.

“Those? You did those yourself?”

“Yeah!” you said enthusiastically. You offered your arm out, allowing her to take a closer look. “My friend, Alyssa, designed it for me and as soon as I was trusted to wield an actual tattoo gun, it was the first piece I worked on.”

“That’s insanely cool,” she gushed, tracing a finger over one of the larger roses. “And you’re insanely talented.”

“Thank you!”

For some reason, Courtney was originally your biggest concern. Most of the insecurity had sprouted from the constant online presence of the ship Shourtney, which Shayne assured you was nothing but a meme. And you trusted your boyfriend, and though you didn’t know Courtney, you trusted her too. But sitting here, at the same brunch spot as her, sharing the same meal as she was, all your fears washed away.

It was incredibly difficult not to like her. Not only was she extremely nice, but insanely pretty as well. Though you had to accredit most of your confidence to Shayne, who only had eyes for you despite everything else. You’d thought that you would find yourself vying for his attention in front of everyone but not once did he leave you to flounder. He was always there, ready to step into any conversation you were having.

When you’d all finished your meals and began to wrap up the late morning, you couldn’t help but show your gratitude for your amazing boyfriend by pressing a huge kiss to his cheek, whispering that you loved him while everyone had grown content in their own little conversations with each other.

Content, he grinned and his arm around your shoulders tightened just that much more as he used his free hand to tilt your face up towards him. He pressed a kiss to your lips, keeping it short and sweet, before pulling away and whispering, “I love you, too.”

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redpandaramblings · 4 years

Text

Laundry Day. Sero x F!reader

Content warning- Mature humor, Mineta mention, sexual situations, heavy petting.

“Come on! It would be so much fun!” Mina was bouncing on her heels, practically vibrating with excited energy as she tried to convince the group to go along with her scheme.

“So let me get this right.” Bakugo sighed. “You want to do this fucking thrift store scronging thing for Christmas?”

“Yep!” Mina said. “Let’s be real, none of us have a lot of money this year, and this will be a way to have a lot of fun on a budget! It’s simple. Everyone finds the weirdest or most inappropriate thing they can buy for five bucks or less, and then we have a white elephant party on Christmas Eve!”

“White Elephant?” Kirishima asks, tilting his head.

Kaminari nods, jumping in. “Yeah man! Means people take turns picking gifts out of a pile. Or they have the chance to steal a gift someone else already opened. Basically, don’t go picking stuff thinking it will go to a specific person.”

“Is this going to be just us? Or are we inviting everyone? Because I live in curious fear of whatever Mineta would manage to dig up.” You asked from where you were lounging.

Mina blanched while Denki cackled in delight.

“Oh god, we have to invite everyone now! Imagine Midoria’s face! Imagine Iida’s!”

“It’s settled! Party at Bakubro’s!” Kiri cheered.

“Oi shitty hair! Don’t fucking invite everyone over to my place!”

“But you make the best curry! Please? For your bestest friends in the whole wide world?”

“Fuck no!”

“Pleeeeaaaase?” Kiri pleaded.

“NO!”

Kirishima looked around the squad, communicating silently as everyone nodded. As a collective force, you all turned your best puppy eyes at Bakugo. He squirmed, firmly trying to look away from all of you. You all started fake whimpering and whining. You knew you had won when Katsuki’s lips briefly twitched into a smile.

“Alright! Alright! Now stop it, you fucking extras!”

“Three cheers for Bakubro!” Sero exclaimed.

The weeks flew by and before you knew it, the party was upon you. Katsuki had grumbled and bitched the whole time, and yet now was gazing with pride at the absolute spread he had spent the last two days cooking. Everyone had showed up, had gorged themselves, and were now in the process of opening presents. There had been a couple weird mugs, a lamp made out of a deer leg, and Iida had had the misfortune of opening the gift Mineta had brought. Everyone stared in horrified awe at the three foot long, hot pink dildo.

“Are those teeth marks on it?”

“Yep, teeth marks.”

“Mineta, where the hell did you find this thing?”

“I swear I got it at a thrift store! The price tag is still on the base, look!”

“Yep. That’s a price tag.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“I wanna bite it.”

“Y/N! NO!”

There was a lot of laughter and teasing as the evening continued, gifts continuing to be claimed or stolen at a slow pace. Just about everyone after Iida had tried to steal ownership of the horror dong as it had been nicknamed. Denki had just stolen it from you, so you had to pick a new gift. You pointed toward a box that was rather conspicuously wrapped entirely in tape.

“Okay, someone toss me whatever the hell Sero got.”

The black haired man gave a little fist pump as he snagged the box, walking over to sit next to you as he handed the box over. He casually pressed against your side and slung an arm around your shoulders. “Amiga, I’m honored! You’re going to love it!”

“Yeah, I’m going to love it if I can ever get into it.” You began the process of slowly unwrapping the absurd amount of tape. “Seriously, anybody got a knife?”

A chorus of “no”s replied, no one actually bothering to look for one.

You gave a dramatic groan. “You’re all awful and I hate each and every one of you.”

Hanta gasped and placed a hand over his heart. “Even me, Querida?”

“Especially you, you office supply elbowed freak.” You replied, sticking your tongue out at him even as you snuggled more comfortably into his side.

After a couple more minutes of dramatic whining and tape unwrapping, you finally got the box open, only to reveal the gaudiest t-shirt you had ever seen. It was a nauseating shade of Pepto Bismol pink. There was glitter. And oh god, what the thing said. You started cackling. You held it up for everyone to see, discovering as you did so that this had to be the largest shirt you had seen in your life.

“Ooo, nice one Hanta, that’s really awful!”

“Someone steal this from me, please!”

“No way, Y/N! It’s the perfect addition to your wardrobe!”

“Hermosa! I’m wounded you would get rid of my gift right after opening it.”

“Look at this thing! Fatgum would swim in it!”

You made a show of grumbling, but you stowed the shirt back in its box and enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friends. When you got home quite late that evening, you shoved the box into the back of your closet and didn’t think about it again until almost a year later.

~~~

Today had been the day from hell. You muttered curses to yourself as you stomped down the hallway to your apartment. Work had been harder than usual, the kind of day that made you grateful to make the long commute back home. So of course today would be the day that the subway would be taken over by a villain who had a sludge quirk. Asshole had flooded the cars with the thick, foul smelling, viscous ooze that reminded you of things unmentionable. You and the other passengers had had to scramble to make sure no one ended up in over their head. Lucky everyone had been saved. Unluckily you and many others, you had spent the better part of two hours standing shoulder deep in the muck. It was in your hair. It had soaked your clothes. It was in your underwear. And the icing on the cake was of course it was your friends and neighbors who had rescued you. Of course your crush had seen you when you looked like you had taken up competitive septic tank diving.

It took you three tries before your key actually got in the lock. You shuffled into your apartment and straight for the bathroom. Grimacing as you peeled your clothing off, you unceremoniously chucked everything into the hamper before stepping into the shower and turning the water as hot as it would go. You stayed in the shower for over an hour scrubbing and rescrubbing every inch of you. With great reluctance, you eventually stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel. You lazily dried yourself off as you walked into the bedroom, intent on putting on pajamas and pretending you didn’t exist for the next several hours.

You opened your underwear drawer only to be filled with a deep sense of dread. Empty. Your pajama drawer? One pair of extreme booty shorts that say “creepy” on the butt. Your t-shirt drawer? Empty. Your closet? Empty. Frustrated tears threatened to slip down your cheeks as you realized that the shorts were the only clean item of clothing in your apartment. You had been meaning to do laundry for a while, but you hadn’t realized that it had gotten this bad. As much as you hated to, you were going to have to do your laundry tonight. You put the shorts in and looked through your closet again, desperate enough to find a sheet to try and fashion into a toga when you spotted a rather bedraggled tape covered box. You hadn’t thought about your ridiculous white elephant gift in several months, but now? Well, it technically was a shirt. It certainly would cover you better than an improvised sheet toga. Before you could think twice about it, you opened the box, grabbed the shirt, and slipped it on.

The shirt swam on you, going past your butt. The color was bad, and you winced at the image on the front. But, you were now decent enough to venture down to the building’s shared laundry room. So, after grabbing your hamper, detergent, and quarter jar; you did just that.

You hummed the Mission Impossible theme to yourself as you descended the stairwell to the ground floor. Most of your friends lived on this level, but chances were they were fast asleep at this time of night. You were glad of that as you hurried along. You really didn’t want to run into anyone wearing your current getup. It took several minutes to sort your laundry into a few machines and get everything started. You were leaning against the last machine in the line, debating going back to your place or just staying here when you heard something that made you freeze. Upbeat whistling that was growing closer each second. You knew that whistle You did not want to see the owner of that whistle right now. You had already been embarrassed in front of crush today, you really didn’t need him showing up for round two. You were debating how quickly you could scramble into a dryer to hide when Sero Hanta entered the room.

He briefly glanced your way. “Hey Y/N! I figured I might see you here. I’ll admit I’ve seen some shit, and that was gross even by my standards. I wanted to ask how you were doing. Make sure you weren’t injured or any…”. He trailed off when he finally registered what exactly you were wearing. His grin turned positively feral as he set his own laundry bag to the side.

“My, my, my.” Sero gave a rumbling chuckle. “Whatever do we have here?” Sero’s eyes could sweep up and down your body. His signature grin grew wider as his gaze lingered on your t-shirt clad chest.

You crossed your arms, attempting to hide the gigantic image of a lime green, glittery, prancing unicorn proclaiming “I’m horny!” What were the odds that someone else would be washing their clothes at two in the morning? Apparently changes were pretty damn high, you thought as you leveled a half hearted glare at your friend and neighbor.

“It’s laundry day, Hanta, don’t read into it.”

“But Hermosa! How can I not? The first time I see mi corazón wearing the gift I so painstakingly chose for her?” He waggled his eyebrows as his trademark teasing grin spread over his face.

You blushed, turning your head to the side and refusing to look at him.

“You’re full of crap, Cellophane. It’s been a really shitty day, and this was literally my only thing to wear.”

Sero nodded and hummed, turning to put his own laundry in the machines. “Si, si. It was a rather difficult time, it looked like. And you okay though? Not injured? I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you after the fight was over.”

You groaned, tilting your head back and covering your face with your hands. “I’m afraid I got a nasty case of extreme embarrassment and took a heavy blow to my pride. Of course you fuckers had to be the heros on duty for that whole debacle.”

Hanta looks at you seriously as shoves disorganized armfuls of laundry into the nearest machine. “I’d rather it be me saving you than anybody else, Querida.”

You let your hands fall to your side with a disgruntled sigh. “Why? So you can witness all the embarrassing situations you can blackmail me with?”

“Well now that you mention it, yes.” Sero dumped an obscene amount of soap into the washer before turning it on. “However,” he purred in a sinful voice that startled you. He stalked toward you like a hungry jaguar. He stalked toward you like a hungry jaguar. Squeaking, you inched away from him until the back of your legs were pressed firmly against the cold metal of the washing machine. Hanta leaned over your retreating frame, placing an arm on either side of you, caging you in. “Querida mia, I want to always be able to make sure you are safe.”

You placed your hands on his chest, halfheartedly trying to shove him away.

“That’s very touching. Now get out of my personal space.”

“But Querida,” Sero murmured, his voice going low and sensual, moving closer until your hips pressed against each other. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than your personal space. Si supieras las cosas que quiero hacerte...”

With him so close, there was nothing you could do to disguise the shiver that ran through you at his words.

“Oh? What’s this?” Sero said. His large hands traveled to your hips, his long fingers finding their way under the hem of your shirt to tantalizingly stroke your skin. He leaned forward, voice turning to a growl with his mouth next to your ear. “Hermosa likes me speaking Español, hmm?”

You bite your lip before giving in and nodding.

“Well, in that case… Taco supreme!”

The fingers that had been stroking your skin suddenly became deadly, horrible tickle weapons; digging into your sides and moving rapidly. You shrieked with surprised laughter, thrashing from side to side as you tried to escape. However, Hanta’s large frame and firm hips kept you pinned against the washing machine as his traitorous fingers continued their assault. He continues to tease in between his own laughter. “Nachos grande! Cinnamon Twists! Quiero Taco Bell!”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you wheeze and slap at his chest. “Stop! Stop! You horrible man!” He gets in a few more tickles before he does stop, wrapping his arms around you, pulling into a tight hug as you both take a few moments to pant and calm your laughter. He nuzzles your neck before asking softly, “Feel better?”

You nod, just enjoying his warm body wrapped around you.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” Your voice just as soft as his, one of your hands finds its way up to stroke his hair.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

“Please.” You whisper softly, tugging at his hair just enough to encourage him to move his head back. Your lips find each other, cautious and gentle at first. Then, Hanta nips at your lower lip, and you let your mouth fall open with a whimper. The kiss is hunger and passion, and heat. Tongues wrestling, teeth lightly biting and teasing each other as hands roam and grope. Sero’s hands find the back of your thighs and soon he’s lifting you, setting you down on the edge of the washing machine. He presses himself between your spread legs, bucking against you, and you can feel his hard length teasing you through your clothes.

“Wanted this so long. You have no idea how long. Y entonces hoy estaba tan preocupado por ti. Cuando vi que estabas en peligro, quise matar a ese villano y encerrarte donde nunca más estarías en peligro.”

“Me too. Wanted this so long, but didn’t think you felt the same. Now get back here and kiss me like you mean it!”

He happily complied, his lips fitting over yours as if they had been made to be placed together. The kisses and touches didn’t stay innocent long, his hands finding your breasts through your shirt, teasing and pulling at your nipples. One of your hands traveled down to stroke the obvious bulge that was rutting against you. Between his thrusting and the vibrations of the machine you were sitting on, your shorts were becoming visibly soaked. His fingers found their way up a leg hole and he moaned sinfully when he found there weren't any undergarments keeping his touch from your soaking folds. It was your turn to smirk, pulling away from his kisses to whisper in his ear.

“I told you, Darling. Laundry day.”

“Amore, you’re going to be the death of me.” He groans, shoving his face into your cleavage as he slips a finger into you.

You laugh breathlessly. “You better not die on me, Hanta. What I have in mind will be much less fun if you’re dead.”

“HOLY FUCK!” Shouted a very recognizable voice from the doorway. Your groan was not from pleasure as you rested your head on Sero’s shoulder.

“Piss off, Denki.”

“Hanta’s finally getting some honey! Score man!”

“What’s going on?” Mina’s sleep heavy voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Y/n and Sero are going to Pound Town in the Laundry Room!”

“Denki, en el nombre de Dios, I will kill you if you don’t back out of that doorway and let me finish what I started.”

Bakugo’s voice rang down the hall “No fucking in the goddamn Laundryroom!”

Kiri’s voice soon followed “Take it easy, Tsuki! They can clean up when they’re done! Get some guys! You need condoms?”

Sero sighed deeply, pulling his hand out of your pants as your shoulders shook from silent laughter. “I think, Hermosa, we can agree no fucking in front of the friend group?”

You nodded, laughing as you jumped down from your washing machine perch. “Not until the third date at least.”

Sero moaned softly, not expecting the way that statement had made his cock twitch. Acting quickly, he scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “My room. Now.”

“Ooo, Caveman Hanta. Sexy.”

Denki jumped to the side to let Sero pass, calling after you “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

You called back “Well, I’m going to do Hanta, so what does that say about you?”

Sero’s hand came down on your bottom with a firm smack as he continued down the hallway and around the corner, taking you two toward his apartment and out of sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spanish guide-

Amiga- Friend

Querida- Darling

Hermosa- Beautiful

Querida mia- My darling.

Si supieras las cosas que quiero hacerte- If you knew the things that I want to do to you

Y entonces hoy estaba tan preocupado por ti. Cuando vi que estabas en peligro, quise matar a ese villano y encerrarte donde nunca más estarías en peligro.- And then today I was so worried about you. When I saw that you were in danger, I wanted to kill that villain and lock you up where you would never be in danger again.

Hey guys! Pan here, hope you enjoyed it. It’s been quite a while since I’ve put any of my fanfic out there, so please be gentle with me. I just used Google translate for the Spanish, so I’m sure some of it is very wrong. If you have corrections, please feel free to send them my way! Also, if you see any triggers that need tagging please let me know. I also accept constructive criticism, and appreciate having spelling and grammar mistakes pointed out. Also want to take the chance to answer this question ahead of time-

“The fuck is up with the dildo?!?!”

The Dildo of Doom is based on real events. That actually happened. One of my former sorority sisters found the dong of death at a thrift store. It did indeed have teeth marks on it. Human teeth marks, I should clarify. Truth is stranger than fiction.

I have to thank @reinawritesbnha for helping me edit some clunky sections. If you aren’t already familiar with her work, please check her out!

Taglist- @reinawritesbnha @nkjktk

#Sero #Sero Hant #sero x reader #not sfw #hanta reader #mature situations

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Oh, can I please ask for one of your folklore prompts? “And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want/just not home” my tears ricochet For a young Tony, maybe? It doesn't have to have a pairing if you don't want to. :)

A house and a home are different. Tony did not know this until he was in college, much to his surprise.

A house is somewhere you live. A central place that you come back to in between visits to other people or places or countries or anything else. It is not personal. It is something you use until you no longer see the need or the desire. You can move to a lot of them.

A home lingers. A home is where you smile late at night over drinks. It is where crumbs reside from last night’s takeout, and you spend lazy Sundays.

(Tony also didn’t know what that was either.)

He’s lived in a lot of houses. He has a lot of houses. There’s the one in New York that is looming and lonely and probably would be his least favorite except it’s in New York, which earns it its redemption.

There is sunny Malibu with its beaches and great views. There are a few others.

None of them are homes. It’s just a place to rest for a couple of months or a year or until Howard decides it’s not enough.

He gets to MIT and gets a dorm room, same as everyone else. It is pitifully sad, he gets sun only in the mornings, and that sucks. He kind of hates it. He guesses that’s the college experience.

He also has a roommate. Jarvis had told him it’d be good for him, and Tony had had to talk Howard out of about twenty-seven different legal documents that basically said “if you ever breathe a word of anything to anyone, you’re being legally sued.”

James Rhodes. Literally studying to become a rocket scientist, has questionable taste in posters, and waves at Tony when they meet each other.

“Call me Jim.”

“...Jim. Are you eighty or something?”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say. It definitely is the wrong thing to say by Jarvis’ raised eyebrows and down-turned frown.

But James Rhodes takes it in stride.

“You can call me something else if you want, but it has to be good and I have to approve it. Can’t be my last name, can’t be Jimmy. Anything else is fair game.”

Different reaction. That’s...that’s weird.

So Tony shrugs, smiles as Jarvis leaves, and realizes that he’s alone and Howard doesn’t really have an influence--except he does, god he does--and Tony asks James Rhodes if he’d like to get pizza.

“You know anywhere with good pizza?”

“Wanna find out if Hemingway’s is any good?”

“It’s either going to be artisan hipster or the worst. Hell yes.”

It’s artisan hipster. It is bad, and James laughs as he tells a story and burns his tongue when he’s reenacting his mother is chewing him out, using his full name, and:

“Rhodey,” Tony gasps out.

“I told you that you couldn’t use my last name!”

“It’s technically not your last name, sugar plum,” Tony mocks, using one of his mother’s nicknames against him. “You are forever now Rhodey. Forever.”

From there, friendship progresses. Tony’s never actually had a real friend before, not that he tells Rhodey that. Besides, Rhodey probably knows. Tony just automatically assumes he’s paying for everything, and he’s not sure what to do with genuine affection for a couple of months.

He looks at Rhodey with such love and affection. He does, really. Rhodey has created a whole new world for him.

And then, the holidays.

Thanksgiving is Tony’s least-favorite-holiday for a variety of reasons. It’s all a fake kind of gathering. “Coming together to celebrate gratefulness” is the biggest goddamn crock of bullshit he’s ever cooked in his life, and for once his family isn’t doing a PR stunt, so his mother has announced that he’s welcome to be back home, but they won’t be there.

Howard is taking Jarvis with him on a trip to England to visit Aunt Peggy and probably talk shop about Cap and ice and stupid fucking theories about the degree of alive he’ll be when he’s found.

(When. What pretentious bullshit.)

Tony doesn’t want to be alone in the house, because that’d suck shit and MIT would be better. At least he could make shitty ramen and cry and only get a noise complaint instead of one of the cleaning staff members saying that he probably needed therapy.

“You are not staying in the dorms, what the fuck man,” Rhodey says. “You’re coming home with me.”

“Now darling, I thought you said we weren’t going to be forward about this whole thing,” he purrs, putting on an old Hollywood accent. “Are you finally coming up and seeing me?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be as forward as I want,” he decides, and Tony wishes he wouldn’t say things like that, because that seriously get’s a man’s heart rising. “Besides, I told you that you need to have my Aunt Kendra’s rolls, and that’s a promise. So, Thanksgiving is now with the Rhodes’ family.”

Tony doesn’t know if they know that he’s coming. He also doesn’t know the dress code, and Rhodey is absolutely no help.

“What do you mean by casual?” Tony squawks. “Is it business casual? Dressy casual? Jeans casual?”

“What do any of those mean?”

“Oh my god, I’m going to look like a failure at this shindig. Your mother will die over her cooking because I’ll pull out of the wrong wardrobe and be a fool. I’ll die, and you’ll have to bury me, and you won’t even know which outfit I’ll want. God, this is going to--”

Rhodey shuts him up, putting a hand over his mouth.

“Just wear your red turtleneck and your dark jeans or whatever. That looks nice.”

“You noticed?”

“You don’t give me as much credit as I deserve,” Rhodey grunts. “Early wake-up on Monday. I’ll supply coffee as long as you give me gas money.”

“I’ll give you anything for coffee. I’ll give you my hand in marriage for coffee.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Rhodey teases. “I might actually do that.”

God, I wish you would.

Rhodey’s house is a nice place, a wire fence bordering with a porch swing covered in a light dusting of snow, and swinging slightly with the wind that blows through the neighborhood.

There are quite a lot of cars parked in the driveway and in the street, and Tony can see at least six people inside the house, which is more family than he actually knows on either side.

It’s all warm and yellow, and Rhodey moves with an ease that Tony didn’t know happened outside of those cheesy family shows.

He throws open the door and there are shouts of joy and happiness and “Jimmy-boy!”

“I didn’t know Jimmy-boy was on the table,” Tony remarks dryly. “And here it’s been for months, Jimmy-boy.”

Rhodey groans.

“This is worse than Rhodey,” he mutters.

A woman who could only be his mother steps forward, grinning.

“Call me Mama, darling. And what’s this I hear about ‘Rhodey’?”

“He burnt his tongue on pizza while telling me about a time he got a well-deserved talking-to by your own graceful words, Mrs. Rhodes,” Tony says. He’s charming. Oh, he’s very charming.

She giggles.

“I said mama, but I can’t say I’ll mind too much when you talk like that. Jim, you should’ve had us meet earlier.”

“You see I would’ve, but I happen to value myself,” Rhodey says.

“You do?” a man says. Mr. Rhodes, tall and a smile that could put any of the fake veneers in Hollywood to shame. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Rhodey gets pulled into a hug, and he laughs, and Tony has the Distinct Memory that He’s Never Been Hugged by his Father.

Well, isn’t this a time to realize family inadequacies!

“Rhodey, light of my life, where am I setting up my suitcase?” Tony asks.

“Come on up with me. We’re sleeping in my room, hope that’s alright.”

It’s more than alright, and Tony smiles when he sees Rhodey’s room.

He loves it. It’s decorated with model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, a peeling Star Wars poster that has most definitely been needed to be thrown away for more than five years (but won’t be), and a few trophies from soccer.

Tony’s never had his own room decorated with anything but the current trends, his mother hand-picking his comforter and the decorations in his room. And they all say he’s so “fashionable” and “keeps an eye out for trends.”

(Ha.)

It’s odd for him to see a house look so...lived in.

“Welcome home,” Rhodey says. “I haven’t grabbed it yet, but I’ll use a sleeping bag and you can take the bed.”

Tony snorts.

“No way, honeybee. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. We’ve shared a bed before, this is no different.”

"Only if you’re sure,” Rhodey says, smiling at him. “This is a bit different than both twin beds being crashed together because we wanted more space for the fridge.”

“This time we don’t have the fridge,” Tony quips as Rhodey laughs.

“Come on, let’s head downstairs. Mama’s probably gonna have us wash dishes or something. Maybe set up some more chairs.”

What actually happens is that their laundry machine has gone rebel-mode, and is currently trying it’s best to fling the door open and spew laundry everywhere.

“Shit,” Mr. Rhodes says, looking at it. “Another call to the repairman this month...”

“He won’t get here until a week after Thanksgiving,” Mama says, sighing. “How much do you mind your jeans freezing up a bit?”

He smiles a bit at his wife.

Tony’s never seen that. But he likes it.

“I can fix it,” he says. Family turns to him. This is all quite embarrassing. “I, uh, I’ve taken apart some washing machines before. I think I can figure it out, if you don’t mind me poking around.”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit,” Mama says. “Jimmy, I like this one.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“I’ll go get the toolkit for you. Need anything?”

“Towels and you, honey-pie.”

“You get one out of two of those options.”

“You treat me like a vagrant,” Tony declares. Rhodey laughs as he heads to go get supplies.

The night goes on. People occasionally check in, and Rhodey assures them that it’s going well.

“Instruction manuals are such bullshit,” Tony says. “Half the time they’re written by someone who doesn’t even know how to do it themselves. The other half, no one uses them.”

“Well when you take over your company, write better instruction manuals,” Rhodey says. “Pass me a towel, things are about to get sudsy.”

Forty-five minutes later, the washing machine is probably doing better than it was even at production, and Tony gets a kiss on the cheek and cheers all around him.

“This calls for cookies,” Rhodey declares. “Tony, let’s go get some.”

They sit at the kitchen table, and Tony learns so much about Rhodey’s family. He sees him laugh and relax and tell the funniest stories about when he was little and got stuck in a tree.

It’s home. That’s how he finally understands it. Home where you keep on going long after, with people you love.

He doesn’t have one of those.

He thinks, maybe, that he could make a home of his own. Maybe he could have AC/DC posters lining a wall, or have the pictures of friends and vacation in the kitchen.

And Rhodey would be there. For now, he’s going to enjoy his hot chocolate and try to get more embarrassing stories about his best friend from his family.

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #the difference between a house and a home #mit era #rhodey #tony stark #jarvis #anyways yeah i don't think tony would actually know what a home looks like #he's Deficient

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

A Day for Romance

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Tony and Steve didn’t have a romantic Valentine’s day in years and when Tony decides to fix it, something unexpected stops him.

length: 1 831

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! I know some people dislike this day, but for me, it was always more about celebrating all kinds of love, not only the romantic one, but love to your friends, to your pets, to everyone who you hold dear to your heart, and to yourself! So, treat yourself today, because you deserve it! if you like this fic, don’t forget to show me some love, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

—————

A Day for Romance

"Tony... What's that?"

Steve found himself not able to stop smiling. There was some feeling coming back, one he didn't feel quite in a while, or at least not as prominently as now. Giddiness? Yes, that was the word.

By Tony's smile, twitching and spreading and the happy sparkle in his eyes, Steve could say that Tony felt the same, pleased that his Valentine's surprise worked out so well. Every day, their bedroom presented quite simple, with crumpled sheets, lone clothes here and there, organized in a modern, minimalistic style and with few heartwarming accents like their wedding photo on the nightstand, or more humoristic ones, meaning the tie with a ducky pattern, looped over the wardrobe handle. This was like cupid decided to drop by, got drunk on Tony's scotch, and vomited everywhere.

"Oh my gosh, how did you even - " Steve laughed, still not believing what he was seeing. He was an artist and had a good eye for color, but it was like Tony used the whole palette of red and pink shades and sprinkled random Valentine's day accents all over their bedroom, from the cheesiest giant pastel pink teddy bear, ending on the enormous deep red bouquet of royal roses.

"I decided that we didn't have enough of romance in the past Valentine's days and decided to make up for it," Tony said, sashaying over to Steve, his hips doing some magic movements. To cut the sugar down, Tony chose to wear a simple, black suit, that made him stand out nicely.

"Make up for it?" Steve asked in humor. "More like cramming last five years into it," he answered himself. It wasn't like he and Tony lacked romance in their relationship, it just simmered down into something more steady and comfortable in the last years. Being together for almost a decade developed their relationship from the wild and not having enough of each other into a sturdy and comfortable feeling of knowing that the other person would be always there. The love was still present and growing, not needing outbursts of feelings, but small everyday gestures of devotion. That's what their last Valentine's days embodied which took a form of a shared dinner over a movie and cuddling on the couch while in sweatpants. And it was as good as during the early years of their relationship when they had decided to meet in a hotel under fake names, romance each other all over again, and spent a wild night together.

"Are you complaining?" Tony asked, pressing himself to his husband and grabbing by the collar, pulling him down. "Because if you are, I am not above spanking you to put you back in order, soldier," Tony purred out, their lips brushing together.

"No, sir," Steve denied with a smile, moving his face to match Tony's, lips getting closer and closer. "And I gotta say, you clean up rather nicely," Steve said, meaning that it has been a while since Tony wore a suit, not for a formal event, not for a public speaking, but just for his husband.

"Wish I could say the same about you, but there is an awfully lot of clothes on you for me to be sure," Tony breathed out. Steve wouldn't call a t-shirt and jeans a lot of clothes, but the message was well received. Their lips finally met, slow and passionate, and they stumbled together, falling on the, of course, rose petals covered bed, making them fly everywhere. Greedy fingers went into motion, peeling clothes of each other, lips wanting more and more -

"ACHEW!" Steve turned his head away, blocking his mouth with his hand.

"Uh," Tony blinked, his tie and dress shirt halfway off, "bless you."

"Thanks, babe," Steve rubbed his nose, trying to cease the tingly feeling. "Where did we stop?"

"Hmm, somewhere here," Tony smiled charmingly, pointing with a finger to his neck. Steve leaned down eagerly, ready to suckle and kiss the offered skin, when the irritating feeling came back and he straightened up abruptly, sneezing again.

"Steve? What's wrong?" Tony asked, lifting on his elbows and sounding alarmed. It wasn't like Steve to get sick all out of sudden.

"Nothing, it's nothing - " Steve tried to brush it off, but another sneeze happened. And then another one. And then he felt his throat becoming tight and eyes water and all of this was oddly familiar and disturbing.

"Oh my God, get out!" Tony panicked, not liking what he was seeing, and easily identified as an allergy attack. Roses? The scented candles? The new silk sheets in red color sprayed with essentials oils? There were too many variables and there was no time to analyze them all before Steve's head would swell like a tomato.

"Dohny, I'm fined -"

"You are not fine!" Tony decided, batting Steve off of him and pushing out of the bedroom, "Claritin is the kitchen cupboard, take it!" he ordered in a firm voice which was a total contrast to the half-naked torso and loose tie. Before Steve could react, Tony slammed the door shut, needing to air the room out first.

Well, that killed the mood quickly.

One cleaning and few pills of Claritin later, they ended on the couch, Steve's head settled on Tony's lap, as he still felt a bit fuzzy. Tony put some movie on, but Steve didn't pay attention, going over what just happened.

"Ugh, this sucks," Steve said in dismay, sniffling, the stuffiness in his nose not going away yet.

"The movie? I can change it," Tony said, gently playing with Steve's hair.

"No, not that -" Steve lifted himself to look better at his husband. Tony's gaze followed him and there was some surprise in his eyes, as Steve looked irritated. Irritated with himself. "You wanted to do something nice and I feel like I ruined it."

"Define 'nice'," Tony grinned, using air quotes at the second word, showing that while it was supposed to be nice, at first, he got carried away and crammed as much Valentine's day gadgets as he could fit in their bedroom just because he could, which pretty much caused his husband to suffocate, literally. Steve didn't reply, just jutted his bottom lip forward, feeling that he ruined the day. "Hey, don't make that face," Tony said softly, framing his husband's face with both hands, thumbs brushing below the jawline tenderly. "I can always reuse that stuff next year," he grinned, trying to fix the mood.

"Sure, just this year, we ended in the same spot, as last year," Steve sighed.

"It is a good spot. Comfy," Tony replied, rubbing Steve's cheeks playfully before letting go. He patted his lap back, urging Steve to lay down again. Steve's eyes followed the movement, and then he slid his gaze up, all over the expensive suit and white shirt with undone top buttons, no sight of the tie, his gaze heating up. Such a waste. It all could very well lead in one direction if it wasn't for a question burning in the back of his head.

"Do you think the serum is wearing off?" Steve asked, words running together.

"Pshhh. What?" Tony snorted in humor, but his face changed when he saw how alarmed Steve looked. "I don't know. I don't think so? But we don't exactly have anyone else to compare, you're one of a kind," Tony smiled kinder.

"I shouldn't have any allergies. I remember having allergies, but it all stopped since I took the serum and - " Steve rambled, spiraling into something bad. If his allergies came back, who knew what would come next. And when. And that really scared him.

"Hey, shhh," Tony took Steve's hand and squeezed it, trying to get him back. When their eyes met, Steve's blue ones showed a lot of uncertainty, while Tony's brown ones were calm. "I understand you are worried, but it was one thing, Steve. One thing that was easily fixed with some pills for allergies."

"What if it is not one thing?" Steve asked in a sad whisper.

"Then it will be more things and I will love you just as much I love you now," Tony assured, bringing Steve's hand closer and kissing his knuckles. That made Steve smile. "You still love me too, even if I changed, right?" Tony asked, meaning the flow of time and what it was doing to him. His hair became a bit more grey, eyes were set deeper and more often there was some sort of pain in his bones, one he didn't remember having. It was all part of life and couldn't exactly be stopped.

"You're always beautiful to me," Steve said honestly, meaning every word. He was seeing the same Tony was, but in contrary to Tony, Steve appreciated every change. It made Tony real and tangible and warm, and Steve didn't want a frozen perfection, almost unnatural. The day Steve had found his first grey hair among blonde ones, they both had celebrated, Steve maybe a bit more than Tony, relieved that even if it happened slower, he was aging. He didn't want to live forever and he certainly didn't want to live without Tony and it gave him hope that he won't have to. Just losing the serum was a different story. A one that had danger written all over it.

"That's sweet," Tony smiled, "and you will be always handsome to me, even when you sneeze your lungs out and get teary-eyed," Tony joked, meaning the allergies attack.

"Ha-ha," Steve fake laughed, causing Tony to laugh back, just real and honest. Beautiful. "No need to rub in my face that I ruined our Valentine's day."

"And night. I don't think it is safe to go to the bedroom yet," Tony pointed out, not wanting to risk another attack.

"Right," Steve sighed. Sleeping on the couch was not an option, but maybe they could use one of the guest floors in the Tower. Still, the mood was gone. Seemed that it wasn't a day for romance after all. Tony didn't like Steve blaming himself over something so silly and decided to fix the mood.

"Friday, dim the lights, cue some music," he said, and when the first notes of a soothing melody started to seep in, the lights got softer, Tony stood up and spoke again, offering Steve a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Steve chuckled softly, looking at his husband's calm and smiling face. Tony had this almost magical ability to fix things for Steve. After all, his husband was a mechanic, building and fixing was his thing and it went further than machines.

"You know I will step on your feet, right?" Steve asked teasingly, accepting the hand, and stood up.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Tony kept smiling, putting his arm around Steve's shoulders, Steve drawing his husband close and holding him by the hip. Pressed together, gently swaying to the music, they celebrated Valentine's day just as they liked - intimately and close.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #valentine's day #fluff #romance #slice of life #comfort #no tickling #fanfiction #fanfic

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yandere-society · 5 years

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The Ultimatum

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day has rolled around once again, and just like last year, you plan on spending it with none other than your emotional support dog. What you don’t know, however, is that you have an unexpected visitor awaiting for you at home.. and not only does he have a loaded gun on his hip, but he also has your beloved pet in his lap.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 6,000

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, signs/mentioning of mental disorders such as: anxiety, depression, PTSD and dissociation; Mentions of gang violence; Depictions of gore; nonconsentual kissing (nothing sexual); no dogs were harmed in the making of this…

“Here you go, guys.” You said as you handed the couple across the counter their drinks. You returned their smiles and bid them a good day, but as soon as they turned away and linked their fingers together on the way out, your expression settled into one of disdain.

Baley, your manager, noticed it. But like always, she chose to ignore it. She’s very much use to your secretive, albeit bitter distaste towards romance. She’s been working along side you for two years now, and knows that you’re a big advocate for holiday decorations. You’ve decked the place out on Halloween, thanksgiving, Christmas— even fucking Saint Patrick’s day. But for Valentine’s Day, all you did was slap some heart shaped stickers on the window and didn’t even look too happy to be doing that, either. But she’s never been one to push.

“Guess what I’m doing this evening,” She hinted, hanging the ‘closed’ sign on the door.

“Hm?” You asked, having zoned out while rinsing your shot glasses out.

“I’m gonna eat the rest of my edibles and read some alien erotica.”

Not expecting anything less from her, given her personality, you only choked out a laugh and shook your head. It’d be more amusing if you knew she wasn’t kidding. Baley has a weird obsession with aliens and you never took her serious about it until you bought her a tentacle dildo as a gag-gift on her birthday, and instead of laughing about it and going off into a banter like you were anticipating, she started screaming and jumping up and down like you just handed her the last Golden Ticket to the fucking chocolate factory.

“What about your boyfriend?” You asked, forcing yourself to engage in conversation to keep you from spiraling.

“He’s out of town. So I’ll be thinking of him as I read about the alien king abducting me and using my tenta-holes—“

“Never mind.” You cut her off, trying to let that lighten up the mood. You appreciated the effort, but it didn’t work. You just wanted today to be over.

It’d be a whole lot better if only you could tell her the truth and come clean about your past. But it’s not like she’d believe you, even if you had the guts. But in all honesty, her fantasy about alien abduction was more believable.

You’re a barista making $10 an hour, living paycheck to paycheck and inhabiting the house your grandmother left you in her will. You have no car, you rely on public transportation; all your clothes are from goodwill and when you’re not working at this shop, you spending your life in confinement of those walls with your dog, as a recluse.

If you even dared to tell Baley that, just three years ago, you were living in a million-dollar mansion in South Korea, and had a luxurious wardrobe from big-name designers and that you didn’t even own a pair of fucking socks that were under $100.. she’d look at you as if you were the alien. She wouldn’t entertain the bigger half of the story, about how you were engaged to a man who’s now serving a life sentence and could possibly be put on death row for committing a robbery that left one of the international banking systems short 23-million won— which would amount to be approximately 20 million dollars in America... you would’ve lost her at the word Fiancé.

It’d be easy to prove, though. Your associations to the crime may not show up in your background check, being as you’re back here in America and was never detained, and the news isn’t relevant enough to circulate here. However, a simple google search would reveal it all, even with pictures of you two in public.

But not even you wanted to look up his name to know what was going on with his case. You were still ambient to forget about him, in a way. You wanted to ignore his existence. You fucking loath that man.. you swear, you do.

You had fallen back into a brooding silence again without even meaning to, and although you were busily cleaning up off muscle memory, you were detached. He still has that effect on you. And truth be known, the first year you spent in lonesome isolation after leaving Korea was just a change of scenery but not very different from the lifestyle he had subjected you to. But even still, it was so much better than living with him at the estate. And now, with your dog Sweetpea there, you feel safe again. At least you were in the same place you grew up, and felt closer to your grandmother—

Fuck, you missed her so much. He wouldn’t even let you visit her in person before she past. The man owned his own private jet and it never had any maintenance problems until the one fucking night you needed to go back home. You only got to speak with her on the phone, and bawled your fucking eyes out and spewed out an incoherent apology just hours before her heart gave out. That’s when she told you that she left you the house, and how sorry she was for kicking you out of it because you didn’t pursue the career field she wanted you to go for.

If only they would’ve arrested Taehyung a month prior, you could’ve been there for her. You could’ve hugged her and the two of you could given each other the apology you both deserved.

“Hey..” Baley’s voice suddenly came to your left ear, the only one that you could actually hear out of. Your right one, despite being 80% deaf even with a functioning hear aid, was faintly ringing from the emotional tangent you had accidentally drifted into.

You looked over at her, and broke down. Although she could never fully understand, she still gave you an empathetic frown and was pulling you into a hug before you could sputter out an apology— not that there was any use for one.

You had secrets that still haunted you, and will always impair your daily life— much like your botched eardrum and this shitty device you spent way too much money on. That’s another thing you only had Kim Taehyung to thank for, along with your fucked up shoulder.

You had to carefully elevate your arms but eventually returned the hug and cried a little harder, not able to help it. Sweetpea was a great reciprocate for affection and did a swell job with distracting you, but as far as human comfort goes, you haven’t had so much as that in.. well, seven fucking years. Tae was always big on affection, and also comforted you when you needed it. But it was redundant and didn’t have a sincere effect, being as he was the very one that initially caused the hurt it derived from.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, I never do... but I want you to know that I can see how strong you are. You’re doing a great job at making it through each day...” she muttered, rubbing your back as it shook with each silent sob. You felt bad when you heard her own voice beginning to thicken, but that was no surprise. She was a sympathizer and a little bit emo in general. Seeing others cry was enough to jerk a tear out of her, and you loved that about her. She’s a weirdo, but she’s pure, and she’s very good hearted. You could even say that you may have deeper feelings for her as well, and they may even be mutual, but you were no good for her. Hell, you were already putting her in enough danger just by being an employee at her shop. If you were to let your relationship stem past being friendly coworkers, or even hung out with her outside of work, that could pose an actual threat to her safety.

So, even though you wanted to lengthen the embrace, and longed to tighten your arms around her even more, you pulled back and wiped at your face, giving her a weak grin and a nod instead.

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before taking a step back, recollecting herself.

“You go home. I got everything else.”

You sheepishly nodded again, thanking her one last time before collecting your things and booking it out of there. Had you not felt so broken and defeated in that moment, you would’ve refused. But her show of affection triggered a deep, dire need to give and be given more comfort.

Fortunately for you, though, you had a special someone for that. Your dog is the only living creature on this planet that can be trusted with the revelations of your past. She’s the only reliance you have for receiving unconditional love and support without any judgment... probably because she doesn’t even understand what the fuck you’re saying half the time, nor can she repeat the shit you say, but as far as comfort goes, it’s always a guarantee.

— That’s just in her nature, like most pets. Pitbulls, however, are very sensitive and attentive to certain emotions— especially depression and anxiety. They’re just as good with protecting their owners, as well as they are with babysitting them. Everyone knows pitbulls have a notorious and misguided reputation for being aggressive. But little do most know, before dog fighting became a popular thing and defamed their personalities, pitbulls were primarily referred to as ‘Nanny dogs’. They’re great with babies in general, and very domestic and charismatic by nature. But despite being big, loveable goof balls themselves, they can literally sense stressful emotions and will know what type action to take in order to sedate them.

Sweetpea may not have professional training and certification but it is by her true nature and personality that you call her an Emotional Support Dog. When you’re having another one of your episodes— panic attacks, senseless paranoia, nightmares— she’s running to your aid and doing anything she can to distract and get you to play with her. When you’re depressed and spiraling into another breakdown, she licking at your face and sitting in your lap, not even seeing the problem with her being three times bigger than the average lap dog—

“Kneehemplamaforseeking?”

You sucked in a breath and blinked over at the PetsMart employee, smiling a few away from you. You probably looked lost, and in a way you quite literally were. You hardly remember walking in the direction of this store, let alone entering it. But this a common thing for you, so you easily just went on about your way despite the sudden worry of missing your bus... again.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” You had asked, turning your good ear towards her and watching her lips move.

“Do you need help looking for something?” She repeated, carefully annunciating her words this time, now that she could see the device in your ear. In today’s age, most people mistake it as a bluetooth— which has unknowingly saved you from accidentally talking to yourself in public, more than you would know.

You shook your head in response to the lady, and checked the time on your phone. You had 30 minutes left, thank God.

“No thanks. I’m just here to get some treats and waste some time before my bus comes. It’s windy as hell outside.”

“Ah, it certainly is,” she agreed, making her way to the next aisle. “Be safe out there!”

“I’ll try.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing a bag of bacon strips off the shelf— the very thing you had ultimately came for. It should’ve taken you no more than 5 minutes to grab and go. But it wasn’t uncommon for you to take much longer and aimlessly wonder down multiple aisles only to get one or two things from the same aisle, though. You do it at every store you go to, if you can stand to be outside of your home or away from work.

After checking out, you made it a mission to stay present until your bus came. By the time you got home, you were more stable.. up until the bus driver— a sweet elderly man who’s been transporting you on this route for last couple of years, handed you a rose on your way down the stairs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, young lady.”

You had the strength to give him a genuine smile, but as soon as you stepped off and the doors closed, and the bus engine picked back up and left you with a gust of wind, you broke again.

Taehyung always gave you a bouquet of blood red roses for Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sucker for them. And you still are, but sentiment wasn’t the only emotion to come now. They brought on an ache. A pain. A worry. A twinge of longing, but a fuckton of resentment.

You wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp at it.. better yet, you wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn while smoking a much needed cigarette. But first, you need to see your dog. You know she’s just as anxious to see you.

You trudged up to your door and was quick to unlock it... but frowned when you didn’t see her on the other side. Maybe it was because your ears were ringing again from how worked up you’d just gotten. But usually, the mere sound of your key twisting at the lock would have her running to the and practically beating it down, and you’d opened to see her gleefully wining out and wagging her tail.

But she wasn’t there.

“Sweetpea?” You called out, making it a point to swing the door shut behind you. Still, nothing—

Whimpering. You heard her whimpering and your head snapped over to the hallway. Your heart began to race. Your bed door was open, as always, and you could hear her in there but she wasn’t coming out. Only whimpering for you to come to her.

Fearing the worst, thinking perhaps she’d hurt herself to the extent that she couldn’t move, you barged down the hallway and listened with a sickening sense of uneasiness as her whimpering turned to muffled howls.

“Sweetpea, wha—“

You screamed. Sheer horror and white-hot adrenaline erupted through your veins and scorched your nerve endings, leaving you numb in the limb to the impact of the floor beneath your kneecaps. All you could feel was the volcanic eruption of despair in your chest and the strain in your diaphragm.

Sweetpea was okay, but very much in danger. She had a muzzle on, and her big, canopy-like ears were peeled back and her big, doughy eyes were wildly beading dead at you as she struggled and pawed at the carpet, watching you fall to you fall out. She was so worried to get to you but she couldn’t, do to the death grip of the man who was holding her by a leash. She couldn’t even interpret the lethality of the weapon that was also aimed at the back of her head— a glock you specially recall being the weapon of choice when Taehyung pistol whipped a man’s head open before emptying all twelve rounds in his magazine into his face.

Now, all you could envision was the same being done to that sweet face and big, bulbous head.

You screamed out and wailed even louder, not even looking at the intruder or registering who it was. Because you already fucking knew and in your mind it was too late.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared, making you and Sweetpea flinch. You stopped screaming but your breath was ragged beyond your control. Your vision was bouncing between his fierce scowl and Sweetpea’s fearsome one. You dove forward, intending to crawl and beg but two pairs of shoes stepped out from where they’d been standing behind the door, and their hands gripped you by the biceps before hauling you up to your feet. You didn’t even try to resist them. You knew better than that. But fear still had you discombobulated and speaking out to yourself, feeling incredibly dizzy and disarrayed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“You’re not dreaming.” Taehyung snarled, palm itching to slap some sense into you. But even within the three years he’s spent in bitterness, it didn’t change the morality he did have in relations to you. He’d never hit you out of anger.

But then he realized the real reason why you were saying that, when your knees suddenly gave out and the hold his men had on you became the only thing keeping you up right as you fainted out. He didn’t realize you still had that problem, and it hurt him to see that now.

Back when he had you in his possession, you had accidentally witnessed an execution down in the basement of his mansion. It was the first time you fainted, a d your body came toppling down a good ten-or-so steps, which were made of cement, and you were lucky to have only broken your nose and dislocated your shoulder.

Guilt crashed over him, suddenly. He meant to terrorize you in a way that wasted little time to gain submission, but he didn’t mean to trigger your PTSD— although he knew it was likely. Given the resolve, he put the gun back in its holster and stood up, beckoning for Yoongi to take the leash. Jungkook easily held you up by the waste and waited to pass you off to your fiancé before bringing your wrists behind your back. You slowly came to as he did so, and your head lolled back up only for your entire body to snap back into attention all at once, now that you were face to face with the Devil himself.

“Come on, you fucking idiot!”

Your head snapped over and you began to panic again as Yoongi fought with your, trying to drag her over to her cage by the leash. She was putting up one hell of a fight and audibly wheezing from the choke, her eyes now bulging as she looked at you.

You bucked against the both of them, your maternal instincts causing you to go feral as you saw red.

“QUIT! YOU’RE FUCKING CHOKING HER, YOU FUCKING PRICK! PICK HER UP!”

“She’s too squirmy!” He shouted back, the shock of your outburst causing him to lose tension and Sweetpea lunged the both of them forward. Tae was shouting at Jungkook to hurry with the restraints and squeezing you tighter, but you were kicking and flailing like a fish out of water now.

“MAKE HIM STOP!” You cried out, but was forcefully silenced by the gigantic hand that grabbled around the entire bottom half of your face— including your nose. Having been in this situation before, knowing his antics, you knew he wasn’t going to let you breathe again until you did as told. So you were forced to settle down but was still desperately pleading with your eyes, crying as your dog continued to heave against the menstruations.

“Yoongi, for fuck sake, the dog is 50 pounds. Just pick her up and put your in the kennel.” Tae stressed, eyes still locked with yours.

With a grunt, Yoongi tackled your dog and trapped her in a bear hug, snatching her up off the ground. You wanted to scream at him again but you were actually starting to struggle for oxygen, chest jolting with an involuntary attempts to inhale.

“Alright, they’re on. I just gotta link them.”

Tae’s hand finally dropped and you hacked out, swallowing as much air as you could. Now that Sweetpea was safely in her cage, you had time to worry about your own safety, but the look on his face wasn’t giving off such a merciful vibe.

“You do whatever you want to me. I don’t care. I won’t fight back... but if you hurt my dog—“

“If I hurt your fucking dog, it’ll just be tough shit for you. I’ll still do whatever the hell I want and unless you need me to prove that, I suggest you stop with ultimatums..” he chuckled, but it sounded so cold and twisted. He was on the verge of snapping, and was fighting to keep as much composure as he could right now, for your sake.

But he was on a heist right now, you readied yourself for the unknown when he punctuated his sentence by grappling your throat with the same, vandalized and accessorized hand he just smothered you with— fingers digging in at the sides. Your breathing was once again constricted and your eyes reddened in strain, your voice dying out.

Tae may not beat you, but he knows your worse fear is dying by suffocation. Hence, why he’s so big in breath play.

“Can you?” He reiterated, snarling his teeth at you and revealing the top and bottom pair of golden, fang-shaped plates framing his pearly white canine teeth. Back in the day, you found them so extravagant and tasteful, but now you found them all the more threatening.

He waited until your eyes began fluttered back before letting go again, and Jungkook’s body was the only thing that saved you from falling back. You never understood why, but for some reason, Jungkook was the only person Tae allowed to be in closer range of you, even when it wasn’t necessary. He even reminded you of that when Yoongi had stepped a little too close and Taehyung shot a glare over to him that had him taking a couple steps back. But Jungkook was apparently free to stand there, holding you up even as you regained your footing. You feared that one day it will all make sense, but for now, you were thankful that he was there to at least to save you from collapsing.

It’d be great if they weren’t even fucking here, at all.

“Go put the kennel in the car— not on the seats, though. Hobi will kill me if I fuck up the interior.”

“Please let me rehouse her.” You begged, cringing as his eyes returned to you. They looked even more colorless than before. “I’ll come with you, but I don’t want her there with us.”

“She’s fine. As long as she doesn’t shit and piss everywhere and doesn’t chew any of my shit, or try to attack me, I’ll let you keep her.”

“You were just holding a fucking gun to her head, Taehyung. Please let me rehouse her. My friend Baley will take her. All I gotta do is leave her in the cafe with a note— I have the keys. I’ll even let you write the fucking note yourself and we can go...” It was significantly getting harder to speak, now that your airways were irritated and your unsteady emotions were only making it worse.

You had already accepted your fate, but had a twinge of hope left that he’d at least hear you out on that request. His features had softened into a crestfallen display of guilt, and remorse. But your faith in him shattered all over again when he stubbornly shook his head and reached for the gun again. You were just about to throw another fit until he pulled the magazine out and showed it to you.

It was empty, until he pocketed it and pulled out a fully-loaded one and clipped it into place, before putting it back in the holster.

He tricked you, and although it was still pretty fucking evil, you were relieved. He never intended to shoot her and wouldn’t have been able to, even if his finger applied enough pressure on the trigger. But you were still very much in the midst of an abduction, and you still hated this man for what he was doing to you now.

“Why are here?” You croaked.

“To come get you and our new pet,” he announced, faking the enthusiasm before reinforcing his glare. “I’m... incredibly pissed about the fact that abandoned me.. but even more so offended by the negligence to stay updated.”

His eyes then caught the flash of a blue light at your ear. Your hearing aid was dying and faintly peeping in your ear. The remembrance had his entire demeanor shift to a sullen one, like a switch.

“But at the same time—“ his voice had fallen into a lower pitch, almost to the point of being a whisper as he stepped closer and easily molded his hands around your face. You suddenly felt fragile, but not in a way that made you giddy, like it use to. Now, you had to swallow down the bile in your throat and fight against the nausea as his suddenly lips came near.

“—It’s really hard take that out on you, when I can’t even blame you for it. But It’s been three fucking years, honey. Three. How could you not even have enough concern for my well being, to not even send a fucking post card? Did you really think you‘d never see me again, and that you had snuck away from me? I knew what you were doing, and where you were going before you even boarded your fucking flight.”

“You’re suppose to be in jail. I thought you were letting me go.”

“First of all, you didn’t even know the original plan to think that it had failed. All my charges have been dropped and the suspicion of my involvement dismissed. Namjoon has been found guilty and is now serving that sentence, like I had initially plotted from the beginning. You never knew shit to fucking assume anything!”

You glared at him despite the jolt that came with his drastic notch in volume, and not your tongue as he went on.

“But I did allow you to leave the country, but only to give you space and to let you touch base with... whatever the fuck it is that you still find valuable here. I didn’t think I’d have to clarify the circumstances of your stay, but for you to not even reach out.. and the fact you got some shitty, minimum wage job on top of it all, when you still have access to the saving account I’ve put in your name.. You really thought we were over? You haven’t even checked the news articles to see any updates on the case. I’ve been out for a week!”

He was still holding your face but his hands were shaking and the pressure was increasing again. He always pulls back and regains control over his temper before inflicting harm, but it’d be foolish to not expect him to one day lose that control. He’s hurt you on ‘accident’ before. He’s slaughtered many people, more than you’ll ever know to keep count. Nothing is sacred.

But now, you are a lot more contempt and able to tolerate the fear of him hurting you on impulse, being as Sweetpea was out of harms way and no longer in the room. You were still shaking though and had closed your eyes, bracing for it. But the jerk of shock only came when his suddenly lips covered your’s, and Jungkook finally backed away.

The kiss only lasted about three solid seconds before he pulled back, and was heavily panting through his nose. You dared to look up and caught a glimpse of the physical pain marring his features. His eyes had gone watery and his jaw began ticking like a time bomb, nostrils flaring and chest rising. He pressed his forehead against your’s and snaked his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, trying to fight off his own sobs and choking on them more and more with each second.

“You hate me.. you haven’t even missed me.” His voice was so thickened by his emotions that it deepened the natural richness he already had, making it sound contorted and almost inhuman. A tear dropped down his nose bridge and hit your quivering lips, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fight back the heart wrenching burn it inflicted on you.

How could you still feel anything for this man? It can’t be. It just fucking can’t be..

But it was. You were so bewildered and petrified by the oncoming sympathy that it stunned you into a froze state of shock. He kissed you again, thinking it was a show of fear for own safety— and he was right to interpret the fear, but it was with different cause. He was steadily conjuring up feelings that you wished you could’ve watched burn, like you had intended to do with the rose your bus driver gave you. But here you were, heart bleeding for him.

You still didn’t reciprocate the kiss but it brought on more involuntary anguish.. you cried harder and so did he, and as he leaned your head back to kiss at your neck, you stared in perplexing awe at the gigantic bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand.

“It’s okay. I‘ve missed you too fucking much to punish you now.” He calmed, and took a good 30 seconds to regain his composure. There was still a groggy undertone in his next words, but once again, he was back in his domineering mindset. “But I ain’t cutting you that much slack.”

You yelped when he suddenly shoved you back, straight into Jungkook for the nth time. He heatedly wiped at his eyes and stepped back, and it was the first time you took in how much more muscular and rigid he’d become over the years.

Before, he was a lot more slender and you’re certain that the very shirt he’s wearing now use to be at least 2 sizes too big on him before.. however, the black silk was skin-tight and clinging to the humps of his biceps, and straining around the buttons between his pectorals. His skin was more pale than ever before but now you could see a tattoo curving along his temple, arcing aside the edge of his pierced brow. The word that was written in elegant, cursive writing made your heart palpitate and your stomach twist even more.

Honey. That was your signature endearment. That was the name you’d given him in place of your real one the very night he met you, and asked for it.

This crazy motherfucker really is obsessed with you. How he can lie to you, deceive you, punish you and drive you fucking bonkers and stalk you down only in the act of what he calls love.. and for it to actually be a form of true—albeit dangerous love, was beyond you.

The scripture on his handsome, albeit matured face distracted you for a few seconds. You snapped out of it when Jungkook suddenly hauled you up by the midsection and slammed you down on the bed, pinning his hand down between your shoulder blades and rendering you defenseless.

“What are you doing? Taehyung! Please! Get him off of me!”

“If I could trust you to stay still, I would.” His voice was neutral again, despite a offhanded sniff. You struggled to look back, but it was no use as he was standing out of view.

“Stay still for what?”

“Do you still have your ring?” He asked instead, ignoring you.

“It’s in my nightstand drawer. Now tell me—“

“Told you she kept it,” Jungkook finally spoke— and just like it was back then, it was a very rare occurrence for when he did speak on your behalf. That’s another thing nobody else dared to do, unless asked. But knowing that he was the one stalking you for Taehyung made you all the more disturbed with him.

“Fucking creep. You’re hurting me!” you screamed at him, and he had the audacity to increase pressure. Tae said nothing, nor did he stop his friend from retaliating.

“I also know about your little affair with your coworker. Since when did you start swinging both ways?”

“What are you talking about?” You growled, and he only snorted in response.

“She knows you like her. She knows you stare at her ass every time she bends over and that you bend over on purpose to make her look at yours. She knows you like it when she slaps it.”

You, one again, went unmoving.

Jeon Jungkook is her fucking boyfriend.

“What does Jk even stand for?”

“Jackson. But he doesn’t like to be called Jackie, and you know how I am about nicknames. So I call him JK.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt her, Jungkook. You leave her alone. Tae, don’t you let him—“

“Don’t you worry about me.”

“BALEY?!”

Baley walked into view, an unreadable expression on her face. The mere realization of what was happening finally over filled your mental tolerance and you brain suddenly launched you away from reality.

The beach. You were at the beach with your cousins, all of you a little over the age of 18. You were on spring break your senior year in highschool and talking about the future. Graduation. Prom. College~

“She’s zoned out.” Baley said, and Jungkook finally let go. You were indeed paralyzed and had completely dissociated, talking to yourself. Taehyung, with a fully-loaded syringe in his hand, leaned over to look at your face. Your pupils were dilated, eyes stargazing in general, lips softly moving as you babbled nonsense. He hated knowing that it was coming to this, but he swore he’d earn your forgiveness.

“I’m gonna get your ear fixed.. or at least get you a better device. We’re gonna be okay. We’re so fucking rich now, I don’t even know what to do with all our money— only to turn it into more. I won’t have to work as much. We can get married, have the best fucking honey moon we can imagine. We can get started on a family. I’ll win your dog over, too. I promise.”

He sank the needle into your bicep, and you didn’t even flinch. Only blinked in rhythm as a tear fell.

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.” You incoherently muttered, having said that to your friend, Jessica, on the beach.

It was insensitive, but he couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. Whatever memory you were reliving at the moment, was quite sometime before you actually began your classes for such profession. He bent down and kissed your cheek one last time as he injected the entirety sedation serum into your system and pulled it out. But you were oblivious to it all.

“I think I’m smart enough...”

”You’re very book smart, baby. But you’re probably gonna drop out after three semesters and become a bar tender at a strip club, because you’re not fit to be a homicidal investigator. You’re too soft.”

“I’m not..”

“You sure?”

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.”

“Well, you’re gonna become my wife before you become anything else.”

“Ew, don’t even play like that. You’re my cousin.”

“Jeez..” Baley muttered. “You really have driven her a little bat-shit, huh? This is way more disturbing than I anticipated—“

“Babe, lets go sit in the car. Come on,” Jungkook hurried, pulling her out of the room.

Taehyung continued to whisper sweet nothings into your deafened ear, but the last night you heard before it all went blank was the perfect, bittersweet saying that bidded you goodbye for the night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey.”

#yandere society #bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years

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I haven’t been able to write a whole lot recently so to make up for the little drought here’s a few kegboys hcs!

-Tommy has a big thing for 70s country music, it’s like, all he’ll listen to. Steve’s kind of overexposed to country having grown up in IN so he’s pretty neutral on it even though he prefers pop, but Billy, resident metal head and city boy through and through, tries to poke fun at him for it because like, country music is for uncool hicks, right? But, and this is very much to his dismay, Billy cannot get enough of Dolly. Like he really couldn’t care less about Toms other picks but he is beyond hooked on Dolly to the point that he’s the one buying all her new records when they come out.

-Tommy is absolutely the house husband because the other two are honest to god domestically useless. Billy tries really, really hard to help because Steve goes to work and he feels like he’s lazy for not being able to do much while he’s recovering, so Tommy sticks him with the little jobs because he knows he’s never going to get him to agree to actually resting. It’ll just be little tasks, things like cleaning the lint trap when Tom switches the laundry, but it’s enough to make him feel less useless.

-But! As good as he is at keeping up with the bills and doing chores, Tommy CANNOT cook. Steve will never ever forget the time he came over to his house and caught popcorn on fire in his microwave or when Billy had to swoop in and unplug the toaster like seconds before Tee electrocuted himself trying to use a fork to fish out a piece poptart that broke off in there, so he is very much not allowed anywhere near a stove. Billy is the best cook and even then he’s a little iffy because Neil never let him do it, so to compensate for how collectively awful they are in the kitchen they have like a thousand scribbled in cookbooks in every drawer and pantry.

-They all three have very different sleeping habits. Billy’s the early bird, always gets up at the same time as the sun well-rested no matter what time they went to bed. Steve is a deep sleeper through and through, he’ll pass out at like, 11:00 every night and won’t move again until morning. If nobody were to wake him up he could probably sleep all through an entire day. Tommy’s something of a rough sleeper though, can’t usually get to sleep until at least two in the morning, usually later than that even, and once he gets to sleep it’s very light and he tends to wake up every hour, on the hour. One time when Steve’s at the pharmacy picking up Billy's meds he grabs a little thing of melatonin for Tom because like, it says it boosts sleep and anything’s worth a shot if it means Tommy won’t be so exhausted and sick and frustrated all the time, and it does help! He sort of ends up on about the same sleep schedule as Billy once his rhythm gets a little more regulated.

-When they first started dating, Billy thought Steve was bad when it came to clothes stealing, he lost a few jackets and old t-shirts that way, but when they all three move in together he discovers that Tommy is the true culprit. Neither he nor Steve can keep track of literally any single piece of clothing. Everything, from their hoodies to their jeans to their pjs to their socks, all belong in some part to Tom until eventually they just have one community wardrobe they pick and choose from instead of like, individual clothes.

-They all three overuse the heck out of pet names like baby and babe, which results in Steve calling Tommy babe one and Billy babe two because he was tired of saying like “hey babe” and getting two simultaneous answers.

-Tommy does Billy’s hair for him when he still can’t do too much with his hands, and after that too when it’s convenient because it becomes routine, combing out his curls and putting mousse in it when he wants it done nice, because he wants to be a hairdresser anyways! He’d practiced plenty on Steve ever since they were in middle school, given him tons of hair cuts and even his highlights! It’s for that reason that when Tommy starts doing Billy’s hair, Steve gets the teensiest bit jealous because that used to be him. So everytime they go anywhere and they aren’t crunched for time he has to do both Billy and Steve’s hair and he starts not having time to straighten his own! But! That’s okay because his boys are very fond of his natural curls!

-Steve runs very, very cold always. He’s a type one diabetic so he’s pretty much always anemic and he freezes like 24/7. Even in the summer when Billy and Tommy are like melting into the furniture, he can get away with long sleeves and be just fine. When they’re in bed they keep Steve in the middle because they both run super warm like a heat register and it’d get too hot without having Steve as their ice pack between them.

-More about Steve’s diabetes bc it’s like one of my fav hcs and I wish I could write about it more! It’s really hard to find things for him to eat because he’s gotta worry about his sugar, but also because he has so many food allergies and sensitivities on top of that. Before he had anyone around he just kind of didn’t care about watching himself like, if he wanted to eat something, he would just do it, but he ultimately faced the consequences of that a few times too many, aka being hospitalized twice with DKA and three times with anaphylactic shock. he gets banned from grocery shopping on his own, because he will absolutely buy so much stuff he isn’t supposed to have and ‘lose’ the receipt and just hide the stuff because his boys will not let him eat whatever he wants anymore. Billy is also not allowed to go shopping because he never remembers what brands they use or reads any labels, he just grabs the first of everything he sees and calls it a day. Tommy officially gave up on them and started doing it himself after confiscating a half empty bag of gummy bears off of Steve and having to use the wrong toothpaste for months because Billy refused to pay attention.

-Tommy attracts strays! Cats, dogs, an actual escaped budgie from the neighbors house once, it doesn’t matter, somehow they always find him. If he’s out on the porch there’s like, a ninety percent chance there’s a critter that doesn’t belong to them in his lap. He lets Billy name them all even though they can’t keep them. Tommy personally can’t pick a favorite out of the 20 some odd cats that come and go because they’re all his babies, but Billy and Steve have theirs. B’s favorite is a black and white little fella named Mr. Shrimp and Steve’s is a sweet tabby girl named Meowzers! The rule doesn't only apply to domesticated animals either, raccoons and wild bunnies also tend to lurk around their porch. Billy picks up a raccoon once (he named her Poubelle, but calls her Bella) and Steve yelled at him for hours about how dangerous and irresponsible and gross it was. Him and Tommy get boyfriend grounded for like, weeks after that.

-Steve is like everyone’s Midwestern grandma! He keeps pockets full of butterscotch candies and tissues, he’s got a collection of blow molds and Tiffany lamps, he wears sweatshirts and jackets with weird quotes on them and like, he believes the cure to every ailment is tomato soup, vicks, a wash rag, and a kiss or any combination thereof. It drives Billy completely up the wall, because he’ll cough like once and Steve is like do you need soup? do you need a doctor? please let me help you. But Tommy likes it, being fussed over, cause he grew up with younger siblings and two working parents, so he was always the one doing the fussing.

#kegboys #steve x billy x tommy #ej writer #my headcanons are always very specific and weird but like I gotta info dump on y’all real quick #realizing now that I only currently have one kegboys fic in progress and that’s like a crime? jeez ej get ur priorities in check #under the cut because I’m long winded and annoying :-)

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bumbershots · 4 years

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A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FIVE: A SPECIAL DAY

Author’s note: Hello! We have finally reached the awaited date between Harry and Alma. I was really excited for this chapter, hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I did, forgive me in advance for any mistakes, my beta reader (my boyfriend) was unavailable, so this is a good time to say that if anyone out there has the time and willingness to beta read any future chapters send me an ask or message to let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.6K **

Harry wakes up feeling excited, nervous and hungry. He takes care of the latter, decides to make some blueberry pancakes, turns out he can't eat more than two and a cup of coffee. Not that the pancakes weren't great, in fact they were fantastic, he even decides to brag about them on an Instagram story that is published for his close friends only. Nick quickly replies to it with a laughing emoji.

You should take a Tupperware full of them to your date ;)

The reason behind his excitement and nerves make his heart race, he decides to type in a polite 'fuck off' to his mate before heading to the shower. Under the warm spray of water he tries to sort out his thoughts. Harry doesn’t want to think about his upcoming trip to California.

It was necessary for the album or so he thought last week, after going through a box with the very few memories he kept from his ex. He wasn’t in a right state of mind then, he feels pathetic. The only reason why he wanted to spend time in Los Angeles was because everything there —from the pavement to the sky— was tainted by her.

Why would he want to go back to that place where the constant reminder of his pain was literally living in the same neighbourhood? Because it would provide him the cathartic release he was looking for. That’s the line he used after Sarah and Mitch tried to dissuade him from flying across the Atlantic and Harry was so proud of himself when it worked.

That very same day, he got the first text from Alma, it was the address like she promised. ‘In case one of your talents isn’t stumbling upon my work place ;)’ the second text read and Harry had to endure Sarah’s questionnaire about the girl that made him blush with a mere wink emoji. Not that he minded talking about her, he could go on all day.

He usually preferred a shower before breakfast, usually even work out before then but well, hunger clouded his judgement earlier today. Even with that taken care of that dread still niggled him away. Just slightly. So, he decided to pick up his guitar for a moment and strummed. There was no real intention to play seriously, or to write anything down on the journal by his desk. It was more of something he enjoys too much not to do it, a way to keep his hands and mind busy, faffing around with chords. With a bit of luck he might come up with a song, a tune which just worked, that just... clicked.

Contrary to what people might believe, genius didn't strike him here and then. Not like when he'd come up with Sign of the times or Two ghosts. But finding a neat little pattern of chords a good thirty minutes later makes him smile, it's something he can work with. It needs a little polishing from Mitch and company, sure, but it has a good rhythm. He scribbled down some notes on his journal and sent the audio to his fellow musician.

Maybe he will find the words in one of the old notebooks that are somewhere in the other room, perhaps on the ones that are still on his unpacked suitcase from Japan. Silently he also hoped to find the lyrics around London. He had lived in the capital for a few years now, but he had been different then. Now he likes to think that he's a man, no longer the teenager from the boy band or the shiny new solo artist. He has new perspectives, sights, smells in this new home of his. New ideas.

Harry gazes out his bedroom window; the view is not great –mostly of the other houses in the complex. His mind focused on the cloudy sky, confused because he swore it was sunny just a few minutes ago, can bet on his life that he woke up to dazzling sunshine rays of a warm yellow colour peeking through that same window. He puts his guitar away on the bed with care and makes a beeline to his wardrobe. He needs to figure out what to wear, pronto.

Skipping her afternoon kip was not something Alma did, it was a rare occurrence which meant one thing: something special was happening.

Walking down Oxford Street, trying to decide where to get some lunch without a care in the world, that was until the calmness faded, when her schedule for the day hit her.

She had a date with Harry. A date, with Harry Styles. It was weird to go by his full name in her head, she couldn't bring herself to call or think about him as The Harry Styles.

Maybe she'd settle to call him Harry the tube guy.

The clock on her phone showed that it was no longer single figure hours, she needed to get some food now or starve until her shift was over, and then he would have to watch her feast at whatever place he chose. Alma groaned, thought how ridiculous it was to worry about him watching her eat. Harry was a grown man; of course he knows that women eat too, right?

Walking into the nearest Sainsbury's she decided to take a deep breath. He's just some guy, she concluded after paying for her chicken baguette. Nothing to stress about.

Harry showered again, while belting out some classic pop tunes. Namely Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, something that in the past he'd swear blind you'd misheard and it was actually The Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. But he'd come to terms that he liked what he liked.

Towel clad in the bedroom, trying to shirk off hypothermia, he was quick to put on some pants and jeans, before throwing on some simple white tee proclaiming some fading band name. He uses a dry clean towel from the closet and attempts to dry his hair, as he styles his flopped mop the thought of a haircut crosses his mind. It was getting a bit long.

One last look at the clock and he is ready to leave. "You'll be fine. Trust me." He quietly speaks to himself before closing the last few buttons of his green parka and fixing the newsboy cap on his head.

When he walks out of Colindale tube station, a little earlier than half past five, he sees the bakery from her instructions just below the large modern building Alma was kind enough to describe. She was right; the bakery is right across the street, he waits for the green man to light up to cross, shoving his hands in his pockets. The huge front windows of the establishment allow Harry to see her behind the till, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. She looks better than she did three weeks ago. He hesitates about going in for a few minutes, but feels it ought to be better than to lurk on the street.

Alma can feel his presence the moment he sets foot into the shop, her eyes are drawn to him and a content close lipped smile is the best greeting he could ask from her. The only customer in the place can feel the shift in the atmosphere when they lock eyes. So, picking up her bag full of baked goods, she steps out and leaves them alone.

"Sorry if I'm too early." He begins while she takes off her apron and hangs it in the back wall.

"You're right on time," Alma says after checking her watch, "I'm off Carlos, see you tomorrow!" She hollers to the employee that is taking a non-allowed nap in the back. Harry holds the door open for her and follows out of the warm store. "Shall we take the tube?" At his affirmative response, she then takes out her Oyster card and leads the way.

The café was not somewhere Alma expected Harry to go, the little shop with soothing music and simple stools full of the scent of organic coffee brewing is dazzling and unique. A bit like him, she thinks. She liked it. It reminded her of the places she used to frequent when she had recently moved into the city.

Harry orders a black coffee at the counter before asking Alma what she'd like.

"A cappuccino, and remember I'm paying for our food," she hands him a tenner that he reluctantly takes from her.

"Absolutely," he iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds two salted caramel cupcakes handing over the cash. "If you get a seat, I'll bring it over."

Alma thanks him before scampering across the room to sit at the back two seat table tucked in the corner. It was right beside the large back window, dimly lit. Before she sat, she removed her signature burgundy coat and Harry couldn't help his eyes being drawn to certain aspects of his companion. Nice arse, he remarked with a raise of his brows before the woman behind the counter tells him for the third time that his order is ready, a look of disdain as she probably caught his gaze. Giving her a sheepish smile to appease her, he manages to balance the two plates and mugs in his hands and walk over to the table.

"They asked if you wanted whipped cream or foam and I settled for foam, hope that's not a problem." He plonks himself on the seat across from her, removing his parka in a clumsy manner before hanging it in the back of the chair.

"No problem, I actually despise–

"Whipped cream, yeah, I kind of remembered what you told me about that birthday party of yours," the green eyed lad finishes for her and scratches the back of his neck. "You know with that dare..."

Her eyes flickered down to the cupcakes laid out before them and she started picking the caramel out of one, hoping to hide the nerves his words caused.

"Right enough, yeah... I can't believe you remembered that or that I told you about it." She chuckled nervously at the anecdote she chose to share with him, it was a bit inappropriate due to the amount of vomit around it, literally. But he shrugged with a charming smile. No big deal. "Nice place," she noted.

"I know it's a bit of a strange choice. It doesn't strike me as, you know, the kind of place you put so much effort into for a first date..." Harry stops talking and now his eyes meet the cupcake in front of him. "Bollocks I must have sounded so daft, I'm sorry." Lucky for him, she doesn't laugh, instead she reaches out to stroke his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I can be quite daft so..."

"I doubt that Miss suave." He gets a laugh out of her then, one that is almost a snort and earns a few glances from other customers.

"I’m far from it! Honestly, I once accidentally stepped on dog shit and didn't notice until my date couldn't bear the stink anymore and checked my shoe, in a very fancy restaurant. Terrible story. Trust me, I can be daft." Alma held up her hands and the musician giggled at her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he raised an eyebrow at her, pleading. She promised. "Well, I kind of always wanted to have a first date here. It's always one of the first places I visit when I'm back in London, the food is amazing, and service is excellent. Came here completely hung-over after my twenty-first birthday party. I guess it has a lot of good memories." Pinked cheeks gave away Harry's embarrassment, he wanted to relax and for her to be more comfortable around him.

With a sincere smile Alma placed her hand over his resting on the table. "I think that is very sweet." This reply was not what he had expected; she leant in and beckoned him closer. "For your information Harry, this is exactly a great place for a first date." Up close he swore the darkness of her eyes were about to swallow him whole and spit him out to an alternate universe. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee to distract himself a bit. Perhaps caffeine was not a good choice on a day where his heart was speeding so frequently.

"Did you have a good day today at work?" he asks with a familiarity that Alma can get used to.

"Yeah, had a bit of free time to plan my next video blog. It's been ages since I uploaded one." She bashfully admits. "This cupcake was delicious, a great flavour choice." And just like that they fall into easy conversation until their cups are drained. The place is almost empty around quarter to eight and they both know it's almost closing time –the death glances from the employees behind the counter gave it away. They put on their garments again before leaving.

Harry makes his way to the door expecting Alma to follow. Instead she first gathered up their mugs and plates, to place them neatly on the counter and thanked the three workers behind it with a genuine smile. Harry looked surprised; she didn't quite have to do that. She noticed.

"Just being polite," she stated the obvious, before walking under his arm that held open the door. He chose not to comment and fought back a smile.

They stood outside, not really sure of what to do next. Usually he would suggest going back to his place. It was near, but he watched her yawn discreetly and he suddenly remembered that she had a real job, well actually jobs in plural. He broke the silence.

"It was nice to see you again Alma." He meant it and she smiled as she toyed with the buttons of her coat. British summer weather was hardly cold, but today it seemed to be punishingly windy. Harry near gave a shiver, but instead took a deep breath before speaking again. It was now or never. "It'd be quite great, if I could... I'd like to see you again. Please." He shifted on one foot, nearly drowned in the silence that followed.

"I'd quite love to see you again," Harry gave a slight gulp, very slight and got out strength from the words she spoke to take a big risk, the first of today.

He stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands before leaning down and kissing her cheek. It wasn't the full on kiss he wanted to give her. But it is something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her today, something he hoped would make clear how attracted he was to her. Harry smelled like coffee and caramel. God this man's lips are prettier up close, she thought right before he straightened up.

She stayed close to him before speaking again. A low murmur so that the passing London traffic wouldn't steal her words from him.

"This was an amazing date."

Alma walked with him the long distance of one mile to the tube station, their hands brushing against each other. He was desperate to just hold hers, kiss her soft knuckles and ask about the lightning-shaped scar on her little finger. But decided against it, he knew that West Hampstead was not a common area for paparazzi, but he didn't want to risk her. Especially after the splendid afternoon they just shared.

They said their farewells.

"I'll call you," he said again. She warned that he better, before entering the station, he took great delight in watching her walk away from him, his gaze falling once more to her bum now covered by the coat. Harry spun on his heel and walked the short distance to his home.

Surely London could help him find the lyrics for that tune, this city definitely had something.

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