#kind of shoving them together like the wrong ends of a magnet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

4joonkookie · 4 years ago

Text

Gravity

(Mirror, Mirror part #2, [or not])

⚘ Paring: Jungkook x Reader

⚘Words: 3.8K

⚘Summary:

Part 2 of the Mirror, Mirror series. All parts can be read as a series or standalone. (Standalone) - You strike a lusty connection with a sexy stranger at a concert venue. OR (Series) - Unsure about the future of your relationship, you recall the first time you meet and fuck JK.

⚘Tags/Warnings:

SMUT, flirting, public foreplay, infatuation, established relationship, non-disclosure agreement, angst, rough sex, putting on a condom is sexy?, waxing nostalgic, noona!kink, destiny, series, career woman, Jungkook takes long showers, oops there's a plot, lots of research on that 'Euphoria' harness, Seokjin cameo, commitment issues, avoidant behavior, unresolved ending, ending up to reader interpretation, just wanted to write a sex scene in the mirror and it's manifested into 4 parts.

------------------------------------------

You stand frozen in the mirror, looking at your reflection until it fortunately steams away from Jungkook’s hot shower.

Quit your stupid job. Please. Stay with me. And you don’t need to have an answer. But we have to talk about it.

You could be predictable and do exactly what Jungkook thinks. You can leave.

Or. You could head to the kitchen, start a pot of coffee and unpack your bags.

Memories flood your mind, keeping you still.

-----

The thousands of seats in the stadium are empty but ample employees work through set-up and dress rehearsal for the concert happening tonight.

You stand on the stage watching the staff secure a performer to the platform harness, tightening a cable around his waist. They shuffle to finish and take steps back to watch the man be lifted, hung and swayed above the stadium seats.

This is the last item on your agenda today before you can head back to the hotel and rest for an early flight tomorrow.

The performer is slowly lowered down to the stage.

Working for these large venues means traveling, living in hotel rooms and keeping you too busy to take advantage of endless complimentary show tickets. Most of them go to waste or are given away . A “friend” (one of the many that come out of the woodwork depending on what show is in their city) casually asked about tickets to this particular concert. You told her the stadium is sold out but you had 2 tickets and weren’t planning on using them.

Your ears still ring with the high-pitched shriek she wailed into the receiver.

When the man lands safely back on the stage, you approach him. “How is it? Does it feel okay?” you say, in your best client - friendly voice as he steps off the device.

“Do I have to wear the wrist harness?” He rubs where the looped fabric has reddened his skin.

“It kind of burns.”

You scrunch your face before replying. “Yes, you have to wear the harness. It’s a liability if you don’t.” you say, matter-of-factly.

“A liability.” It’s not clear if he’s parroting you or asking a question.

“Right,” you nod. You signed a contract.”

“I did?” his hand on his chest, genuinely surprised.

“Well, someone did,” gesturing to the plentiful staff of his company.

“What does it say?”

“It says the stadium isn’t responsible for anything that happens to you if you don’t use the moving platform as recommended, I.E. with the wrist harness.”

He doesn’t reply. “Sorry.”, you add. Just trying to keep you and your 5 friends safe.”

“6,” he corrects you.

“6 What?”

“There’s seven of us. Me and 6 friends.”

You quickly apologize, realizing you may have come off rude and too eager to leave. You have no idea who he is but he’s not the first diva you’ve dealt with. You turn on the charm and start sucking up to the talent, as your job often requires.

“But if the fabric of this one is too rough on you...,” you briefly rub your hand over the reddening skin on his hand. “I think I have one in a different material that’ll be gentler on your skin.”

He laughs shyly and smiles. It wasn’t your intention to flirt but his reaction made it feel like you were. It makes him seem a little young.

“It’s ok.” He laughs again, containing a smile. “It’s not too rough,” eyes glancing at your lips and moving to your eyes. The wind blows his dark hair over his face but you can still see his eyes. His near smolder throws you off, causing you to dart your own eyes down.

“Are you sure?” feeling blood rush to your chest and face as the distance between your bodies begins to close.

“Yes.” He thanks you by name after quickly getting a glimpse at your name badge. “Is that your job? Making sure everyone is safe?” Embarrassed by your initial touch, he seems more confident now.

“Sort of,” you reply shortly.

Really, your job is to prevent the venues from being sued. Charming (and albeit, sometimes flirting) with talent is part of the job, so, you’re not sure why this random has such a pull on you. Or why your palms are sweating and your mind is going foggy.

“Wait here,” you instruct.

He nods and you jog to an equipment room backstage to retrieve another wrist harness. This one is made of silicone instead of fabric. You hurry back to him and worry you’re out of breath when you return.

“Here.” You pull the moving platform to you, stepping on your tiptoes to unhook the fabric loop. He holds out his hand to take the new one from you. You offer it and he easily reaches to hook it on, making you feel small as you return back to your flat feet.

“Hopefully, it’s a bit gentler for you,” you tease, taking some advantage of his bashfulness.

“Thank You.” He smiles. Your bodies are closer now and you can feel his breath.

Swallowing, “Do you want to try it.?” Soap and cologne fill your nostrils.

“Try what?” keeping his lips parted, eyes searching your face.

“The harness.” You pull the still-hanging platform and hold your foot down on the device so he can step easily onto it again. He raises his arm above his head and you loop his hand through the strap. You pull the belted cables and secure them tightly around his waist, feeling rigid muscles under his oversized t-shirt. He winces when you snap the belt closed.

“Speaking of rough,” he scolds, looking down at you, the world closing in quickly on you both.

“Safety first.” One of your feet between his, holding him down to the stage on the small platform. You could’ve had staff do it but eliminating this closeness seems wrong. “Ready?” you say, hands hanging from his belt.

His eyes peek down at your lips again. “Ready.” You step off the platform and give a thumbs up to staff working the cables above the stadium. They pull him for a few laps, flying around, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

When he lands, you replace your foot between his. “Better?” you ask, rising to your tippy-toes to unloop his wrist, letting your fingertips graze on the top of his hand.

“Better,” he replies, smiling ear-to-ear now. You wrap your arms around his waist again to remove the cables.

Behind him, a group of men huddle together at the end of the stage, conspicuously giggling and immediately stopping when your eyes find them.

“Are those your 6 friends?” you question, as you unhook the belt, embarrassed that you acted as if you were alone.

He steps off and rolls his eyes, endeared. “That’s them.”

“Ok.” You rub your face, trying to coax yourself back into reality. “You’ll let me know if you or your friends need anything?”.

He nods respectfully and thanks you by name again.

“You’re welcome.” You offer a wave and turn to slink away. You cringe when he calls you again. You turn to find a sheepish grin on his face.

“Do you know my name?” he asks with a knowing look.

You try to be casual. “No, I don't. You don’t have a name badge like me.” You take another step forward, being pulled in like a magnet again, onlookers be damned. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you or your friends are. Will you forgive me?” looking up, controlling the urge to pout at him.

He scrunches his nose. “It’s ok. Kind of makes me feel normal.”

Funny, he seems normal to you. Your faces are too close to call this any kind of “schmoozing” or “sucking up” but you can’t drag yourself away.

“Your name?” scanning him from head to toe.

He crooks his mouth and inhales sharply. “I don’t know, I kind of like it this way.” He leans in closer, voice getting lower. “Is there somewhere we can go?” tongue running over his cotton-candy lips. “I promise to introduce myself.” He's painstakingly bold now and not a second too soon because you’re practically putting on a show, center stage. “Or is that a liability too?” he teases.

“I guess that depends on how rough you plan on being,” you taunt back and he exhales a breathy moan. “Follow me.” He takes your hand and you lead him to the office buildings in the stadium, empty on a Saturday.

“Is this part of your job too? Seducing singers?” he asks, as you approach the glass doors. You stop in your tracks before inserting a key into the lock of the building.

“I am NOT seducing you.” Reflecting on the last few minutes, you hardly believe it yourself.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “And no,” you continue. “I’ve never done this before.” You insert a key in the lock and turn your wrist.

“So, why me?” a hand still clasped with yours.

“Still figuring that out,” you reply, opening the door. “I’d hate for you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you, do you want to stop?”

He pulls the door open. “No.” gesturing for you to walk inside. You hardly make it in before he pins you to the wall right away, hooking his index fingers in your belt loops.

You look at him closely. “How old are you?”

“You first,” he says with a sly smile.

“Old enough.” You give him a playful shove.

Looking at him long again, “20.” you guess, sounding confident.

He grips around your waist. “How do you know that?”

You look up at him, thoughtfully. His lips are millimeters from yours. “Just a feeling,” you whisper. His lips finally press against yours, soft pecks at first. You breathe each other in and your mouth opens to him when he lifts a hand to the back of your neck.

He slots his legs between yours, heatedly pushing you harder against the wall. His lips move to your neck and both pairs of greedy hands squeeze and tug at each other's bodies.

Unfazed by still being visible through glass doors, you slip your hands under the belt of his pants to give his ass a squeeze and push his groin more roughly against you.

It gets more desperate, both of you panting and sweating through your clothes, still against the wall. He lifts up your shirt to grope at your breasts when you hear the speakers.

“Jungguuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuk, let’s goooooooo! We need to get ready!”

You peek out of the glass to see two other members shouting for Jungkook into hot microphones. He lets out a heavy sigh and kisses you hard again.

“Jungkook ,” you whisper. Like a prayer falling from your lips, naming the pull of his gravity.

He looks at his watch which prompts you to look at yours. 5 o’clock.

“I have to go. Can I see you later? Are you busy?” still panting and pressed against you.

“Aren’t you?” running fingers through strands of his chocolate hair.

“Later, later. After the concert, 10 or 11. “You’re staying for the concert?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

His name still blares over stadium speakers. He groans and pushes his forehead to yours. It’s a relief that he feels stuck to you too.

You begin to offer, “I have a hotel nearby, you can…”

He laughs. “Sorry, I can’t really do that. Can I have your number? I’ll have my lawyer find you tonight.”

“What?” you ask, confused.

“You know… liability and legal stuff.” A hundred voices tell you to end this right now. And one voice has you unhooking a pen hanging from your name badge and listing digits on his hand.

He plants one more kiss on you and just like that, he’s gone. You let your back slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the floor, taking a moment before you head back to the hotel to change clothes, put on your staff badge to blatantly take advantage of your job and enter a concert you don’t have tickets for.

You re-enter the stadium without suspicion and blend into the standing room. Any sense of nervousness disappears. You lose yourself in the magic of the show and his talent on stage, now done up and dressed in almost a costume. Still beautiful.

At intermission, a stranger in a suit calls you by name and introduces himself as the lawyer. You walk into an empty office as the stadium still buzzes. He talks and talks and talks. Then, he takes out a stack of paperwork, a non-disclosure contract.

You sign in about a hundred places. You know better, you should be taking time to read and sign carefully but your mind is fogged with the idea of getting your hands back on him, whoever he is.

“Ok. You’re all set,” the lawyer says, after a final signature.

“What happens next?” wondering when you reap the benefits of signing your life away.

“He’ll be in touch, I guess.” The lawyer shrugs and you walk him to the arena exit.

The concert ends and you head to an office to wait, unsure if you should leave the stadium.

Finally, a message from an unknown phone number with an address and hotel room appears on your phone screen. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach. You feel compelled to tell someone where you’ll be going only to remember that you signed an NDA that forbids just that.

You try to reply to the number and an error message immediately returns. “Sender not available”.

What the fuck. You stop and take a deep breath. This could be dangerous and now it’s going beyond “sexy” danger. You try unsuccessfully to convince yourself to stop thinking with your genitals and about the sexy stranger you needed to finish that kiss with.

It doesn’t feel real. You open an internet tab and search his name.

What a mistake. All the blood in your body floods to your core, knowing this man was potentially waiting in a bed for you makes your mind even hazier. Before you can catch up to your thoughts, you rush to your car to drive the short distance to the hotel.

Silent security guards escort you through the lobby and up the elevator. When the doors reopen, Jungkook has his back propped against a wall, expecting you. His hands are in the pockets of sweatpants. He doesn’t look like he did on stage anymore. Not like the pictures. His freshly showered and bare-faced appearance disarms your anxious mind.

“I’ve narrowed down who you are,” you start. “You’re either a big deal or an axe murderer.”

He laughs. “What if I told you neither is true?” He pulls you close by your waist and places a quick kiss on your lips. It’s too casual, like some muscle memory you never knew you had.

“The paperwork? The spoofed phone number?” you gently scold, as he leads you to a door in the hallway.

“You still came,” he says, opening the room door.

“Yeah, what does that say about me?” walking in ahead of him and taking a moment in self-deprecation.

“That you want to finish that kiss as much as I do,” door closing behind him.

You smile to yourself as you face away, heart fluttering at the notion that his idea mirrored yours. You turn to approach him.

“It was a little more than a kiss,” you flirt, placing your arms around his neck.

“Yeah…” his hands wrap around your waist again and his lips hungrily find yours. He bites gently on your bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Sorry if that’s a little rough,” he teases, taking his mouth to yours again letting his hands roam. He adds: “I promise i’m not ‘axe-murderer’ rough,” he chides, and you both giggle between kisses. You sink into the familiar and comfortable space, regardless of being actual strangers . You lift off his shirt, eager for what you felt earlier, running hands gratuitously over his chiseled chest and abs.

“Do you want a drink or…” he’s graciously offering between kisses.

“No,” breaking your lips just long enough to reply, knowing he’s got exactly what you need right now.

Clothes are tossed in the air and landing on the floor before he lays you on the bed and the heated pace slows. He mounts on top of you and places slow kisses down your neck and chest while lowering the straps of your bra and kneading your breasts beneath the fabric. He takes nipples into his mouth, warm tongue circling, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your encouraging hands, tangled in his hair.

He moves to your mouth again, offering his tongue, slow but deep. He pulls your panties around your ankles and allows the palm of his hand to slide against your thigh before he can reach his thumb to stroke between your folds, causing you to shudder. He sucks at the tip of his thumb and moves his hips to push his still clothed cock against your center. You wrap your legs around him, urging him closer, needy for his friction.

“Be back,” he says, leaving a peck on your cheek. He walks to a bag on a nearby table, rustles through and retrieves a condom. You sit up on the edge of the bed as he struts back to you. He presents the foil square between 2 fingers. You peel it open, looking up at him. The back of one of his hands strokes your cheek while his other lowers the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing himself. You instinctively grip his shaft to plam slow strokes along his length and take pleasure in watching his eyes roll back.

You release your hand to pull the condom from it’s open wrapper, place it on the tip and use 2 hands to roll it down to the base before discarding the wrapper on the nightstand and pulling his underwear to the floor.

Leaning down to kiss you, he asks, “What do you want?”

You search for the words but opt to stand and silently guide him to sit back on the bed. He’s satisfied to follow your action as you straddle his lap and use your hand to brace his hard cock on your swollen center, rubbing up and down, slicking the rubber further. You guide yourself onto him, digging your nails into his shoulders slightly when you feel how he spreads you open, stretching and adjusting.

He groans when you reach the base, pushing down on your hips and shifting beneath you, getting deeper and widening your stretch. You whimper and squirm as you adjust.

“Too rough?” he teases.

“Not at all, '' you say, lifting your hips again and meeting the base faster. He pushes you down again, lifting his lap up.

“Good,” he breathes out, shakily.

You create a rhythm with your legs lewdly spread and circle your lower body, his shaft grinding against your sensitive walls, encouraged by his quickening breath.

His eyes are glued to your hips, watching them move. He slams you down a little harder, testing you. You both grunt when he meets the hilt.

You encourage his hand on your center, placing his hand on yours and setting the speed for him. He takes the cue and continues on his own, watching your face. You drop your head to his neck. He lifts you by your chin. “Let me see you.” The sensation is too much, and you're embarrassingly close. He quickens his pace below you, your own hips hardly moving anymore. You look down, entranced by his fingers. He uses his free hand to tug back on your hair.

“I said let me see,” you pulse around him at the words, a delighted smile on his face as he watches.

Still inside, he flips you on your back and buries himself balls deep inside you with an audible slap, bed rocking at the motion.

“Too much?” he sounds sincere.

“More,” you reply, challenging him anyway. He thrusts hard into you again with a sinister grin and keeps his pace, watching diligently as you take all of him. You whine at his deep strokes and he pins your wrists above your head, rendering you helpless as the pressure coils again at your center.

His grunts get lighter, whinier as he grips your wrists tighter.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you curse, and grope at his tensing ass cheeks when he comes. His thrusts become slow and shallow before sliding out of you. He takes a moment to lay his head on your chest before pulling and tying the condom off, tossing it.

He collapses beside you so you’re shoulder to shoulder and you fall into conversation, for too long and too late but you both delight in it, taking in more of each other.

“When can I see you again?” he asks as you prepare to leave, sunrise peeking through the curtains.

You’re a little surprised. The circumstances had you assuming this as a one-night thing.

“What do you mean?” you ask, unsure.

He gives you a suspicious side-eye. “Can I see you again?”

You attempt to shake down the guard you have up and smile at him.

“When?” you question, as his gravity pulls you back to the bed where he lies.

You lie side by side and compare schedules. It would be the first of hundreds of times you do this, comparing calendars and forcing your lives together.

You’re not sure when you stop forcing it but it’s happened. Now, 3 years later, you’re frozen at a fork in the road, torn to make a decision, knowing you can’t continue to drag him through your hesitation. You pick up your bag and head to the front door.

This first memory and a million others flood your thoughts.

When you saw him for the second time, weeks later, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. You remember his flattered, cheeky smile.

The time you both got food poisoning and shared the bathroom floor for 3 days.

Surprising him backstage one night and sucking him off before a performance. His face was priceless.

The time he was so exhausted from touring he just slept for the 15 hours you were together. And you contentedly watched until you had to part again.

Taking a spontaneous flight just to get tattoos.

When you told him you loved him on the plane. “I love you.” The words slip out effortlessly, you don’t even remember what you were talking about. He’s pleasantly surprised and almost proud that you say it first. He reciprocates your words and seals it with a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too.”

Playing domestic during quarantine and settling into a chosen family when the world comes to a screeching halt.

The look on his face when he fucked you in the mirror last night.

His disappointed face before he got in the shower today.

You don’t notice Seokjin until he speaks, passing by you on his way to the kitchen.

“Leaving, noona?”

You don’t respond, still facing the closed door.

“Do you need help with your bag?” he’s walking up to you now.

“Noona,” he places a hand on your shoulder. “Are you going?”

Part 3/4 HERE

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x noona #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook thirst #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #bts fic rec #bts fanfic #bts series #jungkook fic #jungkook reader insert

378 notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

nice (iii)

warnings: mentions of sexual content, cursing, hella flirting, these two cannot get enough of each other

wordcount: 7.2k

_______

The rest of the drive was easy - Sophie fell asleep three times, Rafe flicked her to wake her up and entertain him twice, and they stopped to take pictures along the coast when they got lunch in Montpellier, fumbling their way through “bonjour” and “merci” and pointing at the sandwiches in the display case that they wanted. When they finally made it to Nice, Rafe was ready to stretch and take a nap while Sophie was ready to jump into the ocean. So they compromised and went to the beach after dragging their suitcases to their hotel room, towels in hand.

Sophie let him nap for a solid fifteen minutes before she got bored and came out of the water, trying to convince him to come swim. Her method of choice consisted of sprawling on top of him with her hair and swimsuit still soaking wet, effectively jerking him out of his sleep - he just groaned and wrapped his arms around her to bring her tighter. “No.”

“Yes. Come play.” She nuzzled her head into his neck, then nipped at his skin.

“No, Soph, sleepin’.” He protested, a little grumpy, and kept his eyes shut.

“No you’re not, you’re awake now.” She grinned. “Come on, we can go to bed early tonight. You can’t still be jetlagged, that’s impossible.”

“I’m tired, I had to drive the whole way.”

“I would have driven.” She protested, scratching her nails lightly down his chest.

“Yeah, driven us off a cliff. Five more minutes.” He hummed, still not opening his eyes.

“No. Come swim now.” She urged, nudging her head a little higher so her wet hair dragged over his face. He startled, then lifted his head, scowling. “You’re being a brat.”

Sophie only smirked in response. “I can be worse. Come onnnnn, sleep later.”

He sat up a little, sighing. “You promise to actually let me sleep tonight?”

“I swear on my life. I’ll stick to my side of the bed and everything.” She nodded solemnly, rolling off him so he could stand.

“Alright.” He nodded, knowing she wouldn’t keep her promise, and hauled himself up, then offered his hand to drag her up too. She jumped up with an eager grin and he rolled his eyes. “You’re cute.”

“I know. Race you!” She started sprinting toward the water - he strolled leisurely behind her, taking his time to stride in once she jumped off the dock. He swam up underwater and grabbed her around the waist, making her squeal and shove at him. He was laughing as he bobbed up and started swimming, going with her out past the crest of the waves.

After a while of swimming and Sophie trying to float on her back without Rafe snatching her down from under the water, she reached out for him. “I’m tired. Carry me.”

“Wonder why, it’s not like you slept on the entire drive here.” He stretched out his hands toward her to pull her in.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” She asked him, swimming closer. He raised his eyebrows. “In France? Dunno, I always figured I’d visit Paris one day.”

“No, no.” She swam close enough to bump into him and grinned when he reached down and pulled her legs around his waist, so he was treading for both of them. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He smiled and bumped his nose against hers, beaming. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like...us.”

“Gonna have to elaborate more for me, Soph.”

She rested her arms around his neck and brought one hand up to play with the ends of his hair, getting longer by the day. “If you’d told me in high school, or even the start of junior year, that we’d be in love and on vacation together in France, just us - I’d say you were insane.”

“Hm.” He nodded, thoughtful. “I don’t know. It might have seemed a little out there, but.”

“But?” She prompted, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of his nose.

Rafe wrinkled his nose in response with a smile, then leaned forward and did the same to her. “I don’t know. I always kind of figured we might end up dating, at some point. Or at least we’d try something between us for a little bit. Didn’t you?”

She tugged on his hair, grinning. “Rafe Cameron, you presumptuous bastard.”

“Answer the question.”

Sophie shook her head. “Honestly, no. I thought you were just flirting with me to be mean, a lot of the time.”

He laughed, shrugging. “What can I say. We’re like magnets, Soph, it’s undeniable.”

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes and let go of him, pushing off to swim back to shore.

“What! It’s romantic!” He protested, swimming after her and grabbing her ankle to tug her back. She yelped, kicking in his grip until he let go. “You’re embarrassing!”

“You love me!” He was faster and able to keep up by her side as she swam back leisurely. She giggled, surfacing for air after a long stroke underwater. “I never said I didn’t.”

The two made it back to shore quickly and he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close as they walked back to their towels. They hadn’t let go of each other since they’d reunited - she held his hand, or he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, or she’d teasingly hook her ankle around his under the dinner table, sliding it up his calf until he shot her a warning glare. He reluctantly let go just to lay out the towels with a flourish, smoothing hers out for her. “Madame.”

“Monsieur.” She replied, grinning. He flopped down next to her and pulled his sunglasses on to nap again in the sun, while she pulled out a book and started reading. When he began to stir after a half hour of sleep, she glanced over at him. “Rafe?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever had sex on a beach?”

He was suddenly wide awake, whipping his head over to look at her. “Have I ever had what?” He repeated, sure he was going a little delusional. “What on earth are you reading?”

Suddenly she remembered the story that Brooklyn had told her when they first met, about the Bahamas, and shook her head. “No, actually, never mind.”

“No, no, wait, was that a suggestion or a question?” He prompted.

She shrugged, noncommittal, but she felt a familiar unease settle in her stomach. “Don’t really think I want to get arrested in France.”

He reached over and curled his hand around her ankle, tugging a little with a grin. “Who says we’ll get caught? It’s Nice, baby, half the people here are already topless. And you’re not, I should add, which is basically a crime of its own.”

She scowled, swatting at his hand when he teasingly pulled at the bikini string tied at her hip. “No, Rafe, it’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t have asked.” She couldn’t stop thinking of Brooklyn’s smug smile when Sophie had nearly choked on her wine after she called it “making love.” It irritated her to no end knowing that for nearly every first she’d have with Rafe, he had already had it with someone else.

“Hey.” He frowned, sensing her discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed a little, keeping her eyes trained on her book. “You did it with her. Right?”

“Her?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Your ex.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re upset?” He slid her hand up her leg, trying to be reassuring. “We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“Have sex.” He paused, wincing as he corrected himself. “On the beach, I mean.”

“Oh.” She sat back a little. “Have you ever? On the beach?”

“Not on the beach.” He gave her a sly grin. “Not sure if I’d want sand in certain places, but I’m open to trying anything once.”

She set her book aside, rolling over on the towel to look him in the eye. “Was she your first?”

“Um. No.”

“Well?” She prompted.

He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a second to answer. “You remember Alexandra Harper?”

Sophie gasped, completely caught off guard. Of course she remembered Alexandra Harper - she’d gotten in a fight with her at school, in the locker rooms, when she was talking about how easy Rafe would be to hook up. “Her? Seriously?”

He shrugged, growing a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Senior year, some party at Top’s house.”

“Gross.” She shuddered, absorbing the information for a moment. “Okay, so how many?”

“How many...?” He repeated, unsure if he even wanted to venture into that territory.

“Yes. How many girls have you slept with? Or hooked up with?”

He paused, feeling like he was being set up for a trap. “What do you consider hooking up?”

Her nose wrinkled and she crossed her arms. “If she had your dick in her mouth. Or vice versa.” She paused, thinking. She wasn’t quite sure why she was pushing for this information, honestly, maybe it was just another test of trust - though that certainly wasn’t something she needed to test with Rafe, of all people. “I suppose fingers count too.”

“Do you really need to know?” He hedged, reaching for her hand to try and relax her a little, but she only budged away stubbornly. “Like, does it really matter if at the end of the day, I’m dating you?”

“Well, I suppose not, but. I’d like to know. Mine’s five.”

“Five!” He balked, not expecting as high a number. “I thought you said you’d only hooked up with one guy before me!”

“All the way, just two. Five if we’re going by my definition. Obviously you’re included in both.” She clarified primly, looking down her nose at him. “Go ahead. Your turn.”

“Fine, mine’s four. How many dicks have you sucked?” He frowned, growing more jealous by the second.

She blushed at his vulgarity and didn’t answer, just pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and picked up her book to read again.

He abandoned his towel and crawled on top of her, ignoring her noise of protest as he plucked the book out of her hands and set it aside. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.” He repeated, grazing his fingers up her side. She giggled, squirming under him. “Rafe, no!”

He grinned, repeating the action, and nipped at her collarbone, only regretting it a little as he tasted sunscreen. She tried shoving his head away, laughing as she hissed, “Quit, we’re in public!”

“Just tell me!”

“No! You’ll get a big head.” She argued, knowing she’d given herself away.

He paused, grinning. “It’s just me?”

She just shrugged and nudged at his shoulder, trying to get him off.

“Sophie.”

“Yes, it’s just you, happy?” She rolled her eyes as he puffed up a little in pride. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because.” She blushed again, grabbing the book to cover her face. “I didn’t want you to think, like, oh, that makes sense.”

He laughed, reaching out and pushing her book down so he could see her. “You’re not serious?”

“I am! It’s a real concern, it’s like, scary when you’re face to face with one for the first time.” She insisted, laughing. “Especially yours, it’s bigger than I’ve seen -”

“You mean it?” He practically glowed, a little too proud of himself, and she kicked at his leg, rolling her eyes.

“Shut it. I just didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“No, please, go on about how big my dick is.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes, swatting him with the book again. “You’re supposed to say you couldn’t tell that I was clueless.”

“Trust me, baby. There was absolutely no issue there.” He grinned, leaning back onto his own towel with his hands tucked behind his head.

She hummed, satisfied. “You said yours is four?”

He made a noncommittal grunt, pulling his sunglasses back on.

“Do I know them all?”

“You’ve met Alexandra, and Brooklyn, and this smoking hot girl from back home...” He started, trying to hide the grin threatening to tug at his lips.

She frowned, setting her book down again - at this rate, she’d read five pages. “Who? Did she go to my school?”

“She did.” He confirmed with a nod, still not looking at her. “Super cute. Can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“Do you have another descriptor besides just smoking hot? Where’d she go to college?” She scowled, wracking her brain to think of who else had dated him in high school - and why the hell was he describing anyone but her as smoking hot, after all these years -

“Ohio State.”

“Rafe Cameron!” She smacked him with the book, making him yelp. “Jesus, woman, watch it, I’ll bruise!”

“You asshole.” She accused, not meaning it in the slightest. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He grinned, grabbing her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “The fourth was a touron, summer after freshman year of college. That’s all.”

“Oh, I hooked up with a touron once -” She started, and he held his hand out, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t need to know.”

“But you just told me.”

“Because you wanted to know. The last thing I want to hear about is you with other guys.” He insisted, stealing her book away and tucking it back into her tote bag. In all honesty, he was kind of dying to know, but more so he could find all the boys and have a pointed conversation with them and figure out why the hell Sophie was so hesitant to commit to anything, ever, and what they’d done, but that was a topic for another day. “C’mon, let’s swim again. You’re looking red.”

“I should put sunscreen on again, probably.” She reached for her bag and he shook his head, standing and offering his hand. “Come swim. You’ll be fine.”

“Says you, looking like a tan Hercules out here, some fucking Greek god.” She scowled, accepting his hand and letting him drag her up. “It’s seriously unfair that you look like this.”

He grinned, chest puffed up proudly. “Go on.”

“C’mere,” she murmured, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. He kissed back for merely a second before lifting her up abruptly and hauling her over his shoulder, starting to run toward the ocean. She squealed, pounding on his back. “Rafe Cameron, if you don’t -”

The rest of her protests were abruptly cut off as he tossed her off the dock into the water, following with a graceful dive. He surfaced next to her, laughing as she came up sputtering. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Fucker.” She scowled, pushing her hair back into place.

He grinned and smacked a kiss to her cheek. “I have one question. Just one.”

“I feel like I’m not gonna like this.” She reached out and combed her fingers through his hair, trying to arrange it how she wanted.

“I’m the best, out of all five. Right?”

“The best boyfriend? Yeah, no doubt. I only dated two others of the five anyways.”

“No, not that.” He wrinkled his nose, feeling the little green monster of jealousy rise up again. “Like...sexually.”

“Oh.” She pretended to think for a long pause, longer than he expected, and he frowned. “Sophie.”

“Hold on, still deciding.”

“Sophieeee.” He whined, reaching out and circling his arms around her waist. “Tell me.”

“Well, there’s lots of factors, you see -” He finally caught the hint of a smirk on her lips and groaned, snapping her bikini string. “Stop, just say it.”

She leaned closer and brushed her lips against his ear as she spoke. “It’s you, dummy. It’s always going to be you.”

“Even if you sleep with Liam Hemsworth?” He grumbled. She made him watch the Hunger Games series once and he refused to watch it again, not wanting to hear her commentary again on how hot he was.

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, loving how he automatically tipped his head back for more. “I don’t think that’ll be happening, baby.”

“Better not be.” He squeezed her butt under the water and made a small hum of appreciation when she pressed another quick kiss to the column of his throat.

“Someone’s desperate.” She teased and pushed away from him a little, making sure the water was deep enough to tread.

He raised his eyebrows. “You were asking how thin the hotel walls were earlier. I don’t think you have any room to talk.”

Sophie gave him a mischievous grin and glanced around the water, noting it was pretty sparse of a crowd. “Do you have pockets in your swim trunks?” She swam out a little further away and pulled slowly at the string tied loosely around her neck, holding up her top.

“Yeah, why -” His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as she let the bikini fall from her neck and untied the string on the back too, then swam close and handed it to him. “Here. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Sophie.” He uttered, a little strangled.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” He mumbled, not taking her eyes off her for a second. “Who are you?”

She frowned, swimming back toward him and crossed her arms over her chest, losing her faith in her bold idea by the second. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this, the leather jacket, speaking a new language...” He struggled to explain it, thinking. “It’s like I’ve never seen you so confident before.”

“Oh.” She brightened, giving him a small, shy smile and a shrug. “It’s okay?”

“I love it.” He declared, giving her a grin in return. “I love seeing you like this, so sure of yourself.”

She wasn’t, not nearly at all, but his perception of her made her beam. “I’m trying.”

“You’re killing it. I’m proud of you.” Rafe held up the bikini top with a grin. “What happens if I lose this?”

Sophie fixed him with a glare. “If you lose it, I’m making you take off your shorts in solidarity. You’ll get a sunburn on your dick.”

He laughed loud, shoving her top in his pocket. “A sunburn on my dick, really? I think it’d be tan. Really complete the look.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else getting to see it.” She argued, swimming close enough to shove his shoulder lightly.

“Okay, so should you put your bikini back on?” He countered, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on hers and not anything lower.

“You just said you liked it -”

“I like your confidence, not necessarily other guys looking at you -”

“Well it’s not your boobs to decide about -”

“Alright, well it’s not your dick -” Rafe started and she raised her eyebrows, reaching down and palming him under the water. “We sure about that?”

He nearly groaned at the contact, pulling his hips back. “You cannot do that to me when you’re topless and we’re surrounded by people. You really can’t.”

“I’ll put the bikini back on before I get out of the water.” She offered, smirking at how easy he was to turn on.

“Deal. That thing you said earlier, about sex on the beach?”

“Yeah?” She cocked her head in question.

“I bet we could find a private spot…” He grinned as she rolled her eyes, almost immediately. “Oh my god, Rafe, I was just asking. If you’re that desperate I’ll fuck you before dinner -”

“Jesus Christ, Sophie, you can’t just say things like that.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and glanced up at the sky as if he was searching for an ounce of strength.

“Why not? I will. We can try the shower, it looked big enough for both of us. The bed was comfy too, though I don’t think I could get the automated curtains to close in front of the window - but hey, if you’re into that -”

“Fucking tease.” He bit out. “You’re being mean.”

“No, baby, being mean would be touching you and then not letting you finish.” She countered, trying her best to hold back a grin. “I’m never mean.”

“You are. You’re a brat sometimes.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “But I love it.”

“Careful what you say, you’ll only encourage me.” She grinned and tipped her head up, catching his lips in a kiss.

______

As much as Sophie insisted they had to make the most of every minute of their vacation, she couldn’t deny that his argument of “I promise I’ll bring you back here” was compelling.

After a long afternoon out at the beach, they returned to their hotel to take a nap and get ready for dinner. His eyes widened when she stepped into the hotel lobby, finally out of the sun. “Um, Soph?”

“Yeah?” She felt a little queasy, and unreasonably hot still for being in the air conditioning.

He gently pressed his hand to her shoulder, surprised when she didn’t flinch away. “Does that hurt at all?”

“Not really. Why -” She cut herself off as she extended her arm, realizing it was on its way to turning red. “Oh my god.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Rafe reassured her quickly, but looked a little worried. “We’ll go run you a cold shower - well, maybe a bath - and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to reapply sunscreen - didn’t I tell you to remind me?” She lamented, sighing. He shook his head and gave her a small smile of regret. “No, but we know now. We’re doing your architecture tour tomorrow anyways, you’ll have just enough time to recover for our next beach day. Promise.”

He was full of promises, she’d learned, and he always kept them. Every single time. Sophie wondered sometimes if it was his way of compensating for failed relationships, like how his dad had always promised he’d be at his next basketball game, or he’d take him out on the golf course or come up for the next parent’s weekend. She leaned against him in the elevator, realizing she felt a little faint.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby.” He murmured, setting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing a little too hard, and she winced. “Ow, Rafe.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He carefully removed his arm and took the bag from her shoulder, deciding not to comment on the angry mark it left behind from burnt skin. He was glad he’d switched them from the hostel - as much as she had wanted to fight the idea, he was right that the luxury of their own shower and bathroom was worth it.

When they got into their hotel room, he instructed her to lie down, pop some ibuprofen, and then ran her a cold bath. Her eyes widened as she saw the marks left behind as she untied her bathing suit. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s okay! It’ll be fine. You stay here, and I’ll be back in - oh, twenty minutes. That’s all.” He nodded and kissed her forehead, letting her slip into the bath alone. He grabbed his wallet and phone before heading back downstairs, and he practically begged the front desk to buy a bottle of aloe lotion after-hours and the whole box of their complimentary black tea, then paid the janitor to give him a roll of paper towels. He made it back to the room in fifteen, knocking twice before letting himself into the room.

“Rafe?” Sophie called out, tentatively.

“Just me!” He called back, busying himself with heating up water to make the tea.

“I feel really shaky.” She confessed and he frowned, rushing into the bathroom. He placed his hand to the back of her forehead then dipped his finger in the water, nearly ice-cold as she’d turned up the temperature. “You might have sun poisoning.”

“You’re not serious?” She frowned, but grabbed onto his arm like it was difficult to sit up.

“Do you feel like you might throw up?”

“...No.” The hesitation in front of her answer was enough to tell him otherwise.

“Okay. Let’s dry you off and then we’ll see how you feel.” He held out the towel and helped her out, carefully wrapping it around her as she shivered. “S’okay, I got you. Sarah had this once, but I have a trick and you’ll be better tomorrow.”

“It’s unfair that you’re fine.” She grumbled, reaching up and pressing a finger into his muscled chest. He was a little pink, but that was all.

“I think I’ve been burnt enough that I’m used to it.” He reasoned, guiding her back into the room and had her sit down on the end of the bed while the tea was steeping in the fridge. “Can you pull on your underwear so you’re a little more comfortable?”

“Seeing me naked doesn’t do it for you anymore?” She quipped.

He rolled his eyes - if she paid more attention, she could see him half-hard in his loose shorts. “Not when you’re about to be sick.”

“Not gonna be sick.” She muttered stubbornly as she carefully pulled on a pair of underwear from her suitcase, then lied down on her stomach on the bed.

“Hope not.” Once the tea was strong enough, he pulled a decorative bowl from their nightstand table and dumped out the fake seashells, rinsed it, then poured in the tea. He started soaking paper towels in it then carefully wrung them out and laid them across her back, so they covered every inch of burnt skin.

“Where’d you learn that?” She asked, resting her head on her arms.

“My mom used to do it if we got burnt when we were little. It helps a lot.” He replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when he finished and laid next to her so she didn’t have to crane her neck up to see him. “I’ll change them when they dry.”

“You haven’t told me much about your mom.” She told him hesitantly after a moment of silence.

He shrugged. “Not much to say. What’s your mom think of all this?”

She was a little disappointed he didn’t open up more, but got the hint - and she felt like she might throw up at any second, so maybe it wasn’t the time for a serious conversation. “All this?”

“Of our trip.”

“Ah. I think she’s jealous.” She grinned teasingly at him. “Always tells me how you’re the ideal match, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Her grin faded a little. “I’m sure your dad thinks the opposite.”

“I don’t care what my dad thinks.” He told her, firmly, but all she could hear was the fact that he didn’t deny it. She nodded once. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You know, I think your dad and I really got along. When I was home, at least.” He told her a little shyly, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

She nodded, smiling. “He likes you. Thinks you’re cool.”

Her dad had said much more than that - he’d told Sophie that Rafe was a good kid, really respectful, a hard worker and he deserved this internship. He’d also asked, with a little too much eagerness to his voice, if Rafe would like to come home with her for Labor Day weekend, when they had their first little break in school, and would he like to come golf with him and Sophie? Also, if he and her mom came up for a football game, would Rafe like to hang out with them again?

She wasn’t quite sure if Rafe was ready for the “my dad wants to be your best friend” talk so she left it at “he thinks you’re cool.”

Rafe nodded with an eager grin. “That’s cool. He’s cool too, I mean. I like hanging out with him.”

“I’m glad.” She reached out her hand for him, locking her fingers with his. “I love you.”

“I know, angel. I love you too.” He beamed, the way he always did when she told him those three simple words.

“I’m happy my family likes you.” She told him, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “Good for our future...our future us.”

He held back a smile but gave her an amused glance. “Our future us?”

“You know what I mean.” She scowled at him and he reached out and smoothed his thumb over the bridge of her nose, making her relax. “I don’t. Will you tell me?”

“I just mean, like, in the future. After college, what we’ll look like, you know? I’m just glad my family likes having you around.” She struggled to form a complete sentence, not sure how much she wanted to tell him - that she’d thought about being married to him and living with him, and just the little domestic things of sharing the day together.

He beamed, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Future us…you mean getting married?”

She shrugged, trying to seem cool about it. “Yeah. I can see it.”

“I can see it too.” He grinned, wide. “Sophie Cameron.”

She blushed, biting her lip. “Okay, okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He laughed, unable to shake the bright smile on his face. “Are you feeling any better? You need water.”

“A little, yeah, I think the bath helped.”

Rafe got up and refilled her water bottle, handing it to her so she could take a few sips. “I got aloe from downstairs too, so I can help you put that on once the towels dry. I promise, your burn should basically be gone by tomorrow.”

“You’re too good to me.” She murmured, glancing up at him.

“Nah, you deserve it.” He grinned and pushed the water bottle at her again. “Do you need me to go find takeout somewhere? I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I can probably convince someone. If you’re not feeling up to going to get dinner.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine -” She pushed herself to sit up and suddenly squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a wave of nausea pass, curling into herself. He frowned and gently pressed her back down to the bed, then pulled the top layer of sheets over her where the paper towels weren’t. “I’ll go find something. Will you be okay here or do you think you might be sick? I can figure out delivery - well, maybe, I don’t speak any French -”

“Rafe. I’ll be okay, I can go.”

“No you can’t. Stay here, I’ll have my phone, call me if you feel like you might throw up and I’ll be back before you can blink.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No. You need to take care of yourself.” He set the water bottle by her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I want that empty when I’m back.”

“Okay, Mom.” She grumbled, but made no protest. Rafe nodded and left, not without another backwards glance to make sure she’d be okay.

He returned thirty minutes later with a pizza box in hand and a bottle of rosé tucked under his arm. “Success!”

“Impressive.” Sophie was upright now, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts that she’d stolen at the beginning of the summer. The color had returned to her face - the only part she’d remembered to reapply sunscreen on - and she’d chugged a bottle and a half of her water.

“You look like you’re feeling better. Doing okay?” He set the pizza box on the bed, despite her protest, and greeted her with a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, much better. I’ll need you to put aloe on me before bed though.”

“That can be arranged.” Rafe grinned and presented her with the wine. “Look. Only the finest for m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved at him with a grin. “Europe is making you a sap.”

“Nah, I just missed out on you this summer, so I gotta lay it on thick.” He uncorked the bottle and took a swig, then passed it to her. “Drink up. Not too much though, you’re still dehydrated.”

“How much was it?” She took a careful sip, then nodded, impressed.

“Only about fifteen euros.”

Sophie flicked open the pizza box and inhaled, grinning. “Excellent choice.” After a couple seconds on her phone, Rafe got a notification on his from Venmo. She’d sent him half for their dinner, like they’d talked about long before he was even in Europe.

“Soph.” He frowned. “What the fuck is this.”

She picked up a slice and raised her eyebrows, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Huh?”

“Trying to pay me for half?”

She swallowed and shrugged. “Yes, that’s what we agreed on, months ago.” (They hadn’t agreed, not in the slightest. She’d insisted she was paying for her own everything, he’d immediately said no, and the debate lasted about five minutes before she was taking her top off to end the conversation. She’d called him with other ideas in mind, anyways.)

“We didn’t agree, we left the argument unfinished because you were trying to distract me by getting naked on FaceTime.”

She smirked. “Yeah, and it worked, didn’t it?”

It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t kidding, that he was actually a little upset. “Sophie. I’m serious. I said I wanted to cover meals on this trip.”

She bristled, setting her pizza down. “And I said I wanted to split it. I’ve saved up for this, Rafe, let it go.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for you.” Despite his annoyance, he took a seat next to her on the bed and pressed his thigh to hers, always needing to be close.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand.” She muttered, not making eye contact.

“So explain it to me.”

She took a deep breath, knowing they were venturing into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting. Just having a conversation.” He retorted back, with a little too much of an edge to it.

She hummed in affirmation, though she looked skeptical. “I’ve worked my ass off for this entire summer since I was eighteen. My freshman year, one time, I was about to break my budget just by buying a pack of Oreos at the store. So the fact that I’m even able to pay for this extra trip after my study abroad scholarship means a lot to me.”

“I know you work hard, I’m not discrediting that at all. I just -“ He let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know why you won’t let me take care of you.”

“First off, I can take care of myself -”

“I know that, but I can still help you -”

She sent him a pointed look and he took a breath, letting her talk. “You just took care of me, with my sunburn and getting me dinner. That’s more than enough. I don’t need - or want - financial help.”

He mulled it over for a second, frowning. “But I have the money, Sophie, just let me help so you don’t have to stress.”

“I don’t want your dad’s money!”

A short silence hung in the air between them as they stared at each other, both a little in shock at her outburst. She blushed a little, embarrassed. “Rafe, I…”

“It’s a trust from both my parents that I just got when I turned 21. Does that make a difference?” He asked evenly, trying to keep calm.

“Not really.” She murmured, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

“So the problem is my dad.”

Sophie grabbed the bottle of wine and took a sip, then handed it to him. “Is that really a surprise to you?”

He took a considerably large swig, then passed it back. “No. I’ve tried, you know that?”

She went to re-cork the bottle and he stopped her, taking the bottle back but handed over her water bottle. She gave him a grateful smile and took a few drinks, then nodded. “Yeah. I know you’ve tried, I saw how you tried at your Christmas party.”

“It’s just.” He leaned into her side, frowning. “He’s insistent that this is a fling, he forgets your name on purpose, he keeps talking about when I’m with someone more suitable and when I’m taking over the family business -" Rafe felt his throat getting tight and his voice growing shaky as he got more and more frustrated. “All I want is you. He doesn’t care that you make me happy.”

As much as she didn’t want to hear all of that, she knew it all already. “Hey, shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, combing her fingers through her hair. “I know you’re trying your best with him. He’s just not willing to listen.”

“I’m not going to let you go just so I can make him satisfied.” He was fully cuddled into her now, his hand wrapped protectively around her thigh and his head on her hip. “I’m not trying to pay for things to show off, you know -“

“I know, I know.” She affirmed, stroking her hand down his back. “I never thought that.”

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment in bliss as she rubbed his back, then flipped onto his back to look up at her. “I’m just thinking, when we live together -“

She nearly choked on her water bottle and set it down, raising her eyebrows. “When?”

“I mean… yeah. I have that job offer with my internship for after graduation and you’re staying in Columbus for grad school, I kind of just assumed…” He trailed off, offering her a cheeky grin.

Sophie paused, considering. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Oh. You haven’t?”

“No, I, um.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I kinda thought you were going to work for your dad and we’d have to do long distance again. I mean, you’d just always said that was the plan…”

“Right, that was the plan, but then you told me to try for the internship and I really liked it. Apart from, well, y’know.” He smiled up at her. “I actually think I could do more.”

She smiled back, proud. “Of course you can. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. You want to live together?”

“Course I do. Don’t you?” He heard her stomach rumble and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt dinner. Hungry?”

“S’okay. I’m kind of starving, though, can we eat and talk?”

He nodded, sitting up and took a slice from the box. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She took her own half-eaten slice, taking a bite before responding. “I think I’d like to live together, yeah. It makes sense.” She paused, scowling. “My mom might kill me, but I bet my dad could convince her.”

“Your mom doesn’t like me?”

“No! No, not that.” Sophie excused quickly. “She likes you, a lot, but she grew up with super strict parents and I think she thinks we’re in separate beds this whole trip.” She smirked, nudging her knee against his. “It’s scandalous.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded, already going for another piece of pizza. “So...would we need to stick to your budget or mine?”

“We can split rent, something reasonable. When I get my real job, I’ll have a decent amount of money, just. Being a TA doesn’t pay too much. My parents help me a little with rent at school.” She considered. “If we need a little more for a better place, I can pick up another job or something.”

Rafe frowned, elbowing her. “I’m not going to make you work overtime when I can help us out.”

“We’ll come to that when we need to start looking for places in spring.” She dismissed and he grinned, glad she was fully on board. “Sounds good to me.”

“Baby?”

He beamed, loving the pet name. “Yeah, angel?”

“I don’t know if I want to know this, but. Do you know, roughly, how much you have in the trust?” She bit the inside of her cheek, hesitant.

He paused, mulling over his answer before responding. “Um, let’s put it this way. I could get away with not having a job.”

“Like...for a few years?”

“Um. No.”

“Oh.” She mumbled. “So you could get away with not having a job...ever.”

He nodded, offering her the wine bottle. “Yeah. But that’s why I’d like to spend a little bit more on you sometimes, because I will have a job. Obviously some of it is invested, and I’ll set aside a college fund for my kids eventually, but. I like treating you to things.”

She took a long swig from the bottle, grimacing after. “I know you do - fuck, that’s getting to me.”

Rafe laughed, taking it back. “I can tell, your face is getting a little red.”

“Shut up, is not.”

“Is too. C’mon, eat one more slice at least and then I’ll put the aloe on you, crispy.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, taking her third slice of pizza. “You gonna give me a massage?”

“Depends, do I get one too?”

“Only if yours is good enough.” She teased, kicking at him.

“Does mine come with a happy ending?” He grinned, laughing when she flipped him off. “I think if you touched my shoulders they might peel off completely.”

“Your mouth would be sufficient,” he quipped under his breath and she rolled her eyes, tossing her crust in the box and tossed the empty box toward the trash can on the floor. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re more.”

“Jerkface.”

He grinned. “Hot stuff.”

“Slam piece.”

“Smokeshow.”

“Sugar tits.” She giggled when his jaw dropped in protest. “I don’t even have -”

“Yes you do! You have a great rack. It’s hot, don’t worry.” She assured him, poking at his chest.

“Take off your shirt.” He reached over, tugging at the hem of it.

She rolled her eyes. “Rafe, I am not comparing the size of our -”

“No, dummy, I have to put on the aloe.” He rolled his eyes and held up the bottle. “Calling me a slam piece, honestly. You’re a brat.”

Sophie grinned and pulled off her shirt, trying to go slowly and be seductive but winced when it hurt to raise her arms. “Ow! Fuck, help.”

“Yeah, that’s what you get.” He teased, but smacked a kiss to her forehead anyways before helping her wrestle off her shirt. “You don’t feel sick, right?” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then got behind her to smooth the cool lotion over her shoulders.

“No, I feel way better.”

“Good.” He grinned, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Hey. Guess what.”

“Mm.” She tilted her head back, trying to catch his lips.

“You’re my favorite.” He slid his hands down her arms, then tapped his finger against her ring. “Don’t forget it.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #obx #outer banks #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #frat rafe #college rafe

151 notes · View notes

mego42 · 4 years ago

Note

Hii, for the Intimacy Prompts:

51. slow dancing

Thank you!

hi!!! ty for playing!!! between your prompt and ch 9 of @joeyjoeylee's law school au, i def had an inspiring amount of dancing on my mind.

“‘Ey, mind if I cut in?”

Beth knew Rio was there a second before she even heard the low rasping question.

She doesn’t know when exactly it happened, maybe it was so gradual there isn’t a single moment on their timeline to point to, but somewhere in the past year and a half, she’s become attuned to his presence. It's unconscious, involuntary; his magnetic field sweeps over her, and her cells can’t help but stand at attention.

It’s infuriating, more than anything else, especially because it doesn’t stop her from jolting like a live wire at the sound of his voice.

He wasn’t supposed to be here—black-tie society galas don’t really seem like his thing, even after taking all of his contradictions into account—and that’s the whole reason she’d accepted Nick’s invitation to the fundraiser in the first place.

Well, no. That’s not true. When Nick asked her to attend, he’d made sure to mention the power players that would be in attendance. Not just city government but county and maybe even some state.

“Few things bring out the elite like the auto show charity preview,” he’d said using that suggestive tone he doesn’t seem to think Beth can read for the hook it is beneath whatever bait he's offering. “Every…small business owner—”

Nick paused, giving Beth ample opportunity to correct him, but she’d only smiled serenely, wondering how all of these unwanted men kept finding their way into her kitchen.

“Let’s just say, I thought you could use some friends in high places,” he’d finally finished when he realized Beth had no intention of affirming or denying his assumption.

Beth isn’t naive enough—not anymore—that she doesn’t recognize that he’s working some kind of angle with her, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has a point. It’s been months and she still cringes remembering how caught off guard she’d been by Terry’s appearance at Boland Bubbles. It was an amateur mistake, one she has no intention of making ever again and she could save herself god knows how much time and money with some kind of in at a municipal level. And anyway, if Nick’s determined to play her, there’s no reason she shouldn’t play him right back.

Besides, he’s obviously curious to know more about her and Rio, and that’s just another game she can flip right back around on him.

But that doesn’t work if Rio’s actually here.

“Brother!” Nick cries, his smile wide and eyes crinkling, like nothing about Rio’s appearance could bring him more joy.

Except Beth can feel the sudden stiffness in his hand as he stops steering her around the dance floor, and they both turn to face their...whatever Rio is to either of them.

“Cousin.” Rio nods, his hands shoved in the pockets of his slim-cut pants.

Even though he’s addressing Nick, his eyes are locked on Beth’s, and she stares back, her lips parting before she can stop them.

It’s just...she’s never seen him in anything so formal before. The suit’s black, of course, paired with a black shirt and a black tie, and it’s not like that’s a new color for him, but something about it and the way it’s obviously been tailored to accent the sharp, elegant lines of his body has her mouth going dry.

She wasn’t expecting it. Him. This situation. That’s all.

And there’s no reason for her to step away from Nick, it’s ridiculous that she does. There’s nothing wrong with her being here with him in the first place, and the fact that she feels oddly guilty about it has her tipping her chin up, defiantly refusing to break Rio’s gaze.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” Nick says. His voice sounds bizarrely muffled and far away, almost like he’s underwater.

There’s nothing about the way Rio’s dressed or holding himself—casually confident like he’s absorbed all of the loose, unconcerned ease that drained out of Nick with his arrival—that should set him apart from the crowd around him. Sure, he’s probably the only person in attendance with a neck tattoo, but that doesn’t explain why everyone else seems to have gone blurry and indistinct, leaving his angles and edges the only thing in focus.

“—an invitation?”

Beth shakes herself—internally, like hell she’s going to let Rio see her looking anything remotely close to rattled—tuning back into the conversation.

“You act like you the only friend I got,” Rio laughs, finally breaking away from her to look at Nick, punctuating his statement with a smile that has the hair on the back of Beth’s neck standing on end even when it’s directed at someone else.

She knows that smile; knows the violent promise of it.

Interesting.

“Gretch says hi, by the way,” Rio continues. “Said you been dodgin’ her calls.”

“What can I say?” Nick adjusts the cuffs of his jacket, rolling his shoulders and darting a glance at the crowd around them. “Servant of the people, my time isn’t my own.”

They’re attracting more than a few curious looks, the three of them facing off in the middle of the dance floor, and Nick’s smile grows visibly strained as he nods back at a few different people.

“No time like the present,” Rio says easily, jerking a shoulder towards the corner of the room. “She’s at the bar.”

Beth follows the motion past him to the bar set up just off the dance floor, finding the slender brunette in a simple black shift dress leaned back against it. Her cheekbones stand out in sharp relief as she sips her drink. She lifts a hand, wiggling her fingers in a wave when she sees Beth looking.

She’s pretty, Beth thinks, smoothing the navy satin of her own dress down over her hips. Polished and sleek in a way that matches this new version of Rio.

She wonders how many versions there are.

Beth clears her throat, returning her attention to Rio and Nick. A shadow’s fallen over the latter’s face, and something about the set of his jaw makes him look the most related to Rio of everything Beth’s seen so far.

“Don’t worry ‘bout your date,” Rio says. “I’ll keep her company.”

For the first time since he appeared, there’s a trace of tension, the faintest hint of steel underlying the lazy drawl.

They’re standing close enough together that Beth can hear Nick’s deep inhale before his beam is back, brighter than before. Close enough that Beth can see the force of impact when he clasps Rio on the shoulder—a gesture that looks like it should be friendly but seems to have an ocean of meaning behind it that she doesn’t have the faintest clue how to chart.

Interesting.

“Take good care of her, cousin,” Nick says, projecting enough that everyone around them will pick up the amiable bounce of his voice if the wide smile wasn’t clear enough.

Then he’s gone, slipping through the crush around them as the last notes of the song they’d been dancing to fall away. The dull hum of indistinct conversation takes its place as Beth and Rio watch each other.

Somewhere in the distance, a glass shatters. A woman laughs. The violinist swipes his bow across the strings, adjusting the tuning.

There’s a pause like a held breath, and then the cellist lets out a long, deep note. The rest of the quartet joins in with a slow, soft melody Beth doesn’t recognize, but the romance of it’s almost enough to make her heart swell and ache.

Or maybe it does as she looks to Rio, her eyes wide, disbelieving, but that’s only because of the irony. He feels it, too; she’s pretty sure. She can tell from the wry twist to the smile that curls up the corner of his mouth.

But even still, when he extends a hand to her, something in Beth flutters and takes flight.

Stupid. She’s so stupid.

read the rest on ao3

#i did it!!!!!! i filled a prompt!!!!!!!!! in less than a year!!!!!!!!!!!#intimacy prompts #nbc good girls #good girls nbc #beth x rio #brio fic #prompt fic #my fic #shut up meg

61 notes · View notes

akitokihojo · 4 years ago

Text

Monster - Chapter 7

chapter index

It was unsurprising that Inuyasha had dozed off after Kagome and had awoken before her. It seemed she’d barely moved in the night aside from freeing her arms from the confinements of the quilts she rested beneath and turning to lay on her side facing the edge of the mattress. Her dark hair splayed behind her, but little, rogue strands clung to her sweat-soaked cheeks, forehead, and neck, her skin glimmering with the layer of dew that signified her breaking fever. A little color had returned to her face, an unfriendly flush painting her cheekbones, and Inuyasha could only figure how uncomfortable she would be if she were conscious.

Again, that twinge of sympathy twisted at his abdomen. He felt the pull to help, to make her just a bit more comfortable, and did the first thing that came to mind by heading to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth from the shelf, and soaking it in some water. He rung it of extra moisture, folding it up and walking back over to the sleeping girl.

While she was unaware, this sort of act was fine. If she were awake, it’d be an entirely different story, but since she was asleep, Inuyasha allowed himself the leeway to sit beside her and gently pat the wet rag over her cheeks, adjusting those soddened strands of hair away from her body. He carefully pushed her bangs from her head, dabbing the sweat clean, and softly trailed over her temple, the sides of her face, her jaw, and over her neck.

It was too quick how he’d lost the ability to pay attention, how he’d carelessly gotten swept away in his task, and after moments of cooling her skin, pressing the rag against her so mildly, he noticed her brown eyes had already blinked open, gazing at him drowsily.

How long? How long ago had she woken up without him realizing? He instantly felt awkward and tense, his motions halting altogether as an uncontrollable heat rushed to his cheeks. He wanted to remove himself from the situation immediately, never one to let others see him visibly uncomfortable, so as a swift attempt at recovery, Inuyasha dropped the wet washcloth on Kagome’s face as he picked himself up and crossed the room to the window, ignoring her tiny and shocked yelp.

“What was that for?” She whined.

“You’re awake. You can do it yourself now.” He replied abrasively.

“What were you even doing?” Kagome asked, steadily pushing herself up to a sitting position, a hand braced behind her for stability.

“Nothing.”

“But -“

The hanyou hushed her, notching his chin toward the door. “Kaede’s coming.”

And, just seconds later, a knock greeted them. Inuyasha crossed the room to unlock the bolt, opening it up so his friend could enter.

“Ah, you’re awake.” She smiled brightly, shoving a folded up, black garment into Inuyasha’s waist and completely neglecting to acknowledge him as she welcomed herself in and crossed the floor to Kagome.

“Wow,” Inuyasha drawled, deadpanning. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hi, Inuyasha.” Kaede absently waved. “Get dressed, I’m tired of seeing your tits.”

“Why? Because they’re bigger than yours?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She huffed, still not looking at him as she checked Kagome’s temperature. “I have to tighten my bodice to no ends just to get an ounce of cleavage. Yours just exists, and it’s not fair.”

“Stop sexualizing me, you creep.” Inuyasha joked, unfolding the shirt and throwing it over his head. “It’s not my fault I’m well-endowed.”

“How are you feeling? Nauseous?” Kaede asked Kagome, ignoring Inuyasha’s sarcasm.

The conjurer shook her head, grateful that the medicine Kaede had given her seemed to have worked.

“You’re still a bit warm, but your fever’s breaking so that’s a good sign. I’ll go get some rice for you to eat and then give you one more dose.”

“Won’t it put me to sleep?” Kagome asked.

“Yes, but you need the rest, sweetheart.”

“It’s not clear to leave yet, anyway, so you may as well sleep. You’ll have nothing better to do.” Inuyasha added, tucking the ends of his shirt into his pants before buttoning them up. He worked on rolling the sleeves up his forearms next, making things a little more comfortable.

Kagome begrudgingly agreed, despite her desperate desire to stretch and walk around and be normal again. Kaede was quick to return with a healthy serving of rice and a large glass of water, making light conversation as she watched to make sure Kagome ate. A part of her wanted to ask if she had any children. She was very motherly and kind, and while Kaede was maybe just a year or two older than she was with the spunky sense of humor to match, she found a small resemblance between she and her own mother.

After giving her the dreadful fever medicine, Kaede left with both the rice bowl and the soup bowl from the night before, leaving Inuyasha and Kagome alone in the room once more.

Kagome laid herself down, knowing good and well how quickly the dose she’d just consumed was going to kick in, and within moments, her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted back to sleep.

Inuyasha watched her for a small while, alternating his attention from the unconscious girl to the town outside their window. He didn’t know what had possessed him to stay with her. Usually, he was one to sit in Kaede’s tavern area, or visit the shops, or have Totosai sharpen Tessaiga. Totosai worked with Kaede, helped her manage the floor and kitchen, but first and foremost, he was a bladesmith, and Inuyasha was happy to take full advantage of that. Yet, here he was. It was like he personally wanted to watch her improve. It was like Inuyasha wanted to make sure nothing stood in the way of her rest, and if she woke up or needed anything in the meantime, he was within earshot. What could she possibly need or want if she was asleep, though? What could he possibly do to help her while she wasn’t even conscious?

What was it about her that progressively demanded his attention?

After a couple of hours, Inuyasha forced himself to leave the room. Whatever he was feeling, it was freaking him out worse than the fear he felt just the night before. So, he went downstairs and paid off the tab so he wouldn’t have to worry about it later, giving Kaede a bit extra for tending to Kagome, which she nearly rejected but he walked away before she could force him to take it back. He ate something, he went outside to scope the area, making sure no familiar and unwelcome scents lingered around the grounds, went back to the inn and checked on Kagome, left when he saw she was still asleep, walked around some more, handed Tessaiga over to Totosai, checked on Kagome again, and then left the town entirely to rest in a tree in the forest so he wouldn’t be tempted to give up and hang out in the room.

“Oh, hey. She’s awake now and looks ten times better. You’re welcome. I know, I know, I’m the best.” Kaede grinned smugly, crinkling her nose adorably once Inuyasha walked back in. The sun was now setting, and he’d literally forced himself to stay out for hours to shake whatever was pulling him in like a magnet.

“You’ve checked on her?” He questioned, arching a brow.

“Of course, I did. Several times.” She shrugged. “Poor girl wanted nothing more than to bathe, so I set her up with a fresh gown and helped her out. She’s much more lively now, the cutie. How’d you even meet her? Is she a longtime friend of yours or something?”

Inuyasha deliberated his answer for a moment before taking a large step back and out of Kaede’s reach, grateful the counter she stood behind acted as a barrier to slow her down.

She read his expression immediately, and her brows pinched together in disapproval. “Inuyasha, what did you do?”

“First of all, I want to start off with the fact that I saved her life.” He began, defensively. “Just remember that, okay?”

“What did you do?” She repeated with condemnation.

“Nothing wrong, per se!”

“Don’t make me ask her myself.”

“No, don’t! She’ll just exaggerate!”

“Inuyasha!”

“I thought there was a bounty on her head, okay? Are you happy?” The hanyou barked.

“You did not!” Kaede had been friends with Inuyasha long enough to know how roughly he treated others, especially those he could get paid for. She’d even witnessed it a couple of times while Inuyasha brought them to the bar, eating and drinking in front of them, taunting them, making them wait out their sentencing for a bit longer. Personally, she thought it was sort of amusing since the majority of his victims had it coming. Not in this case, though.

“Well, you saw how messed up she looked! It was worse a couple days ago, so could you even blame me!?”

“Yes!”

“And, she had a horrible attitude for someone who’d just had their ass saved.” He growled, remembering her sassy remarks that got her into trouble with him. “The girl’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” Kaede threatened, preparing to hop over the counter, not even bothering to head to the side and exit the counter door.

“I let her go!” Inuyasha argued, holding up his hands before him to protect himself.

“Let her…” Kaede stopped with one foot pressed on the countertop, uncaring that her skirt was hiked with gravity and that she was exposed. She let his words process for a moment, steadily bringing her foot back to the ground. He let her go. He legitimately had her in captivity. No longer was she interested in getting the full story from this scummy ass half demon. She wanted to know exactly what he did, and she was going to get it from the honest source.

Calmly, she turned and opened the counter door, shutting it behind her with pursed lips, and she watched the realization dawn on Inuyasha’s face. Before he could stop her, though, she booked it, running down the hall and up the stairs, shoving the hanyou’s hands off of her whenever he tried to grab and stop her.

She threw the door open, spotting Kagome across the bedroom with large eyes and a startled frown. She was tense where she stood, her black hair tied back in a messy bun, a rosiness flooding in her cheeks as she relaxed at seeing it was only them.

“Kagome - don’t touch me, Inuyasha - Kagome, did this mother fucker -“

“Don’t tell her anything! She’s gonna kill me!”

“Shut up! Did this mother fucker abduct you? Did he threaten to -“

“Kagome, no!”

“- Sell you?”

There was a thick moment of silence. Kagome stared at the two in the entry, stunned, perplexed, wondering what she was now caught in the middle of. She watched Inuyasha’s heated expression crumble as he started laughing, hiding his amusement behind his hand as he folded over and braced himself on his thighs. Kaede, though, held onto her wrathful look, her brown eyes squinted with how deep set her brows sat.

“Yes.” She finally answered, nodding. “Yes, he did.”

“I saved her life first! I saved her life!” Inuyasha jumped up, backing away from Kaede as she raised her fist and threatened to hit him.

“Is that true, Kagome?” She asked.

“Mhm. Sort of.”

“But, then he thought there was a bounty on your head? Why?”

“He assumed I was on the run from someone because of my bruises. Didn’t believe me when I said I’d gotten myself into a different type of trouble, then chased me down, tied me up, and dragged me around for miles.”

“Dragged!? Don’t say dragged!” Inuyasha shouted, suddenly more concerned for his well-being than he was before. He flinched, holding his hands up when Kaede pulled her fist back again in a threatening motion. “She walked! I made her walk for a few miles!”

“No, no, that’s true!” Kagome quickly said, correcting her choice of vocabulary. “I wasn’t literally dragged, I promise!”

“What else?” Kaede demanded.

“Kaede, stop!” Inuyasha laughed. “She’s fine, just look at her.”

“I’m not talking to you, shit-for-brains!”

“He tied me to a couple trees, and called me a crybaby when we accidentally bonked heads.” Kagome added.

“‘Bonked’? Who the fuck says ‘bonked’?” Inuyasha ridiculed.

“Would you like me to use a worse term?” She shot back.

“No, no, ‘bonked’ is fine.” He chuckled, wincing when Kaede lurched at him again. God, he should have known that Kaede would take another female’s side over his own any day.

“And, then what?”

“That’s about it. He untied me after a while. Oh, but he did try to attack me with his sword, and I thought that was overkill.”

Inuyasha froze, his face paling as he watched Kaede’s attention slowly drift back to him, a furious fire igniting behind her eyes. She went to actually throw her fist at him, but he dodged, swerving around her, jumping on top of the bed to bounce to the opposite side, and ducking to hide behind Kagome where he knew he’d be safest. There was no fucking way Kaede would compromise Kagome’s security.

“It’s a misunderstanding!”

“How the fuck is that a misunderstanding!?”

Kagome stood there unfazed, wobbling forward and back as Inuyasha protected himself behind her, his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place as Kaede approached with heavy stomps.

“The first time, I was just trying -“

“First time!?”

“Let me explain! I was just trying to scare the attitude out of her!”

“Kind of worked.” Kagome muttered, knowing she was probably unheard over Inuyasha’s nervous yelling. Ironically, she felt completely disregarded despite literally behind held in the middle of their fight.

“Tessaiga didn’t transform, though! So, the second time I pulled it, I was just trying to see why!”

“It has a name?” Kagome grimaced, again going ignored.

“You should have never pulled it in the first place, you big-tittied man!”

“At no point did I actually plan on harming her with it!”

“I don’t care! Was Kagome even brandishing a weapon at you!?”

“She was acting high and mighty! I needed to put her in her place!”

Kagome grimaced again at his poor choice of words. He had quite the nerve to use her as a shield while being rude.

“Inuyasha, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry! Look, she’s fine! She’s totally fine! I didn’t hurt her, I promise! Tell her I didn’t hurt you, kid!”

Oh, now she’s being acknowledged. Kagome rolled her eyes, sighing out before dully saying, “He didn’t hurt me. He let me go that night, gave me some food, let me sleep, and even covered me with something so I’d be warm.”

For the second time that day, an irrational heat rushed to Inuyasha’s face. At no point had he considered she’d wake up and notice he’d done that, and instantly he was embarrassed. “No, I didn’t.” He retorted out of pure reaction when Kaede perked with a curious expression.

“Yeah, you did.” Kagome countered, peeking over her shoulder at him. “I saw it.”

“You must have been dreaming.” Inuyasha said, letting her go.

“It’s the whole reason I knew you were being attacked. I had your scent all over me, which attracted a couple of those demons my way.”

Kaede sniggered, pinching her lips together while she observed Inuyasha’s humiliation. Public affection in any way, shape, or form had never been his thing. It was why she was so shocked he’d walked in with a woman hanging on his arm in the first place, which she easily dismissed when she realized Kagome was severely ill. But, to know he’d taken it upon himself to make sure the girl kept warm in the middle of the night was something entirely new.

“Kagome, do you remember what it was?” She reached, never really pinging Inuyasha the type to carry a blanket around.

“Kind of. It was red. A jacket, maybe? Is it the thing you put in my bag?”

Kaede slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter behind her tightly-pressed palm when Inuyasha’s face burned even brighter. There was literally no disputing Kagome in the first place since she had traceable evidence, but Kaede knew exactly which garment Kagome was referring to. Inuyasha had been wearing the damned thing when they first met years ago. His father’s robe of the fire rat. Nowadays, he merely used it when the weather got a bit nippy since it was surprisingly cozy, but she knew it was a cherished item of his. The half demon’s face burned brighter, his lips pursing as he glanced over at Kaede when he fully came out from behind Kagome.

“If you’re going to hit me, just do it. Otherwise, go away.”

“I don’t really want to after that.”

“Go away then.”

“I feel like all is right in the world now.” Kaede teased, acting as if a weight had lifted from her chest by breathing deeply.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I sure am.” She grinned, shutting the door behind her on her way out.

“So,”

“No. Don’t start.” Inuyasha cut Kagome off, not even looking at her. “I’ll kick you out, too.”

Kagome swallowed her laughter, doing Inuyasha the favor of pretending she hadn’t seen his maddening blush. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Drop it.” He said, making himself comfortable on the side of the bed. It was nicely made and he laid back against the pillows, slightly propped up while his gaze rested on the ceiling.

At least he had part of the answer he was looking for the night before. About how Kagome had found him, or even knew he was under attack. He’d considered that maybe she’d turned around and headed in his direction instead of the one she’d left in, making it nothing more than a coincidence. Or, maybe she was being shady and followed him while he was too distracted by the other fuckers he was being stalked by. Apparently, someone had literally told her about it.

And, she came running.

Kagome pushed the curtains to stay open, sitting on the cushioned chair in the corner so that she could watch the sun set on the town outside. It was beautiful, the world painted in warm oranges that she appreciated to no ends. She didn’t care how common or cliche it was considered to adore sunsets. They brought her joy, and in this chaotic time they lived in, everyone should relish in those little, beautiful details the universe had to offer.

“My scent,” Inuyasha spoke from across the room, catching Kagome’s attention. He wasn’t looking at her, his silver lashes fluttering with each blink as he stared upward, his forearm resting just above his head on the pillow. “Did someone think you were me?”

“No, that’s not it.” She refuted with a soft sway of her head, eyes wandering back outside. She pulled her knees into her chest, adjusting the nightgown Kaede lent her to drape over her legs. “There were two of them, and they thought we were a bit closer than what we are and wanted to try and use me against you. They told me all about their attack, so I headed over to make sure you were alright. I’m really glad that I did.”

Inuyasha had to remind himself to neglect her last comment or else it would just be another thing that flustered him. Twice in one day was two times too many, so the last thing he was going to do was walk into another. Because, the first thought that came to mind was to ask, even now? Even after she’d been so cripplingly sick, even after she was debilitated and weak, even after she feared for her life and cried in secrecy? Even now, you’re still glad? And, he was positive she’d say yes. Even now. So, he avoided it altogether.

“Look, I just want you to know that I only put the damn robe on you in the first place because you were shivering like a fucking baby.”

“Okay,” Kagome said lightly, sucking on her bottom lip so she wouldn’t smile. Due to his deflecting demeanor, she was ninety-nine percent certain she was not and he was just trying to cover for himself. She didn’t fully understand why. She thought it was sweet of him. God forbid he do something genuinely compassionate without taking it back. Nevertheless, he seemed uncomfortable expressing such acts, and it wasn’t something she was going to force him to own up to. “I appreciate it either way.”

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “What did you mean, they wanted to use you against me?”

“Well, they said they’d win no matter what, but your sword was a nuisance, so they’d use me as a hostage so you’d give up. I kindly told them that wouldn’t work.”

He chuckled, pinching his brows as he imagined the ridiculous thought. “So, what happened after that?”

“I - uh - took care of them.” Kagome sheepishly admitted.

“You mean, you killed them?”

“Yeah.” She tried not to laugh. It felt apathetic to laugh, but it wasn’t their death she found humorous. It was more the way she was awkwardly dancing around the subject.

“So, that’s two. Who was the third?”

“Third?”

“You said you killed three men before saving my ass. Who was the third?” Inuyasha repeated, now looking at her. While the sun that set behind the hills wasn’t facing her, the rays of warm colors still hit her skin. It was too enrapturing to look away from, no matter how many times he inwardly told himself to do so. The oranges and pinks, the purples and yellows, the glowing highlights and soothing shadows adorned her better than he imagined anything ever could. The color in her cheeks had returned, and now were basked in hues no one would ever get the privilege of seeing on her at all hours of the day. Maybe that’s what made it better.

The eye closest to the lighting, her right eye, shimmered with high definition reds and golds, and the brown resembled the natural beauty of the forest floor. He’d visited the ocean, he’d seen bodies of water, he’d ambled through grass and fields of flowers, he’d seen the world, the pretty and the ugly, he’d walked through fire, traveled hills, climbed mountains, and ran through gardens of the most striking wonders, but nothing could ever take away his love for the woodlands. Nothing ever compared to the minerals that sparkled in the dirt, or the bark that patterned over aged trees. Nothing came close to the scent of burning wood in the middle of the night as he camped out, waiting for sunrise, and nothing could ever relate to the absolute and wonderful calm he experienced when his boots crunched against the fallen leaves, or when he waited out the moon, but especially when he watched the sun make its ascent through the sky. Her eyes took him there. He was laying on a bed in the middle of a room with no clear visual of anything outside, and Kagome’s eyes took him to that calm he desired whenever things got just a little too overwhelming.

With a sharp pinch of his claw against the palm of the same hand, Inuyasha was able to divert his attention back to the ceiling. The sun would completely be gone in a matter of moments, and she’d be safe to look at again without his mind running circles around him.

“Oh, he was watching from the sidelines. I couldn’t sneak past him, so I had to kill him.” Kagome answered.

“Savage.” He remarked.

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

It grew quiet for a while. Kagome watched the few people that were out make their way back home. She watched the mountain in the distance, the one the sun hid behind, shadow the grounds and darken their world. She tried to spot the moon in the sky but had no vantage point for that, but the way it glowed against the earth was still soothing and radiant.

She could tell Inuyasha wasn’t asleep from the way his breathing had never deepened or become rhythmic. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to simply be resting peacefully. While the silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, she still didn’t much want to sit in it right now. She’d been asleep for so long, woken up in silence, and truthfully, wanted to drown out any negative thoughts in her head that might potentially creep up. At the moment, she was fine, but she wanted to keep it that way.

“What’s your favorite color?” Kagome asked, making sure to keep her voice smooth so it wasn’t loud or startling.

Inuyasha’s eyes blinked open, brows furrowing perplexedly at her random question. Glancing her way, he noticed her patient grin, but he couldn’t pinpoint why she wanted to know something as inconsequential as that. “What?”

“What’s your favorite color?” She repeated in the same tone.

“Don’t have one.” He said, his frown remaining.

“Everyone has a favorite color.”

“Fine. Black.” He watched her head tilt to the side, her lips parting, but he beat her to the punch with her next statement by mockingly saying, “Black’s a shade, not a color.”

He listened for her giggle to die, rolling his eyes when he finally said, “I don’t know. Maybe blue. But, like, dark blue. Or, dark purple.”

“Oh, those are pretty.” Kagome remarked, setting her chin on the top of her knee. “Mine’s baby pink and lavender. I love Spring-time colors.”

Inuyasha didn’t say anything in response, but he was unfazed when she asked another question a small moment later.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“What is this, the question game?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Kagome countered. “I mean, I figured if all is well tomorrow, we’ll be going our separate ways, right? Why not get to know each other in the meantime? We’re both awake, we’re in the same room, nothing traumatic is happening for once, so why not actually hang out and talk?”

“Sounds stupid.”

“Humor me.”

“Fine. If it’ll shut you up.” He said dully. “Ramen. I like ramen.”

“Ramen’s good. I’ve only had it a couple of times. Mine’s chocolate. Cake. Chocolate cake.” It was actually horrible how much she loved chocolate cake. If it was the only thing she ate for the rest of her life, she’d find the life she lived to be quite fulfilling. “What’s your favorite animal? I know it’s not dogs.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” Inuyasha rolled his eyes again. “I really don’t have one of those, but because I know you’re gonna make me choose something, I’d have to say cats.”

“How ironic.”

Inuyasha grabbed the pillow next to him and chucked it at the girl in the corner, her laughter filling his ears as she protected herself in the nick of time. “Shut up and tell me yours.”

“Pandas.”

“Pandas? Fucking bears?”

“Yes, but they’re so cute and funny! More particularly, red pandas!”

“What the fuck is a red panda?”

“They’re smaller, and cuter, and well, red. And, they do this thing with their arms when they get scared where -“ She found herself mimicking the motions a red panda would make, noticing the odd way Inuyasha arched his brow at her, and her cheeks flushed embarrassingly. Even more so when he chuckled, but she laughed at herself, putting her arms down. “Never mind, forget that. What’s your favorite season?”

“Summer.”

“Autumn.”

“I thought you’d say Spring.” Inuyasha said, remembering her recent mention of Spring-time colors.

“I mean, Spring is pretty, but Autumn is prettier. When all the leaves change colors and begin to fall, and there’s that relieving nip in the air Summer was never kind enough to provide.”

“Alright, how many siblings do you have? I remember you bringing up your brother once.” He asked, participating in her little game, and Kagome grew visibly happier.

“Just one. My younger brother, Sota. But, my cousin, Miroku, and I are super close, so he’s practically my older brother. We were raised together, and after his dad died, my mom didn’t hesitate to take him in. What about you? Got any siblings?”

“Eh.” Inuyasha gave a small, distasteful grimace. “I mean, technically I’ve got a half brother, but he’s a bitch so not really.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You two don’t get along?”

“You could say that, but that would be putting it nicely. The douche has hated me since birth and doesn’t consider me family, so he can suck a dick and choke on it. He’s got a massive superiority complex and no actual personality to contribute, so I don’t even fucking care.”

“Well, good riddance.” Kagome huffed in agreement.

“Your turn.”

“Okay, how old are you?”

“Twenty. You’re eighteen, right?”

“Yeah. Nineteen, pretty soon. Speaking of ages, how old is Kaede?”

“Twenty-five or twenty-six, I think.”

“Oh, no way. I thought she was closer to our age.”

“Nah, she’s got a few years on us. She’ll be sprouting wrinkles in no time.”

“Twenty-six isn’t old.” Kagome giggled. “And, even if she does get a few, I’m willing to bet you’re the one that causes them.”

“Hey, I’ll gladly take credit for that.” He laughed.

“You’re so mean. How long have you two known each other?”

“Give or take five years or so.” Inuyasha answered.

“You guys are really close, it seems. Are you…”

“Ew, no.” He cringed, feigning a gag and making Kagome laugh. “I knew that was the next question you were gonna ask. We’re not each other’s type. Frankly, I’m convinced she likes women, but she has neither confirmed nor denied, and it’s none of my damn business.”

“Okay, okay, fair enough.” Kagome conceded, bracing her hands before her to relent. “Sorry I asked.”

“You should be. What about you? You got anyone waiting for you at home?”

“Given the context, I’m assuming you mean a significant other?” Kagome asked.

He grunted to confirm.

“No,” She shook her head, smiling. “No one like that. Just family waiting for me.”

“Which is your mom, cousin, and brother, right?”

“Right.”

“And, your dad passed?”

“Right.”

“How?”

“There was a huge, wild demon attack on my village when I was around twelve. We have a handful of demon slayers now, but several years ago we had less, so in order to defend our village, all capable parties had to fight back. We lost a good number of people that night, both my dad and my uncle included.” Kagome explained. She’d come to terms with the incident, and while she missed her papa so incredibly much, it wasn’t very difficult to talk about anymore.

“Wait, you and your cousin lost your fathers in the same night?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” She could practically hear the apology in his tone. “What about his mom?”

“Died in child birth. He never knew her.” She said. “He’s always had my mom as a maternal figure, and believe you me, she’s got plenty of motherly affection to spare. She’d take in a gnome and give it a home if she could.” Kagome joked.

“That’s an exaggeration, right?”

“Not in the least.” She stated frankly, shaking her head.

“A garden gnome? A clay figurine?”

“I said what I said, Inuyasha. If she could, she would.”

“So, she’s more the sweet and doting parent, huh?”

“No, my dad was.” Kagome laughed. “He hated disciplining us. I swear, sometimes it hurt his feelings to tell us we were in the wrong more than it hurt even us. My mom is sweet, yes, but that also made her more terrifying when she had to get stern.”

“Were you the problem child?” Inuyasha grinned crookedly.

“Nope, that trophy goes to Miroku. He’s a turd. Don’t get me wrong, I got into plenty of trouble, but rarely was I alone in my troublemaking.”

“There’s always a ring leader.” He chuckled.

“What about your parents?”

“Both dead.” Inuyasha said with a meager, one-shouldered shrug. “Old man died before I was even ten, and mom died when I was about fourteen.”

Kagome could tell by the way his amber eyes drifted an inch to the side for a moment, by the way his expression faltered minutely, by the way he didn’t delve further into the subject that it wasn’t a topic he liked to visit. She respected that, and she never wanted to see that pain etched across his face. Just because it was easy to talk about her own father’s death, didn’t mean it was the same for another. And, he’d lost them both. At so young an age, he was completely alone. She hoped she was wrong. She hoped she was being presumptuous. She hoped he had someone to lean on in his time of need.

“Day or night?” Kagome asked, changing their course.

“Day.” Inuyasha answered, once more looking at her.

“Same.”

“Alright, I’ve got one for you.” He said, sitting up a little more with a cunning expression. “Who are you looking for?”

Slowly, Kagome’s face shifted from content, to curious, to surprised, and he could barely bite back his amusement. Her brown eyes were wide but she had yet to say anything or swerve him away from the topic like she had the other night, instead mouth hanging agape, telling him his suspicions were correct.

“I’m assuming you couldn’t tell me before because you’re a conjurer and it’s conjurer-related, right?”

“Inuyasha -“

“Well, if that’s the case, I know you’re a conjurer now. Cat’s out of the bag, kid, so you may as well tell me who you’re after.”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Kagome nearly laughed. If persistent were a person, she would be looking right at him.

“Your refusal to tell me has made me extraordinarily interested. You did this to yourself.” Inuyasha shrugged carelessly. The way he stared aided in the pressure he added to receive an answer; expectant and pleased.

“You’re so nosy.”

“What’s it gonna hurt?”

“Me, honestly. You’ll most likely think I’m insane, say something rude, then hurt my feelings.” She stated lightly, slightly joking but also serious. In all consideration, this was Inuyasha.

“For you to be insecure about it before even mentioning the details tells me that you, too, think it’s pretty insane. So, since we’re on the same page, just tell me.”

“Yes, but I’m allowed to think that. It’s my business.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll keep my opinions to myself for now.” He compromised.

“For now?”

“Well, I can’t promise forever. Let’s be real, it’s not right to make promises I can’t keep. So, for now is the best I can give you, and I think it’s very generous.”

“Inuyasha, you’re seriously going to think I’m insane.” Kagome grumbled, slightly exasperated as she ducked her head against her knees, pulling her legs in just a smidge closer.

“In all honesty, I kind of already do, so might as well keep the trend going.”

“Yeah, that’ll convince me to tell you.” She murmured sardonically, and he chuckled, still hearing her clearly.

“Come on, Kagome. Who are you after?”

“Kikyo.” Kagome admitted, her tone soft.

“Who?”

She sighed deeply, sitting up and looking at him to speak a little clearer. “I was looking for a woman named Kikyo. Look, it’s complicated and a bit messy, so take that to heart as I elaborate, okay?”

“Alright.” He agreed, giving his undivided attention.

“The other day when I told you I was looking for someone, I was looking for Kikyo. She’s a conjurer. A really strong conjurer.”

“But, that’s changed?”

“What?”

“Well, you keep saying ‘was.’ Have your plans changed?”

“Yes, but only because she told me to stop looking for her and figure things out on my own.” Kagome huffed, frustration budding as she thought back to their conversation in the burning woods.

“When?” His brows furrowed speculatively. “You’ve been with me. Did you bump into her in the few hours we were apart?”

She grimaced prematurely, realizing just how crazy things were about to sound to someone who hadn’t been in her circle since the day things started. “Not quite. See, this is where things get a little weird. Kikyo likes to communicate with me in my… dreams? Subconscience?” Her tone had curved upward to speak of her uncertainty of how to phrase things.

At first, Inuyasha’s right brow arched, and she could see the information she’d just given him seeping in. Then, he blinked a few times, an inquisitive expression taking over before he pinched his lips into a tight line that she could only guess was to prevent him from saying anything judgmental.

“Hm.” He remarked intriguingly.

“Oh my god.” Kagome groaned, rolled her eyes and dropping her head back before pinning him with a warning glare.

“Please, go on.” He insisted, going right back to pressing his lips together, fighting the crinkle at the corners.

Despite how badly she wanted to chuck something at him, he technically wasn’t saying anything rude, so she begrudgingly obliged. “It started about a year ago where she would appear while I was sleeping and tell me, ‘the responsibility is ours.’ Nothing more, nothing less. Just that. At first, her visits were few and far between, but then they came more frequently after about half a year or so, and that’s when she finally took the opportunity to introduce herself. ‘The responsibility is ours.’ ‘Only we can end Naraku.’ ‘Prepare yourself.’ ‘The responsibility is ours.’ ‘The responsibility is ours.’” Kagome quoted, sneering in disbelief as she chuckled at herself. “You know, she’s really awful at explaining things. When you think about it, it’s actually kind of refreshing to see some human quirks in her, because the image I had of her was this perfect, flawless, powerful, unstoppable conjurer who was leading the war against evil. Turns out, she’s got faults too, and one of those happens to be details. Or, the lack thereof.”

“What makes you say that?” Inuyasha’s tone had surprisingly taken on a more serious note, rumbling huskily as he spoke, but he gazed at her patiently while she explained.

“Her repetition, her generalized statements, I thought they were going to all of us. Conjurers, I mean. She said ‘ours’ so many freaking times, and she never once addressed me by name to suggest her message was individualized.”

“But, it was?”

“Apparently.” Kagome scorned. “It wasn’t until the night I left home that she came and actually spoke to me. Every other message was very impersonal, but this time, she said my name. She told me it was time to go, reaffirming my decision to head out. See, I always thought that I’d get a heads up from her that the time was nearing, but after watching the little conjurer get killed, I made the decision on my own. I was so tired. I’m sure you understand what it’s like to be on a hit list and having to hide who you are. Or, hide in general. It’s hard watching how difficult this can be on others, how life has changed over the course of five years, the destruction, the mayhem, the anger, and pain, and hopelessness, and fear. The little girl was the last straw. I should have never allowed it to go that far.”

“Stop. You’re going down a dangerous route. Pull back.” Inuyasha reminded firmly. He could see the emotions written on her face, in the way her eyes had drifted to the floor. It’s easy to believe mistakes are your own fault, especially detrimental ones. When you’re involved, it’s exceedingly more difficult to remember the blame belongs solely to the perpetrators.

“It’s true, though.” She whispered.

“So, it fueled you to take a step forward?”

“Yeah.” Still, her voice was barely evident, but as she glanced up at the hanyou, she noticed his stare, his vivid and glowing eyes were trying to guide her away from the harmful aspects of the subject. And, she took his hand, following his lead as she swallowed thickly to figuratively push negative thoughts away and continue on with her story, her voice returning to normal. “Yes. Even though the plan wouldn’t be carried out as it had originally been constructed, I felt like I had to do something immediately. I dozed off waiting for the right time to slip out, meaning everyone would be asleep, and there she was. Kikyo was right outside my house in my dream, telling me to get up and go. She even said my name, which, until that point, I didn’t know she knew. Next time I saw her was two nights ago while I was with you. She yelled at me.”

Inuyasha chuckled lightly at the casual way Kagome slipped that in. “For what?”

“Getting myself into trouble with you.” She laughed, bowing her head in shame. “She didn’t like that too much.”

“How’d she even know?”

“She’s got a pet snake. Let’s just leave it at that. That’s a whole other story for a different day.” Kagome dismissed with a wave of her hand, grimacing. “That was when she told me to stop looking for her, though. She let me know it was just she and I against Naraku.” Kagome paused, letting her own words sink in with herself. Suddenly, a wave of turbulence jostled her mind, releasing a belated reaction to the reality of her situation. “It’s absurd. Oh my god, it’s - it’s absurd. All this time, I thought she was building an army, and it’s just she and I! And, we can’t be near each other, otherwise Naraku will find out and we’ll be, as she claimed, ‘sitting ducks.’ What’s even crazier is she said she’s the distraction and I’m the weapon. What does that even mean!? A weapon!? I get my ass beat three days in a row, but yeah, sure, I’m the secret weapon that’s going to take down this supreme madman. Logic - out the window! Stop looking at me like that!”

“You’re going a little nuts over there; you can hardly blame me.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I feel like you’ve been sitting on this information for a couple days and it’s just now hitting you.” Inuyasha stated warily.

“That’s because it is!” Kagome declared, flustered.

“You told me I would think you’re insane. I was prepared for insane, so why weren’t you?”

“Because, I was focused on the fact that it’s weird to have someone casually strolling in and out of your subconscience. I hadn’t thought about how crazy it would sound that I’m a weapon in a party of two destined to fight Naraku. And, what about this responsibility thing? How is this my responsibility? Is it because I’m a conjurer? I mean, I’m here. I’m going to fight. I volunteered either way. I just want to know when and how this became obligatory! Make it make sense, Kikyo!”

“You’re…” Inuyasha paused, gathering Kagome’s reaction in, her irate demeanor, her body language and the way she expressed herself with flinging arms. “Whining.”

“I’m upset!”

“Alright, alright! Never thought I’d say this, but I miss your broken voice. You get all high-pitched when you’re freaking out. It’s like listening to a whistle.”

“I can get louder!” She threatened.

“Please do not.” He flinched at the thought, ears pressing back against his head. “Look, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re insane for any of the listed reasons you gave.”

Though she still appeared aggravated and conflicted, Kagome steadily began to settle. She appreciated the way Inuyasha wasn’t judging her for the things that now had her feeling like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff. She appreciated the way his gaze held stable on her, and how it inadvertently seemed to stabilize her own emotions. “You don’t?”

“Not really. I think you’re a little insane for not processing everything sooner and then having a moment right now, but honestly that’s not all that surprising to me anymore.”

Kagome took the pillow he’d thrown at her earlier and tossed it right back at him with as much fervor as she could muster. The half demon grabbed the pillow in time, easily defending himself and laughing.

“Tell me when I would have had the time, Inuyasha.”

“Uh, in the time we were apart.” He suggested mockingly.

“I had thought about it, yes, but it was more about my next move. I’d always thought my goal would be to find Kikyo. Find Kikyo, and the rest of the path is laid out before you. Then, just like that, everything had changed, and I had to determine where I was going next. I mean, I thought I had processed everything then and I was just taking it super well.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t seem to be the extremely rational or logical type who understands the situation immediately. You’re more emotion-driven, so of course it’s not going to sink in until you really get the opportunity to feel the issue out.”

He was right. Kagome hated that he was right, but he was right. Even more so, she hated that he’d figured her out in just two day’s time and she couldn’t bounce a you don’t know me off of him. Her cheeks flushed furiously, heat flooding over, and she couldn’t determine if it was because she was frustrated or flabbergasted.

“Yeah? Well, you’re immature and just as emotional as I am. You react irrationally, and you probably act before you think.” Kagome countered.

“All true, but this isn’t about me.” He smirked.

It was the way her comment just rolled right off of him, the way he agreed, the way he grinned, the way he teased her that interestingly had her attitude crumbling away, bringing her to laugh no matter how badly she’d attempted to fight it off. Kagome had told herself nothing was funny, pressed her mouth shut, and tried to force herself to stay mad, but it didn’t matter. It all melted away, and she laughed. Truth was, it was funny. It was so chaotic, it was humorous. Kagome had just absolutely freaked out while telling her own story, and the half demon opposite her could only stare at her awkwardly and essentially tell her to chill the fuck out. She was the one that was supposed to be telling him that. He was supposed to be calling her crazy for thinking some ethereal woman was visiting her to give her some “chosen one” arc, and he merely thought she was crazy because she was just now realizing what this all meant. When and how did things get so turned around?

Honestly, Kagome felt she should stop asking questions like that. At this point in time, there was no making sense of things. There was simply going with the flow and taking it all with a grain of salt, because she had a huge feeling things wouldn’t be lining up for a while.

“So, this Kikyo. Is this the Kikyo?” Inuyasha asked, and Kagome’s expression sort of lit up.

“You’ve heard of her, too?”

“Vaguely. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s widely hated in the demon community. The demon’s for Naraku, that is. Makes sense that she’s a conjurer, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s sort of what got me into massive trouble with Naraku’s henchmen.” Kagome watched Inuyasha’s brows furrow in question, so she took the opportunity to give him more context. “The little girl, she was so scared. I just wanted to give her some hope, so I told her Kikyo was going to kill Naraku and the conjurers would win. Turns out, I’d said it a little too loud. There was so much commotion, and I didn’t realize I was within earshot of one of the demons, and that’s when he manhandled me.” She said, exhibiting her fading neck bruise with a glide of her hand. “This was when I thought she was communicating with all conjurers, though. Neither the girl nor her mother knew what I was talking about, so I had to lie my way out of it.”

“You had good intentions. I’d say it was worth it.”

“Yeah. I don’t regret it.” Kagome gave a small smile.

“You said Kikyo was strong?”

“I mean, she has to be. Don’t you think? With the way she can talk to me, with how she’s been surviving all this time, and she’s even got a reputation with Naraku. To me, that says she’s extremely powerful.”

“But yet, she’s the distraction and you’re the weapon.” Inuyasha stated more than asked.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either.”

“Did you bother asking for clarification?”

“I did. She said I’m supposed to be stronger than her. According to her, I just need to stop holding back and apply myself.”

“Bullshit.” He shot, feeling defensive over Kagome. “That’ll get you killed. You didn’t hold back yesterday, and look what happened to you. There’s so much fucking more that goes into learning how to control your power; it isn’t just about not holding back.”

“Well, I think she meant it more along the lines of holding myself back. Maybe that’s what she said - I don’t know, it’s hard to remember our conversation clearly. When I was training with Miroku and Sango, I would have to really control how much power I released to make sure nothing stood out among the villagers. Like, we couldn’t be completely demon-attack-free, because that would be conspicuous. Because of that, I never really got a good feel of what I could do besides fend off one or two demons at a time.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s in the same realm, Kagome. Apply yourself, sure. But, you and I have both seen what not holding yourself back can and will do to you. No, you didn’t know what would happen, but now that you do and you’re aware of what you’re capable of, you need to make sure your body can handle that. I don’t know what sort of training course she endured to get herself where she is, and I sure as hell don’t fucking know her strength firsthand, but I know yours. She wants you to catch up to her, and I get that the pressure is on, but the expectations aren’t fucking fair. Did she even tell you how to handle your power?”

“No. I asked her to train me and she said she couldn’t because of the whole sitting duck thing.”

“So, it’s up to you to figure it out on your own?”

“Basically. And, it’d be damn near impossible to find another conjurer to help.”

“Right. Her standards are fucking unrealistic as shit.”

“Inuyasha, why are you so upset?” Kagome asked, slightly taken aback. His jaw had flexed and he seemed irrationally peeved for her situation.

“I’m not.” He declared unconvincingly.

“You’re mad.”

“She’s going to get you killed, Kagome. And, for what? You don’t even fucking know why you’re involved.”

“Because, I’m a conjurer.”

“And?”

“I know, Inuyasha. This is confusing for me, too. Now, you can understand why I wasn’t handing things too well a moment ago.” She said, her temperament spiking once more. She wasn’t nearly at the level she sat at before, nor was she matching Inuyasha’s attitude, but she still huffed in agreement. It was trivial and terrifying, and if she just knew more about the situation, maybe she’d feel a little better about things, but she had so little to go off of while monumental events stood before her. The expectations were drastic while her experience was limited, and again, nothing was matching up.

“Why were you so concerned about me thinking you were insane when Kikyo’s right fucking there? She should at least be required to give you a reason as to why she’s filling out your will for you.”

“I told you she’s not great with detail. She even admitted she’s been told she could be more direct.”

“This isn’t the fucking time to play guessing games. If there’s a question she knows the answer to, she should just fucking answer it.”

“But, we’re two different people and maybe spiritual powers aren’t the same for each individual. Playing devil’s advocate, maybe there isn’t one specific path we can all follow in learning how to control our powers because it’s different for everyone.”

“Did she tell you that, herself?”

“Well, no -“

“Exactly.”

“Inuyasha, what I’m saying is, she can’t know everything. Like I said before, it was refreshing to see some human characteristics from her, because she came off so flawless and omniscient. Maybe, she couldn't give me more than what she had because she doesn’t know what I need to do in order to catch up.”

“Have you seen her powers at work?”

“No, I haven’t. But, take her reputation into consideration.”

“Oh, I am. Believe me, I am. You don’t make an enemy like that without some sort of immeasurability.”

“Right. I really don’t know where I come into the picture, but I have to trust Kikyo in this. She’s an enemy of the enemy, we share the same fate, so if we’re the only ones who can face Naraku, then I’ll do it.”

“That’s the thing, though. You’re wrong. You’re both wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t the only ones who can fight him. Not even close. Naraku’s strong, yes, but he’s no god. No matter how delusional he is in thinking so, he’s not immortal. Naraku’s nothing but a self-created half demon.” Inuyasha stated, watching Kagome’s expression widen. “There are plenty of others who plan on fighting against him. It’s all about finding the motherfucker first. If there’s anything he’s good at, it’s hiding.”

It took a moment for Kagome to really process what he’d just said. Naraku wasn’t a full-blooded demon? He was a half demon? There were others, just like she’d initially suspected. In the span of thirty seconds, Kagome had received enough information to stun her.

“First - first of all, how did you know that?” She asked, completely dumbfounded.

“Infiltration. I passed him once. Won’t work again. It was towards the very beginning of his rise, and skipping over the minor details, I got a glimpse of him at his most vulnerable.”

“Wait, no, don’t skip over any details! Please!”

“Kagome, it doesn’t fucking matter. I’m telling you what does. He was causing hell, I snuck in, I found out that he’s a half demon.”

“Does he know you know?”

“I’d be dead if he did. No, he doesn’t know I know. Every half demon’s got a monthly moment of weakness where their human state takes over, and his was disgusting and inhuman. I don’t know what the fuck he did to become the creature he is, but because he was incapacitated, he didn’t even realize I was there. I was young, and I had my mother -“ He halted, redirecting his sentence. “I had other things to take into consideration. So, I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t. It was risky enough sneaking in; I couldn’t take any chances. For the first time in my life, I was too rational for my own good. I had the opportunity and backed out. And, it’s my one regret in life.”

“What? Why?”

“Look at all the hell he’s brought since then, Kagome.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I could have prevented all of this if I had just killed him then.”

“Inuyasha, you were a kid.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Of course, it does. Not to mention, a guy like him would never fully let his guard down. There may always be someone at his side watching, and you could have died. Your younger self considered that then and turned around. No one would blame you for that. I certainly don’t. If you had someone or something important to think about, then you did the right thing by leaving Naraku alone.” Kagome attested.

“Whatever. Forget it.” He sighed heatedly. “The point is, I’m after Naraku, too. I know an entire tribe who wants his head. I know humans who would pay to have him killed. This is Naraku we’re talking about, he’s made nothing but enemies. So, Kikyo needs to chill out with this whole the responsibility is ours shit.”

Kagome sat on all of that for a moment, taking in Inuyasha’s steadfast glare and hardened brow, his set jaw and hardly-noticeable frown, the same determination she’d like to claim she, herself, radiated. He was after Naraku. Inuyasha, the first person she’d met on her journey, was also after Naraku. Maybe that’s why she was so interested in him when they’d first met, maybe that was why she wasn’t as afraid of him as she knew she should have been. Maybe her intuition was telling her he was more than trustworthy, and more than just an ally. Maybe it was fated for them to meet.

It wasn’t something she felt bold enough to mention aloud, though. Fate was a controversial topic, and at this point, it was nothing more than a fleeting contemplation. Throwing the thought out there would surely get her weirder looks than she’d already received, and with how tense things were in the room, Kagome didn’t know if it was the right thing to talk about at the moment. She needed to deliberate on it. She needed to see how it settled in her gut before bringing anything to Inuyasha’s attention.

“The - uh - the second thing I’d wanted to ask was sort of answered already, but I just want to make sure I’ve got it all.” Kagome prefaced. “You said you saw Naraku in a debilitated state, right? That he was in his weakened, human form, but was also… inhuman?”

“I don’t know how to describe it, if that’s what you’re looking for. It was sort of like his head was basking in a jumbled mess of demon intestines.”

She wavered in a disgusted manner.

“Yeah, I know.” He remarked.

“So, that made you think he’s a half demon?”

“No, that let me know he was a half demon. An unnatural one.” Inuyasha stated pridefully. “Trust me, Kagome, if anyone’s able to tell, it’s me.”

“That’s fair. So, are you part of a group prepared to take him on?”

The hanyou scoffed, shaking his head as a small smirk appeared across his face, golden eyes blinking to the side. “No fucking way. Do I look like a groupie to you? I do things on my own, in my own way, and in the end it’s going to be half breed against half breed.”

“Wait, you’re committed to a solo mission, but you’re against mine and Kikyo’s?”

“Yes and no. I’m against yours because you don’t know what you’re doing at no fault of your own. I’m against yours because you’re being told to leap when you haven’t even learned how to jump, and you’re prepared to do so because you’re naive enough to think someone knows what’s best for you just because they’re another conjurer. I don’t care if you, or Kikyo, or anyone else makes it to the battle field. In fact, if you do, even better. It can be an all out war for all I care. What I’m saying is, it’s going to be me that brings Naraku’s era to an end.”

Kagome had to respect his pugnacity. If he did get the final blow, he’d definitely deserve that victory. No matter what, it would be a win for everyone.

He was right, she didn’t know what she was doing. Yet. Kikyo was holding things off until Kagome was ready, and she was more than willing to give the stronger conjurer the benefit of the doubt. She said she had potential, but Kagome was willing to bet that not even Kikyo knew she had the power she’d exhibited yesterday under her belt. Kagome had to focus on learning how to handle it, and she would. She’d go from where she was comfortable and begin pushing forward. She’d take the power she regularly used in her routine training with Miroku and Sango and present more until she found her natural limit. That was where she’d exercise it until her body was adjusted. Until that boundary became comfortable so that she could then push that. It was all a matter of time, and Kagome would be sure to catch up. It wasn’t Kikyo’s will anymore. It was her own.

“Look,” Inuyasha spoke lowly. “I gave you information I’ve never given to anyone else before. Don’t go telling anyone Naraku’s a half demon, I’m serious. Tell that to the wrong person and it’ll get you killed faster than you can imagine. I want to believe you’ll go far, but you’ve gotta be smart about shit.”

Kagome nodded, “I understand. I won’t tell anyone other than Kikyo.”

“Good. You should go to sleep.”

“No, I’m okay.” She shook her head. She felt wide awake, and there was no way she’d be able to sleep after receiving all of that information. She needed to sort it all out and file it away categorically. She needed to make sure she remembered every minor detail Inuyasha had kindly given her. She needed to remember his defensiveness over her own conflicting situation. It was one thing for him to call her names, which she half expected at this point, but she never pictured him expressing passion over an issue that didn’t belong to him. Inuyasha, though rough around the edges, was truly a good person. And, it helped aid in her drive. “I basically slept from last night until this evening. I’m tired of being in bed.”

“I don’t care. You may feel better, but you still look exhausted. If I were you, I’d take advantage that you have the option. At least lay down.”

Again, he was right. Kagome unfurled from her spot on the chair, looking at the futon on the floor as she leaned to head in that direction.

“No.” He stopped her, his tone more demanding than necessary. “Take the bed.” Inuyasha stood, pointing to the mattress.

“I don’t mind the futon.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You should take the bed tonight.”

“I’m most likely not going to sleep.”

“If I were you, I’d take advantage that you have the option.” Kagome echoed, deepening her voice almost derisively.

“I wasn’t the one puking my brains out last night.” Inuyasha growled. “Get your dumbass in the bed.”

“It’s not that I don’t want the bed, I just think that it would be more fair if I took the futon.”

“Are you really arguing about being fair right now?”

“You slept on it last night, so tonight you deserve the bed.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Well, I want the futon.” Kagome laughed, dropping to her knees on the cushion and crawling over it.

“I said, take the bed.” Inuyasha growled deeper, stomping over to the infuriating woman.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Stop! Don’t touch me!”

“Last chance!” He warned, but she gave no signs that she’d scamper away, so the hanyou grabbed Kagome around her waist, pulled her up like a sack of rice, and tossed her over his shoulder, all the while she was laughing and yelping.

“Put me - ouch! Put me down!”

“Alright.” He muttered as he dropped her on the mattress.

Kagome was quick to grab the end of her gown, making sure it didn’t expose too much of her legs as she was bounced on the bed. “God, your shoulder is freaking bony.” She groaned.

Inuyasha fought back his grin, instead shooting up both middle fingers at her. Kagome grimaced mockingly in retort, adjusting herself to sit up.

“Why are you so aggressive? Wait, no! How’s your shoulder? You didn’t open the wound doing that, did you?” She asked, her attitude quickly shifting from teasing to concerned.

“It’s fine.” Inuyasha rolled his eyes, strolling back over to the futon. “I told you it’d be fine. I checked it a little while ago. There’s no chance of it opening again.”

“Is it still bandaged?”

“Shut up.”

“Is it still bandaged?” She repeated, a little more pressingly.

“Yes, Kagome. It’s bandaged. I changed them and everything.” He replied, kicking off his boots and laying down. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I do know how to take care of myself.”

“God forbid someone shows that they care about you.” Kagome grumbled, rolling her eyes just as he would. She turned around, pulling down the blankets so she could crawl beneath and get comfortable.

“I don’t need you to care about me.”

“Well, too bad, buddy. You got it.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Is it really so bad to have someone care about you? Are you scared or something?” Kagome jokingly taunted.

Yes, he was. He was terrified of her. And, she needed to shut the fuck up while she was still ahead, because she’ll never know a damn thing about it.

“I’m glad your shoulder is better.” She mentioned after a small moment, dropping all edge to her tone. “And, I’m sorry I noticed it so late.”

Kagome didn’t mind the silence. She didn’t mind his gruffness. Well, she did, but in this circumstance, she really didn’t find it offensive. He had his own unconventional way of showing he cared, and she had a more surface-level way of expressing it. Inuyasha was a good person. He really was. She liked to imagine he forced her to take the bed because it was more comfortable, and that simple act alone showed just how kind he was beneath the surface.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome spoke softly, cuddling into her pillows after freeing her hair from the messy knot it was in.

“Hm?” He grunted.

“You mentioned your mother when you said you saw Naraku in his vulnerable form.”

“No, I didn’t.” Inuyasha stated, very direct in his way of maneuvering the topic away from that. He rested on the futon, his shirt now untucked for a little more comfort, uncovered, and an arm resting behind his head. His amber eyes stared at the ceiling, a bristling sensation running over his skin at the mention of his mother.

“No, no, I’m not going to ask anything personal. I promise.” Kagome swore, worrying her bottom lip as she sensed Inuyasha’s discontent. She’d observed the way he’d corrected himself when initially mentioning his mom, and it was easy to understand that it wasn’t something he was willing to casually discuss. Nor would she think it was her place to make him. “It just had me thinking of the timeframe of things.”

“What?”

“Well, Naraku became known about five years ago, right? Four and a half, maybe? But, your mother died when you were fourteen, which was -“

“Six years ago, yes.” He said. “What, did you think Naraku just rose from the earth and started wreaking havoc? Everyone’s got a beginning, a middle, and an end, Kagome. Even he had to start somewhere.”

She felt stupid for not considering that. Kagome should have pieced together that Naraku wouldn’t just wake up one morning and decide to become a serial killer or commit genocide. He had a beginning. Before the rise she knew from him, he was still around, still perpetrating evil acts, they just went unknown to those outside of the circle it happened within.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Something tells me you’re going to no matter what, so go for it.” Inuyasha responded.

She stifled her giggle. “How much is the room?”

“Hm?”

“How much is Kaede going to charge you for the room?”

“What does it matter?”

“I’d like to contribute.” Kagome stated matter-of-factly. “I have some money, and it’s not right to expect you to pay for it all.”

“It’s fine.” He said, closing his eyes. “I don’t care about that.”

“Inuyasha -“

“Seriously. It’s not a big deal. I already paid the wage, so don’t worry about it.”

“That was - that was really nice of you. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you so much.” Kagome smiled.

“I have my moments. Will you go to sleep now?” It came as more of an instruction than a legitimate question that needed answering, so Kagome sighed out and closed her eyes, snuggling into her quilt as she pulled it closer to her face.

It was surprising what a little comfort could do for her right now. In the span of mere minutes, she went from wide awake to significantly drowsy. Kagome had thought she’d be laying there for hours, but just like that, in the warmth of the bed, in the softness of the blankets, of the fresh nightgown she wore, in the safety and security beneath both Inuyasha’s and Kaede’s protection, Kagome grew heavy in her spot before drifting into slumber.

—

The conjurer gazed at herself in the mirror in the bathroom. The mark around her neck was a soft hint of yellow, and while she felt it was gross the more she stared at it, it was also hardly noticeable anymore. Distracting herself, Kagome brushed her hair, then finished tightening and tying off her bodice, her shirt beneath slightly bunching, which she straightened out the best she could.

There was a violent flurry of butterflies in her abdomen, and nothing she’d done had yet to quell them. After letting the notion from last night really settle and sink in, Kagome honestly felt like it was true. This was fated to happen. Coincidence wasn’t this particular. He’d saved her, kept her with him - forcefully, of course, let her go, only for something to happen that made them rejoin. Lo and behold, she finds out they’re literally on the same course. So, why not do it together? It made sense to her, and it was the first thing in a long time that made sense. Now, she just needed to make it make sense to Inuyasha.

With one final, deep breath, Kagome opened the door to exit the bathroom, finding Inuyasha facing out the window. He was dressed, his sword attached to his hip, and his light hair pulled back into a ponytail that hung long. He’d said they’d get ready, have breakfast, then head out on their own, so she figured he was waiting for her.

“Hey,” Kagome started, trying not to bob from foot-to-foot nervously. She didn’t understand why, exactly, she was so uneasy about asking this. It was a simple yes or no question, if you thought about it. The worst he could say was no, and then she’d move on with her life. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh-oh. That’s never good.” He teased, looking over his shoulder.

“Ha-ha.” Kagome rolled her eyes. “Look, we’re both after the same thing, right? We both want to take down Naraku. Well, don’t you think it’d be more efficient if we did it together?”

There was a minor twitch in his brows, the corners of his lips arching downward before he spoke, turning around to fully face her. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve never thought it would be wise for anyone to face this lunatic on their own. Personally, that was never actually in my plan. I don’t care what Kikyo says; the more we have on our side, the better. I don’t picture Naraku as invincible, but I also don’t want to underestimate him, either. He’s got this reputation for a reason. He’s capable of killing off so many for a reason. To think that a single person could potentially be responsible for his demise is a stretch. So, if we have the same goal in mind, why don’t we do this together? Instead of going out on our own after breakfast, I think we should team up. What do you say?”

Inuyasha stared at her for a second, his lips sealed shut as he hardened himself. Travel with Kagome? Keep things going as they are? No, in fact, it’d end up being more personal. She’d be by his side, she’d fight by his side, they’d go into battle together, be a team. He couldn’t have that.

It wasn’t about how much he hated the idea of banding together with someone to complete an objective. It wasn’t even about how much he’d never enjoyed the concept of relying on someone else. It was about how uncomfortable he'd started feeling around her. How unsettled he got whenever she smiled at him, how warm or welcoming her energy felt, and how off-putting that was to him. It was about the fact that Inuyasha felt it growing easier and easier to joke around and view her as an actual person as opposed to just some measly girl he met wandering in the woods at the most inopportune time.

Kagome was sensible, he’d give her that. But, it was better for him to remain alone. For his own sake. He had a feeling Kagome would grow argumentative if he said a simple decline, though, so he planned to make the notion completely undesirable for her.

“Not interested.” Inuyasha stated with a curl of his upper lip. “Do I look like a bodyguard to you?”

“What? No, that’s not -“

“I know that’s not what you meant, but that’s what would end up happening. We met how long ago? And, how many times have I saved your ass? Don’t think I see that as mere happenstance; I can tell that it’s a trend with you. You’ve always gotta have someone there to cover for you when you get in over your head, which is most likely way more often than you’re willing to admit. Probably why you originally had your cousin and friend enlisted to come with you. Speaking of which, you said your cousin’s got a broken rib, right? Got it from trying to protect you from Naraku’s demons? See where I’m going with this? No way am I signing myself up for that bullshit.”

An icy sensation began creeping over Kagome as each word he spoke struck her in her most sensitive insecurities. Was this really what he thought of her? One second, he admired her strength, but now all of a sudden, she was too weak to even take care of herself?

“I - I saved you, too.” Was all she could say in that moment. She deserved her fair share of credit. Inuyasha didn’t get the right to be impressed only to malign her out of nowhere.

“Sure,” He shrugged his brows, unaffected. There was a small sneer within his tone, and she caught it loud and clear. “And, I had to turn around and pull you out of there before you got yourself caught and killed. In my opinion, that negates your effort.”

“Hey!”

“No, Kagome. You’d only end up slowing me down and holding me back. Worse, you might even get me killed. You’re hopeless. You don’t know what you’re doing. Why would I want to keep that around?”

Kagome could only flinch at his harsh statements, each sentence punching her, burning her, creating a heavy weight within her stomach that brought it to sink lower and lower.

“I’m not going to squander all of my crusades to protect you. I’m not going to waste my fucking time keeping you alive when you’re nothing but a magnet for trouble.” He didn’t believe a word he said. In fact, he’d never meant to go quite this far. All of it just tumbled from his mouth, meaningless, but he could see that it held plenty of meaning for the woman opposite him. No matter. He was in too deep, and there was no way she’d want to team up with him now. “Kagome, you left home how many days ago? Four? Five? It’s been less than a fucking week, and look where the fuck you are. I said I wouldn’t say anything rude last night, and I kept my promise, but it’s a new day. Want to know what I really think? You’re a fucking idiot. You can’t do anything right. Not on your own. You cant even protect yourself, so it’s not right of you to expect me to do it for you. If Kikyo won’t even take you, what makes you think I will?”

Just like that, he regretted everything. He’d gone too far with that one. He’d said way more than necessary. He should have stopped when he realized he was pushing it. He should have stopped prior to that. Kagome was crushed, he could see the pain in her eyes. There was no taking back something like that, though, and he couldn’t stand to look at her right now. So, Inuyasha spun around on his heel, once again looking out the window.

He’d just reaffirmed every negative thing she’d been thinking about herself. She thought she was a failure, and so did he. She thought she was helpless, and so did he. She thought she was ridiculous for thinking she could take on this large of a mission, and so did he. So did he. She thought they were friends, she thought they had a mutual respect for each other, but apparently he thought even less of her than she even did.

It was so incredibly hard to pick her head up in that moment. It was so difficult to tell herself that she could do what she’d come to do, that everything that had occurred was a series of unfortunate events that no one could have ever predicted, that she’ll get better with time and experience and practice, and when it came down to it, she’d be as fearsome as she once believed she was meant to be. She couldn’t do it. Not right now. Not when his words still swam in her mind, repeating themselves, solidifying her weaknesses and insecurities. Kagome felt worthless. She felt vile. She felt horrible and admonished.

The pain was thick, but the last thing she would ever do was allow Inuyasha the satisfaction of thinking he was right. Kagome wouldn’t let him to see her cry. Just beneath that sadness, that hurt, sat a bubbling layer of anger. How dare he? Who the hell did this guy think he was? No one gets to speak to her that way. It didn’t matter if they were right, it didn’t matter if they’d saved her life more than once, none of that was relevant. That did not give them the justification to speak down to her like she was nothing.

If he didn’t want to be partners, fine. A simple no would have sufficed, but fine. If he didn’t want to be friends, then good. Neither did she. Good riddance. If he didn’t like her, then that was his prerogative. She was still a person with feelings, a person with a good heart, a person who deserved at least an ounce of respect, so she’d do the right thing and be the one to respect herself. It was more beneficial than expecting the bare minimum from a guy as disagreeable as Inuyasha.

Kagome notched her chin upward, sucking in a heated breath as she turned around. There was no way in hell she was sitting through breakfast with Inuyasha, or even spending one more worthless moment in his presence. Her time would be better spent getting as far away from him as physically possible. The other side of the planet would do.

She found her bag and weapons in the corner, crouching before it all and reaching into the pouch. Her medical supplies were already stored away, everything was arranged, but she reached in and yanked out Inuyasha’s stupid, red robe, dropping it on the futon. Then she grabbed her little sack of money, pulling out a few coins that she felt was more than enough to cover her share. Kagome pulled the drawstring tight, strapped her bag over her shoulders, then her quiver of arrows, followed by her bow.

The remorse sat heavily on Inuyasha’s shoulders, within his abdomen. He hated everything he’d said, hated more so that he’d hurt her so easily. So quickly. She was feisty and quick to argue, so it shocked him when she could barely say anything in return. Kagome hardly attempted to contradict his false statements. Was there a chance she thought the same of herself? Was there a chance she was fighting herself over what she’d been through? No, it didn’t make sense. There was no way that was the case, because even he couldn’t convince himself that anything he’d claimed was true. She knew herself better than he did, so there was no way she’d succumb to believe a damn thing he’d just said. He’d probably just scraped her feelings a bit. Kagome seemed to be on the sensitive side.

It was wrong of him to jump to his decision so quickly, he knew that. Even worse was going down the irrational route he had out of anxiety. Truth was, mere seconds after saying all he had, he couldn’t find any actual harm in traveling together. If it was just because he wasn’t mentally prepared to rely on another, to think well of another, to potentially be any amount of vulnerable around another, then it really had nothing to do with her. Inuyasha should sit on it, think it through. He should consider the pros and cons and determine the right road to head down. Maybe even take things by trial. If they mesh well, if they can keep up with one another, then maybe it wouldn’t be so horrible.

He could hear her grabbing her things. Who would want to stick around after something like that? He could hardly blame her. No matter how much he wanted to stop her and tell her to calm down, he was in no position to do so. They needed space. He’d gone way over the line from the moment he’d opened his fucking mouth. Chances are, she wouldn’t get far. He could sniff her out easily; he’d gotten plenty used to her scent by now. She could go storm off all she wanted, get some fresh air, be as mad as she needed to be, and he’d catch up later to set things straight.

At the bang of her hand against the tabletop next to the bed, Inuyasha whipped his head around to look over his shoulder. Kagome pierced him with a dangerous glare, her fist atop the wood clenched tight until it opened to release a decent amount of money, the coins clinking as they hit one another. Her plush lips were pressed into a deadly frown, and her brows were deeply furrowed. Everything about her radiated a loathing rage, the hurt he’d gifted fuming passionately within her.

Before he could speak, even say her name, she beat him to the punch. Kagome was ready to leave, her cheeks a furious shade.

“Go fuck yourself.” She seethed, turning around and slamming the door on her way out.

Kagome wanted to be hasty in leaving Inuyasha’s energy behind, but she still needed to appear as composed as remotely possible for the time being. There were no doubt people in the pub below, Kaede included, and the last thing she wanted was to announce her upset for all to see. She didn’t like being an open book for just anybody to read, and it was no one else’s business. As much as she wanted to simply walk out and never look back, Kaede didn’t deserve that unwarranted treatment. Just before the sole of her boots hit the floor of the bottom step, Kagome took a deep breath, and with her slow, meditative exhale, she planted a smile on her face.

It was a good thing, too. As she stepped out of the hall into the entrance area, just beside the long counter that led to the barstools and dining room, she spotted Kaede scribbling notes into her guestbook. Kaede lifted her head, and as her good eye landed on Kagome, she greeted her with a smile, closing the book and setting down her pen to give her proper attention.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” The inn keeper asked.

“Never better. You’re amazing.” Kagome complimented, her grin widening as she approached the counter. “Next time I visit, I want to hear more about what you can do.”

“Oh, don’t say that. You’ll boost my ego too much, and then my head will be too big to fit through any doors.” Kaede laughed, waving her hand gingerly.

“It’s well-deserved, Kaede. Thank you so much.”

“Please don’t thank me anymore. You said enough thank you’s yesterday to last a lifetime, sweetie.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Kagome giggled.

“So, what’ll you have for breakfast?” Kaede inquired, raising her brows.

“Oh, nothing. I’m actually heading out. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?” The inn keeper questioned, her expression falling slightly. In the momentary silence where Kagome only answered with a small nod of her head, Kaede looked back over toward the empty doorway that led to the inn portion of her building. “Where’s Inuyasha?”

“Still upstairs.” Kagome said. “He should be down soon, but either way, we’re parting. I already said my thanks, and he was a bit busy, so I figured I’d just get a head start instead of awkwardly waiting around.” She tried to keep her tone as casual as possible, giving herself mental reminders along the way to keep the pleasant smile on her face.

“Busy doing what?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t want to intrude. Seemed like he was studying his sword or something; I forgot its name. Anyway, I’ll be off.”

“And, you’ll be careful?”

“Of course. I’m heading home now.”

“Home?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t know why she’d said that. The lie came out of nowhere, but it was getting harder to remain nonchalant. Her heart was still throbbing, and she felt like Kaede had grown suspicious of something just because Inuyasha wasn’t by her side. There was no reason for that, but Kagome could feel the spike in disturbance. She needed to keep Kaede from asking if everything was alright, which she could tell was probably on the tip of her tongue, so Kagome hoped that her cheap excuse of going home would be enough to make Kaede think that Inuyasha didn’t need to be a part of this since they had no reason to be associated with one another from this point forward. “If I get going now, I should be back in my village by this evening.”

“That’s a pretty long journey for one day.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad.” Kagome shrugged.

“And, you’re sure you’re feeling alright? I can give you some medicine for the road; I’ve got plenty extra.” Kaede offered.

“Oh, no thank you. Believe me, I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I’m perfectly fine now.”

“Alright, I’m just a little worried about you pushing yourself right now.” She tilted her head, analyzing the girl before her. Something wasn’t lining up. Something was off, but it felt wrong to speak up about it. Maybe it was just her concern getting the better of her.

“You have nothing to worry about, Kaede. It’s nothing but a long walk. I’ll take breaks, I’ll stay hydrated, and I’ll get a long night’s rest the moment I get home. If it comes down to it, I’ll break it up into two days and camp out if I feel over exerted, but I don’t think that’ll be entirely necessary.”

“Alright, I trust you. Will you at least take some food for the road?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“I know I phrased that as a question, but I really wasn’t asking.” The inn keeper smirked, tapping her fingernails on the countertop impatiently. “You’re taking some food with you. I’ll be right back.”

Without another word, Kaede headed around the bend into the kitchen. It was only a small moment later when she reappeared, and in her hands, she held two large, wrapped pastries with some sort of frosted coating on top.

“Cinnamon rolls for the cinnamon roll.” Kaede giggled. “That should be enough to snack on.”

“Thank you so much.” Kagome smiled.

“Turn around, I’ll put these in your bag for you.” She said, coming from behind the counter. She opened the pouch and dropped them on top of her things, pulling the bag shut and securing it tightly. “You be safe, Kagome. And, come back whenever you want. You’re always welcome here.”

“I will. I’ll definitely visit again. Next time, under better circumstances.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Kaede smiled, tapping the tip of her finger against Kagome’s nose. “Go on, get going. Be safe, sweetie.”

“Bye.” That time, it was a genuine grin, returning the friendliness that was kindly offered to her.

The outside air didn’t feel any better than the inside stuffiness. Kagome was hoping to be able to take an uplifting breath, but as soon as she didn’t have to upkeep a facade any longer, the crushing disappointment returned. Again, she felt the urgency to get as far away from Inuyasha as she possibly could, so she headed in the direction they’d initially entered the village in, her legs pumping at a very quick pace.

The forest was loud, lively, her thoughts even greater. Her mind was clouded with anger, noisy with resentment, her chest filled with a dense sludge and her abdomen tense as she stomped her way along the undesignated path. Even this far into the woods, this far away from the town, a couple of hours having passed, she was still weighted with everything Inuyasha had had the audacity to proclaim. The gall of that jerk.

All he had to say was, “no, thanks.” He could have even stuck with the, “Not interested” he began with, but no. The bastard had to keep going, and going, and going, and going. Kagome outwardly groaned, her cheeks growing hotter as her temper never calmed. Sure, she would have asked why. Who wouldn’t want to know why their business proposal was being rejected? That being said, she wouldn’t have guilted him, she wouldn’t have begged him, and she wouldn’t have obligated him in any manner to take her up on it. There was no reason, absolutely no reason, for Inuyasha to go off like that.

If that’s how he really felt, why did he waste so much energy being even obscurely kind to her? Kagome couldn’t even believe she’d thought so well of him. So highly. He didn’t deserve those nice thoughts she’d silently regarded him with last night, or the night before, or the night before that, and she wanted them all back. As if they were written on a board of some sort, Kagome wanted to vehemently erase all of her gracious opinions of him and write in big, bold letters over it all: I hate Inuyasha!

“You’re a long way from home, dearie.”

Kagome stopped abruptly, ice replacing the warmth she’d just recently been shrouded in. A demon stepped out in front of her, tan skin and scarred features immediately causing fear to passionately drive through each vein in her body. Even her breath halted in her throat, her lungs forgetting how to work in that moment as she stared into this man’s red eyes.

She hadn’t sensed him. Hadn’t felt any of the demons that now appeared around her, stepping out from behind trees with crooked smiles and pointed teeth. Now that she looked at them, their putrid auras tainted the atmosphere, and she realized she’d made the biggest mistake imaginable.

Kagome had allowed her emotions to overrule all other senses. She was distracted, painfully so, and she stumbled into a territory she should have known to avoid. She should have felt them coming, should have known they were around. She should have noticed their presence looming, she should have felt the danger around her, and she should have recognized exactly who they were before they appeared.

“What was your name again?” The demon asked.

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to think, surprised and uneasy and unbelievably stiff. The demon stepped forward, his lips parting while he arched a brow in curiosity. Kagome shuddered, gasping, as she paced backward to create space, unable to look away from the leader of the henchmen who’d killed the young conjurer of her village.

| previous chapter | <- -> | next chapter |

#inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #Inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #Inuyasha fic #Inukag fanfiction #Inukag fanfic #Inukag fic #monster #heh.... sorry guys lol #akitokihojo

44 notes · View notes

paranaturalpop · 4 years ago

Text

I rate your pnat ships by how well they work as foils

I’m Professor Pops, welcome to Literature 405: comparing and contrasting in pnat ships. Love is in the air but all that really matters is narrative symmetry!

Mina and Agent Day (submitted by @anxanhh)

two women on missions who need a confidante.

Mina is a calculating woman of science with a tender, vulnerable heart deep down that she guards. Day is a fun, giggly love goddess but beneath the surface she is just as calculating.

They are both focused on their prospective goals to the point of subterfuge.

They have similar missions, to solve the many mysteries of Mayview, but they’re at odds instead of working together. Will these lone wolves learn to let their walls down and work towards a common goal?

Their spectral energies are complementary colors!!!!!!!!!!!!

9/10 so different yet so alike. They should kiss and also develop as people.

Spendcia

Where's that post about paranatural having what my hero academia wants?

These two had interacted in cannon only once before we found out they were dating, power move on Zack’s part

The cousinhood and the consortium seem to have bad blood…. Enemies to lovers????

As teachers, Garcia is tired and phoning it in while spender is energetic and committed. But when it comes to mystery solving Spender is burning himself out while Garcia keeps him grounded.

Garcia does things like pack spender lunches with little hearts drawn on the bag but was surprised to be called his boyfriend. He acts chill but inside he is deeply invested in spender but also knows about spender’s isolating tendencies.

8/10 there's a reason these two have been off and on again for 6ish years, they’re walking a tightrope of vulnerability.

Imaax (submitted by Rubyya)

The Destiel of Paranatural. No I will not elaborate.

Here’s a pnat history lesson, the original ship name was Maxaac, but Zack weighed in on twitter with a much better alternative: Imaax. Also sometimes called Team Lightning Rod.

Black and blue colors, just like the emotional bruises they leave on the people around them.

Isaac wants to be seen as heroic and Max wants to be seen as aloof. It presents in different ways but deep down they both really care what other people think.

They both fear sincerity. Isaac protects himself with theatrics and Max with sarcasm.

Isaac puts on a big show of having strong ethics but he’s a little mean on instinct. Max puts on a big show of cutting people down with his snark and devil-may-care attitude, but when push comes to shove he’s kind and cares how other people feel.

Max immediately insults every person he meets and they still want to be best friends with him, while Issac tries so hard to be cool and nice but people just can’t stand him.

The meta tension between Isaac, who wants so badly to be the protagonist, and Max “magnetic personally” Puckett who is exhausted with being the protagonist, is delicious.

There’s a reason official art tends to portray them together. They bring out the best in each other. Isaac brakes through Max’s performative pessimism and Max brings Isaac down to earth.

10/10 these two were written as a pair and it shows.

Suzabel (submitted by Rubyya)

One of my fav tropes is ‘enemies to friends’ where the enemy part is completely one-sided. Isabel probably thinks she and Suzy get along great.

Both the heads of their respective clubs, but with very different leadership styles.

Isabel only studies her grandfather's spectral style to please him and is a near master of it, while Suzy is incredibly self-motivated even though her actual skills are lacking.

Isabel is at a crucial time in her life where she’s learning to distance herself from adult authority figures in order to take on more personal responsibility. Suzy is already blazing with independence and could help her adjust.

Inversely, Isabel could teach Suzy a thing or two about treating your club members with respect and doing the emotional labor necessary to prevent future conflict.

Red and pink! Valentines colors!

Isabel could kill you but would never, Suzy would actually try to kill you.

Investigative reporter/person living mysterious double life is a great dynamic.

Back when Izzy had Eightfold they had the ship name ‘Paper Girls’ which is awesome

7/10 Don’t ask me how I know this but they would kill at karaoke together. And they’re ok foils.

Bullymagnet

Max ‘too cool for clubs’ vs a boy who defines himself by his tight knit group.

Max is learning to be less passive aggressive and johnny is learning to be less aggressive aggressive.

Max’s entry to spectral life was when he injured Johnny and saw a shade of a doctopi on him, and Johnny's first shade was Max's doctopi after the hit ball game.

Johnny refuses to commit to not bullying max anymore even though he really likes him, and max is working on being nicer but he’s still gonna be snarky with people even though they’re his friends. Old habits die hard.

If he hadn't seen that shade, Max might have joined Johnny's gang. He has the style, the stunts, the snark.

8/10 Just two bros whose lives are changing forever.

Isaac and Dimitri (submitted by Rubyya)

Here’s my pitch for a ship name: Brainstorm

Orange and blue are complementary colors.

Isaac hurt Dimitri accidentally somehow. Hurting others accidentally is the central theme of chapter 5.

Idealist/pragmatist is a classic dynamic

They both have relationships with their spirit partners that are rooted in fear.

Dimitri’s self concept is overly dependent on his sense of intellectual superiority, and Isaac’s on ethical superiority.

7/10 have not directly interacted in the comic yet but the narrative symmetry is there

Johnny and Isabel (submitted by Rubyya)

Burnhound Vs Shockadile

These two are natural leaders who know how to treat their friends with respect.

These jocks are both lethal weapons, but while Isabel is a master martial artist, Johnny is a passionate but blunt instrument.

They’re both going through similar identity crises.

Isabel is struggling to reconcile her violent and disciplined upbringing with a good, gentle heart and Johnny is trying to reconcile his violent and self-centered lifestyle with a developing respect and empathy for other people.

Johnny dies his hair red, so he would think it’s cool how Izzy emits a fiery red aura when excited.

8/10 there's a reason these two were the team leaders in the hit ball arch.

Violet and Lisa (submitted by Rubyya)

People have been theorizing about what kind of cryptid Lisa is since day one meanwhile Violet gives off big normie energy.

Lisa is very plugged into all the Mayview weirdness as the queen of the school underground, while Violet was the only person who thought to go get a teacher during the hit ball arch. Lisa was also the only one who really spoke openly about how something was clearly very wrong with Jeff, everyone else talked around it and played by the so called ‘rules’. Lisa’s secret brokering Vs. Violet’s ‘sunlight is the best disinfectant’ attitude presents two different approaches to trying to survive in a school run by a mysterious shadow organization within a town that contains several other mysterious shadow organizations.

“If you were, I’d have to be jealous too.” just two middle schoolers pinning over their crushes.

7/10 two girls against the world.

Isaac and Johnny

ship name: Firestorm?

Just 2 fiery redheaded mediums with anger management issues that command primal forces and wanna be best friends with max

Johnny chooses to have red spiky hair, Issac has had red spiky hair thrust upon him.

Both met Maxwell Pucket and decided they needed to change for the better.

I’ve said this before but Johnny and Issac have equal and opposite philosophies. Johnny doesn't care about the greater good, he just cares about a small group of people who he loves. Issac cares about the greater good, but can’t connect with individuals and ends up hurting them. Together they form one GoodTM boy.

Both their spirit partners want revenge on Spender. This spells trouble.

If there’s anyone to teach Isaac about unconditional friendship, it’s Johnny

Isaac has sworn off violence and Johnny worships at the altar of it.

9/10 they’ve only interacted in canon once so far but I’ve think we’ve got a big storm coming.

Suzy and Collin (submitted by Rubyya)

The Bakudeku of pnat. I will continue to not elaborate.

Suzy once stole Collin's phone which prompted Collin to try to cut her hair which prompted Suzy to stab Collin and at no point did either of them think to move to a different bus seat. As different as they are they are also very much the same.

Collin is the definition of mouth service (constantly disapproving of suzy’s antics but going along with it anyway.) while suzy is all action.

Despite their different attitudes they both seem genuinely passionate about the journalism club.

Fashion icons. Suzy’s sunglasses and legwarmers, Collins sweater vests and wrist bands, this duo could walk for Paris fashion week: middle school edition.

We’ve gotten an indication that Collin cares a lot about what Suzy thinks of him (taking off his wrist bands when she made fun of Max's) but we haven't gotten any sign yet that the feelings are mutual.

5/10 I think their story is yet to be told and we’ll get to know more about how they compare/contrast to each other in the future. Maybe brought on by Dimitri's betrayal?????

Cody and Isabel (Submitted by @a-bitchtm)

Cody is gay by WOG but that doesn't matter here since we are evaluating thematic compatibility, not romantic compatibility.

Red Vs. Blue

Izzy’s arch about stepping into her role as leader through communication and honesty contrasts Cody’s role as the secret class president. Izzy finally told Isaac the truth about the consortium, while Cody blatantly lied to max about being president.

Both seem to have generally good motivations and the skills/talent to back those motivations up.

Isabel is in the process of unlearning the ‘firm hand’ philosophy that she learned from her grandpa and Cody’s dad straight up tried to mind control him into murdering a toddler.

They were both taught to fall back on their capacity for violence and intimidation but those teachings conflict with the people they really want to be.

6/10 just two kids who are being led astray by authority figures trying to learn to be themselves.

Cody and Collin (Submitted by @gatortavern)

They both like vests.

Both beholden to blood thirsty predators

Collin is a journalist, Cody is a vampire/leader of the shadow government. It’s a huge power move on Cody’s part to hang out with Collin.

Cody’s support of his friends is enthusiastic while Collin would have you believe Suzy has kidnapped him.

4/10 they hang out for a reason but those reasons have yet to be fully developed

Isabel and Max (submitted by @Paranatural-goofiness)

They’re both people who have learned to put up walls to keep people out. Isabel through violence and intimidation, max through sarcasm and mockery. T

he other side of this is their mutual journey to let their walls down and connect with other people more genuinely, starting with each other.

Their search for acceptance and identity has led them both to become incredible athletes. Spectral fist martial arts = shred eagle stunts

As we saw in the hit ball game, Izzy faces things head on while Max is all about evasion. However we’ve seen how Izzy has actually learned to be evasive and guarded about her feelings while Max is a little more forthcoming.

8/10 Never has there been faster friends.

Isaac and Cody (submitted by Rubyya)

Drama kings

Isaac wants the likability Cody has.

Parallels of power: Isaac with power he didn't choose and cant control vs. Cody who also didn’t choose to have his power (elected), but wields it like an instrument.

Involuntary anime hair and involuntary glowing monster eyes

These two definitely both fall under the category of “lawful”.

I can see these two ending up on opposite sides of a conflict because they both have such rigid personal codes and an intense sense of duty.

I know I’ve been approaching almost all of these platonically but Isaac probably really wants a cool vampire boyfriend deep down

7/10 Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. You two should watch anime together.

Hijack and PJ (submitted by @gatortavern)

They both wanna join the activity club so bad

Both have immature ideas about heroism and villainy.

Both aspire to heroism while at the same time understanding that they aren't that yet and maybe never will be.

They both, like many people in this comic, wanna be friends with max.

5/10 Two supernatural babies who should play wii sports together

Stephen and Isaac (@Gatortavern)

Two boys who are easily overwhelmed

Lawful vs. chaotic

Isaac has enough secrets to give Stephen his conspiracy fix for a long time.

In their own ways they both just want everything out in the open.

Isaac is Stephen's dream, someone actually living a secret double life, and Stephen is Issac's dream, someone with a cool scar who would think he’s actually very interesting.

5/10 these two are both very intense in their own way.

Johnny and Ed (Submitted by @theevilbrainman)

Two souls lost in the wind

Two people for whom friendship and loyalty is central to their character, and they’re both struggling with personal growth because of it. Johnny is afraid to change because his friends have always liked the person he already is, and Ed is struggling to even define himself outside of Isabel, the person he cares about the most.

Both impulsive and uninhibited.

They both live lives free from expectation. Johnny’s wild bully persona means no one is surprised by his antics or cruelty, while Grandpa Guerra doesn't really care if Ed takes up phantom fist like Isabel. He actually calls him a freeloader. Not having much expected of you can feel free but it’s also lonely and can warp your self-perception.

6/10 these two crossed paths at exactly the right time.

I didn't cover every submission because even though only 9 people submitted you sent in 34 ships between you. Pnat’s fanbase is small but very dedicated.

Honorable mentions:

Johnny and clear sinuses, submitted by @gaul-the-unmitigated

Isaac and therapy, submitted by both @squidgeons and @somethingfishysgoingon

PJ and Johnny, submitted by @gatortavern, who seems to be under the impression that Johnny Would protect PJ and not destroy him just by breathing near him.

Day and Scabs, submitted by @gatortavern, because funny.

Special thanks to everyone who sent in ship between people who have never interacted in cannon, which was a lot of you. My eyes are opened now, so many possibilities.

#paranatural #pnat #q #ships #valentines #dr. zarei/agent day #imaax #spendcia #suzabel #bullymagnet #shipping #pnat spoilers

132 notes · View notes

amazingmaeve · 4 years ago

Text

My, My, My, My, Lover - Scott McCall

Teen Wolf Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Summary: Y/N and Scott go through their life from high school to marriage and explore the ups and downs of a relationship.

Request: can i please request lover by taylor swift and scott mccall? i have fallen in love with tyler posey and lover is one of my favorite songs. as for an idea, maybe just all the cute moments of scott and the reader, from their first meeting, to the first kiss, a random moment of her scraping her knee or something, up until the wedding. i just need some scott fluff. 😭💕 thank you so much. you don’t have to write this if you don’t want to! 🥺

Requested by: @blkwd

Pairing: Scott McCall x Female!Reader

Warnings: Nothing just fluff

AN: Based on the Song Lover by Taylor swift. I love this and I love Scott and Taylor Swift.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January This is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Y/N met Scott when she was in the 11th grade through his mom who she worked with a student volunteer. She knew who Scott was since he was the captain of the lacrosse team but she never actually met him.

She was invited over to dinner when Melissa asked her to join her and Scott for dinner. She agreed because she didn’t want to be mean and rude to her.

When they first met they obviously had some chemistry.

Scott asked her out a week later with a smile on his face. And of course Y/N agreed because she liked the boy as well.

When she found out about him being a werewolf is when he showed her after a few months of dating. He was worried that she was going to be scared of him and run off.

But Y/N didn’t do that she hugged Scott and whispered in his ear and told him “Thanks for telling me and trusting me.”

Even though Y/N was kind of freaked out the first time she saw him turn to a werewolf she wasn’t scared of because she knew he could never hurt her.

Scott hugged her back thankful that he didn’t scare her off.

She became friends with his friends and was close with Lydia after they first met.

Whenever Y/N and Scott talked it felt like they knew each other for years. She loved everything about him and he loved everything about her.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my lover

After high school they stayed close through long distance since Scott wanted to be a vet and Y/N wanted to be a doctor. Even though long distance is hard they face timed and called everyday.

They visited each other in Beacon Hills for holidays.

When one day they came to Beacon Hills for Christmas. Scott was nervous since he was going to ask Y/N to marry him.

He asked for Lydia’s help to pick out a ring and Lydia gladly excepted to help. She was happy for her best friends.

They were in their 4 year of school and have been dating for a long time.

Y/N had a surprise for him as well. She was going to move where he was and take online school for the rest of her college years. She missed being next to Scott and didn’t want to be away from him even more.

After eating Christmas dinner her and Scott went out for a walk.

As she was about to tell Scott he got on one knee and got a jewelry box out.

“Scott what’s going on,” Y/N gasped.

“Y/N you and have been dating for 6 years and I know you are the love of my life. After Allison I thought I wouldn’t find anyone else but then you came along. Will You marry me,” Scott asked with a smile on his face while Y/N gaped at him with her mouth wide open.

“Yes,” She accepted with a wide grin on her face while pulling him up to hug him and kiss him on the lips.

Scott put the ring on her finger after they were finished with their kissing with a smile on his face.

“I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Now Living together Scott and Y/N live together are happy with their lives. Even happier than before.

After Scott asked her to marry him, she told him about wanting to move with him. At first he said no because of her education but she explained she could do on line school.

Scott was a bit hesitant but agreed none the less.

When ever their friends come to visit they would always have a place on the couch for them. When ever their friends were in town there was always a place for them at their place.

They only owned a one bedroom apartment and it was small.

Even though Scott was still a werewolf he could control it with the full moon because of Y/N.

Whenever Y/N saw Scott talking to a girl she gets a bit jealous because whenever she sees someone looking at him she thinks that they want him. She keeps that to herself because she trust Scott.

Same thing with Scott he would get jealous of any guy talking to her as well.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my lover

Arguments.

They were very rare for Y/N and Scott but when they do they always end of saying something that they don’t mean.

Scott would always sleep on the couch and Y/N would always be alone in the bed.

This one argument was over Y/N wanting to get married sooner than later. Scott said not at the moment because they were in college still.

Y/N asked why and asked if he didn’t want to get married. And in return Scott told her why he wouldn’t be in love with and to stop being so selfish. In return Y/N called him a dick and ran to her bedroom locking the door.

Scott could open the door but decided against knowing that she need some time to her self. And he felt guilty.

He didn’t mean to snap at her but school was getting him frustrated.

In the morning Scott made breakfast for her.

“No,” Y/N blandly said before turning to the room but Scott stopped her.

“Please just sit and we can talk,” Scott pleaded with her giving her his puppy dog eyes. Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes before sitting down.

“So what do you have to say,” Y/N asked while shoving some bacon in her mouth.

“I wanted to say sorry about how mean I was, I was frustrated with school and took it out on you and I shouldn’t have,” Scott apologized to her.

“I just wanted to get married sooner,“ Y/N whispered looking down at the scrambled eggs.

“I know and I decided I want that too,” Scott admitted putting some eggs in his mouth.

Y/N head snapped up with a shocked look on her face.

“Really you sure you ok with that,” Y/N asked feeling really giddy. She didn’t want to force him into this thought.

“Yes I’m sure,” Scott chuckled.

Y/N clapped her hand getting up to sit on his lap bringing her lips to kiss his lips feeling happy.

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Finally they got married. Y/N was so excited to marry him that day. She had the perfect dress and hair.

Y/N was so happy to be with him. She could be herself around him and he didn’t judge her for that.

With the hard ships they found each other.

Y/N had her hair broken by many boys and Scott had Allison die in his arms and he knew she would want him to be happy. He loved her and she loved him

Scott kissed her softly and everyone stood up and clapped happy for the too. Y/N had Lydia as her bridesmaid and Stiles was Scott’s best man which was convenient for the both of them.

“I’m so happy you’re now my wife.”

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever?And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Oh, you're my, my, my, my Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover

Now a year later Y/N laid in bed with Scott by her side. He was sleeping and she admired him as he slept.

His arm was wrapped around the huge baby bump.

She found out she was pregnant around six months ago. She was happy and worried. She didn’t know if Scott wanted to be a dad and if he didn’t would he leave her.

When she told him he was over the moon for Y/N and himself. He hugged her and kissed her happiness surrounded him.

“What’s wrong Y/N/N,” Scott yawned as he woke up and noticed she was awake as well.

“Nothing I’m just happy to be with you.”

297 notes · View notes

creepyleech · 4 years ago

Text

You know what I want?

For Crusade!Era Joe x Nicky to just magically show up in 2020. But this is, like, the Yusuf and Nicolo who had just started travelling together a couple of years ago, because they had nowhere to go.

Anyway so cue them watching with all levels of shock as their modern counterparts turn out to be a fucking couple?? Like??

And THEN we get scenes like the following:

-Yusuf calling Nicky all names under the sun, and saying Joe is disgusting for laying with that filthy invader. Sprinkle that with insults towards Nicolo, with little details of things Joe remember Nicky used to do. Cue Joe shoving Yusuf against a wall at some point, “You are a child. Nicky is a better man that you could ever dream to be. And if you insult him in my presence again, I’ll dump your body in bottom of the Thames.”

-Yusuf realizing that Nicky can understand him and speaks Arabic fluently, when he’s in the middle of muttering curses under his breath and Nicky casually replies to him.

-Nicolo, who had spent the past year filled with guilt re: the crusades, goes to Joe and they have a heart to heart and Nicolo cries and begs for forgiveness. Joe just holds him and says he understands. That he forgave him a long time ago. Nicky, who had come to fetch Joe for dinner, looks at them with a mixture of sadness and relief; he remembers going through that.

-Nicolo going to Nicky and talking about all his catholic guilt. Nicky telling him “I can’t tell you what to believe. But I believe in nothing but the love I feel for my family, and the love I have for Joe.”

-Yusuf telling Joe he has a weird accent. Joe saying “I’m speaking your language to you out of courtesy.” And then he just immediately switches to the Arabic/Ligurian dialect that he and Nicky use for each other, and refuses to switch back for the rest of the night. This leaves Nicolo and Yusuf to talk to each other, instead.

-Nicky cooks one of Joe’s favourite foods, which is Yusuf’s favourite. Yusuf admits, only to himself and in his head, that that is the best he’s ever had. He eats seconds and thirds. Joe eyes him with a smug smile and he just walks away in a huff.

-Joe and Nicky are in bed, talking. Joe tells him that he can’t stand Yusuf. “He’s so righteous. He thinks he knows everything. I remember that rage, I remember how cruel I was to you for so many years. Long after you stopped being cruel to me. Long after you tried your best to offer olive branch after olive branch. I just- I hate him. I hate that I hurt you so much, for so long.” And they cry and hold each other and thank the universe for who they are now. Nicky asks him to have some empathy for the man he used to be. Yusuf had lost his brothers, his family, everything he’d ever known, because of men like Nicolo. Nicolo had chosen to take up the cross and go and invade a foreign land. Yusuf’s hate was justified, and it would eventually come to an end. They cannot undo the past.

-Yusuf feels- resentment? Anger? Jealousy? Because he seems to be the odd man out. Because Joe is so kind to Nicolo, and Nicolo acts like he’s trying so hard to please Joe in return. Nicolo did that sometimes, with him. Tried to offer a truce. But Yusuf had no interest in taking Frank scum as a friend. He doesn’t know why it bothers him to see them like that. He doesn’t know why it bothers him that Nicky doesn’t try to engage him. He wishes he would, so he could yell back. Nicolo’s Arabic rivals that of a child. It’s hard to argue and yell at someone who can’t understand you. Nicky would understand him, though. He could tell Nicky in fine detail, exactly why he hates him so much.

-Nicky is cooking again, and Yusuf quietly sits and watches. Nicky doesn’t comment on it, but asks him to pass the salt, if you could.

-They read in the same room, all four of them. Joe and Nicky have no shame in lying piled on top of each other. Yusuf engages in some nice hate watching, and Nicolo is just overall uncomfortable. They leave the couple alone and share a few words in the kitchen, bonding over the strangeness of it all.

-Sparring turns into a blood bath. It’s just a lesson in sword fighting at first. With Yusuf and Nicolo genuinely interested in learning from men of such skill. And then it turns into Joe going way too hard on Yusuf after he (maybe) accidentally hurts Nicolo. After a snide comment or two (bc Yusuf has a death wish aparently) Joe loses his patience and attacks him. Nicky is the one that gets in between the two and gets hurt defending Yusuf, which Joe feels terrible about. But afterwards, it’s Yusuf who comes to Nicky and offers a begrudging apology.

-Don’t ask me how, but Yusuf or Nicolo or both get a glimpse of Joe and Nicky either having sex or starting to. If it’s on purpose or not, only I and god will ever know.

-After the sparring chaos, Yusuf and Nicky have a quiet truce where they cook together. One day, Yusuf speaks up. “I hate you,” he says and then he doesn’t stop. He gets it all out. All his feelings and his anger and how dare you come to my people and slaughter them like animals and then ask me to sit by your side, eating dinner as if we’re brothers. And once he’s done, Nicky says “You’re right.” And Yusuf deflates. Nicky tells him that the crusades were wrong, and that Yusuf is allowed his anger, and that Nicolo already knows he was wrong. It changes nothing, and yet it changes everything.

-Yusuf starts seeing Nicolo through the colours of Nicky’s words. He sees the guilt and the pain and the reluctance. He also sees the resignation. Nicolo expects nothing from Yusuf but harsh words; not only that but deep inside he feels they are deserved. And they are! But Yusuf didn’t think he knew that. But he does. He does. And maybe-

-It’s easier, somehow, to not be so cruel all the time. But it feels like betrayal in way. A betrayal to his people and his brothers. That he’d forget what the enemy’s done. That he’d see the enemy as anything other than the monsters who took what was not theirs. But it’s easier. It’s easier to ask Nicky what that spice is called. And to correct Nicolo when he pronounces a word wrong. And to get him a glass of water when he’s gotten one for himself.

-Joe doesn’t forgive him. Forgive him-? Joe doesn’t like him, is the thing. But one day, Yusuf goes to him and they sit outside, and they drink wine, and Yusuf asks him how he could look his mother in her eyes, knowing that he was walking the earth arm in arm with one of the men who killed her sons. And Joe remembers thinking that. Joe thinks of Booker and betrayal and lying in bed with one’s enemies. What Joe says is, “You cannot change what’s happened. You cannot die. Nicolo cannot die. You are bound to him, and he to you.” He pauses and looks directly at Yusuf. “Are you the same man you were yesterday? Have you never made mistakes? No one feels the guilt of the crusades as deeply as Nicolo does. You do not have to forgive him. But you need to let him show you that he can change. That he already has.”

-That night, Joe calls Booker. It’s the first time they’ve spoken in a decade.

-Months go by, and Yusuf asks Nicky to teach him some Ligurian words. Nicky doesn’t comment on the significance of it. He sits down, grabs a book, and reads to him.

-It’s about s year since they had landed in the 21st century, and Yusuf comes to Joe with a request. And that’s how Joe sits between the two of them, playing interpreter. It’s the first real conversation that Nicolo and Yusuf have ever had. Their voices raise and at one point Yusuf gets up in anger, but he comes back and sits down and tries again.

-Nicolo’s Arabic becomes passable. He speaks to Joe extensively every day. Yusuf has to admit, it’s impressive. Yusuf knows all but a couple dozen phrases in Ligurian, but every time he speaks them, Nicolo stares at him with something quiet, intense.

-They don’t mind the affections between Joe and Nicky anymore. It’s become common place. If tension grows between Nicolo and Yusuf, neither speak of it. When Yusuf and Joe are alone, Joe is unbearably smug about it. He never says it, but Yusuf can read the expression on his own face.

-Joe and Nicky leave for a mission. They’ll be gone a week. Nicolo and Yusuf now have the words to speak to each other and, without an audience, they do so freely. They argue a lot. Nicolo cries and Yusuf cries and they drink themselves into peace again. But like magnets, they find each other much as their counterparts have. It’s messy and confusing, but it just- fits.

-It’s almost as if Joe and Nicky had to be there to say goodbye. Because they come back, and they notice the shorter space between Yusuf and Nicolo. Nicky’s mouth twitches in one of his small smiles, but Joe just huffs a laugh and says something in his dialect that Yusuf cannot understand. And if they wait for Joe and Nicky to retire before they allow themselves to sit close to one another again, no one needs to know. And if they bring their cots together in the night, no one needs to know. But that’s how they rise again, back to their home. And it’s bright out and it’s quiet, and there’s no tv and no electric lights and no radio. And Yusuf and Nicolo know that the hard work starts now, but they’re gonna be ok.

Ok fuck I accidental turned this into a compete fic outline and now IM ACTUALLY CONSIDERING WRITING IT fuck it was just suppose to be a head canon. Fuuuuuck.

#kaysanova #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #the old guard #tog #my fics #Jesus fuck #now I wanna write this #also I fucking love time travel #and amnesia fics #and multiverse fics #for this exact reason #I just love chars confronting their own future #fbskrjfbrjfjekfnrjrj

120 notes · View notes

kunstellation-one · 5 years ago

Note

I want Mark to push me down on the bed and fuck me to be honest. Can you write one where y/n purposely gets him all riled up (could be in front of the members or out in public) and then when they get home, he gets all rough and dom? 😂

• i have tried to write this like 8x and every time have accidentally closed the tab;;; 😭😭😭

• see this ask for a similar but more cliffhanger-y ending!~

• thank you for waiting this long! i recently went to the SuperM concert myself so my inspiration was definitely rekindled for this 🤭

[8:21am]

When you call your boyfriend the day before he returns from tour, you tell him, Baby, I have a gift for you.

Oh! Mark dithers. Y-you didn’t need to get me anything, babe. Coming back home to you is more than enough.

In the background you hear the rest of the SuperM members tease him relentlessly about how whipped he is for you, and you chuckle as you select a couple of choice photos from your camera roll and send them to him. Don’t look at these in front of the boys, okay?

Huh? What do you mean? He pulls the phone away from his ear, and you hum in satisfaction when you hear him gasp. Oh my g–… There’s a brief moment of hurried footsteps as he finds somewhere more private to really voice his thoughts. Breathlessly, he says in a low voice, You look really good in silk. I– wow. Jeez. You look really good.

That’s just a sneak peek. You keep your tone casual, like you’re discussing dinner plans instead of a night of debauchery, fingering the hem of the little slip of laced material falling loosely on your hips. The material feels like cold water on your skin, and you wonder how it’ll feel with Mark’s body pressed to yours. It’s been months since the last time you’d been with him; the mere thought makes you squirm in your spot on the bed. When will you be back?

Ah– I think, tomorrow night? But they want to go out to dinner as a group, so… are you going to come?

Hmm. Sure. But I can’t promise I’ll behave.

He groans. Since when do you ever?

Even after a year of dating, Mark still acts like a jumpy high school boy whenever you touch him. When you sit down to a nice private dinner at the SM building with the rest of the SuperM members, his cheeks light on fire when you reach down between bites to squeeze his knee, or trace little hearts in the palm of his hand. It’s always been endearing, and it makes it so fun to tease him.

“Were you bored without us, y/n?” Ten asks, picking a stray grape from his plate and furtively placing it on your plate. You roll your eyes, but eat the fruit anyway. “Yongie’s girlfriend was out of town, too.”

(Said girlfriend is currently sitting in Taeyong’s lap, whispering something into his ear. You’re sure most of it is NSFW content, and you have to hold back a cackle when she notices you staring and gives you a toothy grin. She enjoys messing with her man as much as you do, and you note the red tint of Taeyong’s cheeks when she sits back, looking quite satisfied with her work.)

“I was a little bored. See anything interesting while you were traveling the globe?” You reach down and tap Mark’s hand, looking for affection. He pats your hand reassuringly as he continues to chow down on a good mouthful of food, but keeps his hands civil. You, on the other hand, can barely restrain yourself from touching him.

“I bought you those tourist magnets you asked me for,” Taemin says, smiling. “They really do have a lot of them in America.”

“Oh, thank you.” Your hand strays to Mark’s knee and rests there. He stares at you, eyes wide, but you ignore it, addressing the older idol with a relaxed smile. “Yeah, there are shops dedicated solely to those sort of things. I think, Taeyong, you went to one in San Francisco, at Fisherman’s wharf?”

“What?” Taeyong looks a little dazed, eyes out of focus as his girlfriend feeds him another mouthful of soup. “Oh, yeah. It was great.”

Your hand slips higher up Mark’s leg, and he lets out a soft squawk of surprise. It almost makes you laugh, but you just rub your thumb along his thigh, taking a sip of water from your cup with your free hand.

Ten and Lucas giggle. Only Kai and Baekhyun remain unfazed, working steadily through their plates in relative silence.

You signal for Mark to give you his ear so you can tell him something, and he leans down to listen. “Baby, I want to play.”

“A game?” he mouth blankly, looking confused.

“No.” You tug him closer to you so no one else can hear, though you don’t really care. “I want to play with you.”

“Oh. Oh.” He flushes scarlet, and looks around nervously, like someone might overhear what kind of conversation the two of you are having. Meanwhile, Taeyong and his girlfriend are getting up from the table, the latter looking very pleased with herself, and the former looking just as red, if not redder, than your boyfriend beside you.

“We’re going to turn in early,” Taeyong explains, looking a little guilty for the white lie. And as she passes you on their way out, his girlfriend shoots you a conspiratory wink.

“See you later, Yongie,” Ten calls out, and next to him Lucas is overcome with the giggles.

“Stay safe,” Baekhyun says pointedly, mouth full of rice. “Don’t go out there unprotected.”

Mark nearly chokes on his food. Not just because of Baekhyun’s comment, but because you’ve taken his left hand and slipped it under your skirt, to feel the silken ribbons of the cute lingerie set you’ve put on just for him. He looks at you, eyes blazing, and mouths, Stop.

You let go of him immediately, because you’ve never seen him so serious about you teasing him. Fuck, that’s hot, you think, rubbing your thighs together and feeling the fray of lace against your skin.

“You okay, Mark?” one of the managers says worriedly from the other end of the table.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, and there’s a bite of steel in his voice that startles you. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, then stands. “I think I’m going to head back to the dorms too. I’m tired.”

He grabs your hand, and on your way out, Ten shoots you a sly grin and two thumbs up.

When you get back to the dorm, Mark shuts the door of his room behind you and rests his forehead against the wood with a deep sigh.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask, like you haven’t spent the whole night trying to get a rise out of him. “Tired?”

He turns to face you, jaw taut and fists clenched, eyes bright with anger. And you think, for one chilling moment that maybe you’ve gone too far teasing him in front of his members like you had.

And then he’s kissing you so fiercely it’s like he wants to consume you. Startled, it takes you a moment to react– and then you respond in kind, lacing your tongue with the taste of him, fire flooding your body at finally being able to feel his body solid against yours. It’s been so long that it feels like you’re relearning the feel of his fingers on your skin as he draws you tight into his embrace, every little brush and every little moment of contact a pinpoint of white hot heat.

But it’s over before you’re sure it’s real, and he’s pulling back, chest heaving. You’re breathless, too, and you stare up at him, stunned. He’s never been so forward, always asked you if he was doing it right, if you liked it, always asked before he started anything. This side of him is different and absolutely delicious.

You lick your lips, wanting more.

Mark sees the look in your eyes and shakes his head. “You’re insatiable,” he rasps, moving towards you. You take a step back, and then another, and then one more, until the back of your knees hit the bed. He studies your expression, eyes narrowed. “You missed me that much, huh? Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for one second.”You feel like a child caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “I wanted to play when you got back,” you pout, staring up at him defiantly. “It’s been months, Mark. Touching myself isn’t nearly as good as having you here, too.”

He raises a brow. You try to kiss him, but he doesn’t let you, wraps both of his arms around you to hold you still. “You didn’t need to tease me in front of all the guys, babe. You could have just asked.”

“I’m asking now,” you whine, trying to wiggle out of his hold. God, you want to touch him so bad, feel his racing heartbeat beneath your fingertips and know that it’s all for you.

“Stop,” he tells you, eyes flashing.

You stop.

“That’s a good girl,” he exhales. “Behave, or you won’t have the fun you want tonight.”

“O– okay.”

Satisfied, he loosens his hold on you. And then his hands go lower, to the skirt riding up your thighs and the thigh-high stockings beneath them, laced neatly just like the silken panties you’d bought just for this night. He runs his hands over your body, like he’s also relearning every bit of you, brushing his fingers over the curve of your breasts, down the line of your spine and low between your hips, until you’re whimpering for him to really touch you, the aching heat between your legs pulsing with need.

“Use your words. What do you want?”

“Please fuck me,” you whisper. (“I’m on birth control,” you add, remembering Baekhyun’s earlier comment.)

“I’m the one calling the shots, babygirl.” He chuckles darkly, and you shiver in delight as he tugs your sweater over your head, leaving you standing in front of him in just your lingerie. He squeezes your ass, and groans appreciatively. “This is my gift, isn’t it? And I’m allowed to do whatever I want with it.”

You gulp. “Yes, please.”

Without another word he pushes you down onto the bed, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of your panties and pushing them aside so he can shove two fingers into your heat. When he finds your core sticky and dripping, he sighs in approval as he curls those fingers inside you, beckoning you to arch your body into his with a cry of surprise. His other hand slips into your bra to feel up your breasts, rolling his thumb over the sensitive nub as he seals his mouth to yours, swallowing up the moans of rapture escaping you.

Mark pulls away when you’re gasping for air, and murmurs, “As much as I like to hear these beautiful sounds from your lips, baby, there are other people here. Stay quiet, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling his hard length out of his pants. Looking over your shoulder, the sight makes you salivate, and you start to reach for him, but he pushes your hands away, flipping you over onto your stomach.“You can use that mouth of yours on me later. Right now, I’m going to fuck you.”

He hooks his fingers into the lace ribbons and rips the lingerie from your body, then pushes the head of his cock against your entrance. You groan, pushing your ass back against him; you’ve wanted– needed– this for so long that waiting any longer feels like agony. And then he bottoms out inside of you, filling you utterly and completely, and the world goes white for a moment.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands settling on your waist. He draws back, almost pulling out entirely, and then slams his hips back into you. You grab at the pillows, muffling your noises of pleasure into its softness. Mark drives into you again, and again, and again, and a tense heat builds within your abdomen, suffusing your entire body with a tingling ecstasy. Every thrust pushes you deeper into the bed, which creaks so loudly it masks the tiny gasps you let out as he fucks you.

“When you sent me those photos, I was hard for hours,” he growls, and one of his hand goes between your bodies to rub at your clit, sending more waves of pleasure to bounce through your body. Sweat beats on your forehead and at the joining of your bodies. “Thinking about your body. About this. About you.”

“God, I fucking missed you,” you mewl, leaning your head back as he kisses along your neck. “You fuck me so good, baby, ah–”

“You can’t leave me alone when we’re out in public… do I have to put you in your place? You’re such a filthy little girl–” Mark punctuates each of those last three words with a slap on your ass, not hard enough to really sting, but hard enough to leave a mark, and you cry his name out, like a prayer, like a chant. He’s never been anywhere close to rough with you, though you’ve expressly stated that you have a preference for it, and this, this moment of heat and passion and more-than-ever-before, feels like heaven on earth.

“If you’re good more often, then I’ll reward you,” he breathes. “Just like this. Fucking your pretty little pussy raw–”

“I’ll be good, I’ll be better,” you wail.

His fingers continue to work on your clit, rubbing the pinpoint of pleasure until you’re writhing beneath him, alight with bliss.

“I’m– ah! Baby– I’m going to cum–”

One last swipe across your clit sends you over the edge. You don’t even bother muffling yourself in the pillow anymore, ride out the radiating euphoria, clenching tight around his cock until you’ve drawn out his climax, too, and his hips push flush against yours, and with a heavy groan, he fills you with his cum, hot, thick liquid sticky and creamy as it drips down the inside of your thighs.

The two of you lay there, spent, until the moment sinks in, and Mark pulls out. When you look back at him, he looks almost– embarrassed.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you coo, reaching out to pull him into your arms.

“Well, I– that was new,” he says, looking sheepish. “I just… It kind of just… came out of me. I was just so… mad that you kept teasing me. I wanted to be in control.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, pushing the hair back from his face. “Well, I enjoyed it. We should do that more often.”

He nods, then looks guiltily at the ripped panties on the floor. “But…”

“Buy me new ones, and we’re even.”

“Okay, I can do that. I’ll buy you a dozen more.”

“That’s… too many.”

“But I like them on you.”

“…fine.”

i… it’s been so long since i’ve written smut that i honestly don’t know whether or not i’m good at it or if i was ever good at it dfghjkl

1K notes · View notes

whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

Halloween

Right after 5x01 with Reid and Hotch both pulling away, Morgan and Emily take matters into their own hands.

“I don’t want to.”

Morgan, who up until that point, had really, truly believed that the worst of his year was behind him closes his eyes with a tired sigh. As if the pig farm hadn’t felt suffocating on its own, now it’s tangled in his mind with Foyet. The pigs, Mason, that poor girl, and Hotch. Because that terrible night hadn’t ended for Hotch as it had for the rest of them. They slept while Hotch lay on his apartment floor, his own blood soaking into his clothes. The hospital hadn’t even washed the dried blood from his hair by the time the team arrived.

Emily had the next day. It had taken Derek and Emily both to do the seemingly mindless task. Hotch had been uncomfortable, dirty and the nurses had given them the leeway to tackle the task together. And they were both very aware of how annoyed he was to have to succumb to their help. Hotch can hardly raise his arms to his waist, he wasn’t going to be washing his one hair. And as the oldest of his own siblings and still leaning heavily into that protective mindset, Morgan would heavily prefer it to be him there. So, bracing Hotch’s side with his own body, Derek had held Hotch upright while Emily gently scrubbed his hair clean of his blood.

The scent thick and acidic but slowly replaced with a smell distinctly hospital-like. The water had browned, the suds too dirty to even help only about halfway through. Standing there, Hotch’s body growing heavier and shaking gently against Morgan’s ribs he could see every bone in his boss’s back. And, too soon, they had to call it quiets. The monitors were picking up, distraught with the pain Hotch had hidden so well. His heart missing beats as Morgan had eased his head back into the pillows.

Emily standing there, white as a ghost, with that bucket of water. Hotch was only half-aware of them and their intentions by then. Watching Morgan behind half-lidded eyes and lips pale and parted as he took a dry rag through his hair. Morgan’s mother had always told him that going out in the cold with wet hair would give you pneumonia and while he had never known anyone to get pneumonia like that he wasn’t going to take any chances. Even if they were in a temperature-controlled hospital room.

And through all of that, Hotch had made it. Slowly, through shrieking monitors and more than one scare, alive. A fucking miracle.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” It’s Halloween. For as long as Morgan has known Reid, it’s been his favorite holiday. Hell, everyone knows it’s his favorite holiday. Even Hotch gets a little festive in the name of bringing even the faintest smile to Reid’s face. The idea for today, a party to celebrate Halloween, had been done with Reid specifically in mind. Being cooped up in this apartment isn’t good for him.

Reid who hasn’t actually looked at Morgan since he came in, twirls the frayed ends of his blanket around his finger. “I don’t want to,” he repeats. It’s one thing to mop about in this apartment. Here, no one watches him struggle to move. No one looks too hard, too long at his ill-practiced steps. At the crutches tucked under his scrawny arms. Worse is that if he goes, he can’t take his crutches. He’ll have to the stupid wheelchair in his room. Whos open seat is a crookedly carved leather smile, taunting him.

Morgan shakes his head and keeps at his current project. For the past week (has it been a week? He isn’t certain) he’s done nothing but tidies up every space around him. Having attacked Hotch’s apartment-- tearing up that blood-stained carpet, patching the hole in the wall, fixing a leaky faucet in the guest room, and cleaning out his worryingly empty fridge-- he’s come to Reid’s. The thing is Reid is going to make this process a little harder. There are bits and pieces of Reid in every corner of his apartment. Not self-deprecatingly bare like Hotch’s. Here, he can’t disrupt the way books lie because they all have been sectioned and left where they are with purpose. There is a purpose to his chaos more meaningful than Hotch’s out of sight out of mind.

“Well, you have to go.”

Reid frowns, biting his lip to refrain from whining. Despite having done more by his current twenty-four-years of age than any of them, they still treat him like a child. And while any of them might be forgiven for a bit of childish refusal he won’t be. Well, in all fairness, he is prone to a bit more childish things than they are. Reid had to be forced to go to the doctor’s for a check-up after getting anthrax and all because he had thought they might ask to do blood tests. What had made him go, in the end? Morgan taking Reid himself. It was humiliating but when they draw blood Morgan had offered his hand and Reid had taken it.

Now, Morgan’s just asking for a favor. For Reid to suck it up, just this once. To have fun and be easy. “Hotch is only coming because he’s under the impression this is all for you.” And it is, all for Reid. None of them care about Halloween. Hotch least of all. But the two of them are going to go crazy cooped up on their own.

Of course, that’s only mostly true.

It’s entirely Morgan and Emily’s idea.

“Okay,” Reid sighs, scratching self-conscious at his scalp. “I just…” he shoves the blankets off his legs. “Just need a few minutes.” A shower. He needs a shower and, if he’s granted the time for it, a pity nap.

Morgan hums, head bent to his current task of cleaning Reid’s strangely large collection of mugs lining his counter. “As long as you need,” he mumbles.

Two years ago, if someone sat David Rossi down and told him that on a Saturday in October he’d be celebrating Halloween as a fully grown man... he wouldn’t believe them. Add in the fact that he would be doing this because it’s a twenty-something-year-old genius’s favorite holiday and he’s doing it to lighten the mood of his old prodigy… well, he’d consider himself senile.

He should have stayed retired.

As of the last month, he’s been thinking that a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the little ragtag team Aaron’s created in his absence but they're a little crazy and trouble magnets-- Emily and Reid attempt at a second Waco with Benjamin Cyrus, the bombing in New York, and George Foyet. All within the span of a year. He’s only heard about some of the other things they did before he came back.

These freaking kids are crazy.

“Will you just listen to me,” Dave is multi-tasking. Aside from picking out comfortable clothes for the evening he also has got to swindle Hotch into coming out to the party. “For once in your life, Aaron, just listen to me.” As dramatic as that may sound, it’s kind of fair. Even when they prodigy and mentor, Aaron had a flair for taking Dave’s instructions in one ear and out the other.

“Dave,” comes Aaron’s soft rebuttal. He’s exhausted. Much to his chagrin, three days rest has done nothing to mend the bone-tired ache in his body. Add the depression he can feel settling across his sternum and the way his ribs feel like they’re being pried open… He has no interest in watching his team get drunk at Dave’s house. Call him a buzzkill or a killjoy to heart’s content, that’s not going to change his mind.

Besides, the last thing he needs is to start himself into a bad habit of drinking every time he’s sad. Then what? He starts himself down a road of addiction. He comes to work drunk. Derek tries to say something. Dave is worried. He gets fired. He’s no better than his own father.

Rossi’s voice softens, any of the agitation previously in his voice is gone. “Aaron,” he calls through the speaker. “I’m not asking. Emily’s on her way right now to come to get you.” He sighs under his breath, just tired, not even mad. “You can make that hard for her,” Dave offers, knowing that’s what Hoch is going to be inclined to do. “I think we both know she deserves a break from that, though.”

Hotch feels the defeat pull his shoulders down. He’s been an asshole lately. Logically, he knows it’s a progression of all the emotions he’s feeling and burying. Emily doesn’t hate him for that but he knows she’s starting to feel overwhelmed by it. And given how successful his other attempts at pushing everyone else away has been, he might just owe her a little reprieve. To do this one thing without an entire battle.

“I’ll… I’ll be there.”

Dave smiles on the other side of the line, content with himself. “Thank you, Aaron. I will see you there, kiddo.”

It’s always the smartest people that fall for the simplest tricks.

Unlike Derek, Emily does feel bad about their plan. Logically, she’s very aware of how beneficial it’s going to be. If they don’t invite themselves over, Reid won’t ask anyone to come. Which means that he’s got to be getting his meals some other way. The thing is, if he were getting them delivered by a friend unknown to his team members, there should be something left over. Food in his fridge or trash in his garbage can. But there’s nothing.

Why does love have to be so difficult? How is it that some people understand it and others are stunningly unaware? Somehow wrapping their pretty little heads around this idea that they are undeserving or tricksters for having tricked someone into caring about them. If they didn’t love Reid would they feverishly watch over him? Did he really consider himself that sinister? That malicious? That he could trick profilers into loving him? Let it be clear, there is no trick. They are not so foolish and he not so unlovable.

“Derek, I think we might--”

Reid’s wobbly. He’s not yet mastered the crutches (at all). His practice comes only from the hospital and then his instructions had been brief before he was sent down the hall. A nurse just needing to see he could maneuver them and that they were at the right height. So, as bitter as he is to admit it, Derek’s lightly placed hand on the small of his back is very helpful.

Turning to see Emily, Reid lurches dangerous and Morgan moves quickly to stop him from falling. Just behind them, SUV pulled up onto Rossi’s lawn as close as she could pull it up, Emily is helping Hotch out of the car. Even from here, he can hear the lowered grumbling shared between the two. Despite being unable to see Hotch except for one brief moment, Reid’s glad to at least hear the other man. Him and Emily clipping rough comments back and forth. Bordering on rude but it’s between them and they’ve always let one another slide in these areas.

Vaguely he can piece together that they’re arguing about whether or not Morgan’s help is needed. “--wheelchair, that you made me leave-- I will take you back-- walker-- asshole!” Despite how angrily they nip back and forth, it’s all in what they don’t say. Hotch falls into Emily’s guiding step. Not even breaking from his own comment as her hand comes around his hips and effortlessly supports his weight as they take a step up. Neither taking the blow below the belt to note how Hotch’s words get cut off by a hardly contained whimper of pain or how choked his quick, distressed breathing becomes.

Morgan’s help is needed but Emily is too focused on keeping Hotch’s feet firmly planted on the ground and Hotch too worried about not busting his ass on the ice.

Reid jerks as Dave’s front door is thrown open. One hand on his hip, an apron over his chest, he shakes his head at the sight of the four of them. “I can hear you two arguing like children from in the house!” he shouts. He steps out onto the porch, tucking the towel in his hand into his pants. “Grown adults out here acting like children!” There is an unmistakable David Rossi laced fondness in his tone. That, despite his haste movements and dry frown, is taken as such because they know him. And he knows Hotch and Emily well enough to know this would happen.

“Get yourselves inside,” Rossi’s entire body changes when he sees Morgan and Reid. A simple passing hand down Morgan’s back for encouragement. “There’s root beer in the bottom drawer in the fridge, have Henry get you one!”

Reid smiles, suddenly excited for this afternoon. Root beer is… it’s the keystone of his childhood. There was not a matter he and his mother couldn’t handle with a little root beer. And while he doesn’t indulge himself often with that luxury (still some part of his brain fails to comprehend that he has the money to get it) Dave always has it. Hearing that Henry is here, implying Will and JJ too, he feels himself growing giddy. Pleased. He can’t wait to talk to them. For Will to hit his shoulder with his fist just a little too hard and to rustle his hair. JJ hovering and laughing. Henry. Smiling laughing.

Dave keeps going.

His frowning turning into a small while Hotch’s dark eyes find him, a glint of hope. “Our poor hero,” Dave greets in a half-jab at Hotch. He cups the younger man’s cheek, smiling at him. “I assume Emily has been her cruel and unusual self?” Once again, another jab. It’s a perfect balance. He neither takes Emily’s side (exhausted by Hotch’s antics) nor Hotch’s (exhausted by Emily’s antics).

They both scoff, at both implications.

“Hotch is being an asshole,” Emily grumbles, childishly sticking her tongue out at him. “Per his usual self.”

Hotch turns to Dave and returns, “to answer your question, yes she is.”

Wedged between Dave and Emily, Hotch makes it to the porch. Emily only hits him once. Once. He deserved it.

“Would you two behave?”

They get all of two steps in before JJ puts a stop to it. You see, no one ever listens to Dave. Not once has anyone ever listened to Hotch but JJ. No, to JJ, they always listen. And with a slow final few blows, Hotch and Emily stop bickering.

“Now,” JJ has flour on her chest. An honor which means Rossi has let her within his kitchen. “Go sit,” she points to the living room, stepping aside to let them through. “Behave yourselves or I’m not letting you eat until you hug and tell each other you love one another.” Her grandmother used to force that punishment on JJ and her sister as children. Cruel, she had thought then, but JJ has learned it to be very useful. As they pass, she hears them both grumble something about Hotch’s mostly liquid diet and how Emily doesn’t think that’s very fair. JJ throws her own towel at their heads. It’s well worth the shared smirk of mischief shared between Hotch and Emily.

Little deviants, she thinks with an eye roll. It’s Halloween so she lets it slide.

In the living room, Reid and Hotch are left while the others fight over one another in the kitchen. The clatter is heard through the whole house. Morgan making Garcia laugh, a barking sound that draws a smile from Reid. Joyous. Emily lightly teasing Rossi for what she teases is new greying in his hair. She asks if he’d like her to dye it for him the next time he gets his hair colored. Her triumphant laughter is just as freeing.

“Hotch?”

Beaten by the effort it took to walk all the way to the living room, Hotch had mostly succumbed to his placement on in the lazyboy. A chair, in which, he had never sat once in all the years he’d visited Dave’s. But the recliner is large and he can easily lean to support his side. Keeping an arm wrapped around his aching side. Without opening his eyes, head tilted back he hums. “Yeah?”

Reid’s knee is carefully surrounded by pillows. Even if it’s jostled, it’s fully supported in every direction. He’d been sitting here, watching Hotch’s face steadily grow blank. Masking his pain. He’d wanted to know if Hotch too had been tricked into coming. But then, as Morgan, followed closely by Garcia and the others, step in and Reid finds he doesn’t actually need to know. Hotch came, didn’t he? Left the safety of his dark apartment in favor of their boisterous company. Of little Henry in his Spiderman costume and Garcia and her own elaborate Harry Potter costume.

Derek hands Reid a plate, mostly finger foods a bit of pasta. His plate mirrors Henry’s. While the other’s all eat healthy amounts of pasta. Will sneaks him a napkin, which confuses him, until Will covers his hand over Reid’s and whispers “there are eight Oreos in this napkin”. Sweets, which JJ and Garcia had deprived him until he cleaned his plate. And when JJ caves, Reid’s stomach full of the carrots, crackers, and grapes his plate had primarily had (as well as those Oreos), and brings him a slice of pie and ice cream Will only shakes his head with a smirk.

Hotch manages a few spoonful's of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.

“You could eat something else,” Dave ventures, scowling. But Hotch’s body is very displeased and what little solid food he’d managed to eat in the last few days was having a tendency to come right back up. Abdominal trauma, the doctor’s kept informing them, often caused this. They just needed to wait it out.

“He’s got the palate of a toddler,” Emily mumbles but she means it fondly. She punctuates it by throwing a carrot at his head. He doesn’t have the dexterity to swat it out of the air so it hits his head and he just scowls at her.

Reid sides with Hotch. “Chicken noodle soup is the best soup,” he offers in Hotch’s defense. Blushing when Hotch just looks sadly at him, as if broken by the idea that Reid is the only person left to defend him.

“It is,” Garcia tries to add, helpfully. She smiles encouragingly to Hotch but once again he takes them siding with him poorly. If all the sympathy he can garner is from Reid and Garcia, he’s hopeless. He loves them dearly but they effortlessly take his side. “And you leave my boss man alone! If he wants to eat chicken noodle soup then you let him.”

Hotch hums to that, quirking an eyebrow at Garcia, and looking down at Emily. Of all the places for her to sit, she’d chosen the floor. With a whole floor to choose from, she still sat down right at his feet. Resting her back against his shins. Which he didn’t mind but he knew she’d done it just to annoy him.

Henry grows tired of his adult company and with the sun falling, he knows what’s coming. Even at three, he’s aware of what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Go on,” Hotch encourages. He knows they’re only holding back for two reasons: Reid and him. But Henry shouldn’t suffer just because he managed to piss off the one Unsub brave enough to attack him and Reid unfortunate enough to get shot. “We won’t go anywhere. I’ll put on Doctor Who,” he bargains. “Reid won’t go anywhere.” But it’s not really Reid they’re worried about. “I’ll take a nap,” he offers. Which is what his body needs but he’s not so sure he’ll actually commit to that.

“Don’t move.” Emily orders.

“I’ll make sure he stays put,” Reid says, with a nod. But given how stupid they both are, Emily loves the commitment but doesn’t take the offer too seriously. Hotch with a blanket tucked over his legs and Reid happily humming away to the Doctor Who theme song, they’re left to the silence of Dave’s house. The others out taking Henry around the block for some trick or treating.

Hotch does take that nap and Reid contently gets sucked into Doctor Who. Content in ways they both thought were only possible locked away in their own misery.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #will lamontagne #david rossi #henry jareau

76 notes · View notes

luninosity · 4 years ago

Text

Catching up on @evanstanweek ficlets again! Here’s Day 3, prompt: on set.

Read at AO3 here - 2,336 words of on-set love confessions, set during The First Avenger - or read on tumblr below!

Sebastian’s watching Chris. He often is, can’t seem to help the track of his gaze—can’t pull away from the magnet-tug that’s Chris Evans’ loud laugh and gesturing hands and philosopher’s eyes, and if he’s honest he doesn’t want to. Right now the low hazy grey lighting of the broken bar sits on Chris’s shoulders and turns him into a grieving supersoldier: a man hollowed out by loss, left with a gaping hole right through his chest.

Chris is so good. So brilliant at emotion, at getting character. So thoughtful and so generous with his feelings, the kind of bravery that holds nothing back. He is Steve Rogers, through and through: a hero, shining blue and gold.

Sebastian’s not that brave. Not that brilliant. Good at angst and pain, or dry humor, or intensity, maybe; but he’s in character for it. He does love people and stories, and he thinks he’s funny, sometimes, and he thinks he might want to be a writer, sometimes, and he can shove an entire pizza slice in his mouth when he’s comfortable around friends, but.

It takes him a while. Exhaling. Stepping out. Speaking up. He wouldn’t say he’s shy, because he isn’t, not once he knows people. He’s just…not Chris Evans, who wears joys and vulnerabilities openly, with pride, unafraid.

Sebastian looks at Chris, and aches with emotion, and says nothing, every day and every minute on this film so far.

He’s technically done for the day, though he’s not at all done on this film; he’s spent the morning running around with Howling Commandos and being a young and terrified sergeant thrown into war. They’d filmed Bucky’s fall from the train the day before; Sebastian had honestly loved it. The emotion’d been easy: love and loyalty, throwing himself in to fight alongside the other half of his heart, the moment of sheer shock, a small but gloriously physical drop onto thick mats. They’d let him do that one, because it wasn’t a long fall and they needed to see his face. He hoped it’d been good; everyone seemed pleased, at least.

He shifts weight, wishes he had a pillar or a wall to lean on. He watches Chris some more.

They’d caught the stunned disbelief on Chris’s—Steve’s—face at the fall, yesterday. Chris is so incredible at nuance, at blazing emotions, even in a few-seconds-long shot. Sebastian had said, after, “That felt really good, that last take?” and had meant, I think you’re a genius, I think I want to work right next to you forever, I think I love you.

Chris had gotten kind of pink-cheeked because Chris is too damn self-deprecating, and had said, “Oh—um, thanks, man, you too, I mean it felt good to me too, I mean we’re fuckin’ awesome, obviously,” and had nudged Sebastian’s shoulder, somewhere between a punch and a quick resting of a hand. “Craft services? They got blueberry bagels, someone said.”

Chris, bagel-focused, clearly had not heard Sebastian’s internal monologue. And if he had, wouldn’t reciprocate.

Which is fine, of course. Chris never needs to know, and Sebastian’s ridiculous emotions will calm the hell down and go away. Any day now. Sometime. Soon.

But he’s watching Chris, and Chris is pretending to try to get drunk, pain visibly shredding him inside; Chris is Steve and Steve can’t believe it and has to believe it and wants to scream, to shout, to punch a hole through the world—

The scene’s fantastic, of course.

They get it in maybe three takes, rapid-fire, Chris laying out his heart for the watchers. His voice cracks; it’s getting rougher, the third time.

They do it a couple times more for different close-ups. Sebastian takes a step closer, between takes. His boots—he’s changed; they’re his own boots—are louder than he’d recalled that morning; Chris looks over at the sound.

And maybe Chris looks surprised, or relieved, or grateful, for a split second; maybe it’s all in Sebastian’s head, though, because the next second they’re right back into it, capturing Steve’s heartbreak.

It’s a wrap for the scene, eventually. And Chris is done for a few hours too, though he’ll need to stick around; he’s got some close-ups to do inside a mock airplane, being bounced around, for what’ll be the big final self-sacrifice. Sebastian loves the heroism and pain of it; he’s always loved good writing, and he’s got a good feeling about this script and about this universe, which he’s a tiny part of now.

Chris doesn’t get up right away. Just scrubs both hands over his face, shoulders slumped. Hayley Atwell’s gone off to talk to the director; Joe’s nodding, listening to her. Nobody’s checking on Chris.

And that’s wrong, that’s wrong and not good and not right—Chris has just been hurting, the way that Chris hurts for the world, and Chris should never be hurting, not while Sebastian’s alive—

Sebastian’s legs move before his brain makes a conscious decision. He’s picking his way across artistic rubble and taking a few running steps and putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Chris actually jumps a little, which isn’t the best start. “Oh! Uh, hey, hi, did you, um…have a question? About Steve and Bucky, or somethin’?” The Boston comes out extra-strong; it does that when Chris is feeling a lot, or tipsy, or simply exaggerating to make someone laugh.

“No,” Sebastian says. “Or, well, yeah, we might want to talk about some of those flashback sequences, so we’re on the same page with emotion and all, but.” He licks his lips, realizes he’s doing it—a nervous habit, one he’s had for years—and stops. He can taste chapstick on his tongue. “I just. Wanted to. I don’t know. Are you…I mean, that looked like a lot.”

“You…” Chris trails off. He’s looking at Sebastian’s face with astonishing intent; Sebastian would say even desperation, but that’d be ludicrous. Chris doesn’t have any reason to feel desperate about him.

He tries, “I know you, um, like tea? Not coffee? We could go grab, um, tea. If you want.”

“Tea,” Chris says, a little blankly. “But you like coffee.”

Sebastian’s starting to get kind of worried, here. “I do, but you gave it up? We could maybe head back to your trailer, and you can, um, relax for a minute, and I can…try to make tea?”

Chris stares at him some more.

“Or not,” Sebastian throws in helplessly.

“Yes,” Chris says. “Yes, yeah, yes—you—fuck. Okay. Jesus, Chris, get it together,” and he even shakes his head like a puppy flinging off water, and Sebastian kind of wants to grin and also scratch his tummy.

Well. Maybe not scratch. He can think of better things to do with Chris’s stomach. Mostly involving his tongue.

And he should absolutely not be thinking of that when Chris needs his help. He sticks out a hand. “To the end of the line? Or at least your trailer.”

Chris looks at the hand, and then takes it, hauling himself up out of the chair. His fingers are large and strong and a little cold, and they squeeze Sebastian’s for just a little too long, as if wanting to hold on.

No. Must be Sebastian’s heart thinking that. Wanting what he can’t have.

He walks with Chris through behind-the-scenes set-ups and teardowns, props and people rushing to and fro, the corners of trailers and the shouts of movie-making going on. The sun’s warm, if light; the ground’s hard beneath his boots. He keeps stealing glances at Chris, who doesn’t seem too talkative. Sebastian’s poor overworked heart wants to take each sensation, each sight and taste and scent of this backstage moment, and fold them up safe deep inside.

Chris is letting him help. That feels like sunshine.

Chris’s trailer’s simple, unpretentious, unfussy; script copies and notes lie scattered around, and he’s got some weights, and some Disney-movie DVDs. Sebastian smiles, because that’s so very Chris: delight in the magic, always.

Chris, still in costume, sits down on his sofa. He breathes out, and looks up. “Thanks.”

“For what? How do I make tea with this?” He’s poking Chris’s electric kettle. He does sort of know how it works, in theory. His mother has an old-fashioned kettle; he’s got fancy coffee-making machinery; he should be able to combine all this knowledge. “Where is your tea?”

“Seb,” Chris says. “I—hang on, does anyone actually call you Seb?”

“Um. Not really? You can. I don’t mind.” He doesn’t. Chris uses last names often, an affectionate Boston-bro shorthand for friendship; Sebastian’s somehow always been Sebastian or Seb, in Chris’s voice. He’s wondered why, though he’s thought maybe Chris just doesn’t feel that close to him. Not deserving of the bro-status.

“You don’t mind, or you don’t like it, and you’re being nice about it?”

“I don’t mind,” Sebastian says, too quickly. “I like it.”

“Sebastian,” Chris says.

“Really,” Sebastian says. “Either. Whatever.”

“Jesus,” Chris says, face back in his hands. “I’m sorry. I just…just tell me if I’m sayin’ something stupid, okay? Please.”

“But you’re not!” Sebastian comes back over to the couch. That damn magnet again. Tugging his bones. “You’re not, it’s fine, we’re good, Chris. I swear. Really.”

Chris doesn’t look up, so Sebastian drops to both knees, right there at Chris’s feet, and tries not to think of all the times he’s wanted to do exactly that. It’s easier not to think of it, right now, because he’s genuinely concerned.

He peeks up at Chris’s face. “Hey. Kinda worried here. Not about you, I mean, about your kettle, it’s got all these buttons, it’s like a rocket ship, I’m afraid if I touch the wrong thing it’ll explode.”

Chris snorts, almost a laugh, and then does look up. His eyes go right to Sebastian’s, so close and so blue; and then all at once he’s moving, leaning forward, one hand reaching out and cradling Sebastian’s head, and then—

They’re kissing. Oh, god, they’re kissing, Sebastian on his knees in front of Chris and Chris bending down to claim him, hand in Sebastian’s hair—

Chris kisses like reprieve, like the release of storms, like the dive into a heated pool on a chilly day: wholehearted, devoted, anxious to lick and taste and plunge into every part of Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian, who’s been kissed before, has in fact never been kissed before, because no other kiss has ever been a kiss, compared to this.

His knees dimly register the hardness of the trailer floor, and his neck’s at kind of an awkward angle, and Chris is still mostly in the Captain America suit. None of that matters. Nothing else matters at all, because Chris wants him and Sebastian’s whole self yearns for Chris, and Chris’s tongue and taste and tug at Sebastian’s hair are all white-hot gloriously perfect.

Chris pulls back almost as abruptly. They’re both breathless; Chris whispers, “Oh, fuck…” and takes his hand out of Sebastian’s hair, but then touches Sebastian’s cheek, cups his face, as if unable to stop touching. “I…fuck…I didn’t…I’m so fucking sorry, I just…”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why’re you sorry?” Sebastian tips his head into Chris’s hand. “I’m not.”

“You’re…not.”

“Chris,” Sebastian says, and then runs out of words. He hopes Chris can see it, can read it, in his eyes. On his face. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Chris reaches out with the other hand too: framing Sebastian’s face now, tender and awestruck. “You mean that.”

“I mean it,” Sebastian says. “But—”

“Oh god,” Chris says, “I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I—”

“No! No, just…are you okay? I mean, from earlier.” Somewhere amid the kissing his hands’ve ended up on Chris’s thighs; apparently they just want to be there, and now rub along Chris’s legs, soothing and caressing and learning all at once. “I mean, I wanted to—”

“To help,” Chris groans. “You came over to help—because you’re the sweetest fucking person I know, god, you’re perfect, Seb, the nicest and the warmest and the best—and I fucking, Jesus, practically mauled you—”

Sebastian cuts that anguished recrimination off by diving forward and getting his mouth back on Chris’s. After some in-depth affirmation, he breathes against Chris’s lips, “Don’t think you’re doing any mauling I don’t like.”

Chris’s eyebrows go up.

“Really,” Sebastian tells him.

“Huh,” Chris says. “Huh. Okay. You—okay.”

“No,” Sebastian says patiently. “Are you okay?”

Chris stares at him, and then bursts out laughing. Mid-laughter, scoops Sebastian off the floor. Flops them both down across the sofa, holding on. “God, you’re incredible.”

“The best, you said.”

“And I mean it. You just make it all…feel better, kind of?” Chris strokes a hand down Sebastian’s back, over his t-shirt. “That’s what it was, earlier. Like…being Steve, losing Bucky, but that’s you, and all at once I was thinking about losing you, and I just felt like…like someone’d dropped me off a train, y’know? Like I’d never get up again.”

“I’m here.” Sebastian wriggles against him. They fit together: bodies pressed close, every piece of them learning each other. He’s half atop Chris, but with one of Chris’s legs tangled through his. “I’m here.”

“I know.” Chris rubs his back again. “And you were there, too. You were right there and I could look up and find you, and it was like I could remember how to breathe. And then you were here, asking about tea and looking at me like—and I just had to kiss you. I want to kiss you. Seb. Sebastian. God, I fuckin’ want—everything. I know it might get complicated, I know we’re in the middle of making a movie, but I can’t not want everything. Together. With you.”

“Well,” Sebastian says, “good to know,” and stretches to kiss Chris again. It’s that simple, if not easy: the future’ll change, but it does that anyway, sprawling out in all sorts of directions. And he thinks it’ll be a good direction, with Chris at his side. “Because I want everything with you too.”

#evanstan #evanstan week #evanstan week 2021 #my fic #chris evans #sebastian stan #such fluff #love confessions

43 notes · View notes

supernova-cas · 3 years ago

Text

S01 E01 PILOT

Okay so! starting a rewatch and I thought I’d do a little missing scene from each ep. So here we go starting out strong with some Dean on the road. You can read it here on tumblr or here on AO3!

The road stretches ahead of him, long and empty and Dean speeds up, hits the accelerator, trying to lose himself in the motion, synch up with the car and just glide. But it’s getting harder to focus now, when his destination isn’t some monster or creature from a nightmare. No, he’s not going anywhere so easy.

It’s stupid really, to feel like this and Dean knows it. He’s dealt with much worse than a trip to a college campus. This time last week he’d been over in New Orleans, moments away from being stabbed by an intangible knife. He ignores the slight pain that lingers in his side. As far as hunting injuries go, well it hardly qualifies. Point was Dean wasn’t a kid anymore. He was old enough to hunt on his own now and definitely old enough for this.

And yet, if he was a kid, if they were both kids, he wouldn’t have to be doing this. If they were just a few years younger, Sam would still be right there with him. Sitting next to him and spouting some stupid fact about old lore or just burying his head in one of those trash novels he pretended he never read. They would be together, and for all he knew, if Sam was here, if things were different, if they all stayed together this wouldn’t be an issue at all.

But it’s been years since any of Sam’s shit had cluttered up the backseat. The car’ all Dean’s now, his tapes in the front, his gear in the back, the car was big enough to contain everything he owned and more. All Dean’s possessions, packed into her tight. He wonders if Sam drives. Not that he’d need a car to contain his belongings anymore. No, Sammy’s got a new home now. Proper shelves to line his books up on instead of the corner of the trunk, clothes hanging in a closet instead of piled up on top of a false bottom opening. Yeah, Sam doesn’t need any of the space he and Dean had spent so long arguing over. They’d squabbled for years, each trying to get a little more storage space. And Dean won.

To the victor the spoils. An empty car with all the room in the world. He doesn’t have enough to fill it.

He’s been trying, definitely. Even just now in New Orleans he’d picked up a couple of pretty pieces, a silver knife and some more bullets. His collection is growing, he’s got rifles and handguns now, small knives and machetes, bags and bags of rock salt. Enough iron he’s pretty sure he’s causing some kind of disturbance in the Earth’s natural magnetism. He’s even collected some books of his own. In the trunk is a mixture of a couple of old lore books and some classic literature. Dean may not be going to some fancy college but he sure loves to read. It’s a ragtag little library, taken from old garage sales he passed or the occasional thrift store.

He’s not sure what John would think of them. It isn’t something he’s mentioned. Not because he’s keeping it a secret from him! He just hasn’t had reason to bring it up. It’s not a distraction though, he has that answer locked and loaded. He barely ever reads them, they’re just there in the car. For the long nights when the cards are all frozen and his hustling hasn’t been quite enough to afford to buy dinner and a motel room. When he’s lying back in the impala, waiting to be exhausted enough that sleep overtakes him, sure, he’ll turn a few pages.

Dean passes another mile marker and tries not to see it as another chance to turn back now.

He wonders where Sam sleeps now. If he’s got a little bedside table, he can put his books on before he falls asleep. If his room has thick curtains, if he never has to ignore neon lights flowing through thin curtains or broken blinds. He’s got a home now, the address Dean is driving to, he doesn’t have to sleep in a car.

He wonders if Sam has a car.

The end of the cassette brings him back and for a moment he considers pulling over right there to flip it around. There aren’t any other drivers out here at this time. But if he does pull over, he’s not sure how long it’ll be until he can bring himself to keep going again.

So, he drives in silence. It’s not too far. Which is a good thing. He wants to be there already. And maybe if he tells himself that one more time it’ll make it true.

He slows down as he gets off the highway. Into the residential area of the college town. Sammy’s home neighborhood. He hates how little he hates it.

The impala is silent as he parks her right in front of Sam’s home. She’s beautiful and brilliant and he’s not sure why suddenly she feels small.

A quick knock doesn’t garner any response and Dean is too curious not to take the chance, to test Sam’s defenses.

There aren’t any.

His door is locked and that’s it. He’s not sure what he expected. Sammy definitely doesn’t want to have to explain to all his college friends a line of salt in the doorway, he doesn’t want to carve a sigil in the doorpost. But this, it’s a simple lock Dean gets open in moments. A challenge even Sam would be able to master without trouble.

He moves through the apartment quietly, looking around. It’s bigger than he thought it would be. And there’s so much stuff. He wonders how much of it is Sam’s if he actually owns all this. He probably should have been more focused on his surroundings but with all this, well it was easy to get distracted. Sue him.

So, Sam’s attack takes him by surprise. Not enough of a surprise that Dean doesn’t react well, but enough to get him off balance for a moment. Sam still fights well. Or at least, well for Sam. Dean’s still got the clear advantage as he shoves him right into the other room. The light from the window (framed by thick curtains, he notices) illuminates his face for a moment and Sam falters. Dean gets him pinned down in moments.

“Whoa, easy tiger.” He manages, trying to catch his breath.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is shock, but not instantly hostile and Dean can’t help the laugh that escapes.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam’s voice is his tried and true bitching about being beaten tone, and Dean falls into his own role easily.

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.”

He’s goading Sam and it works, always does. It actually surprises him how fast Sam is, how quickly their roles are reversed.

“Or not,” he admits. Sam hits him twice and Dean rolls his eyes. “Get off of me.”

Sam gets off of him and extends his hand to help Dean. Sam pulls him up and then stands back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam’s voice is upset now and it’s suddenly too real. Sam’s no longer the brother Dean reaches to poke and annoy in the car, he’s no longer an abstract figure too far away to reach. Sam is here, right here in front of Dean and he is angry.

“Well, I was looking for a beer.” He tries with a grin, grabbing hold of Sam for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam repeats and Dean needs to tell him.

“Okay.” He answers. No jokes this time. “We need to talk.”

“Uh, the phone?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised.

“If I’d’a called, would you have picked up?” His tone is light but it’s a serious question and they both know it. Dean thinks for a moment that Sam won’t answer and for another, worse moment that he will.

But he doesn’t get the chance. The lights flick on and Dean spins to see the blonde woman at the switch. She’s pretty, too pretty to be in Sam’s apartment anyway, and more then anything else she’s an interjection into the situation. A distraction and Dean pounces.

“Jess.” Sam speaks up next to him. “Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

“Wait, your brother, Dean?” she asks and where ever that’s going Dean wants to cut it off before it has a chance to begin the trip.

“Oh, I love the smurfs.” He gestures to her crop top and he can practically feel the disdain and anger rolling off the two others in the room. That’s fine. He expected that. “You know, I gotta tell you. You are way out of my brother’s league.”

Jessica looks at him like he’s just confirmed Sam’s reasoning for leaving in a single moment.

“Just let me put something on.”

No. He isn’t staying, they aren’t staying. This isn’t some long conversation to be had. And Sammy definitely didn’t want his girlfriend in on it.

“No, no, no, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He says with an easy grin. “Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.”

“No.” Sam speaks up and Dean watches as he walks away from him, as he goes to put his arm around Jessica.

“No whatever you want to say you can say it in front of her.”

Dean looks at him for a moment. He hadn’t anticipated this. But he can’t very well walk away now.

“Okay. Um.” He looks at them straight on, trying to order his thoughts. “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“So, he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift.” Sam says, and his words are heavy and disgusted. His hold on Jessica seems to tighten. “He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Dean ducks his head. Trying to let that one go. It’s not that he’s wrong exactly, it’d happened before. But it wasn’t something they’d say. Not like this. And besides this time isn’t like that at all. This time is different. This time, John is in trouble. And Dean’s not going to let him down. He’s going to get his baby brother and he’s going to get the family together and safe. He looks back up at Sam, his gaze hard as he says,

“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

#my writing #mine #scene fill #fjksdakjlfdskl i hope people see this #i'd love to hear some thoughts #or if anyone wants to read future ones?

9 notes · View notes

tomtenadia · 4 years ago

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 6

* Insert greeting here according to your time zone.*

So, chapter 6 is here. A bit of development fro our two idiots. Hope you like it.

I have chapter 7 and 8 down but they need heavy editing. Also, last night I was inspired and I did manage to plot the skeleton of the story, so I know exactly where I am going. There should be 28 chapters and an epilogue.

Well, I hope, in the meantime that you will enjoy this one.

Spot the HoF references :)

---------

The next day Rowan was back at work. He opened on time as usual and a couple of tourists came into the shop but left quite quickly. Probably not impressed by the lack of tacky touristy stuff. He was working on re-organising a shelf when the door opened and he was not ready to see again the person who crossed the threshold. “Hey you.” The woman smiled at him tenderly. Rowan forgot how to breath. Aelin had her hair in a braid and a straw hat on her head. A nice colourful shirt and then his gaze trailed south. She was wearing shorts and the sight of her long tanned legs almost killed him. It looked like Aelin was ready to go on a tropical beach to suntan and relax all day. She was a goddess. And she was in front of him. Smiling. “Back at you.” He said, getting up slowly, not trusting his legs. He felt he could faint anytime at the sight. “I am here for my book.” A timid smile appeared on his lips then his legs finally moved and did manage to cover the few steps taking him to the counter. He grabbed the book and handed it to her. He hesitated for a moment, as if to try and have a conversation but then decide against. What was he going to say anyway?

“Have fun.” That was the safest comment he could make. “I bet you are dying to know how it finishes.” Aelin grabbed the book quite eagerly and held it to her chest “Hell yeah. The fake queen has lost her marbles and she deserves to die. Painfully if possible. And I can’t believe that the main couple got separated, they are at the opposite extremes of the continent and that bastard of trusted member of her court told her, her lover was dead. And the plot twist at the end?” Rowan laughed. Actually laughed and for Aelin it was the most beautiful sound she ever heard. The smile reached his eyes and he was even more stunning. “Be ready for a lot of angst though.” Aelin dismissed him with her hand “I eat angst for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” They were talking. Not about what happened but he did not care. “Have you read The cursed kingdom?” “Of course.” “Well, if I survived the angst of that book I can survive anything.” She explained. “I have a present for you.” Her book went on the floor and she began fumbling in her backpack, clearly looking for something. “Ah! Here it is.” In her hand there was a small rectangular packet wrapped in bookish paper. Rowan took it suspiciously and opened. At the sight of the gift a roaring laugh erupted from him. Such a genuine laugh that left Aelin stunned. That could not be the same person who told her she was nothing to him. “So now when you open the fridge you will think of me.” She explained, pointing at the tacky fridge magnet with Stornoway written on, now in his hands. He smiled and attached the magnet to his metal pen holder on his desk “I spend more time here than at my fridge. Now it will always be in front of me.” They were talking and laughing, it looked like somehow the fight they had was just a bad memory, but he could not forgive himself for what he said to her. How could he apologise for his behaviour? He was terrible at this kind of things. How was he going to explain the chaos that was his heart at the moment? Then he remembered about the dark haired guy and the book and sadness engulfed him. “I wanted to apologise.” She surprised him searching for his gaze. Her blue eyes met his and he could not look away. “I said horrible things.” She continued. Aelin placed the book on the counter and moved a step in his direction, closing the distance “I was having a bad day and I think I exploded and took it out on the wrong person.” Rowan moved a step closer to her as well “I said horrible things too. You were being nice and brought me coffee. It’s just that…” he paused. He was so bad at this “I am not good at communicating with people as you can see. You are not just a customer….” “Mo charaid” he heard her whisper and smiled. “You are learning…” he added. He extended his arm and took her hand in his “I’d love to try an be your friend.” With a swift motion he pulled her to him, to his chest and she felt amazing against him. She was shorter and her head fitted just under his chin. Her arms caught him off guard when they wrapped themselves around him. “I am a mess.” It was a whisper from her but he heard it “I am a mess. My life is going belly up and some days I feel like drowning.” She looked at him and for a moment he was speechless. There was so much pain and anguish in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. “I am lost…” She whispered never removing her gaze from him “…and I don’t know the way.” At those words, his heart ached. He hugged her tighter and hoped that his action would help. Maybe his actions would convey better his feelings. A hug was all he could give her just now, but he hoped it helped a little bit. “I am a bit of a mess too.” Finally he confessed to her. She was being honest to him. She deserved a bit of his honesty too. “A bit stuck, as my aunt would say.” She is stuck too. Aelin leaned back from the embrace and put a hand on his chest, near the heart “When you are ready.” His hand covered her on his heart “When we are both ready, we will tell each other our stories.” “We will help each other.” She added softly “And maybe we could find our way back together.” He nodded and felt lighter for a moment “Together then.” “To whatever end.” Said Aelin in a solemn tone. Rowan grinned “that’s cheesy. It sounds as if it came from an epic adventure where the main hero is ready to embark in a dangerous mission. Sitting on his horse, sword wielded high and he shouts that.” “I did read it in a book actually.” Commented Aelin, laughing at the scene he had painted. With a huff she pulled away from him and walked to a shelf, grabbed a book and when she returned she shoved it in his face “You even sell it.” Rowan grabbed the book from her hands and set it aside. He was definitely going to read it. “If you spoiler it, I’ll kill you with my own hands.” She stopped again right in front of him and looked up “To whatever end…” a faint smile painted her lips “It could be our motto.” He grabbed her hand and put it back on his heart “Sounds epic enough for the two of us.” They had made some progress but he could not stop thinking about the other guy. And he could not risk asking her. She had probably seen the note which meant she knew that he knew, but he decided to give her some space. Also, the two of them were just friends. But a pang of jealousy hit him nonetheless. Anger flooded in him at the thought that he might kiss her. Or worse. It was not his place to be so possessive but that nasty emotion had been festering in him since the day the stranger had come to buy the book for her. He pushed the bad thought away. Having her back and being her friend had to be enough for now. He could not give himself to her completely until he had dealt with his life and his issues. Then she looked past him and noticed the books on the floor and the empty shelf “were you rearranging books?” “Yeah, I was playing with history section. It needed a sprucing up.” He looked at her face lit up in joy. “Can I help you? I love rearranging books. Please? Pretty please?” There was no way he could resist her. Not when she pleaded with her radiant smile. He gave in. “Fine. come.” He moved away and all of a sudden he missed the contact with her hand. They both went to the shelf and Rowan started explaining her how he was planning to reshuffle the display. “We can put some of the best historical books on display on the table, to advertise them.” She grabbed a book about the neholitic settlements “Like this one. Or this one about the Iron Age house in Bosta.” She continued “It’s such a cool place.” “And how do you know about Bosta?” “I… I was there.” He saw her hesitate and wondered if she had been there with the other guy and hated the thought of the two of them together. It should have been him to take her to all these places. Take her to Callanish and make her smile with all the myths connected to the place. Go at night and have a picnic under the stars and the Milky Way. It should have been him. That was jealousy. Dark, horrible jealousy. “Did you like it?” Aelin nodded “But my favourite was Callanish…” she looked at him and thought about the book and his note “It was such a magical place.” “It is. I have to take you there at the Solstice.” The big smile painted on her face was so beautiful it hurt. “I… felt something when I was there.” She started trying not to feel like an idiot for what she was about to say, “I sat down with my back against one of the stones, inside the circle and the chambered cairn and I just felt something.” She chuckled “Gee, now I sound like a lunatic.” Rowan placed a hand on her shoulder “You don’t. I have felt things too. Can’t actually describe what, it’s not something you can put into words easily. Especially at the solstices. I always go there for both winter and summer solstice.” “Ever seen the shining one walking down the avenue on midsummer’s dawn?” Rowan shook his head “No, he/she is still eluding me.” “Well, wonder if this year is the year we’ll see him.” “And…” he stifled a chuckle “Where else have you been?” “I have seen Callanish VIII. The stones on Great Bernera.” “Oh, so you have been busy.” He joked, while emptying the shelves to try and concentrate and hide from her his true emotions. If only he had been nicer from the start… “A bit.” Aelin took a few copies of the book he had chosen for her about Callanish and arranged them nicely on the table in a very attractive display. She then grabbed a few other different books and piled them nicely to fill the table. At the end she took a step back and admired her masterpiece “I am a genius.” Her arms folded at her chest and a big grin on her face. Rowan looked up from his position and felt suddenly the desperate desire to kiss her “You have a high opinion of herself.” He mocked her, adoring the expression painted on her face, nose scrunched up. “Give me a week. I swear, you will finally start to sell these books. If I win, you buy me lunch. If you win, you can ask me one question about myself.” Aelin hoped he took the challenge. She wanted to say that if he won he would have to confess something about him, but after his reaction, she decided it wasn’t a good idea yet. “I just hope that you are ready for a mortgage because I’ll get the biggest lunch your aunt can cook and make you cry.” “Ha.” He shouted pointing a book at her “Maeve is my aunt, she will not make me pay.” “Whatever, I still get my free lunch.” Rowan stood and eyed her display and he had to admit that she was quite good “This is actually quite nice.” “Well, at least I know that now that my medical career has gone to shit, I can always become a bookseller.” She added sadly. “You are a doctor.” Rowan added stunned by that confession and by the realisation that apart from her name he knew nothing about her. “I was, am… I… it’s complicated at the moment.” and she gave him her back. Gently his hand touched her shoulder and Aelin turned to face him and Rowan noticed her eyes filling with tears. Withe the back of her hand she wiped her face and pretended to be strong. Although in reality it hurt. Sometimes so much that she could not breath. There was anger in her, so much anger, and despair. “I am fine.’ She sniffled “Don’t worry about it.” “Aelin…” his hand was about to caress her cheek but she grabbed his wrist and stopped the gesture “No. I don’t need your pity.” She grabbed quickly her backpack, book and hat “I should go. I wasted enough of your time already.” She turned and left the shop not looking at him. Rowan stood immobile with a book in his hands and stared at the spot where she had disappeared. And all of a sudden he knew what question he wanted to ask. He wanted to know more about this woman. Discover what horrendous things had happened in her life to bring her to tears that quickly. She was hurting. Badly. Then all of a sudden he thought of the perfect idea to bring a smile back to that gorgeous face of hers.

Aelin left the shop and took the road to get to Lews castle. She followed the path through the park and ended up at the marina and eventually crashed on a bench in a spot a bit far away from civilisation. She took her phone out and called Lysandra and her friend answered after a couple of rings. “Darling…” Lysandra’s voice sounded out of breath. Shit had she interrupted something? “I guess you finally have a day off.” “Uh-uh…” said her friend “It happens you know?” “Lys, are you with Aedion just now?” “A bit.” Aelin laughed “So, I guess his hands were good.” “You have noooooo idea.” Aelin smiled “Hey, have fun you two. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She paused “Just… don’t make an aunt yet.” She said her goodbye to Lysandra and stood and then went and leaned again the pier barrier and admired the sea and the marina. She needed to talk to Lysandra. She had to tell her her current situation and how she was torn between two men who were completely the opposite of each other. She liked them both. They were both interesting and fascinating people in their own respective way.

Shit. She was in such deep, unending shit.

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowaelin #throne of glass series #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fanfic #angst #fluff

32 notes · View notes

persephonesfill · 4 years ago

Text

choke on me—chapter one

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter two

a/n: you all liked breathe me in so much that i got inspired to write a sequel! read breathe me in first before reading this fic. enjoy!

summary: After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.

rating: Explicit, so explicit

warning(s): tony has self confidence issues but what else is new, heavy smut

—————

Romanov’s eyes narrow when Tony and Steve enter the briefing room.

The fact that they’re even having a meeting after a literal alien invasion makes Tony seethe. Bureaucracy never sleeps, he guesses. (He’s not pissed because SHIELD commandeered one of the rooms in his tower. Honest.)

Tony arches a brow at Romanov. She’s a clever one, she has to be for her line of work, but Tony’s clever, too. He knows that to beat her at her own game, he has to play into it.

“You’re late,” she says, in lieu of a greeting. Compared to the rest of them, she looks quite put together. Not a hair out of place, the cut on her forehead cleaned and bandaged. The archer—Barton, his brain supplies—sits with his feet propped on the table like a goddamn heathen. Tony doesn’t say anything, though. Barton’s eyes have a faraway look; the archer’s mind is on anything but social etiquette right now. Even Thor, who’s a supposed god, looks a bit winded with one hand on his hammer and the other propping up his face. Bruce is full-on asleep, not that Tony blames him, with a shock blanket strewn about his shoulders.

“Fury isn’t here yet,” Tony says, sounding like a little kid arguing with his sister.

Natasha hums, and her eyes flit over to Steve. “You two look friendly.”

Steve, bless his heart, blushes but doesn’t say anything, and Tony’s just reminded of how he looked when he came down Tony’s throat; head thrown back, mouth open, and skin flushed.

Tony swallows down the sudden lump that arose in his throat and scrambles to come up with something, anything, to not blow their cover. He doesn’t want it to get out that he and Steve had got up to something.

“I was being a good host,” Tony says. “Steve wanted to see the tower. Or...what’s left of it.”

“It’s ‘Steve’ now?” she says with interest, and Tony curses her. He walked right into that one.

Fortunately, Tony’s good at thinking on his toes. “Alright, you caught me, Romanov. I just spent the last half hour rocking Rogers’ world.”

Steve chokes, and Tony jams his elbow into his side. Steve coughs into his arm and clears his throat.

It’s got Romanov’s attention. And everyone else’s, apparently. Bruce is still sleeping, but Barton’s turned his eyes onto them, that faraway look receding slightly. Thor’s sitting up now, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

Romanov’s eyes roam from him to Steve and back again before she snorts.

Tony’s surprised she can even make such a noise.

“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets.” Somehow she makes it sound like a threat.

“You’re seriously gonna leave it, Nat?” Barton asks.

“You didn’t see them before,” Romanov says, leaning back into her seat. “Rogers wouldn’t touch Stark with a ten-foot pole.”

Okay, that fucking hurts, but before Tony can even open his mouth to argue, because what the fuck Romanov, Fury stalks into the room with his duster flapping behind him.

If Tony weren’t so pissed, he’d make a snide comment about Severus Snape.

“Are you two going to sit down, or should I reschedule this meeting?” Fury says.

Tony grits his teeth but sits down (far away from Romanov), and Steve sits next to him.

They elect Thor to nudge Bruce awake, who looks at them with bleary eyes and his hair askew.

Steve places a big hand on Tony’s thigh underneath the table. It feels like a brand.

The meeting is agonizingly slow and painful, and Tony wishes they all would leave. Barton and Thor almost come to blows over what they’re to do with Loki, but in the end, they decide to let the Asgardian face punishment in his own land, far, far away from Earth.

“It’s not fair,” Barton hisses, his hand balling into a fist when Fury leaves the room with Thor on his coattails to collect his brother. “His daddy,” Barton spits out the word like a curse, “won’t punish him.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bruce says, stifling a yawn. “Odin exiled Thor to earth when he disappointed him.”

“Banner’s got a point,” Romanov says. “I want him to pay, just as much as you,” she admits. “But how would we even go about punishing a god?”

“I have ideas,” Barton says, and Tony flashes back to Afghanistan, to three months of darkness and dampness and death, and he understands Barton’s rage.

“I’m sure you do,” Romanov says. “Pass them along to Thor and see how he takes them.”

“Or better yet, tell me,” Tony finds himself saying. Four pairs of eyes shoot to him. If he were a lesser man, he would have wilted under the sudden attention. “I’ve got a bone to pick with Reindeer Games, too.”

“Yeah?” Barton says, crossing his arms.

“Seriously,” Tony says. “Now that we know that beings like Loki and Thor exist, shouldn’t we be prepared for others like them?”

“Stark’s right,” Steve says. Tony tries to hide the surprise on his face. Were his blowjob skills that good? Steve squeezes his thigh in response. “Who’s to say that Loki was the last of them?”

Tony’s skin prickles. The others may have fought the Chitauri, but Tony had seen them and what lay beyond them. He had always been good at seeing the forest behind the trees. He had a feeling that they had barely scraped the surface with the Chitauri. There was something or someone more vicious, more bloodthirsty than any other foe they had fought combined.

All of the Avengers seemed to sober at that thought.

“Well, we’ll just have to be ready, won’t we?” Romanov says, her voice cutting through the silence.

“We also deserve a day off,” Barton says. “At least I do. I don’t know about the rest of you slackers.”

That defuses the tension in the room, just a bit. Bruce lets out a light chuckle while Natasha just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, please, if anybody carried this team, it was me,” Natasha says.

Steve’s hand leaves Tony’s thigh and slides up to the small of his back. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders as he leans back into Steve’s touch. Tony doesn’t know what Steve wants. He doesn’t know if their little triste was just that or if there was room for more. Tony doesn’t like not knowing things. But he’ll let Steve have this, for now.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see anybody else carry a nuke on their shoulders into an interdimensional wormhole.”

He waits for the snide comments, the jeers, the disgust to cross their faces but instead...instead they laugh. And it’s not a laugh of derision; Tony’s heard enough of those to recognize them. These are real, genuine laughs.

“Fair,” Barton says, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“No, not fair! Only two of us can fly,” Romanov says.

“Can Thor really fly?” Bruce says. “I feel like it’s more of a controlled fall. He throws his hammer and lets the weight of it take him where he needs to go.”

“He’s in the air, he’s moving, as far as I’m concerned, it’s flying,” Barton says.

Tony and Barton end up arguing the semantics of flying over a finger of Tony’s best scotch, Bruce occasionally chiming in, Romanov and Steve looking on in amusement.

They’re annoying, Tony thinks. They’re annoying and loud and destructive and—

Tony is starting to like them. His feelings had always crept up on him like a lion stalking its prey, only pouncing when he least expected it. He was starting to like them, even Romanov, who he was still kind of pissed at for her earlier comment. But he didn’t blame her. Why would Steve want to touch him? Tony had practically thrown himself at him.

“He pulled you in,” his mind supplies, trying to be helpful. “He pulled you in, and he kissed the living daylights out of you.”

But maybe Steve had been desperate? Desperation drove men to crazy lengths, including sleeping with your...enemies? That wasn’t right. It held too many negative connotations, and despite their rough start, Tony didn’t think he would ever fight against Steve. Rivals? Or was that too petty? Just what the hell were they?

The state of his and Steve’s relationship (if he can even call it that) nags at him. The others start making their leave until Steve and Tony are the only ones left.

The boardroom feels like a matchbox with Steve so close to him with no buffer. Steve’s making himself useful and tidying up the papers and glasses strewn about the table. Tony pours himself another finger of scotch, lets the whiskey burn his throat on the way down. He needed something to ground himself. His eyes follow Steve’s every movement like magnets. Heat blossoms low in his belly when he remembers how Steve had touched him like he was nothing but a toy for Steve’s pleasure. The thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

Tony clears his throat, catching Steve’s attention.

“Some meeting,” Tony starts and immediately wants to slap himself. He should just get to the point. Why even bother with small talk?

“You’re telling me,” Steve says carefully. Always so careful. Except for when his hands are shoved down Tony’s pants.

Tony shifts in his seat and hopes that Steve won’t notice, but of course, when do things ever work out the way Tony wants them to? Steve’s eyes track his movements with all the purpose of someone used to analyzing situations. Is that what Steve thinks is about to happen? A battle?

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, setting down a stack of papers.

“Sticky,” Tony says, deadpan. They hadn’t gotten the chance to clean off after their little...excursion on the helicarrier.

Tony expects for him to blush like he did earlier after his standoff with Romanov. But instead, the bastard grins at him.

“My bad,” Steve says. “Any other time, I’m pretty good at uh, cleaning up.”

Tony throws back the last of his scotch and tries not to think of Steve on his knees licking at Tony’s thighs and groin and—

It’s not working. But then Tony remembers Romanov; “Steve wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” and any desire he had dies. He should nip this in the bud now. They are absolutely not having a repeat performance.

“Good thing it was a one-off,” Tony says, hoping his voice comes off light and airy. “Otherwise, I’d be pissed.”

Steve’s smile falls, and if Tony didn’t feel like an asshole before, he sure as hell does now.

“Oh.”

“Just a little favor between two pals, right?” Tony says just to dig the knife in a little deeper. “Let him hate me,” he thinks. “It’s easier that way.”

“Right.” Steve clears his throat. “I, uh, guess I’ll get going.”

Part of Tony wants to latch onto his arm, pull him through the glass and the rubble of his penthouse suite, and into his bedroom and never let him go. He stomps that urge down with steel-toes boots.

“See you around, Steve,” he says as Steve makes for the door.

Steve pauses at the threshold and doesn’t look at him when he replies, “See you around, Tony.”

***

Life goes on. Tony reunites with Pepper. Tony’s mansion gets blown up. He loses Pepper for the final time.

And it’s fine, really. Being cool with terrorists blowing up your home and experimenting on you without your consent is a lot to ask of anyone, even if that person is Pepper Potts.

Pepper kisses him on the cheek, and Tony knows it’s the end.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he means it. Because Pepper is still his and he’s still hers, just not in the way they had originally wanted.

So, he’s single and homeless, technically, but overall it’s not the worst year of Tony’s life.

He thinks about rebuilding his mansion in Malibu, but something stops him.

“New York?” Rhodey asks him over Skype, curiosity twisting his features.

“Yeah,” Tony says, clutching a pillow to his chest. He’s currently staying at one of his vacation homes on the Amalfi coast. His bedroom has a perfect view of the sea. Every evening, he sits out on his balcony and tries not to think about how Steve’s eyes are the exact color of the Mediterranean at sunset.

“Malibu feels like an old chapter of my life. I think I’m ready for something new.”

Italy is lovely, but Tony is so lonely. He’s never been good by himself.

Within a month, the renovations on Stark Tower are completed, and Tony makes his move to New York.

It’s odd, living by himself again. Of course, Tony brought his bots with him, and he integrated JARVIS into all of his personal residences. Still, there was no Pepper to remind him of some upcoming awards ceremony, no Rhodey to get into trouble with. Happy went with him because wherever Tony went, Happy followed. Tony’s sure Happy would have followed him into battle if he could. But Happy doesn’t stay in the tower, and Tony doesn’t expect him to. He knows Happy has a life outside of chauffeuring (and he hasn’t missed the looks between Happy and Pepper whenever she’s in town. He’s happy for them.)

That’s when he starts collecting Avengers like a kid collecting those little trading cards when Tony was in college. Digimon? Pokémon? It was something that ended in -mon, he was sure of that.

Bruce shows up first, drawn to the idea of a bed to sleep in, a constant food source, and a (relative) lack of people shooting at him.

Bruce brings warmth to his tower, where there had been nothing but the coldness of electricity and steel. Sometimes when their research aligns, they’ll spend hours together in Bruce’s workshop. They’re good for each other, he thinks. Bruce gets him to eat a real meal and even stops DUM-E from putting motor oil in his smoothies. Tony gets him to open up. He wants to get to know the man behind the Hulk. For a moment, they’re at peace.

Then SHIELD falls.

Things get more complicated after that.

Steve and Natasha show up with Clint right behind them. They’re still healing from their injuries, but overall they’re okay. Aside from dumping hundreds of SHIELD/HYDRA’s secrets onto the world wide web.

Tony takes them in because, despite everything that happened between him and Steve, he did offer him a place to stay. Tony’s not that much of an asshole. He’s not going to retract on that offer.

Besides, his tower is enormous, and he knows it like the back of his hand; it takes nothing for him to avoid Steve without making it obvious.

However, Tony didn’t account for the sudden friendship between Steve and Natasha, the traitor. (He doesn’t know when she stopped being just Romanov in his head.)

Natasha must have been trailing him to learn his schedule because Steve corners him right as he’s leaving his workshop to head up to Bruce’s floor. His fellow scientist was making curry, and Tony didn’t want to miss out before the other Avengers (vultures) devoured it.

“Can we talk?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Tony stops in his tracks and immediately wants to do a full 180 back to his workshop and not come out for a good ten, twenty years. Stark Industries is in good hands, and Rhodey can take over for him the team, and he can live in his workshop like Gollum in his cave—

“Tony?”

His eyes snap up to Steve. Right. They were having a conversation. Tony’s self-loathing can kick in later.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Sure. Let’s head up here,” he gestures to the living area situated by the staircase. This floor of the tower serves as Tony’s second home, an escape from all of his penthouse suite’s showy glamour and the lack of privacy on the communal floors. The penthouse suite reminds him too much of Pepper, anyway.

There’s a small but up to date kitchenette off to their right done up in polished mahogany, tan stone, and black appliances for whenever hunger strikes. Tony heads to the left with Steve following behind him. His living area also functions as a bedroom of sorts. Tony had invested in a plush brown leather sofa from a high-end Italian furniture manufacturer. Sinfully soft and draped in luxurious throw blankets, it served as both a sofa and his bed when he couldn’t be bothered to take the elevator to his penthouse suite.

In a strange role reversal of the last time the two of them had been alone, Steve grabs onto his wrist and pins Tony down with his stare.

“We can talk right here.”

Tony swallows. “Okay. Sure. That works, too.” He looks down pointedly at Steve’s hand.

Steve flushes but lets Tony go.

“I’m sorry,” Steve starts.

“No harm done,” Tony says coolly. On the inside, he’s trying not to scream. He had forgotten that Steve’s hands were so big.

“I just needed to know…” Steve hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Did I...did I do something wrong?”

And that, that makes Tony blink.

Steve pushes on. “On the helicarrier...did I come on to you too strong? Because if I did, that wasn’t my intention at all—”

Tony holds up his hands. “Wait, what? That’s what you want to talk about? Steve, it’s been two years.”

“I know! I know it’s just...we haven’t spoken at all about...the thing, and you’ve been avoiding me ever since I stepped foot in this place.”

“I—”

“And don’t say you haven’t,” Steve says with a hard stare. “I’m old, not an idiot.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay. I guess you could call it avoiding.”

“Why?” Steve asks. “I’d rather you just tell me.”

Tony sighs. He’s too old to be having this conversation and telling Steve the truth would just be mortifying. “Romanov hurt my feelings, so I pushed you away before you could do it to me,” sounds pathetic, even to his ears.

“A half-truth then. A lie grounded in reality,” he thinks.

“You want to know why?”

A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps. “Yes. I would.”

“It wasn’t your fault, trust me,” Tony says. “I just feel like maybe you didn’t want to jump headfirst into this,” Tony gestures between them. He won’t dare call it a relationship. “I came onto you out of nowhere and didn’t even stop to think about whether or not you were ready for...anything.” He’s talking in circles and what’s worse is that he knows he’s talking in circles. Every muscle in his body is taut, waiting for Steve’s reaction.

“You blew me off,” Steve says slowly, “because you thought I wasn’t ready for...this?” He’s taken on Tony’s terminology.

“You were fresh out the ice, Steve. I figured the last thing you needed on your plate was something like this while you were still getting used to the 21st century.”

“Tony,” Steve speaks his name so softly it feels like a caress. Tony wants to step back. He wants to put on the suit and fly to Malibu, to Amalfi, to anywhere but here.

“Tony, I don’t regret what we did,” Steve says. There’s a determined light in his eyes. Tony feels like the prey again. Steve has always made him feel like he’s being hunted.

“Okay,” Tony says, steeling himself.

“I want to do it again,” Steve says. “If that’s alright with you.”

Steve wants to do it again. He wants to fuck Tony again, and the scary thing is, Tony’s going to let him. Arousal pools in his belly as he lifts his head to look at Steve head-on.

“Okay,” he says. His voice already sounds wrecked. Desperate. Then Steve’s on him.

Tony hates how he falls into Steve’s arms as soon as his lips meet Tony’s. He had thought once would be enough, just enough to satiate the burning in his blood. He hated being wrong.

Steve’s kisses are sloppy, almost desperate, but if anything, it just winds Tony up more. It’s like he’s fallen ill, with a feverish heat spreading throughout his body in waves. His heart pounds so loudly, it nearly drowns out the words Steve murmurs when he finally pulls away from Tony.

Steve’s face is devoid of all masks, his lips cotton candy pink against his flushed skin.

“I did that,” Tony thinks with some wonder. “I made him this way.”

“What?” Tony says, only a little dazed, or so he hopes. Part of him flinches at the thought of Steve realizing just how far this well of desire he has building beneath his skin goes for him.

“Don’t run,” Steve says. His arms wind around Tony’s waist with all the finality of a lock clicking into place.

Tony swallows, his brain trying to parse through the hazy cloud of lust that had descended upon his brain. Steve’s eyes are big and so fucking blue, he almost can’t look at them directly.

“It’s like looking at the sun,” he thinks.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he finds himself saying.

“Just one more time. Just to get him out of my system.”

Steve’s eyes narrow like he knows exactly where Tony’s brain went, and isn’t that a terrifying thought that Steve can already read him so well. Steve doesn’t call him out. Instead, he kisses Tony.

Steve kisses him like a thief, all greedy and ruthless, stealing his breath away. Steve walks them backward until Tony feels his legs hit his sofa. They stumble onto the couch, Steve lying on top of him, eclipsing Tony.

Steve’s lips are on his again. He can’t get enough of Tony today, it seems. His tongue slips into Tony’s mouth, one of his hands running down his chest and into his pants. Tony arches into his touch, moaning into Steve’s mouth. Steve may be a thief, but in this moment, Tony is just as willing to give him everything he has.

Steve’s hands are so big and hot as they palm at Tony’s length. It doesn’t take long for him to harden in Steve’s grasp.

Steve works him over with quick strokes of his hand, breaking their kiss to murmur in his ear, “Come on, baby. Spread these legs for me.”

Tony did as he was bid, letting his knees fall open.

“That’s it,” Steve says.

“Can I?” Tony begins, unsure of how to continue. He’d never been shy during sex, but what he and Steve were doing, as much as Tony stomped it down, felt deeper than a simple hookup.

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says. The pet name flows off his tongue like honey. “Tell me what you need.”

“I want to touch you,” he declares. “Let me?” He looks at Steve and hopes his eyes look wide and sweet. He remembers how Steve had snapped the last time he had looked at him like that, the bruising kisses and the hard, almost punishing way Steve had gotten him off…

Steve gives him a crooked smile. Tony’s not...disappointed, per se, but he wouldn’t have minded it if Steve had lost control again.

“Go ahead,” Steve says. “Whatever that big brain of yours has in mind.”

That’s all the permission Tony needs, and his own hands work at the fly of Steve’s jeans until he’s pulling Steve’s cock loose. Steve catches on quick and shucks his jeans down to his thighs. He yanks Tony’s sweatpants down in one swift motion. This is the most exposed Tony has been in front of anyone since his relationship with Pepper burst into flames. And listen, Tony knows he’s not ugly (he’d been named Sexiest Man Alive twice, up there with George Clooney and Brad Pitt), but Steve is the literal epitome of human perfection. It could just be the childhood trauma rearing its ugly head, but Tony feels small underneath Steve. Unworthy. Useless. He’s thrown back to the present when Steve rolls his hips and slides his cock against Tony’s.

“Come on, genius,” Steve says. “Work with me.”

Tony lifts his hips to meet Steve, and the hot slide of flesh against flesh leaves him gasping like a virgin.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses. “Just like that.”

They settle into an easy, almost instinctive rhythm, Steve thrusting, Tony rising to meet him. Their groins are slick with sweat and precome. Tony’s sure that if they had bothered to get some lube, they wouldn’t have lasted half as long. It’s like someone’s turned a dial up on his senses. Wherever Steve touches him, his cock rubbing against Tony’s, is like someone lit a bundle of matches. He’s so hot, he’s sure his skin is smoking. He can hear everything. The hum of electricity present throughout his tower if you listened hard enough, Steve’s muttered curses, the wetness of Steve’s cock rocking against his.

“One day,” Steve says, picking up speed. “One day, I’m gonna tie you to your bed just like this. Get your thighs all wet and slick and fuck you until you’re coming all over your goddamn stomach,” Steve punctuates his words with a hard thrust, and that’s it for Tony. One more word out of Steve’s mouth and he’s done for.

“Holy shit, Rogers,” he says, sounding breathless to his ears.

“I’m not done, sweetheart,” Steve chuckles. “How do you feel about toys?”

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Steve, I could make them. Anything you want.”

And he finds himself meaning it. He’d give Steve the sun if he asked. He tries not to let that scare him.

“How about a nice vibrating cock ring, hmm? Slip it on you early in the morning. Maybe a long-distance remote to go with it, keep you hard and ready all day long.”

Tony bites back a cry, his cock jumping with arousal. “Fuck, Steve, yes, please, yes.”

“Then don’t run,” Steve says, his voice sounding all dark and gritty. “Don’t run, and I’ll give you everything you fucking want, just don’t run away from me, again.”

Afterward, Tony blames it on his approaching orgasm, but in that moment, all Tony can say is, “Yes, fuck, I’m staying right here.”

They come together, oddly enough. Steve’s teeth sink into Tony’s throat, and Tony’s throwing his head back as his come lands on both of their stomachs, and it’s so. Fucking. Good.

Tony’s floating. He didn’t know when his Italian leather couch turned into a cloud, but he’s floating with Steve kissing the bite he left on his neck.

They curl close together, uncaring of the mess cooling on their stomachs. If Tony has anything to say about it, there’s a nice joint shower waiting for them when they find the will to move. Steve places one final kiss on the bite.

Tony knows what it is. A marker. A claim. He’s Steve’s for as long as Steve will have him. Tony’s willing to indulge him. For now.

“Shower later?” he asks, his words thick and syrupy from post-orgasmic bliss and the sudden need for a nap. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Steve’s handsome face. His perfectly coiffed blond hair is mussed. Steve’s skin has taken on a peachy, damn near radiant glow. “Nap first,” Steve says.

“Steve may have left his mark,” he thinks. “But I left mine.”

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel #mcu #stony fic #imperialstark fic #imperialstark writing #my fic #my writing #lemons #nsfk #lemon

97 notes · View notes