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linkspooky · 3 years

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The Hands that Will Save the League

In chapter 321 we're reminded once again of the reoccurring motif of hands reaching out to save someone in need, especially with the double spread close-up of Iida's hands reaching for Deku's hands. I couldn't help but think how this could apply to the league of villains. Hand symbolism has always been associated with Shigaraki (duh), both in the fact that his hands destroy everything they touched, and also his reason for being a villain stems from the fact that not a single hand reached out to save him that day. However, we've also had another character in the league with hands drawn up close and personal reaching out to save the others: spinner.

1. Just an Empty Cosplayer

I'm not the first one to make this observation. @codenamesazanka pointed this out long before me, especially in regards to Spinner's importance to the league, but basically, Spinner's role is that despite being a teenage mutant ninja turtle he's also the everyman of the league. He's not connected to the main conflict of the story by bloodline or legacy, the way Shigaraki, Dabi, and Compress are. He's not someone with an incredibly powerful or deviant quirk like Twice or Toga. He is a victim, but he doesn't have the elaborate villain backstories of Twice, Shigaraki, Dabi, and Toga.

He literally is just some guy with a lizard quirk. He has the weakest quirk in the league and the weakest reason for why he joined the league. Spinner faces societal abuse because of his quirk, but what spurred him to action was seeing Stain appear on TV, and a desire to be a less empty person than he was before. Spinner was pushed, he was rejected by society, but I would say as an inverse to the league who are driven by extraordinary circumstances, Spinner is basically an every man who drives himself to keep up with the rest of the league despite seemingly lacking everything "special" they have.

And I believe this every man quality, and this drive Spinner has is what's going to be the key to piecing the league back together. It's because Spinner sees himself as so far behind the rest of the league, and so much less special than they are, that he's driven to try to understand them.

Not only is Spinner a member who has tried to understand every member of the league in one way or another, Spinner is also someone who similiar to Sihgaraki foils every single character in the league despite just being an everyman.

2. Spinner and Toga

While Spinner and Toga may not have the same level of development to their interactions as Twice and Toga, Spinner reaches out to her once but not twice, and there are a lot of parallels you can draw between the characters.

Both Spinner and Toga joined the league for the same reason, an empty admiration for Stain, without really caring about Stain's ideals. Toga admires Stain because he's covered in blood and fighting for something and she wants to become more like the people she admires, Spinner because he saw himself as pathetic for hiding in his room all day and when he saw Stain taking a stand trying to change the whole world on his own he wanted to become that way too. Which means both of them have a tendency to want to become more like the people they admire, because their own sense of personal identity is so weak.

Himiko and Spinner both define themselves by the way society has rejected them. Spinner has internalized the idea that he's an empty person who can't accomplish anything on his own, every terrible thing other people said about him due to his heteromorph quirk he accepted it. At the same time, Toga was somebody born with a "dangerous quirk" who was told to repress it and then did that living under a fake identity as a normal school girl that would please her parents and the people around her for as long as she could. Both Toga and Spinner are taught by the society around them to be self-loathing and to repress themselves because of their quirks. They're also characters who are both defined by a desire for release.

When Spinner asks if Toga still wants to be in the league because of Stain and she responds, Now I wanna become everyone I love. Spinner comments, "You're so free."

Spinner and Toga both claim they joined the league because of love for another person, they both loved and admired some aspect of Stain, but their real reason for joining, or at least the reason they stay is that deep down both of them desire the freedom to be themselves. Toga wrapping her desires up in language like love for other people, and wanting to become them, is because deep down she believes because of her quirk there's no one who would accept her for herself, as the normal girl she believes she is, no one will let her live as Toga thus she tries to become other people. It's the same for Spinner, who believes he can't be anything other than the Lizard Freak, so he too tries to dress himself up and become a Stain Cosplayer. It's only through the league's acceptance that Toga and Spinner slowly begin to learn that they are good enough on their own, just as themselves, and their priorities begin to shift.

3. Spinner and Twice

Twice and Spinner have several backstory parallels already. They are both characters affected by poverty, Spinner lived in a backwater town plagued by old views of heteromorph quirks, Twice lost his parents and began working to support himself at a young age before becoming homeless. Spinner and Twice were also both labeled in a way that stuck with them, after Twice got a criminal charge in an accident on his permanent record he couldn't find another job after being labeled deviant. Spinner was labeled as a deviant because of his quirk and the idea that he's a lizard freak has always stuck with him the same way that Twice has internalized the idea that "bad people don't get saved."

They also both chose to isolate themselves because of the circumstances they faced. Twice's first response to homelessness was to decide to never trust anybody but himself, and he became a criminal who pulled off heists with only clones of himself as team members until that stopped working for him. Spinner's response was also to shut himself away in his room and become a NEET. They both cut themselves off to the society that labeled them as unacceptable, but in the process they also cut themselves off from other people and became unable to trust others.

While they have major backstory parallels, I believe the greatest parallel between them is going to be that Spinner will inherit that role that Twice had for the league. While Shigaraki is the leader, Twice more than anybody else believed the League to be a family, and encouraged everyone to be friendly with one another.

It's Twice more than anyone else who emphasizes the bond of the league, that they're all strays, that they need to take care of each other and save each other. It's Twice who urges Shigaraki to save Giran because he's one of them. He makes the unspoken bond of the league as a group of miscreants into a spoken one, because Twice wants those things, he's well aware of the fact that he wants trust and acceptance and came to the league to find those things. This is the greatest thing that ties Spinner and Twice's characters together, because they both view themselves as worthless, they define themselves by how they help the other members of the league.

Twice's death so far isn't something that has been really capitalized on by the plot, Hawks has yet to face consequences, we haven't gotten to see much of the league's reaction because they were scattered soon afterwards. However, if Twice's death is going to cause development eventually I believe it will be in the vacuum in the league created now that Twice is gone. There is no longer someone who is urging all of them to be together. Twice's death causes most of the league to become less stable. Toga goes on a killing spree, Dabi attacks Hawks, Compress tries to kill himself in a heroic sacrifice, Shigaraki hasn't gotten the chance to react yet but he's also gotten worse considering he's currently possessed. You could even say that Twice's death has caused other characters to double down on their worst habits.

Dabi's worst habit is that he acts separately from the league and refuses to participate in the group dynamic, believing himself to be a solo avenger. Dabi not trusting or telling the league what he was planning on doing with Hawks, as a consequence of his decision to play solo avenger, caused Twice to trust Hawks which led to his death. Hawks was the one who killed him but Dabi played a part, and when Twice dies Dabi obviously reacts to it, but also his decision is to double down on his bad habit, insisting he's only using the league and he doesn't care about the rest of the group. Toga also doubles down on her bad habit, she runs away from the rest of the league and insists she's only doing this for the freedom to do whatever she pleases, not because you know Twice got killed right in front of her. Compress's arc is less pronounced, but he also does, in fact, try to kill himself in a grand heroic sacrifice for the rest of the league.

When twice dies the league begins to fall apart and everyone acts on their individual worst flaws, ignoring that they were always stronger together as a group. However, there is still one person who wanted the exact same thing Twice did, to be trusted, to belong to a group. This is most likely the role that Spinner is going to grow to, someone who is trusted by everyone in the group.

Notably, when Toga is about to run away it's Spinner who reminds her that the league is a place for them to come back to. Toga who was probably the closest to Twice and spiraling the worst because of his death, and Toga and Twice's friendship was the first time we really saw how much of a "bond" the league had formed with one another, because in the camp arc they barely cooperated, only begrudgingly. It's Spinner who who emphasizes that even though everyone in the league is doing this for individualism "doing what they want" that they are also together as a group. Spinner is set to inherit Twice's role as the heart, because one he tries to understand other people in the league making the effort to reach out, and two Spinner is aware of what he wants just like Twice he wants to be trusted by the rest of the group.

4. Spinner and Dabi

This one is a little bit harder because Dabi's character arc really hasn't started yet. We have just now gotten to the reveal of who he is and what his motivations are, after it being a mystery for so long. However unlike the rest of the league, we haven't really seen how Dabi has reacted and changed by becoming a part of the group. Even if his motivation isn't "I'm only using them" and deep down he really does care, I don't think he's even realized yet that he does care or that he's not just using them. Dabi still believes himself to be alone, and therefore he's still isolated from the rest of the league and flying his revenge quest solo even though he's really not.

In that case, the biggest parallel between Spinner and Dabi is that they both had to be won over by the league. They both joined because of admiration for Stain, probably because Dabi genuinely believed in Stain's ideals of taking down impure heroes because it fit his own agenda so well, whereas Spinner is a self-proclaimed empty cosplayer.

Spinner, however, has already gone through an arc where he was dissatisfied with his reasons for joining the league and didn't believe he belonged with the rest of the group. He didn't have anything to love like Toga. He didn't know yet he wanted friends he could trust like Twice already did. He doesn't have a strong backstory motivation like Compress, or Dabi or even knows what he wants out of society. However, the entirety of MVA is Spinner letting himself be changed because of his interaction with the group.

Spinner failed at life, his quirk is worthless and only good for sticking to walls. He also internalized the idea that he himself was a failure, and locked himself inside believing he couldn't accomplish anything on his own. Spinner says he has nothing he loves, and nothing he wants to do. Not only that he feels unloved and unwanted. However, Spinner finds something to love in Shigaraki, even if he can't find a strong sense of individualism and still believes himself to be worthless he becomes motivated to help others. Spinner, the most normal person in the group with the most worthless quirk, becomes the greatest help to Shigaraki, basically once he gets over himself and his preconceived notions of himself. Because, you don't actually have to be a special person or have a strong quirk to be a hero, you have to reach out a hand.

The same way Spinner was won over by the League, Dabi has yet to be won over. However, if that does happen, it's probably going to look like Spinner's arc. Dabi antagonizes Spinner a lot, but they actually have more in common than they do differences. They both have failure quirks, while Dabi has an overwhelming fire quirk he wasn't allowed to use, Spinner is literally just a gecko. They both also were labeled as disappointments and given up on, Enji gave up on Touya, Spinner never had any potential from the start and locked himself away in his room. However, their paths so far have been opposites, Spinner let Shigaraki reach him and became a part of the group, Dabi at every possible opportunity insists he's doing this all alone. He takes every chance he can to separate himself from others. If Dabi's arc is going to be a mirror to Shoto's arc eventually, then someone has to reach him and convince him he can't do this all on his own, and Dabi can only truly find himself when he's part of the group once more. After all, so far Dabi is the one most resistant to change. Toga's goal has changed, Shigaraki's changed, Spinner has changed, even Compress now admits that while they're just a gang of thieves that he cares more about everyone else's dreams than his own. Dabi is still nursing a ten-year grudge against Endeavor and doing everything he can to take him down on his own because he hasn't let the group in. And he won't improve or change until he does let others in.

5. Spinner and Shigaraki

I love Compress but I'm skipping over him because his arc hasn't been elaborated on yet. If you want a quick summary though, both Spinner and Compress didn't believe the group to be anything more than a gathering of selfish criminals, however, both of them changed because they wanted to see Shigaraki's dream come true. Not only was Shigaraki the one who inspired both of them to change, but also Compress is the one who first sees how close Spinner is to Shigaraki more than anyone else in the group was.

He also sacrifices himself BECAUSE he's come to realize that what he wants more than his own dreams is to see everyone else's dreams come true. I know Compress's backstory is rushed as all hell, but it almost... almost... works because Compress isn't actually doing this because he's Oji Harima's grandson. His motivation changed a long time ago, he just didn't realize it until he was about to lose the league.

There are a few more parallels, they're both dropouts. It's implied that Compress was literally just a retired and failed stage magician before he decided to become a villain. Hopefully we'll become more on that later because the idea of Compress sucking in showbiz so he decided to follow his grandfather's legacy is really awesome. Spinner was a Neet before he saw Stain on television. They also both have more minor quirks, Compress just shrinks people, Spinner sticks to things. They both also are characters who don't seem important at first, but consistently hover around in the background constantly making sure everyone in the group is okay. Compress calls to check up on people, he talks to Dabi a lot, he tries to keep up with everybody in a melee, it's the little things he does that make Compress same for Spinner. They're both cosplaying as legendary villains who are greater than they are, Stein is cosplaying his grandfather, Spinner is cosplaying Stain, but it's unknown whether Compress really cares that much about his grandfather's ideals, I think he cares about the league more. Compress and Spinner are also people who question and try to understand things, Compress lectures the kids that they had their ideals handed down to them for adult, Compress realizes Spinner's importance to Shigaraki before Spinner even did, Compress and Spinner also both try to understand other people's dreams because they're lacking in their own. Spinner doesn't even have a dream, but he's the one who listened to Shigaraki's dream first.

Now it's been directly said by canon that Spinner and Shigaraki's connection is the most developed, and they are the closest to one another. By developed I mean, it changed over time, when it started out they had almost nothing to do with one another. Spinner was just a rank and file league member that Shigaraki used on the hideout raid. They didn't even get a character introduction scene like Shigarki did with Dabi and Toga.

However, Spinner and Shigaraki's characters are extremely closely tied together. Shigaraki's like the main character of the league, his backstories parallel everyone else's, including the main character of the entire story Deku. He's the one who makes the plans, goes through training arcs, he's the one who the league unites around. However, Spinner actually has all of that too. I just spent a very long time showing how Spinner despite not having an overly complicated backstory has strong parallels to everyone in the league. If Shigaraki is the main character, then Spinner is the everyman / the perspective character, hence why he's the narrator of MVA. Shigaraki is a person of extraordinary circumstance, the symbol of society's oppression who everyone in the league deepy relates to because he's suffered the same way that they have and he accepts them. Whereas, Spinner has suffered because of Hero Society too, he's more like a normal guy who makes an effort to understand everyone around him.

However, Deku wasn't saved by his love interest, or even his childhood friend who is apparently his destined rival, he was saved by Iida trying his best to keep up with him.

Spinner and Shigaraki are both the emotional core of the league in different ways. The league all respects Shigaraki, they rally around his ideas, his dreams are what inspire everybody. However, more and more it's looking like Spinner, ordinary, average, Spinner is working to build emotional connections to everyone in a much more normal way. He talks to Toga and tries to understand her love. He even consoles Toga when twice is gone. He challenges Shigaraki directly to his face. Compress who is always sort of watching the league in the background and checking up on them in little ways notices how hard that Spinner is trying to take care of Shigaraki.

Shigaraki accepts people at their worst and gives them a place to belong, but I think by Spinner's efforts to get to know and understand others, we as an audience are shown how humanizing of a presence that Spinner is on everyone else. Spinner, just being a normal guy, brings out the fact that the rest of the league despite their extraordinary circumstances are deep down just normal people to, who want to be loved normally, and live normally. Spinner literally wakes up Shigaraki, because he remembered the one time that he opened up in front of all of them, and cares enough to try to understand Shigaraki's hurt feelings and what he cares about.

If anything from the last arc in the manga, we're shown at great length, how understanding, reaching out, it all takes effort and it's not as flashy as defeating a villain or rescuing someone from a natural disaster.

Spinner is so important to Shigaraki, because while Shigaraki has given everyone in the group a place where they can be individuals, Shigaraki hasn't realized he himself can be an individual yet. He ultimately, shares the same character flaw as Deku. It's because he's decided that he's going to carry out his dreams for the sake of the league and to create a better future for them, that Shigaraki no longer cares what happens to himself, or about his own future. Everyone talks about Dabi's suicidal nature, but this is something that Shigaraki is challenged on over and over again. What are your motivations. What are your reasons. What do you want to accomplish. He always responds with nothing. There's nothing that he wants, there's nothing worth living for, he only wants to destroy and make a better world for the people who are around him. Shigaraki is the most thoroughly dehumanized character, to the point where he just straight up accepts "god of destruction" because that is at least an identity. Shigaraki needs Spinner and his normalizing influence, because Shigaraki can't see himself as a normal person.

Shigaraki shares the same character flaw as Deku, he does everything for the sake of others, with no regard to himself, which leads to extreme bouts of self-harming and fighting alone. Shigaraki faced off against Endeavor, and basically all the heroes alone even though he did call for backup. However, even before that Shigaraki made the decision to get dangerous risky surgery that would be like hell, because he believed deep down he wasn't good enough alone. Shigaraki just does not care about himself and is unable to see himself as an individual, which is exactly why he needs someone to care for him and see him that way.

Shigaraki's greatest challenge to date is that he's been dehumanized so thoroughly, and lost sight of himself to the point where he's lost even his own body autonomy. When Shigaraki is battling for possession of his body as AFO attempts to take total control and make him into a symbol again, denying him his personhood, we're set up directly with Spinner being the one who reminds us that Shigaraki is just a person, who likes video games, and gets along with his friends. It's Spinner who notices right away that AFO is different from Shigaraki and challenges him the same way that he challenged Shigaraki directly in the My VIllain Academia arc. This is all set up most likely, for Spinner being the one to reach out a hand the same way IIDA did, because what Shigaraki needs the most right now, is not a hero who will save him, but rather a normal person who will understand him and remind him that deep down he was just a normal kid too before all of this happened. What Shigaraki is most in need of is a hand that will reach out to him, and Spinner has already done this once putting Nana's hand back on his face when he couldn't wake up, but what he's failed to realize is that it's his own scaly lizard hands that should be doing the reaching out.

#mha meta #lov meta #league of villains #league of villains meta #spinner #shigaraki #toga himiko #higuchi iguchi #shigaraki tomura #dabi #touya todoroki #twice #jin bubaigawara #compress

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years

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Humans are weird: Robotic Workers to Soldiers

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

Taken from the biography “The Fall of Dijballer” written by Uguntus Val

Breaking a human is easy.

They have no armored exoskeleton, no reinforced scaled skin, not even an enhanced healing metabolism; it is an amazing feat that they have been able to survive on their own planet let alone survive the rigors of space travel.

They are weak and frail creatures of flesh and blood. One could push them down a simple slope and there was a high chance they could break their arm.

We expected a war with them to be swift and merciless.

Our forces would descend upon their worlds like the waves a ravaging storm and sweep them clean away as we added their colonies to our domain, and continue the glorious expansion of our race. Yet for all our knowledge of human biology we failed to grasp the critical flaw in our plans and strategies until it was too late. The simple truth that could have changed the fate of the war in our favor had we learned it earlier on.

Humans were well aware of their frailty, and they adapted accordingly.

On the colony world of Dijballer we made our first strike. It was a temperate world perfectly designed for year-long farming and capable of sustaining a constant stream of crops to feed a dozen empires when fully developed.

The colony had only been on the planet for ten years and was centered around the initial landing site of the colony ship. A compact industrial center had formed to support the growing colony and several companies had established facilities to support the colony, including several robotics factories that supplied a majority of the work force. What made it even more tempting of a target was that by all accounts it lacked a sufficient military presence, only housing a token police force to maintain order.

When the war began three legions were dispatched to secure the planet. The twelfth, the third, and the honored first legion that had been present at the beginning of every major war our people had ever fought.

They made planet fall just outside of the main settlement and began steadily advancing through the fields of crops, passing dozens of robotic workers mindlessly going about their work as if the thousands of alien soldiers marching passed was a normal occurrence. The machines were humanoid in shape with two arms and legs, often either using farming tools or manning heavy equipment.

Roughly ten miles outside of the city did we first encounter resistance. We were now in the center of the fields when the rear of the column reported they were under attack. A massive harvester had diverted its course and rammed a troop transport flipping it over. The surrounding infantry opened fire on the vehicle as it attempted to ram a second vehicle. Not being built for military use the vehicle quickly broke down and exploded in a shower of shrapnel and fire, setting several stalks of nearby crops on fire. It was here that the order to halt was given and the column began to reorganize. It was as the Privants were giving orders that the second attack began.

Thousands of farming units sprang out of the stalks on either side of the column like predators of old. In their hands were nothing but farming tools and yet they moved with unnatural swiftness. Before anyone could fire a shot they were among our ranks hacking and slashing us to pieces.

I’ve hear over the years how our soldiers were mocked. How pundits and politicians question how a fully armored legionnaire could be brought down by nothing but farming tools.

Were any of them to say that to my face I would smash their face in; for none of them were there to see what those machines could do.

They dove and shifted to either side like a blade of grass in the wind. I saw my captain unload an entire clip on full auto at one and it casually darted to either side as if it was nothing but rain as it closed the distance.

When it was within arm’s reach it grabbed it’s scythe and drove it deep into the neck joints of the captain’s armor. The captain barely had time to swat away the metal scythe but the robot merely took its fingered hand and drove it into the unarmored joint itself.

I could hear the captain gurgling blood over the communications net as the robotic monster pulled its hand out of his throat, covered in blood and gore, and stabbed it in again and again and again.

While it was distracted goring my captain I brought my rifle up and brought the monster down with a single shot to the chest. The robot sparked and fizzled as it toppled over, its hand still embedded in the captain as it dragged his lifeless body down with him. I had little time to grieve for my captains death as another trio of farmer units rushed from the stalks at me.

All around me was sheer chaos as the robots swarmed over us like insects. Their fragile bodies meant nothing when their speed and enhanced reflexes made them near impossible to hit.

They knew were the weak spots in our armor were, they were capable of calculating the angle of fire from our weapons, they even somehow knew our ranking system and made sure to target our officers first.

The three that came at me lunged for me to close the distance and that was the only was the only thing that saved me that day. On the ground they could easily dodge side to side but midair they were cut off from that level of maneuverability.

I easily trained my gun and sprayed the machines with a full mag from my repeater rifle. The white fragments of their shells harmlessly bounced off my armor as their broken bodies crumpled before me. I barely had a moment to enjoy my victory before another massive harvester machine drove through our column.

Several of my comrades weren’t fast enough to get out of the way and were swallowed by those rotating blades of death. I heard their screams echoing on the communications net just as I had the captain and then they were cut off in an instant by a blood curdling crunch.

After that it was chaos.

Soldiers fought in tight circles or back to back with comrades as they fought off waves of robots. This went on for hours but to me, in those panic filled moments of terror, it felt like an eternity.

By nightfall the entire field was ablaze with fire just as the robots ceased their attacks. We gathered what remained of our dead and wounded and took stock of the situation.

Thousands of broken robot bodies lay strewn across the ground like discarded dolls, and the burning husks of the larger harvesters cast gloomy shadows dancing in the firelight. We had been out numbered a 3-1 and still managed to survive, and yet the victory was hollow to the core.

The twelfth legion was cut in half and lost the majority of their vehicles during the opening attacks, the third was at a quarter strength and had lost all of their officers, but worst yet was the honored first legion. The pride of several centuries of warfare, the first legion had been entirely wiped out at the front of the column. Their pride denying them anything other than a death on the battlefield as they refused to regroup with the other legions.

What remained of the officers of the twelfth legion was split between retreating to the initial landing zones or to continue with the assault. Only after the fighting had stopped was communication with orbital command reestablished, and the commanders in orbit almost couldn’t believe what had happened.

The twelfth officers requested an additional five legions be deployed to the planet and that the authorization of aerial bombardments. Debate between the twelfth and orbital lasted about an hour before the robots returned.

First signs of danger were the screams and weapons fire of sentries posted around the surviving column. Robots that had been laying on the ground thought destroyed rose back to their feet and attacked wandering soldiers.

The fear and terror spread throughout the survivors as everyone capable grabbed a weapon and began firing at the robots once more. In the confusion several soldiers fell to friendly fire as several panic stricken legionnaires opened fire on full auto blindly.

At the end of that night the third legion was almost entirely wiped out and the new rule of fully destroying the head and body of all machines became mandatory.

The war pressed on for another four months before we finally claimed the world.

All it had cost us was nearly four entire legions against an army of farming units.

The disgrace felt by the military was overwhelming and morale never recovered for the remained of the conflict. What’s worse was that throughout those four months the primary factories nestled beneath the primary settlement had been continuously producing more and more robots. What should have been a simple easy victory devolved into a grueling war of attrition.

When we finally stormed the office of the robotic factories we were able to download files from their mainframe and the horrid truth was realized.

Embedded into every robot humanity produced, regardless of their function, was a sub routine dictating military tactics, strategies, and combat methods. A maid unit designed for cleaning could be switched over in an instant to become a skilled sniper marksman with years of training with a kill count of triple digits.

For all of their frailty the humans had not lost the ability for death and destruction. They had imparted it into every machine in their service effectively creating an army of billions skilled in the art of death.

After the war was over I went out of my way to order one such unit to tend to me in my home.

I often wonder, as it goes about its cleaning work, that if I activated its military mode if I would be capable of taking it; though I doubt I can in my age now.

Instead it serves as a constant remind that one should never underestimate the nature of a being. No matter how delicate and frail it may appear, it may be hiding a dagger aimed straight at your throat.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #action #robots

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kaibutsushidousha · 3 years

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If the v3 cast were Masters, which Servants would they summon who has the highest compatibility with them ?

Akamatsu and Amakusa

Amami and Nursery Rhyme

Iruma and Caligula

Ouma and Nightingale

Ki-bo and Kotarou

Gonta and Bedivere

Saihara and Arjuna

Shirogane and Gilgamesh (Caster)

Shinguuji and Medusa

Chabashira and Xuanzang

Toujou and Queen of Sheba

Harukawa and Jason

Hoshi and Dantes

Momota and Mandricardo

Yumeno and Nagiko

Angie and Douman

Explanations under the cut in case you're confused, because you probably are.

First off, Twitter people might be wondering why so many choices are different from what I chose for this thread. Obvious consideration for who is normally summonable aside, the main thing I kept in mind here is that compatibility summon comes in two flavors. Pattern A is a hero similar in nature to Master (Sakura and Medusa, Ryuunosuke and Gilles, etc), and Pattern B is the hero the Master needs for the personal struggles of their character arc (Pepe and Ash, Erice and Voyager, Elsa and Arash, Jinako and Karna, etc). Pattern B is always more interesting than Pattern A, so that's what I'm using for all my choices. Now let me go over them one by one.

1. I say things will be different from the thread and immediately break the promise with Akamatsu. Akamatsu relied a lot on Saihara's brain to build her plan, but their relationship was never one of mutual trust because she knew Saihara would agree to her harsher and more definitive methods. The hero Akamatsu needs is someone both competent and like-minded. Someone who shares her earnest will to save everyone and willingness to use more extreme methods for it. Amakusa is the Servant for her.

2. For Amami, I'll go with Nursery Rhyme. Much like Raikou got Nursery in the Heian Singularity's Imperial Grail War as the emotional crutch daughter figure she needed, Amami gets an emotional crutch little sister figure to help him reunite with the twelve he lost. This pair would be interesting because it'd subvert Nursery's usual MO of simply forcing others to reconnect with their inner child. The whole reason why he lost 12 sisters is that his passion for seafaring and exploration distracts him from what he's supposed to do. Her role as the villain of the Santa Nightingale event shows she can be harsh when children are being neglected, so Nursery would be the force pulling Amami back on track, but she'd have to balance that with allowing him to enjoy himself to preserve his childish love for adventure. He'd be a tough and delicate case for our Hero of Children.

3. The hero Iruma needs is... anyone who tolerates her, really. My first thought was Karna, but he's about finding value where no one else does, and Iruma has her share of undeniable value, so I think he isn't the best choice. Their pair would be a watered-down version of Jinako's pair anyways. Fate/ actually quite scarce of Servants defined by being all-tolerant because that's a trait they push more on Fujimaru, but two examples that come to mind are Romulus, the man who loved all of Rome (read: human civilization) in both its sins and achievements; and Caligula, the man who went crazy trying to do the same. Romulus is too OP to help Iruma tone down her ego, so I'll go with Caligula.

4. Ouma is a hard case. He needs someone he can absolutely trust and finding one of those is a huge challenge. The only ones Ouma has expressed full trust to were Gonta, because he was unquestionably good and weak-willed enough to never stray away from Ouma's instruction without asking first; and chapter 5 Momota, who was in circumstances so complicated that he wouldn't dare to throw away the chance Ouma's script offered. Ouma is the kind of paranoid control freak who would intentionally go for a Berserker because even the ones who speak are single-minded in a way that makes them easy to plan around. The alternative would be someone so like-minded in methods and standards that he'd probably hate them but still trust as someone who thinks the same way he would, but only BB fits that bill and she's not normally summonable. With that card off the table, the only options Ouma has left are Berserker he can trust to never kill anyone ever, and the only Zerk valuing life this much is Nightingale. BB's fellow nurse, amusingly enough.

5. Ki-bo would be offended with Alaya if he summoned a robot or homunculus just because he's a robot. And he also wishes for a partner that will treat him as an equal without denying what makes him different as a robot. In short, he needs a human Servant that is used to have normal relationships with robots. But Chen Gong or Red Hare because they're too evil, nor Orion because he's too crude. That leaves us with robot Danzou's human son, Fuuma Kotarou.

6. Gonta's wish is to become a true gentleman his human family can acknowledge, and for that, he needs the example of someone who is both well-mannered and of noble heart. Bedivere is an easy choice.

7. As I mentioned a few times before around 2017~18, I strongly think the best thing about Saihara is his interactions with Hoshi. Saihara is a guy feeling eternally guilty because he made one "good guy" murderer pay for his crime and he tries to make up for it by forcefully validating Hoshi's mass-murdering of the mafia. Then in Fate/, we have Arjuna, an all-around excellent man who adamantly believes himself to be evil because he did one dishonorable thing once. Saihara is the stubborn validating Master Arjuna needs to make him understand that he is not the monster he believes himself to be.

8. The first thing about Shirogane is that she really doesn't like reality, especially when it concerns herself. She can't muster any interest in the boring, plain girl she is or the boring, plain world she lives in, so she makes a hobby and a job out of becoming someone else, a larger-than-life figure in a fictional world. She loves all Danganronpa characters but expresses greater adoration towards Junko and Kamukura, the most unreal the series has produced. Enter Gilgamesh, the Hero King with the comically large ego and literally all Noble Phantasm to satiate Tsumugi's craving for a break from reality. That said, Gilgamesh has the recurring hobby of playing therapist to a Master disconnected from their own self and is the franchise's greatest symbol of the willing departure from the Age of Gods into the Age of Man. As much as he fits her tastes on a surface level, he's the guy who transitioned the flashy world of fantasy she dreams of into the plain world she hates, and he'll use most of his free time to the same on a personal level for her. The Caster version is being specifically picked because Archer has childish beef with modernity, and Caster is intentionally making his arsenal more limited and unimpressive, which is self-demonstrative of the points he wants to make to Shirogane.

9. One of his Free Time Events has him explaining why Medusa is his favorite myth, and I definitely can't claim to know this shit better than him. Deep emotional attachment to a story can net you a compatibility summon, as Kiara is there to show, and Shinguuji gets bonus points from how TM Medusa became a monster out of living her life for her sisters rather than for herself.

10. Cute and righteous female Buddhist mentor figure who does martial arts. What else could Chabashira ask for?

11. Toujou takes self-worth from serving big important people with utmost perfection, so she needs her Servant to be a king or similarly important leader. But she also needs it to be a support Caster so can properly invert the Master-Servant relationship and personally fight the enemy Servant for her king. The only characters in the middle of the Venn diagram of kings and support Casters are Medea and Sheba, and Medea wants nothing do with the royalty life anymore, so Sheba it is.

12. The role of the hero Harukawa needs is already properly fulfilled by Momota in the story, so I'll go with Jason because he shares all of Momota's strenghts and flaws. He's someone who'll force her to be part of a team, relentlessly encourage her break out of her shell, and have a shitty personality she can never fully respect, making the relationship balanced. And things would go even smoother with Jason because his summon comes with Atalante, who is someone Harukawa can easily relate to.

13. Hoshi needs someone who would assure him of his choices and make him comfortably reconnect with his past like he did with Saihara in his Free Time Events. As practically the face of the Avenger Class, Dantes defines himself as an ally and guardian to the ones who were wronged and lashed out in less than virtuous ways, so he's a perfect fit.

14. Momota is too aware of himself as the protagonist of his own story to want a hero. He would instead want a loyal sidekick or a like-minded rival. Voyager is a good sidekick option due to his fit with Momota's wish for greater adventure further beyond, and is a Servant Momota mentions in his Free Time Events, so there's the emotional connectional to his story there. For a rival, a big name adventurer like Drake or Odysseus could work, and so could a wandering warrior like Musashi. But there's one option that fits both roles: Mandricardo. Rica has the adventurer experience necessary to eventually compete with Momota, but also Saihara's level of self-esteem, allow him to start on the sidekick role until Momota pulls him out of it and shapes him into a proper rival.

15. Like with Harukawa, the role of hero Yumeno needs is already fulfilled by Chabashira in canon, so we know what she needs is someone with high energy and a deep understanding of emotions. And Fate/'s biggest connesieur of human emotion is none other than our Kiyohara no Nagiko.

16. Angie is a complicated case because she doesn't react well to being disobeyed. My first idea for someone with a functioning partnership with her is a knight, but knights generally work on the premise that their king is selfless and righteous, which Angie isn't. There are people like Lan Ling, Liangyu, the ninjas, Mori or Okita, who submit their lives to anyone's authority, but for that same reason, they wouldn't help Angie improve. What she really needs is someone good at feigning humility, like Limbo. He wouldn't have good intentions for her Master, but by manipulating situations out of her control without letting her feel like her divine words are being challenged, he can force some level of change on her mindset. It's better than nothing.

#danganronpa v3 #type moon #kaede akamatsu #rantarou amami #miu iruma #kokichi ouma #ki bo #gonta gokuhara #shuuichi saihara #tsumugi shirogane #korekiyo shinguuji #tenko chabashira #kirumi toujou #maki harukawa #ryouma hoshi #kaito momota #himiko yumeno #angie yonaga

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geniedocroe · 3 years

Text

GOOD BONES

(joe liebgott x reader)

guys i started writing this in october. OCTOBER. also, joe takes the cake for who i’ve written for most

wc: 1.3k

angst?

you had been here before. the feeling you felt was all too familiar. that feeling where you felt useless. hopeless even. you hated it. yet somehow this pain, this kind of grief, it felt oh so foreign all at the same time.

you knew the war came with great suffering. it had been what you signed up for after all. you had always been aware of the consequences, but you weren’t quite ready to face them.

throughout the war, you had met all sorts of different people. whether it was the american soldiers you laid down your life with or the locals of europe, you had learned so much from these people. certain things you would never forget. despite this, you had seen things, horrible things, that your brain seemed to latch onto.

you couldn’t exactly describe how it felt to see your friends lose their lives. you didn’t know how to cope with a major loss. there was a wide empty whole in your mind that enveloped other thoughts and memories. it was like a huge gap of time was stolen away from you. every day became a challenge.

as the days seemed to blend, you were less aware of everything happening around you. your mind hadn’t been clear in ages. whilst your emotional and mental state suffered behind closed doors, your physical state got the brunt of it in front of open eyes.

the soldiers around you noticed your self battle, but the person who paid attention to your every move, the person who knew every single thought running through your mind. he had seemed to know what was happening a lifetime before you even had a grasp on it.

joesph fucking liebgott.

he was the reason you decided to wake up every day. joe made your entire world turn. you knew him like the back of your hand and the feeling was mutual. joe never failed to be there when you needed someone to fall back on. he’d forever be exactly what you desired.

joe knew it had gotten bad again when you stopped laughing. in the absence of your amusement, melancholy seemed to fill its place. the silence that followed your presence was louder than any laughter that you could’ve possessed.

you were aware that joe would always be there to hold you through it all and you were grateful for that, but you never wanted to become a burden. you believed that your constant need for reassurance probably felt tiring to everyone else. you felt unwanted . . . even by joe.

after the soldier you had been walking beside physically exploded from a faulty grenade, you finally lost it. his blood ran down your face. dirt and grime covered almost every inch of your body. you had never felt so far from human. no one should’ve ever had to experience their friends blow up right in front of their eyes.

the loud explosion made it very well known that something had gone wrong. it wasn’t a mortar and there didn’t seem to be an enemy on the allied side of the river. the grenade going off almost seemed to be a foreign noise.

the men immediately jumped into action. every single one of them still on edge from the events in the bois jacques. they covered their heads and looked around with notable anxiety. then they saw you stood beside what was barely left of a corpse. you stood unharmed with a horrified expression on your face.

joe was immediately by your side. he pulled you away from the eyes of men who tried so hard to look away but just couldn’t bring themselves to it. doc roe helplessly followed after the two of you, but with a wave of joe’s hand, he had scurried away. your hand numbly gripped joe’s forearm. if you were causing him any pain then he didn’t show it.

you let him lead you inside a building. he forced you to sit down on some decaying bench before exiting the room briefly. once joe was gone and you were sure there was no one else around, you began to wail loudly.

the tears streamed down your face in full force. they left streaks in the blood and grime that caked your skin. your sobs were choked with pain. the tightness in your chest made you want to cry even more. your whole body shook with grief, fear, and panic.

joe ran back into the room with wide eyes. you placed your hands over your face to try and conceal the fact that you had been crying but your body still shook from sobbing. he dropped to his knees in front of you to pull your hands away from your face. you became limp in his arms.

his fingertips wiped away at your tears. when his hand pulled away it was covered in more grime than it had been before. he wiped it on the side of his pants and reached up to push your hair out of your face.

“why don’t you wash all this off? maybe it’ll make you feel better.” joe suggested, cupping your face with his right hand and holding your hand with his left.

you gave an incredibly shaky breath before nodding, holding back your tears. the salt of your tears mixed with the blood of your fellow soldier was painted on your face like some sort of art piece. though, you didn’t think you belonged in a museum while you looked and felt how you were exactly in that moment. you honestly looked as if you had just crawled out of a grave.

joe pulled you to your feet and once again began to guide you through the building. the other soldiers in your company watched the two of you trudge by with sorrow written in their features. you didn’t spare a glance in their direction and joe never let go of you. these people had watched you tear yourself apart from the inside out for years. perhaps you were the greatest casualty in the company. maybe you were just another victim of the war.

you had willingly stripped yourself of any dignity or courage you had when you jumped into france. all that was left in its place was simply nothing. no spark, no personality, no joy. you had felt as though you lost everything. oh, what you would’ve given to go back in time and repair all of your mistakes.

with great help you stepped into an abandoned shower with every single piece of dirty clothing clinging to your skin. the water was cold, but you had grown used to freezing half to death. the last memory of a shower was extremely far off and you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually been able to run your fingers through your hair. the water ran immediately black as joe turned the faucet on. it was a disgusting sight to see and you were almost sad to see all the dirt keeping you warm wash away.

the first thing joe did was wipe his hand across your cheek, attempting to wipe away the grime. there was no soap in sight so the best form of cleansing was the water itself. your clothing was a lost cause. you feared the dirt and blood would never rinse out. perhaps everyone would be provided with new fatigues.

the pipes in this building must’ve been no good. every once in a while the water would sputter and turn black for a second before becoming clean once more. the faucet was turned all the way to hot, yet the water coming out was as cold as the snow in bastogne. maybe the pipes had froze and rusted in the building abandonment. you weren’t sure. your mind was so unclear.

you felt like an old house. abandoned and useless as time went by. the outside dirty and falling part. of course, the inside had its flaws but the home would always have good, sturdy bones. you were a lot like this building here. torn apart by the crimes of war. alone and useless just until the right time. just until the right person could come and return you to your former glory. and it was always joesph liebgott.

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #joe liebgott #joesph liebgott #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott imagine

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

Text

To Suffer for You | Chiluc Week Day 4

Organized crime au/Hanahaki/roommates+bandaging wounds

Chiluc Angst

Tw: Mentions/Depictions of toxic relationships, injuries, mentions of blood, Hanahaki

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“So let me get this straight…,” he sighed, tone heavy and thick with irritation as his aggravation dripped with every word, “You mean to tell me that you tripped and fell.” He emphasized every word as his pinched the bridge of his nose between tight fingers. He simply refused to believe that. There was no way. Yes, Ajax was reckless, but he wasn’t clumsy. He grinned, cheesy and wide as he laughed.

“Get your ass inside before I drag you by your neck.”

“So sweet to me, Diluc, dear.” The pet name and sweet pitch of his voice was like honeysuckle. He wanted to strip it of it’s petals and ring the pistil of its sweetness. It vexed him. He knew of the lies it held. Of the impurities it harbored behind a beautiful and placid front. Surely not a front for him?

A sharp wince echoed through the hallway as Diluc started ahead of him. He’d never admit such childish fairytales but he’d dream of the day he’d get to lace his fingers with his. He’d imagine the scarred tissue to he oddly smooth, not a single callous tainting his fingers. Yes, Ajax had realized he was in love. Desperately in love. So in love in fact that it hurt. It made his heart twinge with pain and left his lungs without air. He could never breathe. Never feel…never feel right.

Being in love was a problem. A horrible and terrifying problem. It made the butterflies in his stomach flutter with anxiety batted wings, he could feel them crystalize in his chest. Feel the caterpillars climbing down his throat. A horrid and disgusting description and awareness he would never become accustomed to. The flower he was sure had wilted in his gut began to bloom once more. This time, instead of dark stems of black and icy roses, a single red rose, large and vibrant much like his hair began to bloom. The thorns far too delicate to prick at his insides. If they had they’d retracted, shied away from him.

He realized that love was a delicate thing. He wasn’t quiet sure of what it had meant anymore. The roses had bloomed in so many colors. First a golden yellow, an amber orange and then an icy blue. The golden yellow flowers never lasted long. They’d bloom and wilt over and over. They were beautiful yes but they never stayed. They were delicate, lacking the thorns he had came to know to this day. The amber orange roses had small thorns. They’d come to stay shortly before wilting away a month after they’d grown.

The icy roses however, were vicious. They lacked compassion. They’d stab him any chance they got. Thorns heavy and thick. They’d find their way to his heart, the stems curling around it, making him feel safe. The safety was brief before they’d pierce his heart over and over time and time again. One evening, he found whiteflies clinging to the petals and the stems of the roses, and they too feasted away at him. The thorns had scared him, traumatized him so badly sleep became hard to find in fear of the thorns returning, even if it was just a faint memory. The first chance he got to rid himself of the roses he took it. He took it and clipped the rose bush that had grown wildly in the pit of his stomach, killing the butterflies with it.

The pit of his stomach became dark and empty. His body was far colder than the howling winds of Snezhnaya. Despite the chills and ice that had covered him, a small flame had found its way to him, warming him once more and melting that ice. Sprouting curiously in his stomach, covering the dead, crumbling roots of the previous rose bush.

“Ajax? Are you okay?” The voice had called to him, it was kind and alluring, the soft rose petals of the lone flower brushing against his ribs. It was quiet the flower. No other had bloomed like it. Just the single one, with a long, green stem with leaves that had tickled at his insides. The butterflies had disappeared, or so he thought. He was so sure of himself until he felt the slightest flutter in his chest. It was gentle and caring the way it can landed on his heart, almost fluttering away at the beat of it.

“Yes…yes I’m fine.” He lied. He wasn’t at all fine. His throat began to itch and prick. He was confused. He didn’t understand what was happening, the feeling in his lungs brand new. His breathing was labored but he did his best to hide it, earning a look from the other that had doubted him.

“Who’s blood is that?” He tapped at his cheek, latex gloves hiding the skin he so deeply longed to touch. It was his. His blood and someone elses.

“Mine.” Diluc simply hummed, pulling his scarlet strands into a taut ponytail that sat idly on the crown of his head. It had been silent as Diluc had tended to his wounds. Neither had spoken about the cuts and bruises that littered his body. Diluc simply had no interest. This wasn’t the first time he’s trudged his way to the apartment harmed like this. This wasn’t a simple trip…these were inflicted on purpose.

“Are you gonna tell me who did this to you?”

“It’s not worth the stress, I can assure you.” He was awfully timid. Too timid. It made Diluc sick, the vile taste of concern staining his tongue. Was he getting himself into fights lately? That would be the only logical explanation would it not?

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg,” he snorted, Diluc digging his fingers into a bruise on his collarbone, “Okay, okay!” He cried out, voice shrill and pained as he glared at the hand that hand burrowed itself in his wounds, eyebrows knitted with pain.

“I just got into a fight with someone that’s all…”

“Over what?”

“Why does it matter?” He whispered, voice hushed and thin as he avoided his gaze. Truthfully, what had happened had hurt him more than he would like to admit. Another cough rasped from his throat, the pain and breathlessness worrying the other as his eyes scrunched, wincing in pain.

“We need to take you to the Emergency Room.” Diluc’s patience had worn out, cleaning the rest of his wounds before setting off to grab shoes and a decent shirt for Ajax. If anything, he had a broken rib or two and just wasn’t telling Diluc about it.

“Wait!” He cried out. The last thing he needed on his plate was the police asking him questions. He didn’t feel like explaining he was working for a group of people who were laundering money and why he got the shit beat out of him. He groaned defeated, as a cough, far worse than any he’s had so far stab at his throat. Hearing rushed footsteps come to the doorway, his eyes shot up eyebrows worried as blood and red petals filled the palms of his hands.

“Is that…” Diluc started, almost breathless as he ushered over, hands hesitant as he stared at the petals in horror, “Ajax, I swear to the sevens, this better be a joke.”

“It’s…it’s not.” His throat ached and his voice rasped the words out, chest heaving in unsteady breaths as his hands shook violently. Ajax could’ve sworn his heartbeat echoed in the bathroom. It filled his ears as tears slipped down his face. He wasn’t sure when he had started crying but it wasn’t of importance. Getting up, he braced himself against the counter as he lifted the toilet seat and flushed the petals away.

“Who is it?” Diluc asked softly. Part of him was worried he knew. And maybe he had. He knew enough about the disease to understand that the color of the petals took after the person’s most defining trait. Ajax had stayed silent as he washed his hands of the blood, deciding against looking at the other in fear that if he spared a glance it would give away that those petals were his.

“Are you going to get surgery?”

“No.”

“You know you’ll suffer if you don’t right?”

“Yeah…”

“…then why?” He didn’t want to stop loving him that’s why. Diluc was sweet and gentle but blunt and logical. Mature and elegant. Perfect in his eyes. Even his flaws were lovable. It was cute how mad he’d get if the toilet paper wasn’t facing a certain way, or if the plates weren’t stacked right. He found it cute how he’d sing to himself quietly, self conscious and nervous. Yet with his…job, and newfound sickness…it made it far more difficult to love him the way he wanted to.

“Because he’s worth the suffering.” He mumbled, turning to catch his burning eyes before leaving the bathroom, still tattered and bruised, injuries peaking past bandages.

No one should be worth that amount of suffering, Diluc said to himself. Not even he was worth that amount of suffering — Diluc wasn’t worth it.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

Finally! It’s a little messy but that’s one less day I have to write! I hope you enjoyed!

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andawaywego · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Could you maybe write a jealous Dani fic please? I mean we all know Jamie is a catch.

she totally is. but...they both are. here you go! i hope you like it.

The first time that Dani ever saw Jamie—coming into the kitchen at Bly, dusty and dirty in with those rolled-back sleeves and that unaffected smirk on her lips—the sight of her knocked the breath from her chest. Even under the grime on her cheeks and the shimmer of sweat, Jamie somehow looked like a Hollywood starlet. One of those black-and-white movie stars that Dani grew up fascinated by. Her curly brown hair brushing the tops of her shoulders, her eyes happy and bright, even the pink shape of her mouth and the pale column of her neck. It was almost hard to look at.

Of course, Dani kept that to herself for a little while. It wasn’t as if she’d never thought of girls as beautiful before—or that she hadn’t daydreamed about them every so often. It was that Jamie was a colleague, an associate, and someone she saw practically every day. Throw in the added bonus of Dani having just lost her fiancé who was haunting her, the mess that was everything Flora and Miles, and all the rest and it’s amazing that they found each other at all, really.

But then they’d kissed and Jamie hadn’t run even when Dani had and it was as if she came even more beautiful every time Dani became aware of something else in this hard world that tried to put her down. The lines beneath her eyes were something she caught herself staring at, that scowl she came to love a near-permanent fixture on Jamie’s face. The way she looked in the summer sun, pruning roses and wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was...a lot.

And Dani is only human. Of course she thought Jamie was beautiful the moment she first saw her, just as she knows she is now. It’s a truth she’s come to live with: Jamie is absolutely breathtaking, even on her worst day.

And she would absolutely roll her eyes if Dani ever said that aloud.

It’s been thirteen months since that first day at Bly and Jamie is still beautiful, yes. All the time.

But Dani isn’t the only one who notices that.

Of course she isn’t. She could be so lucky.

Jamie has had a myriad of smitten fans since they opened The Leafling—teenage girls shopping for corsages who aren’t sure what to make of her winning smile and winking eyes; men who come in shopping for wives, or girlfriends, or mothers and trail after her around the store as she suggests different arrangements; even little boys who come in with their parents who turn bright red the moment Jamie greets them.

And Dani knows it shouldn’t bother her. No matter who it is that’s fallen under Jamie’s spell, she’s the one that goes home with her at night. She’s the one who knows what it’s like to touch Jamie and kiss her and be loved by her in return. It isn’t as if she owns Jamie—you can’t be the property of someone else.

But again: she’s human. She has flaws.

And one of them is the bitter knot of jealousy in her chest as she watches the bearded guy—who’s come in three times in the last week—listen to Jamie describe the meanings of different rose types.

He’s handsome enough—tall and blue-eyed with a dimple in his left cheek that’s put on display every time he smiles. And he smiles a lot at Jamie as she speaks. Every so often, he’ll say something Dani can’t quite hear from her spot behind the counter—working on an arrangement for someone’s recently-engaged daughter—and Jamie will laugh, this genuine, joyful noise that never fails to make Dani’s stomach bottom out.

“What about pink, then?” the man asks and Dani narrowed eyes bore holes into the back of his head. “If red means love and desire.”

There’s a quality to his voice when he says this that sort of makes Dani want to smack him across the face. Briefly, she imagines going over and forcing herself into the interaction—wrapping her arm around Jamie’s waist and pulling her tightly into her side. Glaring daggers until the man gets the hint and stops his incessant and completely unsubtle flirtations.

“Well, they can mean a lot of things,” Jamie begins, and her voice trails off in a list of the different emotions that pink can convey. The familiar cadence of her voice washes over Dani’s ears, making her mind calm a little, her hands steady.

Her ears still feel hot, yes, and her chest tight, but she forces herself to watch Jamie’s profile as she talks. The way she moves her hands. The smile on her face that’s always there when she’s discussing something she’s passionate about.

She’s mesmerizing, really. Sometimes it’s like Dani can’t even think clearly because of it.

Her eyes trail down Jamie’s neck to the collar of her shirt, buttoned high to hide the love bite Dani left on her neck the night before. She’d scolded Dani when she saw it that morning, while she was getting dressed, but she’d been grinning as she did it. Biting her lip. And she’s been stealing kisses between customers all day.

Dani does that, too—pretending to be bother by the marks that Jamie leaves behind, but she’s never really attempted to hide them once they’re there. There’s something to being able to see the evidence of Jamie on her body. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of it.

Mr. Beard laughs and Dani’s eyes flit over to him. He looks way too charmed with himself. She rolls her eyes so hard it kind of hurts, then forces herself to return to her arrangement.

Eyes down. Hum a song to herself so she can’t hear what he’s saying to her girlfriend. Good distractions. Clean and non-violent thoughts.

Eventually, she’s jarred from them by a light touch at her waist. When she looks up, Jamie is there, smiling fondly and it makes Dani’s heart stutter in her chest.

“Can I squeeze by ya’?” Jamie asks. “Need the till.”

“Oh. Right.”

Dani moves to the side, letting Jamie slide behind her, and has to force herself to keep from making a truly inelegant noise when she feels Jamie’s hips press into her from behind as she goes.

It takes her a moment to realize that Mr. Beard is standing in front of the counter, a single yellow rose in his hand. He gives Dani an awkward, close-lipped smile as Jamie reads him his total, fishing into his back pocket to pull out a few bills.

“Um, so,” he says once Jamie has handed him his change. She leans forward against the counter curiously. His eyes flit to Dani for a moment, an expression she can’t quite read on his face. She thinks it might be slight aggravation. She turns her attention back to her arrangement. “I’m sorry if this is forward, but I’m actually buying this...for you.”

Everything falls silent. Dani’s muscles freeze and she blinks down at her flowers, trying to figure out if she’d just heard him right. Beside her, she feels Jamie’s similar reaction and she can see—out of the corner of her eye—that the man is offering her the rose he’s just bought.

“I thought maybe you’d like to get dinner sometime?” he says, continuing on like the air in the shop hasn’t just been viciously murdered and is now stagnant and thick.

Dani clenches her jaw so tightly, grinding her teeth together, that it could snap.

“Oh.” Jamie’s voice is understandably surprised. Dani feels, rather than sees, Jamie glance over at her and then away. “Um…”

“I know this great place just up the street—”

“I...uh…”

“—and I’d love the chance to get to know you better.”

“Excuse me,” Dani says, so quietly she almost can’t hear herself, and turns on her heel, marching into the back room and closing the door behind herself.

The office is really nothing more than a desk, two filing cabinets, and a couch that had been part of the shop’s lease. Frustration is licking the back of Dani’s neck, hot and livid, and she has to clench her fists to keep from hitting something.

She’s never been a violent person—no, never—but the audacity of this stranger to think he has some sort of claim on Jamie—that Jamie would even be interested—is doing interesting things to her poor heart.

This isn’t how she thought her day was going to go, that’s all.

The door is just thick enough that she can hear voices, but can’t actually make out anything that’s being said. After a moment or two, she collapses onto the couch and buries her face in her hands, trying to calm down.

It isn’t as if the guy actually has a chance with Jamie.

They live together, for God’s sake. They have a shop together and a life together and when Dani says, “I love you,” Jamie doesn’t even hesitate to say it back. There’s no realistic risk of losing her to this guy.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. There’s no reason to be upset.

She’s still telling herself that when the door opens sometime later. There’s movement—she can’t really tell because her hands are still covering her eyes—and then a warm hand is wrapping around her arm, gently guiding her hands away.

Jamie is kneeling in front of her with an apologetic smile on her perfect lips. “Hey,” she says simply, softly.

“Hey,” Dani returns. Then, bitterly, “So when’s Beard-o taking you out?”

Jamie’s smile falters for a second, but then she shakes her head. “Oh, Lord. That was the...absolutely worst, wasn’t it? I was actually embarrassed for him.”

It shouldn’t be, really, but her words are still a bit of a relief.

“You mean that’s not your type? Making you pick out the flower he gives you? From your own shop?” Dani asks.

Jamie feigns a shudder. “He loses points for creativity there, yeah.” She grabs one of Dani’s hands and pulls it nearer, pressing her lips to her fingers in a gentle kiss.

Morbid curiosity bites at the back of Dani’s throat. She can’t help but ask, “What did you tell him?”

“What do you think?” Jamie says, a breathless little laugh accompanying the words. “I said no.”

Dani’s shoulders deflate. “Right.” She’s trying her hardest not to sound as frustrated as she’s feeling, but she knows it’s not working.

There aren’t secrets between them anymore. Dani doesn’t think she’d be capable of keeping any even if she wanted to. So Jamie’s smile slips away and she shifts nearer, finally understanding what it is that’s going on.

“You’re not...Poppins, are you actually...jealous?”

Dani shakes her head, looking away. “Of course not,” she says, hating the way the messy swirl of emotions in her chest is making her feel so juvenile and silly.

“You are,” Jamie decides.

And, okay then—

“Yeah, okay,” Dani confesses, her voice pitched a little more exasperated than she’d like. “Some handsome guy comes into our shop and makes you laugh and asks you to dinner because he can do that—he can just ask, and he could hold your hand at dinner if he wanted or give you things that I—” She shakes her head, trying to clear it. “I’m sorry. I know it’s dumb, but I…”

She trails off, unsure of how to finish that thought.

Jamie is staring at her silently, her expression one of serious consideration and it makes Dani all the more nervous. All this time together, part of her has been so scared that, one of these days, Jamie will finally find the thing about her that’s made everyone else want to leave, too.

“You wanna know what I told him?” Jamie says after the silence has lingered for a little while and she doesn’t wait for an answer. “I told him that I’m taken. That I’m in a relationship with somebody I love more than anything.” Dani looks up, finally, to meet her eyes. “And even if I wasn’t...even in a world where I never met you, Dani, it still would have been no. But I did meet you and I love you. So you have nothing to worry about.”

And she smiles again—that brilliant smile that never fails to make Dani’s knees feel weak; she’s so glad she’s sitting down—and, just like that, all those worries and fears drain away. She knows Jamie better than she’s ever known anyone and she knows that Jamie would never lie to her.

She leans down and Jamie meets her halfway, grinning into the kiss in a way that makes Dani grin, too. She scratches a hand through Jamie’s hair, one arm coming down to grip her upper arm, kissing her back with everything she has.

“I’m so in love with you, Dani,” she whispers, dotting her kisses to Dani’s cheek and pulling her into a one-armed hug.

And it’s been over a year, but those words still make Dani feel like the ground has been dropped out from beneath her feet.

“Well, that’s convenient,” she says. “Because I love you, too.”

Jamie laughs, kisses her again, whispers, “What a coincidence,” into the air as she leans their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry that I—” Dani begins, but Jamie doesn’t let her. Kisses her to shut her up.

“No need,” she says. She runs her fingers down the side of Dani’s face and then pulls her other arm—the one she’s been keeping tucked behind her back—out to reveal a yellow rose, which she offers up. “As a token of my affection.”

“Is this—?” Dani asks, biting her lip to keep from smirking too wide.

“The same.” She shrugs. “He was in a rush to get out. Just left it there on the counter. Figured...it’s paid for. Might as well go to a pretty girl.”

“And that’s me?”

Jamie nods. “That’s you.”

Dani takes the rose and then they’re kissing again and, by the time Jamie is weaving her fingers into Dani’s hair and straddling her on the couch, Dani can hardly remember what she was worried about in the first place.

#send me prompts lads #and love #bc i need it for motivation #and other totally selfish reasons #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani/jamie #dani x jamie #andawaywego fanfic #prompt #damie prompt

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 8

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: Happy Wednesday! I hope your week is going well so far, enjoy this update! Let me know your thoughts!

Chapter 8. Face Yourself

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“You know, I kind of expected to see you again.” Christina leads me into her home, waiting for me to remove my shoes before walking further into the house. It has an industrial look to it, giving off a generally cold feeling. Something about it though makes the house feel warm.

It’s probably Christina. Despite not being overjoyed to see me, she still emits a friendly aura. That is, until Elle decides to hop out and snoop about.

“Er…” Christina rubs her nose harshly, eyeing my cat. “I’m actually pretty allergic to cats…”

I launch into action, scooping Elle up in my arms even though she protests with a pitiful hiss. “I’m so sorry, if I’d have known-”

“It’s not your fault,” Christina replies, gesturing toward a familiar gray door. “Are you alright with leaving your cat in the warehouse while we chat?”

Nodding, I walk over and pry the door open. A blast of cool air hits me, taking my breath away and resulting in a sigh of long-suffering from Elle. Christina reaches into the warehouse, flicking on the light and the heat.

“Would your cat like...um...a bowl of milk? To sip on while she waits?”

I can’t help but smile at Christina’s offer. Glancing down at Elle, I watch the way her tail flicks back and forth as she wanders about the warehouse. “That would be great, actually.”

Once Elle has been taken care of and Christina has moved us to her kitchen, I allow myself to recall the events of a couple weeks ago. I’m passed a mug of apple cider, heart aching at the similarities from before.

Christina offers me a seat on one of the stools, standing on the opposite side of the island. She takes a long sip of the cider, a faraway look in her eyes. I wonder if she’s remembering the last time we shared a drink together.

When I told her who my soulmate was, and she suddenly became very, very quiet.

“So what brings you back here?” Christina asks, finally breaking the memory-laden silence. I look at the mug in my hands for a long moment, collecting my thoughts.

“I…” my vision clouds over for a moment, and I take a deep breath. Once the tears have receded, I try again. “I’ve been told to come to terms with my actions. With all that I’ve done wrong.”

“To make it right?” Christina asks, her expression betraying nothing of her innermost thoughts. “Because like I said, I don’t do refunds. Can’t, actually.”

I finally look up at Christina, really looking at her for the first time.

Her hair is dark and thick, falling below her ribcage. It’s long. Today it’s down, lightly curled.

It makes her look soft. Normal.

So at odds with her choice in profession.

“No,” I respond. “No, not that. I’ve been instructed to...to forgive myself…?”

Christina blinks, resting her elbows against the countertop. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

“That’s probably because I’m not.”

Nodding along, Christina looks down at her hands. She begins to trace the lines in her palms, allowing herself a moment to think. After a few heartbeats, she looks back up at me. “It sounds like you’re seeing someone about this,” she points to my left hand that I have wrapped around the mug. The cut thread hangs there, barely touching the top of the island.

“I am.”

“A trained professional?”

“Yes.”

She lets out what appears to be a sigh of relief. “Good.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder - how did I never notice how long her hair is? - she furrows her brows ever so slightly. “So...why are you here? Not that I want you to leave, I’m just a little confused. Isn’t this place...aren’t I a part of your problem?”

I blink, letting her words sink in. “Christina, you’re not a problem to be fixed.”

An indescribable emotion flickers across her face, but it’s gone before I can put a name to it. Instead she straightens up, moving to put the apple cider back in the fridge. “Then explain to me just what you plan to do here today.”

With her back turned to me I have no idea what she’s thinking or if I’ve already overstepped my bounds, but I venture on. “Well...I don’t really get it. You know, the forgiving part. I’ve heard about it a lot, sure. I guess I just don’t have a lot of practice in it, though.” Christina turns back around, resuming her spot across the island from me. “And it just seemed to me like maybe you do, I guess.”

She’s back to tracing her palm now, absorbing my request. Slowly, she tilts her head to one side, looking at me with unadulterated curiosity. “You want me to teach you how to forgive yourself?”

I nod hesitantly, hoping it’s the right answer. Christina scoffs, a challenge in her eyes.

“How can I teach you about forgiveness when it’s clear you don’t want to forgive yourself?”

“W-what-”

“You want me to explain it to you step by step? It isn’t something that you can just check off of a to-do list, Jolie. I need you to understand that.” Christina rises up to her full height, running her hands through her hair. “You can’t just move through the motions and hold yourself up to the list of qualifications for forgiveness and hope you make it. Because you won’t. Every single time, you will fall short. We all do. And it really sucks, but it’s true. How do you think people find it in them to forgive themselves when they’re completely aware of just how much they’re lacking?”

My heart hammers, the truthfulness in her words pounding into me like an anvil. At a loss, my mouth simply opens and closes like a fish. She sees my dilemma, raising her eyebrows.

“Because they care.” Christina lets out a deep breath, her eyes never leaving my face. I feel absolutely naked before her, all of my flaws laid out like a buffet. It’s impossible for me to move, to run away, though. I can hardly breathe as is. She continues on, a fire in her eyes.

“They care enough about themselves to know that even though they will never meet the expectations laid out for them, they deserve to be forgiven.” Christina’s voice comes out thick with emotion, unshed tears welling up in her eyes. “And that is what you lack, Jolie. You want to suffer. You want to use the pain that’s building up inside of you as some sort of way to atone for what you’ve done. But it doesn’t work like that.”

Sitting there at Christina’s kitchen island, the words hanging in the air above me, I can’t find it in me to lie. Not when this woman stands before me, battle-worn from life and still fighting, would know in an instant.

I can’t lie to myself anymore.

Eyes falling to my mug of apple cider, I see myself reflected in its murky contents. My own pitiful, broken self staring back at me.

“I’m so tired of lying to myself,” I whisper. I hardly notice Christina coming around the island and taking up a spot beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

When I finally find it in me to look at her, I see nothing but calm understanding.

Like she knows. Like she’s been here before, in some capacity. Judging from the severed thread she sports, chances are she knows exactly what sort of heart-wrenching pain is wracking my soul right now.

With a soft, heart-broken smile, Christina whispers back, “Then start with the truth.”

✂

“Honestly, she’s a fool for not texting you back. That last text you sent was gold.” Jin stares at an unopened box of churros, rubbing his belly before leaning forward to pry it open. “Pure gold, I tell you.”

“Yeah,” Jimin cringes as he watches Jin take a bite of the churro. They’ve eaten to the point of stomach-aches. “That’s because you wrote it.”

“Exactly.”

Jimin’s cell phone sits in the middle of the table, under constant surveillance by the seven boys. An hour has passed since he sent off the last text to Jolie; a quip about how Elle must have taken pity on him.

When he hadn’t received a message within the first two minutes, he’d wanted to send something else. Taehyung had stopped him, ordering him to eat and breathe for a few minutes. What had begun as a temporary distraction had now dragged on for far too long, in Jimin’s opinion.

With dread in his stomach, he asks, “What if she’s freaked out about texting a guy so soon after everything? She’s probably not in a place to even think about talking with other guys. Do you think she’s ghosting me?”

This makes even Jin pause in his act of gorging himself, swallowing harshly and launching himself into a coughing fit. Jungkook slaps him on the back, frowning.

“No…” the maknae protests weakly. “She wouldn’t ghost you...would she?”

“Well, she doesn’t really have the best track record when it comes to me,” Jimin jokes, the attempt falling flat as everyone sullenly agrees.

Sighing, Taehyung grabs Jimin’s phone and extends it to him. “What are you gonna say?”

Unlocking his phone, Jimin sighs heavily. “Erm...apologize for the lame joke?”

“Hey!” Jin feigns offense, taking an angry bite of his churro.

“Good move,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin chuckles, pulling up the text conversation. Once he types out the message, he shows it to his members. They all agree, although Jin does so a little sulkily.

“Ok and...sent.”

Me: Sorry for the dumb joke...I guess it wasn’t as funny as I initially thought 😅

Jimin sets the phone back down on the edge of the table, struggling to stomp down on the hope growing in his chest. No matter what he does, he can’t stop seeing Jolie in his mind. The way she smiled at Elle, hauling her groceries up to her apartment.

How can his soulmate live so close to him and yet still be so far away?

Namjoon groans as he sits up, looking at an email he just received on his phone. Hobi frowns, reading over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Jimin asks. Namjoon and Hobi share a look before seemingly coming to an agreement.

“It’s just another message from Bang PD,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing his face. “Fans are still...freaking out about everything.”

Jimin blinks, having almost forgotten about the outside world for a moment. “What are they doing?”

“They’re just convinced that Bighit is hiding your soulmate, trying to control the situation. Some of them are fine with it, but there’s a significant amount that are offended.”

“Mainly offended because they think that you don’t trust them enough to still show up to our events,” Yoongi clarifies, giving the younger boy an apologetic smile. Jimin’s eyes become glazed over, mind running rampant with what people must be saying about him.

Hobi jumps in, hating to see that look on Jimin’s face. “But we’re taking the ‘no comment’ route, remember? So they’ll just have to sit tight until you’re ready to come back.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Namjoon speaks again. “Bang PD is just a little worried about our upcoming muster. You know, about fan’s reactions when you aren’t there and-”

“I’ll come.”

Everyone looks to Jimin in pure shock, Taehyung immediately jumping in. “No, it’ll be fine Jiminie, really. You don’t need to come. It’s only been two weeks, take more time.”

Jimin hardly even blinks. “And the muster is in...what, five days? That’s about three weeks of a break for me. I can’t just sit around like this anymore, you guys. I’m losing it.”

Jungkook speaks up from where he’d been quietly sitting beside Jin. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you need to jump back into full concert mode. That’s too much to ask of yourself.”

Everyone seems inclined to agree, already nodding their heads. Jimin sees his window of opportunity closing, and takes a shot before it’s gone.

“One song.” Jimin scoots onto the edge of the sofa, running a hand through his hair. “Just let me do one song with you guys. Enough to let everyone see me, that I’m alright. That they don’t need to...worry about me hiding a soulmate from them.”

“I don’t know, Jimin…” Namjoon begins, twirling his phone in his hands. “It’s probably going to be really intense, and once you get out there you can never go back to the peace you’ve got right now. People will be practically knocking down our door to get answers.”

“I know. Just...I want to see them.” Glancing down at his phone which still hasn’t received a text back, Jimin sighs. “Just one song. I can’t hide forever. And I don’t think I want to.”

Namjoon begrudgingly agrees to bring it up with Bang PD, not promising anything. Either way, Jimin lets out a sigh of relief at the thought of possibly getting to perform soon. Despite the certain problems that are bound to follow, at least he can hold a mic again. See Army.

He’s not completely sure if it’s the right time, but it feels like the right step. Staring at his phone and praying for it to light up with a message from his soulmate, Jimin voices his thoughts aloud.

“I think she needs to know that she hasn’t wrecked my life beyond repair, you know?” Reaching forward, he flips his phone so he can no longer see the screen. “I can live with the pain.”

✂

“Just because you can survive the pain doesn’t mean you should consign yourself to a life full of it.”

Christina is on her second mug of apple cider, the smell of blueberry muffins permeating the air in the living room. We moved here to a little while ago, Christina deeming this conversation worthy of her comfy couches.

I nod along with wide eyes, almost wishing that I had a notebook with me. The way that Christina speaks to me makes me want to write down every word.

Pure honesty. That’s what it is.

“Can I ask what made you get into this business?” I ask, suddenly needing to know more about what made Christina the way that she is.

A dark cloud intercepts Christina’s kind gaze, and she chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I...it’s a long story.”

“Do I look like I have a life?” My comment earns me a sharp chuckle from Christina, who gets into a more comfortable position on the couch. The grays and white undertones of the room makes the small fire in the fireplace pop out all the more.

“Good point. Either way, I’m not a very big fan of going into too much detail where my story is concerned.” Setting her mug down on the coffee table, she takes a deep breath in before letting it out. “Long story short...I met my soulmate. Fell in love with him, actually.”

My eyes instinctively fall to her cut thread, my stomach knotting up with whatever dreadful fact is coming next.

“What I considered to be a pure, beautiful relationship turned into something like Stockholm Syndrome. My soulmate he...he believed that I was his, and only his. He slowly cut off all communication with my family, my friends. At first I didn’t notice what he was doing, but when I came to my senses...let’s just say I did everything in my power to get out.”

I remain frozen in my seat, heart nearly stopping. “Christina, that’s horrible.”

“It was. But the moral of the story is that I got out. I got help. And in turn, I help others the only way I know how.” She glances down at my left hand, something like regret lingering there in her eyes. “I don’t usually ask my clients any questions. I know when I was running and trying to cut my thread, the last thing I wanted was to bring up my history. However, with you...I wish I would’ve asked.”

It stings, but it makes sense. I fidget a little in my seat, twirling my thread around my finger. “Would you have turned me away if you knew the truth?”

Christina sits quietly for a moment, chewing on the question. “I definitely would have tried to get you to think it through a bit more. Maybe I would have turned you away, I don’t know. If I’d have known that Park Jimin was on the other end of that string....I don’t know if I would have been able to stomach doing that to him.”

I nod. It would appear that in my desperation, I’d forgotten that my decisions would harm more people than just those directly connected to the thread around my finger.

“I’m assuming you’re a fan?” I ask a little drily. Like flicking on a switch, Christina’s eyes light up.

“Oh, absolutely. But especially of Jimin.” I feel my eyebrows arch, a fresh wave of guilt sluicing through me. Christina doesn’t begin to curse me, though. “You know his song ‘Promise’? On those days after I’d cut the thread and felt my will slipping, like I might go back to my soulmate after everything he’d done to me...I’d listen to that song. I’d promise myself over and over again that I wouldn’t throw it all away. I guess you could say that, in a way, he saved me.”

The fire pops and hisses in the fireplace, filling the temporary silence. Christina grabs her mug, taking another sip before realizing that it’s empty. She gets up, excusing herself while she goes to the kitchen to get some more cider.

Alone in the small living room, I stare at that fire while different thoughts vie for my attention. Watching the flames, I stumble upon another truth. One that blasts a door open on my understanding of the past two weeks. Of what drove me here, to Christina’s, on that fateful night. Thread in tow, begging for it to be cut.

Jimin creates. He creates beautiful opportunities for people, second chances for people like Christina who so desperately needed one. He’s there, for people he’s never met and never will meet, cheering them on in their endeavors.

And me? I destroy. I’ve always seen that in myself. So when I saw Jimin up on stage that night, completely entranced by him as he bounced around and danced and smiled, I knew that there was a stark difference between us. I could admire that difference, from a distance.

Yet when I saw the way my string followed his ever so slightly...as my eyes traced the thread between us, coming to the same conclusion every time that it was Park Jimin who was on the other side, I believed it to be a mistake.

How could I be paired with someone so good? How could a devil be tied to an angel?

And yet...Christina reenters the room, smiling warmly at me as though I wasn’t the one that made her unknowingly cause harm to one of her idols. It’s Christina, who sits across from me with her third cup of apple cider, that makes me realize that perhaps fate was right all along.

Christina destroys bonds for a living. She destroys seemingly unbreakable bonds, for a price. And what is supposed to be the most horrifying profession of all, comes from a place of sympathy. Of charity.

Perhaps destruction clears the path for creation.

Maybe, just maybe, Park Jimin and I are a perfect match.

✂

The moon has risen by the time Jimin gets a reply. He’s just fallen onto his bed, his hair still wet from his shower, when his phone vibrates.

He nearly rolls off of his bed and onto the floor in an attempt to retrieve his phone, but he manages to stay upright. His heart launches into a frenzy at the sight of Jolie’s name on his phone, and immediately he’s back to replaying the scene of her in his head.

Jolie (Elle): Sorry, I was visiting a friend and lost track of time. And yes, the joke was lame. I’m glad that you can admit it 😂

Jimin chuckles, making a mental note to tell Jin that his joke really was lame. He stares at the screen for a moment longer, struggling to come up with something to reply. Before he can write anything, however, three dots pop up as Jolie types something in.

He stares and stares at those three dots, sucking on his bottom lip. When the text comes through, he lets out a shout of triumph.

Jolie (Elle): Also, I think that Elle misses you. Either that or she’s mad at me for ignoring her

Taking a deep breath, Jimin types out a reply. He rereads it a couple of times before giving in and hitting send.

Me: I’m sure she does. How dare you ignore her? Don’t you know that she’s royalty?

Jolie (Elle): Oh no.

Jolie (Elle): She’s got you wrapped around her finger.

Me: I think you meant paw 😼

Jolie (Elle): This entire conversation is ridiculous, I hope you know that 😂

Huffing out a laugh, Jimin brings his pillow to his chest. Oh, he’s aware of the ridiculous nature of the conversation. But if it’s the only way he can communicate with his soulmate, then so be it.

Me: I’m aware, don��t worry. I’d better let you get some rest. Give Elle some cuddles for me, will you?

A part of him hopes that Jolie will protest, insisting that they talk for longer. However, he gets the next best thing.

A photo of Elle, sitting at the end of a bed and looking at the camera like she’s posing for a portrait. Jolie sends a message a heartbeat later.

Jolie (Elle): She won’t let me touch her right now...she’s still angry 😂 but when she forgives me, I’ll be sure to tell her that the cuddles are from you.

Jolie (Elle): Goodnight!

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Jimin whispers to himself in an attempt to calm his beating heart. He stares at the photo for a moment longer, taking in as much detail as he possibly can. Jolie isn’t in it, but the outline of her legs under the blanket are enough to remind Jimin that this is real. It’s all real.

And he’ll talk to her tomorrow.

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barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

Poker Face || K.Y

Pairing: Kang Yeosang x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst

⚠ gambling, spanking, degrading ⚠

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ x ʟᴀᴅʏ ɢᴀɢᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ || ᴘ2

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴘᴏᴋᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴍᴠ

Everything was a game to him.

Every hand of cards, every dollar, every touch, every kiss.

Everything meant the same.

You watched from the corner of the club as the round, green piece danced between Yeosang’s fingers.

His tie was undone, hair messy from the number of times he’d run his hand through it and he most probably smelled like smoke, from the way he was puffing out cigarette after cigarette.

All the men continuously bet chips. Poor men… They didn’t know what they were getting into…

Yeosang didn’t just play with anybody. When he was starting to struggle with money, he would scan the clubs and bars for a couple of days, taking mental notes of the most flawed players, so he could make sure that he would win. Yeosang was a smart man, he exploited these games (in which he was proficient) for his own gain.

You rolled your eyes as the slutty, barely-dressed waitress bat her eyelashes at him while asking if he wanted a refill. Too focused on his game, Yeosang just waved her off, making you grin.

Yeosang barely ever had a poker face, he always had a smug grin plastered on during the whole game, no matter what he was playing. Maybe that was his poker face…

Some of the older players around the table scoffed at the young man, thinking that he knew nothing about the game, that he was a poor player for pulling off that expression and not taking the endeavour seriously.

You started to get bored of looking at the walls, and you started wondering how much longer you’d have to be there for, but then he did it, he did the grin. A completely different grin, that always announced his victory.

The whole table watched as the final two players bet all in.

“Sorry kid,” the old male, with a long, grey bear said as he exposed his cards on the table “maybe you should play some more amateur games before playing the big games.”

The five cards rested on the green, carpeted table showing a Straight Flush.

Yeosang’s eyes were glued to his cards, while his tongue played with his top teeth. His head rested on his fist. He chuckled, earning a weird, confused look from his opponent.

He said nothing, he simply displayed his Royal Flush on the table and collected all of his chips.

Yeosang always walked out victorious, no matter what. If the opponents cheated, he cheated back. He yearned for cheating opponents ‘cause it was just so much more fun to cheat.

He was banned from some casinos, mainly for counting cards, but not only.

The man looked at you, signaling with his head that it was time to leave. You followed after him, but not before shooting the skimpy waitress a nasty look.

Yeosang was never an apologist of public displays of affection, so you were left to watch cuddly couples holding hands and walking close to each other while you and Yeosang maintained your distance. Sometimes you’d brush your hand past his, in an attempt of initiating some sort of contact, but he would always pull back or shove his hand in the pockets of his suit pants.

You lowered your head as you two walked in silence towards his apartment, however you didn’t miss the way he looked a girl from her head to her toes after she winked at him. Your face fell and you sighed… It wasn’t outside of his character to do this, he loved power. He loved to feel like he had control over everything.

He felt your mood shift the second you two stepped into the living room of his home.

Yeosang walked behind you, until his chest was pressed against your back. His large hands caressed your arms.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

His deep voice by your ear made you shiver slightly, and the small hairs on the back of your neck all stood.

You wriggled yourself away from his hold and turned around to face him.

“What am I to you?”

The question had come out more blunt and emotionless than you had intended. Yeosang furrowed his brows.

“Y/N, what do you mean?” He asked, stepping closer to you.

You didn’t move, but your eyes didn’t become less threatening either.

“Exactly what I said. Kang Yeosang, what is this!?” You questioned again, motioning between the two of you with your index finger.

Yeosang had insisted on not labeling whatever the two of you had, ‘for the sake of the relationship’, he claimed. In the first year it was fun, you didn’t mind. You had the company of the man you loved, he was MIA a lot of the time, and sometimes the collars of his shirts would have pink lipstick stains, but you overlooked that as he handed you all types of gifts and apologized for his distance.

However, the beauty of the relationship washed away not long after, when your friends started to have kids, when your friends started to get married, and yet Yeosanng wouldn’t even allow himself to be your plus one for the weddings, claiming that it would ‘subconsciously plant an unnecessary label that you two had already waived’.

“Y/N we have already discussed this we-”

“No, you discussed it. You had in mind your best interest when you told me what we were. We didn’t discuss shit.”

“So what? What has been wrong? Haven’t we been alright? Are you missing something!?”

You looked at him, incredulous at how he couldn’t see the issue.

“A boyfriend is what I’m missing. If I wanted a friend with benefits I would have told you so. But I made it clear from day one that I had feelings for you.”

“I still don’t understand the issue Y/N. I treat you to dinner, I buy you gifts, I fuck you. Isn’t that what couples do?”

The fact that a man this smart was somehow missing the whole point you were trying to make was driving you mad. You gripped him by his collar and pushed him against the wall violently. His back collided against the concrete, making a loud ‘thud’ noise.

“Couples don’t fucking flirt with other people, couples don’t cheat, couples don’t make their significant other stand away from them on the street, couples make each other feel loved you huge sack of shit!”

It pissed you off. The way you were breaking down in distress in front of him yet the calmness never left his face pissed you off.

He sighed, slowly removed your hands from his collar, and pet your head. He kissed away the salty tears flowing down your cheeks.

“Y/N, you know I’m yours, you know what I feel for you…”

His voice was soft and mellow as he spoke to you.

“Do I?”

He hummed positively as he started kissing down your neck. Suddenly you became very aware of the situation. You pushed him away once more.

“You manipulative cunt. You’re trying to put out the fire by fucking me! I can’t believe you! What am I!? A fucking pawn in your game? Is this what it is!? Another game for you!?” You yelled so loudly that you were sure the neighbours could hear every single word perfectly.

“I don’t love you! I want to fuck you! I don’t want a fucking girlfriend, I want to fuck and gamble and I don’t have time to take anyone else’s interest in mind! Is that what you fucking wanted to hear!?”

The room was dead silent for the first time tonight. An uncomfortable silence that neither of you knew how to break. You were a little scared, more than disappointed. Yeosang had never lost his cool like that…

A couple of seconds after, heavying in both of you as if they were hours, you picked up your bag from the couch and made your way towards the door, without saying another word.

Yeosang gripped your wrist before you could reach the door handle.

“Fucking let go or I swear to God…”

The male didn’t move, neither did his grip falter.

“You already know what I feel, I’ve been honest. You have one of two options: you accept it or you leave for good.”

You stupidly gave it a second thought.

“Fuck it.”

It was the last thing you said before you dropped everything in your hands and pushed your lips against his.

There was no trace of love, romance or softness anymore. It was pure lust that controlled both of your bodies.

Hands rummaging each other’s bodies, teeth clashing, and heavy breathing echoing between the four walls.

You hurriedly stripped him from his dress shirt and threw it on the ground, as he pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you bare-chested.

Yeosang gripped your waist and pushed you against the counter of the island in the middle of his kitchen. His teeth mercilessly bit down on the soft skin of your neck as his fingers played with your nipples. A whimper escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, giving him all the access he wanted.

You rolled your hips consistently against his growing hard-on, causing him to groan against your neck.

Finally, he lost his patience and turned you around. Yeosang placed one of his hands on your back to press your body against the cold marble, as the other one worked on getting his pants undone.

“So fucking needy baby, you can’t wait to have my cock, can you?”

He roughly pulled down your jeans and your panties, slapping your ass as soon as it became exposed.

“Answer me.”

“I can’t Yeosang, please fuck me…”

“Such a desperate slut.” He said through gritted teeth, as he grabbed a handful of your ass.

Yeosang decided you needed no preparation, and immediately bottomed inside of you, giving you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the feeling.

He gripped your sides harshly as he thrust into you, the lewd sounds of skin slapping echoing in his apartment.

Your nails scratched at the polished marble counter, desperately trying to grasp onto something.

Yeosang hated your silence, so he’d spank your ass occasionally to hear your pretty voice whimper and beg.

“How the fuck are you so tight, my G-God.”

His hips jerked deeper and harsher into you as he followed after his release. You moaned and you felt your knees get weaker by the second as you felt the familiar ‘good feeling’ bottling up inside you.

Yeosang noticed the way you almost faltered and gripped your hips tighter, to support you.

“Yeosang harder p-please, I’m almost…”

He clenched his jaw and thrust faster into you, causing your hip bones to clash against the counter, but you didn’t care, you were too focused in the amazing way he was making you feel.

“Come on Y/N, be a good girl and cum on my cock for me.”

The way he gripped your ass after demanding you do cum had your legs shaking as you climaxed. Your eyes shut tightly and you moaned his name repeatedly as your walls tightened around his cock.

Yeosang couldn’t handle the feeling of how tight you were and so he came inside you unexpectedly, with a deep groan.

He caressed your ass as you tried to regain your breaths.

You stood back up and got dressed quickly. You grabbed all of your items and headed towards the door and you chimed a small ‘bye’.

Yeosang was visibly confused.

“What do you mean bye? You’re not staying?”

You grabbed the doorknob and looked over your shoulder, with a smug expression.

“We play the game my way now.”

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mc-critical · 3 years

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What are your thoughts on Ibrahim? For me it went from indifference and dislike in season 1 to liking in season 2 and becoming my favorite male character in season 3 tbh. Actually the only good male character by season 3 (season 4 has many other options too). He is probably the most complex and well written character and I really sympathise with him. His arrogance was his downfall but if Suleyman wasn't such a bitch it wouldn't have been lol. He wasn't wrong in that imo. He was a slave, a fisherman's son but his intelligence and skill took him farther than anyone else and it's not wrong to be proud of such a feat. He deserved the pride more than just about anyone, even Suleyman. What I dislike the most about him is his treatment of Nigar after their relationship ended. She's my favorite character and although their relationship itself was my favorite in the whole show (other than Nurbanu and Selim) it ended really badly

Ibrahim is one of my most conflicting characters on the series: one time I feel like I don't get the appeal, especially not the stans in one Bulgarian forum, he doesn't elicit such a strong emotional reaction in me as he does in others, but then once he hits an incredibly strong arc and I begin to analyze his character and all its dimensions, I come to love him for what he is and realize how much effort has gone in conceiving and developing him. He's certainly the most well-written male character that isn't a sultan or a prince in the entire franchise. (the sultans aren't the brightest, but the bar is so high when it comes to their writing. There isn't any of them that is badly written. The princes are also well developed, but now that I think about it, Ibrahim surpasses some of them as well!) He's delightfully fleshed out with every detail; his actions, while morally ambiguous at times, are very understandable and you can clearly see the deeper, nuanced reasons why he does what he does. His arc was a sight to see from beginning to end and watching it reach its inevitable tragic conclusion was heartwrenching. At a point he became so important to the narrative, whether it was intentional or not, that the show (or actually, S03B in particular, because S04 was absolutely fantastic!) began to lowkey miss something without him. He had such a strong presence that couldn't be matched by anyone else after him.

[To be brutally honest though, I find his dynamic with Hürrem in terms of screentime to be kinda overrated. Not that it's bad or anything, quite the contrary - their chemistry was great, they were consistent and fun to watch, they had quite a few great scenes that were definetly more than Hürrem and Mahidevran's, I dare even say this is one of the most solid antagonistic dynamics of Hürrem's writing-wise, but I just find it sometimes gets way too much credit? It's weird, I know.]

The most interesting thing about him is, without a doubt, his fatal flaw that I... actually don't think is arrogance. It's not up for argument that Ibrahim can definetly come off as arrogant, but the arrogance is rather a manifestation of his fatal flaw, not his fatal flaw itself. I believe that it's precisely his inferiority complex that is the root of his vulnerabilities: as you said, he's been only a fisherman in Parga, and his background is both a source of memories where he can recall his more "innocent" days with his family and a tough spot for him where he is consistently reminded of something that is already in the past after all he has achieved. He did want to return to Parga, to see who he used to be one more time, but after that it's as if he never gets a chance to forget, to put it behind him. He pretends he has forgotten, but that consistent reminder of how he has started seems to be constantly haunting him to the point he begins to remind himself of it. It's not only people like Figani, Iskender Çelebi or the other members of the divan in early S01 that don't let him forget, it's as if he himself doesn't want to forget. It's undeniable that he had climbed up to heights he wouldn't dream of and the role of a grand vezier needed getting used to and to be dealt with with care. On one hand, we could argue that he reminds himself of Parga as a way to preserve his moral compass, in a way, to realize when and how he has screwed up or remind himself of the limitations of how far can he go, for Süleiman is his friend and companion who he wouldn't want to disappoint. But on the other hand, the more he rose in the hierarchy, the stronger became a wish for him to exceed these limitations placed upon him by everyone around. Süleiman is able to give him everything if he wishes, so why not let it happen? Then he's going to prove to everyone, prove to his inner demons, this sense of inferiority that he, in fact, can not only become the most politically adept grand vezier there is, but a person who has his own country within the country and can rule it with ease. The political arena ultimately becomes a target of his inner conflict where he projects more power than anyone else, is most influential and does the best in order to gain the goal, not only to gain SS's approval, but show that, yeah, he can do his best for the role he's put in, fixating on the Ottoman country he claims to be a ruler of and his apparently endless rights. It turns into a coping mechanism where he can escape his past and background and he gets so sucked in it that his self awareness becomes less and less. That's where his arrogance comes from and I feel that if he didn't possess that complex of his, he would've managed things way better and had more self control, as a result. He was a very good politician in the show, setting in motion many good strategies (his strategy gave them the Mohacs victory after all), having a strong, pragmatic mind and many innovative ideas and if he didn't try his hardest to convince himself he's worth something that isn't just the story of the fisherman in Parga, Hürrem wouldn't stand a chance against him.

This inferiority complex is the reason for his infidelity, too. He loves Hatice dearly and he never expected that she of all people would do the very thing he dreads the most. Her pulling rank on him came as such a shock for him that it seemed he would never forget or forgive. It put infinetly more salt to the wound, deeply hurting his ego and the self-esteem he was just beginning to gain. That's why he let himself in Nigar's hands for so long, for she would only want to please him, for that relationship would have no limitations whatsoever and wouldn't restrict Ibrahim in any way. It was something that was his, something the dynasty would never touch or learn about. I love Nigar and Ibrahim's relationship, too. Principally, I'm not a fan of love triangles at all, but that one is a notable exception for how wonderfully, but crushingly psychological it is. It wasn't added in only for the sake of the drama, it was set up for very long and it was like the characters actually got there through their own actions and they had to truly face that struggle to flesh out and evolve. But there wasn't genuine love there, not in Ibrahim's part. That was his biggest weakness speaking, causing the illusion of love, not the real feeling of it. He wanted to preserve this relationship as the fisherman in Parga, but to me, it felt like he showed something more similar to his own confident assertions of the power of a grand vezier than actual regard for Nigar's feelings. It all was a lie he wanted to believe, because of his ego's denial, and he believed it so much he told Nico that Nigar was the person he truly loved in E51. And when he did get out of the lie (the monologue in E57), see how he reacts differently in front of her now - he turns off every single try of hers to give him affection, he reacted very badly when he learned she was pregnant, it was as if he wanted her to wake up from the dream and move on, too? And due to his inner conflict that perpetuates his arrogance grew even more in S03, he got over Nigar, but not over her child. Esmanur's birth made him return to and enforced his old habits that made him consider that child as another piece of solace, something out of the dynasty, also only his, trying so desperately to have her live with him and Hatice. The infidelity and the way he treated Nigar after he realized the error of his ways are ones of the worst things Ibrahim did, along with Leo (now, I get he wanted to knock Hürrem down a peg, but that was admittedly much for me.) and while I understand why these events and interactions came to fruition, I can't justify him for them.

I agree that had Süleiman not given him as much power, his inferiority complex would be highly downplayed, at the very least. He underestimated the possible consequences of Ibrahim's rise and it really doesn't look like he knows him as much as he thinks he does. Whether he did it to test him (SS's lasting reminders that Ibrahim gets closer to death) or because he loves him dearly and wants to embrace his potential ("I want you to use that mind only for me!") or both, it's like he gave him both too much freedom and too many boundaries at once. I mean, I understand why SS executed Ibrahim: his affirmations, no matter their backstory and how metaphorical they are, pose a definite threat for a padişah and along with his growing paranoia of betrayal, he couldn't be sure how far he was going to go anymore. It's as if Ibrahim crossed every line, openly acting like he controls the padişah and his state in front of the fellow pashas, efendis and ambassadors and that couldn't be controlled anymore. It's as if he had done his best efforts to bring him down to earth, but since none of it was working, he decided to act accordingly. The many "failures" of Ibrahim have been piling up in the narrative in the span of 81 episodes and I get why SS would finally snap for what was the final straw. However, doing so much unprecedented stuff for a grand vezier was bound to bring disasters for the padişah due to the chance in his mind that he would try to question or prevail over him, hence Süleiman should've realized that it was only natural one would want more and more. And that happened with S03 Ibrahim - he fought more and more with his inner demons, hence wanting to have more and more to be validated by the others and by his own ego that perhaps wouldn't feel satisfied regardless.

While his fatal flaw underlines his complexity, it also gets complimented by his many positive qualities: his love for Hatice was very sweet in the beggining and after the Nigar plot, it turned out to be really genuine - their reconciliation was very telling in that aspect; his relationship and loyalty to Süleiman deserves respect, even though his inferiority complex came in the way, he still would never give him up and never once lost hope in his recovery when he was in his deathbed and while that may become up for debate in S03, he would never openly stand against him and would gladly try his best to please him; his bond with Mustafa is amazing, too - I love how he practically raised that kid and gave him sound advice as well as his mother; that said, his relationship with Mahidevran deserves more appreciation and it is one of the most reciprocal and understanding, soft and "carefee" dynamics of the show; I love his dedication to his family and how he loves them as much and remembers them with the same fondness as ever before. In short, when going in depth, this multifaceted character has so much to offer, like, wow!

Okay, when I first watched the show, there was that point where I felt Ibrahim overstayed his welcome and I even wanted for Hürrem to finish him already (heh, those were the days! 😅) but now when I've rewatched and reexamined MC many times, I see that despite of his few negative traits, everything about this character flows so well and so organically and it's one of the characters in the series that have aged really well with time in my eyes. And I respect him so much for that.

#magnificent century #ibrahim pasha #ask #illusorybeing

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otomelavenderhaze · 3 years

Text

Sorry for taking so long @imlokigodofhorses, I had to prepare the gostel before spreading the word around properly!!

@draconess-tania kinda asked for Candlelight and Roses and since you didn’t give me any element to set the request, I decided to mix them together a little bit. I just left out the “Slow Dance”. I hope you two don’t mind it!!

This one came out a little bit long, with 1.806 words. However, this one came out fun, cute and very well grounded!

5 – Ring and 8 - Reminisce about the first time you uttered, “I love you.”(RayanxCandy)

Stepping out from our bedchambers, my feet found the delicate pink hair while my eyes adjusted to the dim golden light of the candles settle around the small living room. The fireplace was lit, cracking softly into the rustic and luxurious decorated space. My eyes found the trail of the rose petals in the dark, leading to the terrace’s door.

I knew the night was bound to be romantic; that was what Rayan said early, and knowing my boyfriend just the way I did, he would do anything in his power to make it unforgettable.

With a fluttering heart and a surely silly smile in my face, I followed the soft path, the bar of my dress dragging along some of petals with each step.

I saw his figure from the closed glass door, leaning against the railing, arms crossed as he watched the city lights, lost in thought. I looked at the outfit he was wearing, the black suit falling over his tall, relatively muscular figure like a glove. So painfully handsome that I had to hold my breath for a second, a little lost in the intensity of how much I loved that man.

The last months had been challenging for our relationship, like anything else was thus far, but it did nothing to change my mind about be with him or about my feelings. He was still honorable, good and as true to himself in a way that I could only hope be one day.

Of course, I thought with a sharper smile, he wasn’t perfect, as flawed as any man of his age and complicated history. But I didn’t love him any less. I simply couldn’t. Not when he loved me just with as much equal awareness and madding intensity as I loved him. Not when he would still try to pull out surprises like these even when he didn’t even need to.

I slid the door open, bringing him back from the clouds, green eyes fixing on mine before going down to the take the rest of me in, coming back with a gleam of admiration and something else, something hotter and that brought a flush to my cheeks, a pleasant feeling spreading through my chest.

“Calling you ‘beautiful’ right now don’t feel enough, ‘gorgeous’ and ‘phenomenal’ also don’t it doesn't seem enough to express how beautiful you are.” It didn’t scape me that Rayan wasn’t restricting it to that night or that moment, for him, I was beautiful everyday and even more tonight. He stepped closer, holding out his hand for me.

“You’re always so melodramatic.” But my hand reached for his, letting our fingers brush before interview them. Then, Rayan lean down, pulling my hand up and kissed it, his green eyes never leaving mine.

“I’m just trying to express myself. You left me quite lost with that dress.”

I smiled knowingly “That was my goal.”

“Damn, and I fell like always.” Rayan grin was wide and full of humor, I could feel the waves of happiness flowing from him and that made my heart tight for a moment. I missed seeing him like this.

“You look good as well.” I told him, letting my eyes vague over his night suit, noticing the missing tie and the two of the first open buttons on his shirt, doing nothing to mask my appreciation. “Very handsome.”

That was when he had to look away, trying to hide how shy my compliments made him feel – in that sense we’re very alike.

But it didn’t last long, Rayan pulled me a little bit closer, the night wind messing his hair e making my dress flutter. For a second, I thought he would lean in and kiss me, but instead, the palm of his free hand rested on my cheek, caressing it slowly. I lean in, loving how warm it felt.

“Do you still remember the first time you told me ‘I love you’?” His voice was low, another kind of caress over my skin in the dark.

“I do.” I could feel the dreamy slime in my lips, the memory still alive and fresh, like if it had happened just a few nights ago and not 3 years ago. “We were at that party, surrounded by people when you said you loved me and it suddenly felt like it was just the two of us there when I whispered back to you that I loved you too.” My voice became softer. “I don’t think I will ever be able to forget it, not even if I try.”

“Sometimes I caught myself thinking about that night and weighing my feelings back then to now… and, if anything, I think I love you even more now” Rayan gave me one of his breathtaking smiles, “we took our time to know one another, I saw you at your worst, you saw me at my worst, and none of that made any of us give up in what we have.” I could see all those emotions boiling inside of his eyes, so intense that it left me breathless.

Then Rayan stepped back, letting go of me, only to get down on one knee.

I could feel my heart stop.

“I told you before that I couldn’t see a future without you.” He took out of his pocket a small little velvet box. My hands went to my face, a little incoherent cry escaping me at what was happening. “I know we’re not out of the woods yet and maybe we will never be, but you’re the one I choice to be there with me, to face all the many hardships that that may still come. If it’s with you, I know I can face them all.”

The little box opened, and nested inside was the most beautiful ring I could’ve pictured.

“Would you marry me, despite all that?” Rayan was nervous, his whole body was slightly shaking, even if he kept his firm on me.

I took a shaky breath, trying to gather my own thoughts. My hand reached for his hair, leaning on slightly so that once again we could face each other on the same level.

Feeling choked up by my emotions, I kissed him, softly, while tears pouring down my face “Yes.” I said between kisses, “Yes, yes, yes.” I could feel his chuckling against my lips. “I definitely want to marry you.”

Rayan got up without letting me go, lips still insistently on mines. I moaned weakly, my hands running through his hair. His hand went for the small of my back, pressing, no space allowed between our bodies. We matched one another’s intensity, the hunger, the passion with equally eagerness, a kiss full of meaning and promises – and very much like our first “I love you”, it felt like we’re the only ones in the whole world, nothing else, nobody else mattered.

I wanted more.

The longing I felt from him lately felt close to snap, ready to consume us both… when he moved away slightly. Words of protest came to my lips, but Rayan took the engagement ring from the box he was still holding and showed it to me.

“Are you sure?” His voice was raspy, deep and emotional, green eyes darker and clouded by passion. My heart skipped a beat. “If you have any doubts, if…”

I shook my head, the seriousness of his tone sobering me up “I don’t. Even after everything that we went through, even after all that mess… even if it felt like it could break us apart,” I ran my hand on his hair, moving away the rebel strays that fell over his forehead, my eyes calmly fixed on his “in the end, it didn’t. We have been through a lot and every single time; we have managed it together. If this is how the future is going to be, with hardships, but with you besides me for whatever it takes, I’m sure about this.”

Then I gave him another smile, taking the ring from the small jewelry box and giving it to him “Could you?”

Rayan kissed my forehead, then my hand again, “With pleasure.” I couldn’t take my eyes away from our hands, from the tender manner in which he slips the ring into my finger. It fitted perfectly. “I don’t have any doubts either.” He took my hand again, this time kissing the ring, brushing my hand with his lips “You taught me how to love again. In a way that I never thought was possible to love someone. If I don’t ask you to be forever mine, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

So dramatic. Even so, his words didn’t fail in making me feel special, loved and wanted. My arms went around his neck.

“Can we eat later?”

He raised one eyebrow to me, faking austerity “I wasn’t expecting that question. At most I thought you would say that you love me back.”

I shrug, “You know that already.” Despite my words, and his exaggerated sigh, Rayan’s hands went under me, I jumped over him, receiving a kiss on my neck “And I’ve agreed to marry you, it’s obvious because I love you.” He had an amused expression on his face, while carrying me and walking, “I’m yours, even before you asked for my hand AND even if you didn’t…”

The air was knocked out from me, when we both fell on our bed. His hands not losing a second more, running over my legs. “But I did. I’m trying to be romantic here.”

I laughed, ecstatic by the sensation of having him between my legs, warm hands working on my dress, pulling to expose more and more of my bare skin, “If I let you have your way, you would’ve spent the rest of the night proclaiming your love for me” I pulled his face back to mine, teasing his lips with mine, letting my words be just another of many caresses “then I wouldn’t have my way with you. Not so soon, at least.”

Rayan sighed, squeezing my ass in his hands “I love when you have your way with me.” I bit his bottom lip.

“See? We can have both. My and your way, for the next years too; until the rest of our days.”

#my candy love #amour sucre #amor doce #corazon de melon #mclll #rayan mclll #mclll rayan #mclul #mclul rayan #rayan mclul #personal #May #can I just say that I loved writing this one? Can I?

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sunflowerdjarin · 4 years

Text

Touch (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Din adjusts to the readers touch after years of being touch starved

Part one | Part two | Part three

A/N: Thinking about how it’s canon that Mando has banged with the helmet on like my mans really said helmet stays on during sex

Tagging: @buckyboobear

Neither of you mentioned that night afterwards. It felt like a haze to Din. He couldn’t quite recall what had happened after he sustained his injuries. He remembered vaguely hearing you yell, then feeling the disappearance of his armor. He could feel the lightness on his skin, but he doesn’t recall taking the armor off himself. The next thing he remembered was a weight on him. It resonated on his side. He remembered a kiss on his clothed shoulder. That was all his memory allowed him to remember for the night.

Everything else was a blur. He woke up feeling as if he was in a dream. You hair messily splayed on his shoulder, your lips in a pout, but yet you remained sleeping so peacefully. He could feel the weight of his helmet on his head. A warmth spread in his cheeks knowing that you had respected his boundaries and beliefs. He couldn’t quite figure out what to do with you, whether to wake you up or move you peacefully.

He chose the latter. He hadn’t been gentle enough when he moved you. He wasn’t quite aware of how to be gentle with things to be fair. He placed you down holding your head in place with a soft hand on the back of the neck. Your eyelashes fluttered open and he felt hypnotized by you. He was caught in your gaze that was still adjusting to the light. He took note in how glossy your eyes looked, the dark lens over his eyes surely altered the color of your eyes. He wondered what your eyes looked like in the light, and if he would ever see that one day. He hoped he would. You rubbed your eyes gently before smiling at him.

“Good morning, Din.” You said with sleep still laced in your voice. “Good morning.” He spoke back with his voice sounding slightly more gravely than usual through the voice modulator, but still with a hint of softness. He felt as if he had suddenly became aware of his surroundings. He could sense everything around him. This wasn’t unusual, he was attuned to be aware of his surroundings at all times, but this was different. Instead of seeing potential threats, everything around him was… Good. He could hear the steady drip from the faucet in the other room, which would typically be a burden, but instead he could only think of how you joked about, how you would mimic the noise in a different room. He wasn’t sure that he would ever fix it as long as you were around. The feeling of your fingers gripping his arms. He swore he could feel every groove of your fingers, how his skin divoted underneath. In any other situation, this would indicate that he was in danger; he was anything but. He couldn’t remember the last time he was relaxed. The smell of your shampoo infiltrated his nose. He couldn’t think of a single complaint about this. The smell of your shampoo had only became aware to him when he had walked past your room at night, sure that you were asleep, he had taken his helmet off. He had always slipped his head into the door to make sure you were there. He would check for the rise and fall of the blankets. He did this every night, but he would never tell you that.

He pulled himself away from you and tried to pull himself away from his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He spoke, trying to regain his thoughts. Your grip on his arm became looser as you trailed your hand down his arm, “It’s okay. I needed to get my day started anyways.”

Din had buried himself in working on the Razor Crest. There were minor things to fix here and there. It was dated to say the least. You watched as he worked on the ship below the floor paneling. You sat on the edge with your feet lightly swinging as you placed down two mugs. Din took note in you as he continued focusing on the wires in his hands. “I’m sorry.” You spoke up in the silence. Din’s head tilted to the side, confused by the statement. He couldn’t recall anything you should be sorry for. “For what?” The confusion was laced in his voice as it broke the modulator. “You have to wear that helmet all the time. I’m sure life would be easier if you didn’t have to wear it.”

Yeah, but life wouldn’t be easy without you here.

He put down the wires as he climbed up on the ledge with you. Your eyes hadn’t looked in his direction as you dipped your finger into your mug and mindlessly stirred your coffee. “I brought you coffee. I’ll go so you can drink it.” You spoke sheepishly as you pulled your knees up to you chest in order to get up, but a gentle hand on your knee stopped it. “Stay, please. I like your company more than I like coffee.” It was tough to beat, and he was sure he couldn’t think of a single other person he could say that to. He watched as a smile graced your face, but only for a moment. “It can’t be fun wearing that helmet all the time.” You spoke just above a whisper. You popped your finger tip in your mouth to get off the excess coffee.

“This occupation isn’t fun. The helmet is just a part of it.” He grumbled. He wasn’t good with words. His occupation was a lonely one. He hadn’t known anything other than living with his helmet on. It was always good for him to take it off, to remember that he was still human underneath all of it. You had never pushed him to take it off. You had only asked questions. You had never spent a day under a hunk of metal as a mask, let alone your whole life. “I’m not saying you should take it off or anything, but if you wanted a moment to take it off…” She trailed off for a moment, but spoke again, “I would give you time to have it off. I’ll hide away for a little bit and give you a sense of normalcy.”

“You are my sense of normalcy.” It was supposed to be just a thought, something for only Din to hear, but it left his lips before he could stop it. You were quiet for a moment. Your face was unreadable to Din, he could feel his nerves bottling up. You moved your hands towards him, taking his helmet in your hands. You cradled the spots where his cheeks should be. There was a flutter in Din’s chest, but he didn’t move. He remained still as he watched your eyes scan the front where his eyes would be. You were roughly correct and for a second he felt as if you were seeing him, as if you were looking him in the eyes. He was frozen under your touch. “I bet you are absolutely beautiful under that helmet.” You whispered to him. He still couldn’t find the courage to move. He knew you wouldn’t remove his helmet. He trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t even try. So your hands remained on his face, “I hope I get to see it one day. Even if it’s just once.”

You stood up from your seated position on the floor, picking up your mug with you. You walked to the cockpit without a single look back. “I’m closing the door. I’ll stay in there till you open the door yourself. Enjoy your coffee, enjoy the fresh air.” With one single click, the door shut behind you and you disappeared from his sight. Without hesitation, he slipped his helmet off and picked up the mug. You always made his coffee the way he liked it even though he never recalled telling you how he liked his coffee.

Din had worn fingerless gloves. It was something you hadn’t seen in the months of traveling with him. It was more than seeing the soft skin of his wrists. Now you could see the soft padding of his fingers. They were aged with some wear and tear, but it was protected behind a layer of fabric that they still remained soft. You watched as he flicked on numerous switches paying close attention to the skin that was shining golden due to the sunshine falling through the windshield. You resisted from saying anything as he rested one of his hands against his thighs.

“You’re staring.” Din interrupted your thoughts as your head snapped up to his voice. “Sorry, the outfit change caught me off guard.” You replied back, you had been traveling with Din for 8 months and his outfit had remained the same the entire time. “You’re quick to realize.” He snarked back at you watching from the corner of his mask as the corner of your lip quirked up into a smirk. “You’re quick to call me out.” Your head tilted every so slightly to the side to signal an attitude. The slightest of laughs came from Din’s helmet.

You moved your hand to pick up his, turning his hand so his palms faced upwards. Your thumbs traced over his fingertips one by one. Your fingers moved slowly as if you were memorizing what they felt like, what he felt like. The only other time you had felt his skin was when you stitched him up and Din hadn’t remembered a single second of that. This was peaceful. The air was still and Din held his breath as if he was afraid to mess this up. You lifted his hand up with his palm facing you.

You leaned down and pressed kisses to each individual fingertip. Your lips were exactly like he had dreamed of. They were soft and smooth without a single flaw. He knew he didn’t deserve this or deserve you. He was tough and cruel. You were soft and sweet. The same fingers that you were pressing gentle kisses to were the same fingers that had pulled triggers, handled knives, even taken lives. Now you were pressing the gentlest of kisses into them. He had held you with these same hands. He felt as if he was dirtying your skin, but shook the thought from his mind. You were cleansing him with each kiss pressed into his fingertips. He felt lighter, worthier of a normal life, worthier of your touch. He was craving your touch, the feeling of your kisses everywhere. It felt as if you read his mind whenever you spoke next.

“I just want to kiss you.”

Those words seemed to plague his mind as well as yours. He had never kissed anyone before. He had partaken in other forms of intimacy without kissing. He never took his helmet off for anyone in the past even in his most intimate moments. All those times were different. He wanted to kiss you all over. He wanted the feeling of waking up next to you with his cheek resting on your head. He had never revealed his face to anyone. He didn’t know if he would be considered beautiful in anyone’s eyes, but especially yours.

He was shaken from his thoughts as you knocked on the door to his chambers. It was late and the odds were his mask was off. “Come in.” The sound of the voice modulator proved that it was on. The door slid open and you walked in nervously. You took a seat on the edge of his bed with a strip of fabric in your hands. You looked down at it for a moment before looking up to Din. This was risky. His reaction could range since you had never even mentioned anything of the sort. Without a word, you closed your eyes and covered your eyes with the fabric, tying a knot in the back. Your breathing shuddered as you spoke, “I want you to kiss me.” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. “I won’t peak. I promise.” You felt as if you were speaking to a wall, but you knew he was listening, contemplating. “Just trust me.” Your hands were pressed onto your legs indicating you had no ill intentions.

Din held his breath for a moment as he shifted the helmet off and placed it on his nightstand. His palms were sweaty. He knew you couldn’t see anything, but he still felt so vulnerable. “I trust you.” His voice wasn’t being transcribed by the modulator. You could hear his actual voice. It was still gravely, deep, but there was a level of softness in his tone that got lost in the modulator. You let out half a chuckle in surprise over the voice, “You have such a nice voice.” You smiled with the statement. Din finally looked up to see your face, no longer blocked through the vision of the helmet. He could see your smile and it was incredible.

His hands moved to cup your cheeks as he marveled at you in astonishment. His thumbs ran across your cheeks feeling the smoothness of your skin. “Din?” Your voice was meek and unsure, but he watched as your lips spoke his name. “Are you still there?” Your hands reached up to his wrists and held them gently. “Yeah… I’m just…. I’m just taking it in.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile. No one was ever kind enough to do this for him. It was such a simple act in your mind, but in his it was a sign of trust. Everyone in his past just wanted the helmet off due to their curiosity. Your smile remained on your face before fading into a flat line.

Din’s breath hitched in his throat for a second knowing what he had to do. He pulled your face closer to his and watched as you moved forward in anticipation. His lips inched forward and you were unable to wait any longer as you moved to meet him in the middle. Your lips collided with one another. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. His lips were slightly chapped and rough, but the kiss was gentle. It was Din; rough to the touch, but soft on the inside. Your hands moved to Din’s face, cradling the smooth skin that was always so hidden. You could feel the gentlest of facial hair underneath your touch and pressed up against your skin. You took note in the touch of his skin.

He pulled away slowly as he pressed his forehead against yours. The feeling of the blindfold against his face. This was a selfish experience for him. Only he gained from it. He was able to see you without anything blocking his vision. He could see your smile and how you reacted to seeing his face. He wanted so badly to see your eyes. He wanted to see how they crinkled when you smiled at him. He wanted to see what color they truly were. He wanted to see you, the full you. He wanted to see you like this everyday. He couldn’t keep you blindfolded forever, it wasn’t fair to you. You could have a love so great and see his face. He could give you that love. He wanted a normal life with you, one where you could press kisses to his cheek when giving you his coffee. Hell, he wanted to drink coffee with you. He wanted to kiss you like this all the time at his own discretion. He knew the threat. He knew what he had to do while still unsure of the future. He had never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Take it off.”

#din djarin #din djaren x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djaren blurb #din djarin drabble #din djarin headcannon #din djarin smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian smut

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shooting-starry · 3 years

Text

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

A/n: Writing this was fun. It was fun. Please enjoy the awkwardness and watch me try to build character dynamics. Yay ::) please do not repost, but feel free to reblog or like!

Warnings: drugs and alcohol mentioned, weapons mentioned, Atsumu gets punched lol, I didn’t edit yet again

Masterlist

Previous//Next

The minivan was quiet, except for Bokuto’s light snores. Akaashi was driving with Kuroo in the passenger side. Kenma was sitting in the back on his switch, and occasionally pushing the sleeping Bokuto off of his lap. Y/n sat behind Akaashi, passing maps and snacks to Kuroo. Atsumu was directly beside you, looking out the windows as the buildings turned into fields then back to buildings.

Akaashi was planning to drive to the Nekoma headquarters, where a majority of Fukurodani also stayed. Nekoma preferred to stay in Tokyo’s countryside. It was close enough to the city, but remote enough for no one to care. It was a strategic location.

When the minivan pulled to a stop, not a a rest stop this time, a tall warehouse sat in front of the group. The tall metal walls started down at the very mini minivan, the windows were ominously empty. The warehouse had a spooky feeling to it, it felt as if no one had been there for years, yet every single step was being carefully watched and criticized.

The first time Y/n came to the warehouse, she was terrified, but none of the boys knew. After all, she had to keep her reputation as a force to be reckoned with. The rumours which shrouded Y/n were always enough to scare someone out of their wits. She was often described as a ghost who disappears into the shadows, blends in with the crowd and masquerades herself as anyone, then strikes when you think you are safe. She became anyone, a local grocery store worker, a waitress, a prostitute. She manipulated people to get what she wanted, then killed then. She camouflaged herself in the crowd and went unnoticed. Because of this, she was dubbed “The Chameleon ”. Y/n fed off of this respect. The fact that when her name was mentioned, people would visibly shiver. She didn’t care if she was called a monster. As long as she got praise and the respect that she deserved.

The 6 boys got out of the car and made their way towards the dark warehouse. Kenma knocked on the door, 6 rhythmic knocks, before the large sliding door slide open with a crash. Kai welcomed the group in, hesitating when he saw the 6 foot blond. Apprehensively, he let him in. The warehouse smelled like marijuana and alcohol. Y/n noticed that Lev and Yaku had yet to return. As the group entered the building, people from all angles yelled out in greeting to the group.

“Hey Chameleon! Did you kill anyone yet?” Yelled Yamamoto, along with other calls to the group such as, “Hey Owl!” (Referring to Bokuto and his strength, or his hair. No one has ever been brave enough to ask), or “Raven, I need your help on this assignment!” (Akaashi was dub this for his intellect. This man is smart). Other voices called for “The Hyena” (Kuroo was named this for his hyena like laugh that you would hear right before he killed you) and “The Caracal” (Kenma got this name thanks to his crazy kill methods. That man can be unhinged. Just take away his switch and get ready to die).

Y/n walked through the warehouse soaking in every word, but not replying to any. Right now she didn’t want to be the happy, friendly Y/n. Right now she had business to do. She kicked open a metal door which lead to a large office. The office wasn’t fancy, but inside sat the bosses of Nekoma and Fukurodani. As Y/n walked in, followed closely by the boys, keeping Atsumu behind them, she swiftly slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

The two old men looked up at her and the boys before their eyes landed on Atsumu. They looked surprised to say the least.

“L/n, why did you bring him here? Now were have to kill him.” Said the first old man, Nekomata. He was a carefree old man who was often smiling. Despite his appearance, Y/n knew that he could kill someone in less that a second.

“Nekomata, he is part of the Inarizaki family. If we killed him then they would be after you. So instead I propose we keep him here until his leg heals, then we make the trade with Inarizaki. They get back their man-child, and we get they alliance. Doesn’t that just sound wonderful? Akaashi and Kenma help me think of this.” Y/n asked, speaking in her sweetest, most convincing voice. She knew the last part was a lie. Kenma didn’t care about what happened to Atsumu, and Akaashi didn’t want to keep him around any longer than necessary. You just hoped he didn’t realize.

“Well L/n,” spoke the other old man, Yamiji, “I think its a good idea, except your safe house was destroyed because he was there. And how will we convince them to come, without an attack?”

“Well that’s simple, we can stay in the hotel in the city. The five of us can stay there with Atsumu. And I can take care of an arrangement.” Y/n said slyly. “I will even give you sometime to consider it. It is so much more beneficial to return him than to just kill him. Don’t you think?” She finished, leaving the room, with the boys, close behind her.

After about 10 minutes, both Nekomata and Yamiji stepped out of their office. Everyone in the warehouse, even the wasted men in the corner, stood up, as a sign of respect. Y/n had a more friendly relationship with the two men, and all parties were much more informal with each other.

“Y/n, we will let you go. Make sure that you trade him off in 3 weeks or else we will kill him.” Said Yamiji. “But, it is under the conditioned that the hotel he doesn’t get injured. We will send him off unharmed.” He finished, still staring at Atsumu.

After Yamiji’s speech, the warehouse burst into talk and gossip. “Can you believe the Ferocious Five have another assignment?” Or even “Why are the Ferocious Five getting such an easy assignment? They just have to make sure the dude doesn’t get hurt”. The group walked quickly to the store room. Inside there was the wall of guns and a separate wall for knifes. The drawers under the display of other weapon are held devises which were only common in spy movies. Y/n took multiple knife and hid them on her body. Two for each boot, one in each sleeve, and another on her ankle. She also took a tube of lipstick and a small jar of pills. Y/n loved the lipstick. If it got into your blood stream, it would kill you in a few hours. It would start to seep your energy within minutes, and then it would kill you. She also went to the hidden closet and grab different clothes. She grabbed a formal dress and a cute little picnic dress. She also grabbed a long coat, glasses, a collared shirt, dress pants, jeans and multiple pairs of shoes. But of course she also threw in a pair of loose fitting sweat pants and a sweatshirt. She grabbed a duffle bag and placed the clothes in the bag. She also found a few different purses and bags which she added to her bag.

After she had packed everything she needed, she regrouped with the boys. Kenma was fiddling with 6 cell phones and his bag rested on his feet. Akaashi was nearby, calling the hotel to book the rooms (He seemed very tense when he was talking on the phone). Bokuto and Kuroo were busy stuffing a bag full of food. Atsumu was staring at the ground, daydreaming about something. Y/n paced towards him, pick up a Polaroid camera on the way. She fisted her hand and punched him in the face. Hard. As her fit collided with his cheek, he groaned at the contact. A bruise was starting to for on his right cheek in a red mark formed on his face. Atsumu looked at her with a look disbelief while she shook out her fist.

“What the hell was that for? Ya crazy bitch, ya just said that A would be unharmed?” He yelled, while Akaashi in the corner was trying convince the hotel employee that nothing was happening.

“I just needed you to form a bruise, besides you’ll be fine. Now sit down so I can cover it with some makeup” Y/n ordered.

Compliantly, Atsumu sat down, while Y/n grabbed a foundation, concealer and a pallet of nude eyeshadows to help hide the redness of his cheek, and a blush. Carefully, she applied foundation across his face. After blending it, she applied concealer under both of his eyes and on his cheek. The concealer hid the red cheek while giving his skin a flawless sort of look. Next, with a small brush, Y/n altered the colour of the bruise, holding her face uncomfortably close to his. As she move from each product, she became more aware of the closeness. She could feel his breath on her hands as she fixed little parts of his face. As he looked more alive and functional, the more she realized his beauty. His dark eyes focused on hers as she scanned his face for any flaws in the makeup. She had covered his scar on his face, to make him look like any normal person. His skin looked clear and hydrated, and his cheeks were slightly blushed. Perfect. He was perfect and ready to go.

Together they stood up, Atsumu a little slower and more clumsy, and walked towards the door. Kenma handed everyone a cell phone, each person's number already entered in. Akaashi grabbed his bag and a bag of medical supplies and placed them in the car. Bokuto then took the rest of the bags and left them in the car (He was upset that Akaashi wouldn’t let him grab his bag too).

Once the group was in the car, Akaashi assigned the room to people. He explained that each room will have two bed. They were all on the different floors, but he would need to check them in.

“Bokuto-san and I will be in room 303, Kenma-san and Kuroo-san will be in room 204, and L/n-san and Miya-san will stay in room 405. Also, we will not be able to switch rooms. I was able to get the last three rooms for the next 3 weeks.” Akaashi explain as he drove the minivan.

The car ride was short then that mornings, once the fields turned to buildings, Bokuto got excited. He knew that the car ride was almost over (He was like a small child after an hour car ride). After another half hour. Akaashi pulled into the parking lot of a large hotel. After grabbing the bags, which Bokuto insisted on doing, the group walked into the hotel, and was greeted by the sitting room. It was a beautiful room. There were exquisite decorations along the walls. On the ceiling there was a beautifully complex chandelier. There were many people in the sitting room, drinking water or talking to each other. Akaashi, confidently walked up to the counter. The group was sitting on a large couch when Akaashi returned. He handed each person a key card for their room.

The group piled into an elevator and slowly got off at their floor. First Kenma and Kuroo got off, then Akaashi and Bokuto. Finally, there was just Y/n and Atsumu. The 30 seconds of the elevator going up were excruciatingly awkward. Neither said a thing, but a few glances were stolen when the other wasn’t looking.

When they got off the elevator, Y/n held both people’s bags as the looked for the door which read 405. When they found the door, Y/n slide the key card into the reader, after shifting all the bags onto one hand. They opened the door, they were met with long windows and a flat screen TV. There was a closet to the right of the door and the bathroom door to the left. There was a small desk against the door and a large glass panel separating the bathroom from the bedroom. In the bedroom, the bed was decorated in white sheets and many throw pillows. But there was a problem in the room. There was only one kind sized bed

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#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x y/n #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurō #atsumu miya #tw drugs #tw alchohol mention #tw weapon

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akitokihojo · 4 years

Text

Chasing the Seasons - Cruel Summer’s Epilogue

And there you have it, folks. I have literally no self control. :)

Have an epilogue almost half the length of the original story. Thanks for reading!

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It was hard. It was impossible not to think of each other throughout the entirety of every single, passing day.

Maybe it was a blessing, but within the week of returning from their trip, Kagome was thrown right back into the swing of things. She had to scramble to buy the two books she still needed - one she got lucky with, the other she had to purchase from an overpriced seller on eBay, get any other necessary items for the term ahead, make sure all registration was properly done, and get herself re-acclimated to a generally normal sleeping schedule. She stayed busy. Busy enough not to constantly wonder how Inuyasha was fairing. But, unfortunately, that never prevented her from incessantly checking her phone.

The habit came on quickly and was difficult to kill off. In her spare moments to breathe came her opportunities to light up the notifications page. Even in class, jotting down notes, listening to the professor drone on and on, Kagome just couldn’t stop herself from tapping her phone’s screen to see if she’d missed anything while her cellphone sat directly next to her notebook. There was nothing to expect, she was aware of this. She was forewarned of their unaligned schedules. She was aware they weren’t in a relationship. This was what they’d tried to prevent; the thick feeling of unintentional dejection that clung to the insides of their chests like tar.

Was it ironic that Kagome was still knocked down to her ass? No. She wasn’t sure irony was the right definition of this. The truth was, unknowingly so, she and Inuyasha had contradicted themselves from the start. It was all innocent in the moment, wanting to soak up every minute with your soulmate until you couldn’t anymore. Trying to make the best of a given situation. It made sense then. Hell, she even knew this was going to hurt when they had to part, but no one could have ever prepared her for the aftermath.

See, it wasn’t a relationship the two should have planned to avoid, even if it was for the sake of ease. The moment they connected with each other, they were set in stone. That’s not your typical, monogamous relationship. What Sango and Miroku had, what they’d worked to build - that was a relationship. They chose each other. But, fate chose Inuyasha for Kagome. That red string tied their souls together, one half fulfilling the other, so what they had was an irrevocable, irreversible, and irreplaceable bond. They had a companion. A partner. Yes, all synonym’s for a “relationship,” but vastly different in context. A relationship you could turn off. You could end it. You could do so by bitterly cutting ties, or mutually understanding things weren’t working. You couldn’t do that with a soulmate, though. Having a soulmate is the universe’s way of saying, “Hey, I made this person for you. They’re pretty and nice. You’ll like them, I promise. You’ll like them so much, you’ll literally never feel whole without them once you meet. It’s not a flaw in the design, trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

In other words, the distress they wanted so badly to avoid, the obligation they felt toward one another, it was all entirely inevitable. What they, instead, should have done was prepared their minds and bodies to have to adjust to the emptiness. Because, eventually it would dull. Eventually, it did dull. The ride to that point, though, was nothing short of crippling.

He wished he’d known exactly what to say when he’d discovered who she was, what she was bound to mean to him. He wished he’d understood the conflict in his argument and how he was so wrong. A part of him even wished they’d never met. Not yet, at least. Much like how he’d originally hoped she hadn’t dreamt of him so he could carry the burden alone and find her in the future. He was insane. Absolutely, confoundingly mental. Since when had he developed a glass heart? The moment he heard her laugh, saw her in that dress, spoke to her, felt the powerful pull toward her. That’s when. He’d say it was the moment they kissed, because logically, that was the exact moment it happened, but he had to be real with himself. If he’d turned away and ignored her presence from the start, there was still a part of him, a significantly smaller part but a part nonetheless, that would have felt lost. Lost was still better than broken, though.

Inuyasha had decided after the second week that he was going to pull away. In the moment, he understood the rationality behind it. It was to deaden the senses toward one another. It would make it easier in the long run. They’d grow used to the other hardly being there, they’d go about their lives, they’d get excited when one of them popped up on the other’s phone for a quick and friendly check in because it was so rare, then go about their business. Wash, rinse, repeat until the day they could properly reunite. It had to happen. He was miserable, and even though she wasn’t saying anything, he knew she was, too. That was after two weeks. Fourteen days without the other. He kept checking his phone, he was physically fighting the urge to call her, he was forcefully throwing himself into his work so he wouldn’t continuously consider dropping it all to run off with her before it was too late. So, it only made sense to cut the chord. This wouldn’t work if he didn’t. This would only drive them crazy and encourage the ache that lived in their chests to rampantly deepen as if it owned them.

Oh, was he so fucking wrong.

Everything worsened. So bad, he felt sick sometimes. He’d wake up at three in the morning with the heaviest sadness climbing the walls of his stomach and threatening to make him vomit. His lungs sometimes acted as if they couldn’t hold a full inhale of air anymore, and his exhales were shallow and dry. He was angry. Always angry. He had a short temper to begin with, but even he would catch himself on occasion and realize he needed to chill. His work was being affected negatively, his appetite was shot, sleep gradually became a thing of the past, and as the main turmoil seemed to dwindle after a while and he felt dull, listless, he became known as “cold” around his immediate peers. He detested himself. He could see it clearly, but it was so difficult to correct his demeanor when he didn’t have much ambition to do self work on top of his professional labor. He was becoming Sesshomaru.

He’d sunken. Deeper than his bitterness. He’d sunken so far, it was laughable. The answer was right in front of his face. Clear as day. This was his doing. He was the cause of his own misery. Why would he ever think creating a larger distance from her was a good idea? She wasn’t your average girl he had a nice conversation with and would eventually like to see again. She was a being literally born for his sake. And, he was born for hers.

Two months and four agonizing days later, and Inuyasha had finally come to his senses. He couldn’t continue this. He just couldn’t. What he’d done was essentially attempt to withdraw his soul from the match until it was suitable for him. He’d attempted to go against fate, and fate was giving him the hell he deserved. He could only hope Kagome didn’t feel the weight of his idiotic mistake, too. It was bad enough picturing her feeling alone in this, because it’s not like he was acting as much support, but imagining her crushed with withdrawal pain as well was just something he couldn’t live with.

Inuyasha could have texted. He could have called. He sat staring at his phone for hours, a murky liquid sloshing in his chest as if a clogged drain kept the remnants of this toxicity from leaving his body. Text messaging wouldn’t suffice. It would do nothing for him at this point. A phone call would be better; he’d at least be able to hear her voice. Still, it wasn’t good enough. The only thing that would be was seeing her beautiful features with his own eyes. He felt so horrible. Awful. He thought life’s plan would be his enemy, but truthfully, it was him. He was his enemy. This was his fault. And, if she didn’t answer, he deserved nothing less.

Kagome gently tapped her finger against a key on her keyboard, not quite pressing into it, just hitting her nail against the plastic square for the sound as she sorted out her thought process before typing out the next sentence of her report. Her laptop screen was split in two; one side her Word document, about eight hundred words into a three thousand word minimum assignment, and the other side her internet browser with multiple tabs open to fully cover the topic. Add to that with her iTunes playlist minimized in the corner and running through, and the open notebook at her side with her scribbled notes from her previous lectures in this class, and she was completely in the zone. So much so, that when her Mac started chiming with an incoming FaceTime call, her phone coming alive with the same, loud notification - that was really just overkill - Kagome jolted with a startled gasp.

Then her heart sunk into her abdomen. Both pleasantly and disturbingly. This was her first time hearing from Inuyasha in weeks, and her first time seeing him since she left for home.

Quickly, Kagome pulled her hair out of its messy bun, scrunching her unruly waves and running her fingers through her self-cut bangs. She could only hope her face was looking okay at the moment, because she really didn’t have much more time to make herself look presentable before she missed the call entirely. As she paused her music and answered, she held her breath, waiting for the connection to set. Inuyasha’s face appeared on her laptop screen, his mouth covered by the sides of his curled fingers that he’d comfortably rested against, but she could clearly see the corner of his lips curve and his cheeks slightly push up when he smiled at seeing her. And, she sighed out happily.

He was in a dimly-lit room, his chest bare and birthmark visible at the very bottom of the camera. His silver hair was hued with the temperature of the rosy lighting, one of the ears atop his head giving a tiny flick at the sound of her joyful giggle. God, she’d missed him.

“There you are.” He softly rumbled, amber eyes gazing at her with adoration, and he dropped his hand, his expression reading one of subtle relief.

“Hi.” Kagome whispered, too elated to speak clearly. “How are you?”

Inuyasha held up a finger with a soft hum to quiet her. “Give me a minute. Stand up.”

Wordlessly, Kagome scrunched her nose bemusedly, her smile hardly faltering.

“I need to make sure you’re in one piece. Stand up.” The hanyou said clearly, raising his brows expectingly.

She replied with a gentle laugh, rolling her desk chair back and standing up for him.

He took as much of her in as he could, as much as the camera allowed. Her long, black hair, her gorgeous face, her neck, her shoulders that were donned in a green, flannel shirt that was a little too large for her and hung to about mid-thigh, the black tank top underneath, the short pajama bottoms that hardly covered much but looked comfortable as all hell, the thighs he loved so goddamn much. She was there. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to be able to physically feel her right now, to hold her.

When Kagome felt like he’d had enough, she sat back in her chair, pulling herself up close to her desk. “Good?”

“Good enough,” He said. “What are you doing? Are you busy?”

“No.” She fervently shook her head.

“Are you on your laptop or phone?”

“Laptop.”

“You’re doing homework, aren’t you?” Inuyasha chuckled, leaning his head to the side with a cock of his brow.

“Yes, but it’s not due until Friday. Don’t worry.” She quickly assured, not wanting him to think he was interrupting anything important. Of the classes she was currently registered in, this one ranked low in the difficulty aspect. The assignments were just tedious. Truthfully, even if it was important, she’d gladly push it aside for him.

He wasn’t going to try and argue against that. If she could talk, he was going to take it. This wasn’t the moment to be cautious, this was the moment to try and heal. “What time is it there?”

“A little passed eight. What about you? Are you in Europe?”

“Yeah. In London. It’s, uh, a little passed four here.”

“In the morning!?” Kagome pressed, inching slightly closer to her screen in exasperation.

He laughed, lazily running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

“What time do you have to work?”

“Gotta be there by seven. Don’t waste your breath telling me to go to sleep, I’m not hanging up until I’m good and ready.” Inuyasha stated, leveling Kagome with a stare that brought her to close her mouth. He could tell by the way her brown eyes fluttered downward, by the way she lightly pinched her lips together, by the way she glanced back up to him that she was silently grateful for his refusal. It was warming, but it increased the guilt he felt, and he couldn’t prevent the way it wavered his expression.

She’d caught it. Immediately, she’d noticed. “What’s wrong?” Her tone was soft, concerned.

“Nothing.” He dismissed. “How are you doing?”

“Inuyasha, what’s -“

“How are you doing?” He’d asked it in a way that told her he wasn’t looking for the broad aspect of her life in general. He was looking for how she was handling their separation, the ember in his eyes not quite glowing to their full potential, and she knew it wasn’t just the camera’s inability to capture their radiance. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to answer the way he wanted. If she thought about it, it hurt too bad. She didn’t want him to know that; she didn’t want him to try and shoulder the burden for himself.

“Well,” Kagome began with her tale. “I’ve been pretty busy with school. My internship doesn’t start until January, though, so I’m trying to appreciate the little downtime that I have right now. And, my classes this term aren’t so bad, they’re -“

“How are you doing?” Inuyasha inquired again, the words enunciated slowly, his tone progressively deepening with care.

“Busy.” She answered steadily. “Staying busy.”

He knew she was intentionally avoiding a direct answer. That bad, huh?

“Tell me, Kagome.”

She swallowed thickly, a yank on her chest reminding her that she wasn’t all that okay. She missed him so much. So fucking much. How could she tell him that it hurt not talking to him? How could she apply that pressure on top of everything else he had going on right now? She just couldn’t. They knew this was coming, they knew they wouldn’t be totally available for each other, you just never know how bad it will feel until you’re experiencing it. She wasn’t allowed to expect anything from him, and she understood that, but being apart and not knowing when the gap will end created an emptiness that was indescribably difficult to manage.

The longer she let his question sit, though, the harder it became to keep her expression straight. She felt it before she could stop it, the crinkle of her brow and the frown on her lips, then her eyes began to burn with brimming tears and she swiftly leaned out of the frame of the FaceTime window.

He took a small opportunity to curse himself while she wasn’t looking, while she was busy guarding her tears from him; something she should never feel she had to do. “Come back.”

She hummed a no.

“Right now.” He ordered gently, his voice gruff.

“Don’t worry. I’m good.” Kagome laughed, seemingly at herself, the sound wet. The arm still in view moved as she sloppily wiped her face, still laughing, and when she sniffled, it even brought him to chuckle lightly as he rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Babe -“

“See.” She came back into the frame with a smile, her face red but cleared of tears. “I’m fine.”

Inuyasha bit his lip, his chuckle that time more on the dubious side. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?” She asked, her smile fading.

“Because, you’re not fine and this is because of me.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Shut up,” He shook his head to quiet her. “Just listen, okay? I really fucked up. I thought it would be best if I backed off so getting over the hump of this would be easier. I didn’t know where that would leave us, but I, for some stupid fucking reason, had convinced myself that it was necessary.”

“Did it help you? Feel better, at least?” Inuyasha could see the compassion in her eyes, in the way she worried her bottom lip, in the genuine tone she held.

“Not one bit. I’ve never felt worse, actually. I can’t do it. I can’t stay away from you.”

“Inuyasha, you have your career. It’s not wrong of you to try and detach from a stressful situation, because unfortunately, that’s what this is. There’s no way around that.” She stated directly.

“Stop trying to make me feel better.”

“Stop trying to blame yourself.”

“Stop trying to justify my actions for me, Kagome.”

“Stop trying to act like your actions were malicious. Unless they were?”

“No, of course -“

“Then, shut up.”

He blinked, surprised at the growing heat in her tone.

“It’s not that I’m trying to justify what you did, I just understand why you did it. I can’t be upset at you for that. In retrospect, it’s really not all that bad. You didn’t make a promise to me -“

“I made multiple.” Inuyasha argued, cutting her off. “I told you we’d still talk, I told you we’d still see each other.”

Kagome huffed, her exasperation rising. “I really, really don’t understand what you’re getting at here, Inuyasha. Why are you so upset with yourself when we left each other knowing this was going to suck? I certainly didn’t know what the right thing to do for us was. I still don’t! We have conflicting schedules and lives right now, and from the moment we found out we were soulmates, you warned me that this thing between us wasn’t going to immediately work out. So, why are you suddenly villainizing yourself? It’s like you want me to be mad at you!”

Inuyasha leaned his chin into his palm, his mouth covered by his fingers as his golden eyes drifted to stare at the surface his phone was placed upon. His heavy sigh was emphasized, but Kagome remained quiet, waiting him out, letting him gather his thoughts. When he was ready, her soulmate lowered his hand, but he never looked back at her, his expression almost communicating shame.

“I could have been doing more. That’s just it. I could have been doing more. I avoided more thinking it would help, and I avoided the bare minimum thinking it was right for the long run. I can’t stand the thought that your sadness is worse than what it has to be because of the route I took. So, yeah.” Inuyasha met her gaze. “Maybe you being mad at me is what I want, because I can fix that. Ultimately, I feel like I need to fix something. But, on top of that, I feel so fucking helpless and stuck, and like anything I choose to do is wrong.”

Kagome had figured out pretty early on that Inuyasha wasn’t the type to openly show his feelings. He was smooth, he was passionate, but he was subtle with his messages. And, early on, she realized she was the lucky one that got to experience this side of him. Especially now, she could see his guard lowering so she could fully understand what was going on in his head; something she felt, if she wasn’t his soulmate, she’d have to work very hard to see after a significant amount of time and a significant amount of trust was built. Inuyasha was, by nature, protective. And, she could tell he was hard on himself. So, when he feels like he failed to protect her from harm in any way, shape, or form, he’s going to jump to take the heat for it. When the blame is on him, he can compensate to rectify the situation, tend to your wounds, step up and do better, but that’s just not logical. If he continued to do that, he’d eventually run himself dry. Kagome understood what he was getting at with his decision, and yes, it hurt to a degree, but she still didn’t see him as a bad guy. It wasn’t his responsibility to make sure everything was okay. In fact, he had good intentions.

“How can I help you right now? Tell me what you need to hear.” Kagome said evenly.

Inuyasha pondered for a moment, eyes flickering away and meeting hers again when he spoke. “Tell me the truth about how you’re doing. Don’t duck out of view. Be straight with me.”

She could already feel her eyes prickling with fresh tears, her face heating uncomfortably as she honed in on the emotions she’d swallowed over and over and over and over throughout the months. “I’m sad.” Her voice trembled, but she took in a deep breath to give him what he needed. “I’m really sad. I feel helpless, I feel stupid, I feel tired. I’m lonely.” She finally began to cry, and it took active effort not to hide it from him, terrified he’d feel responsible. “I miss you. And, I’m angry. I’m angry that we have to go through this in the first place, and all I want to do is call you so I can listen to you talk - and I don’t even care what the topic is or if you’re not even talking to me, but someone else - I just want to hear your voice. I don’t like that you’re upset, and I want to take it away from you just as much as you want to take it away from me, and not being able to is frustrating. But, if you expect me to blame you for any of this, that’s where you’ll succeed in making me mad at you. I know for a fact you would never intentionally do anything to hurt me, and you can’t get me to picture you in that light. Do I like that you stepped back? No. Of course, not. But, honestly, I didn’t even know it was an option to have more of you, so no harm - no foul. You tried, it didn’t work, and now you’re here. So, now what? Where do you want to go from here? What’s our next step?”

Inuyasha had been holding his breath, clenching his jaw shut as he digested Kagome’s powerful sincerity. At least twice during her admittance he’d considered buying the first available plane ticket to her, even if that meant he could only be there for an hour. He spoke on a whim, uncaring of the irrationality behind it if that’s how it appeared. He wasn’t going to listen to her pain and do nothing about it when, now, to him, the answer was obvious.

“We ditch our original idea that things won’t work until we’re done with our shit. When I said that, we’d just had our first night together. It didn’t sound sane then to jump into anything when we were confused, new to each other, and freaked the fuck out. Even as you left, it made sense to hold onto the idea to wait, but it’s just not working. The pull on our souls to be together is too strong.”

Kagome hastily wiped her face using the sleeves of her shirt, sniffling in an attempt to clear her emotions. “Inuyasha, we can’t drop what we’ve worked for. Especially you. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying we manage a long distance relationship. I’m going fucking crazy over here, Kagome. Fuck the boundaries, fuck the time difference, fuck anything that works against us. Why are we putting ourselves through this? God, it doesn’t fucking make sense! This is so stupid! If you want to call me, call me! I’m yours! If you’re lonely, let me keep you company the best way that I can! If I want to see that gorgeous smile of yours, I’m fucking going to! I’ll learn your schedule, and I’ll work through mine for you. I will never be too busy to tell you that I love you, it’s as simple as that. We’ll make this as easy as possible, I don’t want it overwhelming you with classes -“

“No, screw easy.” Kagome objected with a brusque shake of her head. “I don’t want easy, I want you.”

“So, yes?” Inuyasha breathed, and it was evident it held the release of a substantial amount of tension he’d been harboring with for far too long now.

“Yes.” Kagome laughed with relief, her shoulders dropping. “Did you think I’d actually say no?”

“I don’t know. It’d be pretty stupid of you if you did.” He joked, chuckling. Fuck, the sound of her giggle was like the most wonderful song he’d ever heard. “God, I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Soon.” She whispered.

“Not soon enough.”

“Does this mean nothing has to hold us back from each other now? I can send you messages without worrying about bothering you, and -“

“Hey, woah, wait.” Inuyasha’s brows furrowed, a frown marring his face as he cocked his head to the side in question. “I told you not to hesitate before. You’d never bother me.”

“I know, but it was still kind of confusing. I just wanted to tread carefully. Especially since I wasn’t hearing from you, so sending you texts or pictures just didn’t seem appropriate.”

The hanyou dropped his head down to the table, the sound of the bang coming through loudly on the speakers, and his ears wilted slightly as he groaned dramatically. “You’re kidding me. How many pictures did I fucking miss out on!?”

“No! None!” Kagome frantically tried to dispel his aggravation, waving her hands before her even though he couldn’t look to see. “I’ve hardly taken any pictures, or looked remotely presentable to have anything to show off, I swear! It was just an example!”

“Fucking liar.” He grumbled.

“No, I’m not lying! See,” Kagome grabbed her phone from beside her, unlocking it with her thumbprint and opening the photos app. Inuyasha glanced up at her with a grimace, disdain for himself written all over his face, but she ignored it as she showed him the screen, mindlessly scrolling through while trying to see where she was at in the small window of herself on the FaceTime camera. “It’s all stupid screenshots I save for later or send to Sango. There’s a couple pictures of myself the day this term started, but those were for my mom because she collects first day of school pictures. Then, we’re back in summer vacation. And then, that’s all before we even met.”

“Hold it!” Inuyasha abruptly demanded. Kagome stopped scrolling, pulling back her phone to see what he was looking at. “Go back down.”

“Hm?” She questioned, putting the screen back up to him so he could guide how far back he wanted her to go as she slowly slid her finger along the glass of her phone.

“A little more. There. The blue shirt. Let me see that one.”

Again, Kagome glanced at her phone, selecting the image he was looking at as she felt her cheeks flush. It was just as the weather began warming up and she drove ten hours home to surprise her mom for her birthday. Rightfully, she’d done her makeup for the event, her hair, and wore a cute blouse that fell off her shoulders to reveal the few freckles littering her skin beneath. And, in the selfie she’d taken, she’d ruffled her loose curls further, the smile she wore was a little on the sultry side, and the light hit her chocolate eyes just right. With the hint of embarrassment, Kagome presented the picture to Inuyasha. His growing, crooked grin ignited a flurry within her stomach, the sensation quickly traveling through her chest and over the surface of her entire body.

“Send it to me.” He said huskily.

“What? You want this one?”

“Like that’s even a question. Send it over.”

Flattered, she complied, texting it to his number. His smile brightened, then his FaceTime screen paused as he picked up his phone from the table and clicked her text. Though she couldn’t see him anymore, she could still hear him, and his exhaled breath upon seeing her photo had her ready to melt into a puddle on the carpet beneath her seat.

Inuyasha released a tantalizing chuckle, whispering a hoarse, “Fuck.”

“What?” Kagome giggled, her embarrassment increasing and her face growing hot.

“Just -“ He paused. “Fuck, baby.”

“Come back.”

“Hang on, I’m setting this as your contact picture. That way, whenever you text or call, this picture will pop up, and if anyone looks over at my phone, they’ll have a good moment to envy me when they realize what my girlfriend looks like.”

“Inuyasha!” She laughed, slapping her hands to her cheeks to hide the maddening blush.

“Hey, and that’s just your face.”

“Stop!”

“Man, if they saw your ass -“

“Inuyasha! Oh my god!”

He popped back onto her screen, setting his phone back where it had been with the most satisfied and cocky expression.

“Send me one of you.” She said, shaking her head and laughing the humility off.

“I will. Later. Promise.”

“Are you feeling better now?” Kagome asked with a genuine tone, her smile unfaltering.

“Yes and no.” He answered honestly. “I’m not going to one hundred percent feel better until I’m back with you. But, at least I have you now.”

“You’ve had me all this time, Inuyasha. I would have waited for you for as long as you needed me to.” She swore she saw a tint of pink ripen his cheeks. “Are you going to try to at least sleep a little before work?”

“I don’t want to hang up yet.” He replied, his voice dying away with his empowering sincerity.

“I know you don’t need as much sleep as a human, but you still need some.”

“I’m not that tired.”

“Have you been sleeping well lately?”

“Why do you want me to hang up so bad?” Inuyasha chuckled lightly.

“I don’t. Not at all. I haven’t had my fill of you yet, either. But, I know you. When you get stuck in your head about something, you don’t sleep well. Now, there’s less to keep you up.” Kagome said, her tone as gentle as ever.

“You worry too much.” He dismissed with amusement. “Ten more minutes, then I’ll head to bed. Happy?”

He meant what he’d said as he spoke it, but it was impossible to remember the time as he continued to speak with her, made her laugh, witnessed her beautiful smile that had him smitten all over again. She helped him forget his grief from just moments before, she helped him feel like time hardly missed a beat with them. She told him she loved him before pushing him to go to sleep after a while, and his heart felt as if it sputtered elatedly.

From then on, they communicated as often as they possibly could. He memorized her schedule like the back of his hand the moment she’d graciously sent it to him, and if anything ever ended up changing, like a canceled class, a fever that kept her bed-ridden, or maybe she was staying out longer to get lunch or dinner with a friend, she’d never hesitate to tell him. Not so he knew not to bother her, because it wasn’t like that with them. Both of them were a wonderful priority to each other. He just liked knowing she was safe. He liked knowing when she was home and when she got home. There was literally only one part of her schedule he did not like, and he let it be known. Twice a week, she had to take a late class. It was with a small group, it was in a building on campus located far from the parking lot, and it got out at nine-forty-five in the evening. Meaning, twice a week, she was alone and vulnerable on a ten minute walk back to her car, then again at her apartment complex during the few minutes it took for her to get inside her place. She called him paranoid and he pridefully accepted it. He’d rather be labeled paranoid from his need to protect his girl than careless.

Since it wasn’t practical to even request for her to drop the class and see if it had a better timeframe next semester - especially given she was in her final year of college and the courses she had left were pretty much solidified - he had Kagome call him the moment she got out of class. She tried to argue that it was too late, or too early in his timezone, but he didn’t give a crap. He usually got up around six-thirty in the morning, five-thirty on the days he went to the gym. A five-fifty wakeup call wasn’t going to impede on anything, and it took him telling her over and over he’d stay up all night if it meant he got to make sure she was safe to get it through her head that the fight she was putting up was pointless.

Honestly, what better alarm than a call from Kagome? What stronger sense of productivity than to start his day by keeping his girl company as she ended hers. She had the audacity to call him with a normal voice call the first couple times around, but he quickly fixed that by swapping it over to FaceTime. As shadowed as she was in the night, he wanted to be there with her in the best way possible. He honestly didn’t like her being too distracted while she walked, but he couldn’t help but want to hear her talk. And, she’d let it accidentally slip one time that she was a sucker for the groggy voice he had early in the morning. Naturally, he’d milk that for all it was worth and tell her a little about his day prior. As soon as she’d reach her car, he’d remind her to check the backseats; which she really didn’t need to be reminded to do. Nine times out of ten, she was already doing it to make sure no one had broken in. Then, he’d stay on the line with her for the fifteen minutes it took her to drive home and find parking in her complex, and by the time she was inside her apartment, he was usually sipping the last of his morning coffee. On a good occasion, Kagome would walk into a madhouse and secretly flip the camera around to sneak in glimpses of her best friend frantically attempting to work on last minute assignments due by midnight while she was strung on ramen noodles and late night espresso shots she really shouldn’t be allowed. The hardest part was swallowing his laughter until Kagome was safely shut inside her room. And, the sweetest part came when she’d give him this cute as shit nose scrunch as she smiled and told him to have a good day while eagerly awaiting his cheesy, cliche, timezone-inhibited reply of, “Get some sleep. I love you.”

Her midterms were hard on her, and he tried to support her through them the best he could, but her finals of the first semester were proving to test her limits. She was busier than ever with studying and assignments, she was exhausted, and a couple times she’d called him having a minor breakdown just because she knew he’d be able to talk her down and get her back to thinking semi-rationally. It was common in overworked and drained minds to be hard on yourself, he knew as well as anyone else. With their schedules at their most hectic yet, him heading meetings and really grinding down on a shit place his company acquired, texts weren’t often seen until hours later. Calls were always answered because he knew that if she was calling, with their plates being as full as they were, it was serious, but texts were unfortunately unanswered until both of them were home and had a small moment to breathe. That’s when things began to really weigh on them again. It went unspoken. On both ends. But, if he could feel the stress of not being able to even say he loved her while she was awake, if he could feel the torture of missing her even more than he already had before, he knew she could, too.

With the utmost amount of tenderness, Inuyasha began to put together a surprise care package with as many things he thought she’d enjoy that would fit in the box. She was in the midst of her exams, he knew, but given she’d been able to get a couple out of the way already, she was bound for the remainder the following week, and then she was heading home for Christmas break, he wanted to get this out to her as soon as possible. He was just missing one major component.

As he returned to his loft at the end of his long day, he texted Kagome to see if she was busy, and within the minute she responded saying she wasn’t. Stealing the opportunity, Inuyasha FaceTimed her, the call swiftly answered with the usual chime of the video connection. A laugh rose from his throat that he couldn’t swallow in time. The camera was angled downward on what he assumed was her laptop, exposing Kagome blinking sleepily as she laid stomach-down on the purple comforter of her bed, an arm rested beneath her temple as a pillow and a tired smile appearing on her lips.

“You just said you weren’t busy.” Inuyasha said, loosening the tie around his collar.

“I’m not.” Kagome giggled. “As you can see, I’m clearly doing nothing.”

“You’re napping.”

“I was simply resting my eyes.” She coolly stated, her brown eyes fluttering closed for a small moment.

“Were you studying?” Inuyasha chuckled, removing the tie entirely and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt with his free hand, finally feeling a little more comfortable.

“No, I was working on an essay. But, then the words started to blur together, and nothing made sense anymore, and next thing I knew, I was laying down.”

“Move the camera, I can’t see your whole face.” Without missing a beat, Kagome used her non-pillow hand to scoot her laptop a little to the left. God, even as spent as she was, she still looked breathtaking. Inuyasha smiled, sitting down on the couch and taking her in while she seemed so peaceful. “Perfect. You’re so beautiful.”

“Shut up.” She grumbled playfully. “Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Before I forget to ask, can you do me a favor?”

“Only if you talk in your British accent.”

“That was a one time deal, dummy.”

“Again.” Her tone was cute, and her nose scrunched in the manner that usually suckered him into anything. She even pushed herself to prop up her chin so she looked more awake, adjusting the camera accordingly, her elbow sinking into the thick blanket beneath her.

“I was drunk when I agreed to it in the first place.” He feebly attempted to argue, rolling his amber eyes.

“Take a shot!” Kagome encouraged.

“I’m not doing it.” He chuckled.

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Please?” She pushed on with her adorable voice, making it smaller, dragging out the word.

Inuyasha sucked in an inhale, flexing his jaw in an attempt to resist her. With every ounce of willpower her had, he shook his head to tell her no, exhaling his strain and smiling as he slid his tongue over his canine tooth. With a defeated huff and a pout, Kagome gave in.

“Fine. What do you want?” She asked teasingly.

“Your address.”

“Hm? You don’t have that?”

“I’ve never needed it before.” He laughed, the evidence of her groggy brain coming through.

“Oh?” She piqued, cocking a sly brow. “And, what would you happen to need it for now?”

“I’ve got something for you.”

“A Christmas present?”

“No. Your Christmas gift will be sent separately. This is just a gift.”

“What is it?” Kagome asked excitedly.

“None of your business.” He chuckled. “Send me your address.”

“So bossy.” She joked, grabbing her phone from beside her computer and sending him what he’d requested.

“Got it. Thanks, babe. You can go back to sleep now.”

“Wait, no. Don’t go yet.” Her eyes had grown larger, almost pleading, and Inuyasha had to wonder if she could ever give him an expression he wasn’t utterly weak for. “Unless you’re busy, then I totally understand.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do right now than stay on the phone with you, baby.” He grinned, his heart thundering as she beamed brightly and pushed herself to sit up for him.

Kagome came home from her final exam of the semester - of the year, really, considering when they returned from break, it’d be after New Years - feeling pumped for finally having everything out of the way while simultaneously ready for the longest nap of her life. All she needed to do was proofread her very last paper and press submit by tomorrow, and she was ready to head home for Christmas.

She’d stopped at Starbucks for a celebratory peppermint cappuccino, in light of the holiday, grabbing one for Sango while she was at it, because the poor girl was still knee deep in two of her remaining projects. As she entered their apartment, her best friend popped out from the little kitchen entry, clearly not intending to scare the shit out of her, but doing so in her powerful excitement.

“Hi! You got a package in the mail!” Sango shouted, a packet of spaghetti noodles held in her grip.

Kagome clutched her chest over her heart with her free hand, lucky she didn’t drop the carrier of their hot drinks all over the place in her terror. “How many?”

“Noodles? I don’t know, I mean I’ve never tried to count -“

“Espresso shots!”

“Oh. Oh! I don’t want to talk about it.” Sango swiftly dismissed, grimacing.

“How many!?”

“Enough to give an elderly man a heart attack, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’m gonna kill Miroku for getting you that thing.” Kagome seethed, finally recovering and dropping her bag by the tiny dining room table.

“Is that a coffee for me I see?” Sango sang, dancing her way over to her best friend.

Kagome groaned, taking her drink out of the carrier and begrudgingly handing it to the over-caffeinated girl. “A mistake.”

“Thanks, friend!” She squeaked. “Open your package, I want to see what’s in it! I saw a familiar name written on top!” Again, she was singing, more so to be teasing this time but Kagome only laughed.

“Did you mean, mine?”

“No! Oh my god, it’s on the coffee table.”

Kagome’s attention turned, noticing for the first time a decently-sized, brown box waiting for her in the living room. Sauntering over, she looked at the labels, Inuyasha’s name and return address sitting in the upper-left corner. Truthfully, she’d forgotten to expect anything from him, the thought of a gift pushed to the back of her mind by her insane schedule.

She flicked up the packing tape with her nails, peeling it from the top and opening the package to reveal several things waiting for her inside. She grabbed for the shirt folded nicely and crammed on the side. At first glance, it seemed large and comfy, but then when she turned it over to see the band name on front, she realized it was one of his favorite, old shirts he’d worn while they were together. Instantly, she pursed out her bottom lip in adoration, hugging it close.

“Wait, there’s a letter!” Sango pointed gleefully, sipping her coffee as she watched Kagome open her gift.

Kagome gently placed the shirt over the rim of the box, grabbing for the folded paper to open it and see a little letter written in her love’s handwriting.

A couple notes as you open this:

– Snacks for your downtime.

– A new heating pad for your cramps since I fucking KNOW you haven’t gotten rid of that shitty one yet.

– Vanilla body spray from a little shop out here, because I know you like that scent. And, I like it on you.

– Two of my shirts. They smell like me. Wear them to bed and I’ll be right there with you. Send me pictures in them, too. I mean it.

– Chapstick, because you go through that shit like crazy. It’s the kind you like, don’t freak out.

– The last one is self explanatory. Open it. Put it on. Tap it three times.

Kagome had to resist hugging the piece of notebook paper to her chest, wanting to hold the sweet gesture as close to her as possible but refusing to crinkle the page. She gently placed it on the table, moving the shirt she’d already looked at to the side and grabbing for the other one. It was another band tee, a little less worn than the other but his homing scent radiating from it and bringing tears to prickle at her eyes. She bunched beneath her nose, really taking it in while she fought to hold her composure, too happy for words.

Finally setting it aside, she reached for the cute bottle of body spray, taking a little whiff of the perfume that smelled so sweet before setting it down and reaching for the little packet of chapstick, giggling along with Sango. He’d sent over a package of chocolate chip cookies, and two bags of chips she’d never had before but she was excited to try tonight, having already planned on putting on a movie and vegging out. The new heating pad made her laugh again, the box in pristine condition. Then, lastly, a small, blue and purple, gradient-blurred box sat alone in the package, the image of two wrist bands posted on the front.

Kagome carefully opened it, greeted with a black bracelet of sorts as she removed it completely from the packaging, the top of it harboring a small, oval widget.

“What is it?” Sango asked.

“I don’t know. He told me to put it on and tap it three times.” Kagome shrugged, handing it to Sango so she could strap it securely around her left wrist. As it was fastened, Kagome went ahead and tapped her finger to the face of the device, watching a thin strip of blue light illuminate over the surface she touched.

It was hardly thirty seconds later that her phone began to ring, Inuyasha’s contact picture filling the screen. Shocked and joyous, Kagome lunged to answer her phone.

“Hi!”

“You got it.” He hummed, the soft sound of chatter and passing cars filtering through in the background.

“How’d you know?”

“Still haven’t figured it out yet?” At her lack of an answer, Inuyasha chuckled. “Okay, are you wearing it?”

“Yeah.”

Three slow vibrations tickled the part of her wrist beneath the oval device, a purple light shining with each sensation. Kagome’s jaw dropped with her breathy gasp, pure bliss written all over her face. “Oh my god, was that you!?”

“Yup.” He laughed.

“You tapped it three times!?”

“Yup.”

“It’s like I can feel you!” She was so happy, so absolutely euphoric to receive some form of touch from her soulmate, her tummy fluttering wildly and body enticingly warm. There was no fighting the tears that flooded her eyes, her heart so wonderfully full.

“Are you crying?” He chuckled as she sniffled.

“Shut up!” She laughed. “I love it all so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, baby. This way, whenever we miss each other but are too busy to talk, we can just give this thing a few taps and we’ll literally feel it. Especially, since you’ll be starting your internship next month. This thing’s really gonna come in handy.”

Kagome gave out a pouty whimper, grabbing his shirts and curling up on the couch to hold them close. “I just love you so much. Thank you.” She playfully whined.

“I love you, too.” He laughed.

“I can’t believe you gave me your favorite shirt.”

“I can’t believe you’re about to send me a ton of pictures in it.” He countered, his tone completely serious.

“With or without pants?”

“Slut.” Sango joked, walking away and downing her hot beverage.

“What do you think?”

“With or without a bra?”

“Fuck.” He whispered, taken. It was a thin, white shirt. If she wore it well and wore it right, he might be able to catch a glimpse of something he was sorely aching for.

“Got it.” She teasingly said. “Are you out and about right now? It’s kind of late there, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m at a bar with some friends. Stepped outside to call you.”

“Are you having fun?”

“Not as much fun as I’d be having with you.”

“Go back inside,” Kagome giggled. “Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome.” He breathed, content.

“Let me know when you get home safe, please.”

“I will.”

“British accent?”

“Not drunk enough.” Inuyasha laughed.

“Dang it! Okay, love you. Bye.”

“Love you.”

Winter break was relaxing and necessary for a reset, and whenever Inuyasha wanted to text, call, or FaceTime, she was available for him. Their bracelets didn’t get much use then, but Kagome still refused to take it off unless it needed to charge. Once she got back into the swing of school for her very last term, was introduced to her internship and the responsibility she held, was thoroughly buried in homework she struggled to catch up on during her off days, that’s when they came through.

If she ever tapped it, he was incredibly fast to respond with touches of his own, as if he was right there for support. She adored him. He was so amazing. He was so kindhearted and good. Her favorite time to receive those sensations from him were late at night, sometimes while she was dozing. There was nothing better than being woken by sweet vibrations from the love of her life who was just getting started on his own routine on his side of the world. He woke up thinking about her, and there was no better feeling. And, if she was ever looking for a little excuse to hear his voice, she’d send him three taps in the dead of night. The best time was between two and three in the morning. The first time she’d done it, she’d come out of a nightmare. As soon as she’d opened her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom, she’d immediately forgotten the happenings of which, but she was still awake, still slightly shaken, and still looking for a smidge of comfort. She tapped three times, he tapped back, and she sank into her bedding happily. But, then her phone started chiming with a FaceTime call from him. She reached up, flicking on the lamp on her bedside table and answered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, donned in his business attire and sitting at a desk, the look of concern etched on his face.

“Hm?” Her voice was rusty but small, the vaguest, confused grimace on her lips.

“Why are you awake?” He chuckled, slightly recovering.

“I had a bad dream.” Kagome pouted. “I just wanted to touch you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His grin was tender. “I was worried something had happened. Are you okay now?”

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’m right here if you need anything.”

God, it was so serene to hear that. And, she lapped it up, realizing that he’d reach out to see that she was fine if he noticed she was up at an off time. She was often awake super late working on assignments, or studying when a test was approaching. Only a couple times had she actually gone out with friends - which he was typically aware of. But, if it had been a little while since she’d last done it - because, he’d catch on if she did it too often - she’d send him some sensations, waiting for her own in reply, and then her phone would light up with a call from him to check on her.

Around spring break, blessed spring break, she was packing up to head home again. She was just two weeks away from completing her four month internship, and her wonderful, gracious, brilliant supervisor arranged it so she could work them when spring break ended, so she could see her family for the allotted time off. Her younger brother was interviewing for a couple of colleges, utilizing their grandfather’s connections to their fullest capacities, and her mom thought it would be a good idea to make it an entire family outing. As far as she knew, they were going to Connecticut, and though she wasn’t sure what all there was to do out there, she was still just looking forward to the event.

Inuyasha rolled his golden eyes as his brother droned on and on, hoping the motion wasn’t too obvious behind the restaurant menu. The idiot literally flew him out for a lunch meeting. A lunch meeting. The U.K. to Chicago for a lunch meeting. Maybe this was a glimpse at his future when he took partnership at the company, maybe this was intended to be purposeful toward his increasing leadership roles, or maybe Sesshomaru made it a hobby to waste peoples’ time. Honestly, he was willing to bank on the first suggestion, and even the second - his spite just sprouted the third, but it was hard to tell with his non-communicative brother. Everything was basically just left up to surprise.

Only once in the last fifteen minutes had he been addressed, and everything else Sesshomaru discussed had basically nothing to do with him, nor was it information anyone at the table would necessarily deem valuable. After the redeye flight he’d sat on, the dull walkthrough of the facility Sesshomaru was currently whipping into shape, and the headache Jaken was causing just by existing, all Inuyasha wanted was a fat lunch to make it all worth it. Also, he’d pay someone to tell his brother that not every update needed to be a fucking meeting.

Knowing they were still ages away from ordering anything more than water, Inuyasha propped his cheek in his palm, glancing out the window he sat next to. His golden eyes mindlessly swept over passing people, the charming, cobblestone street a good home for boutiques and cafe’s to attract attention. Older women wore smiles as they chatted with their companions, men walked hand-in-hand with their partners, young girls filtered into shops, and Kagome’s bright grin as she picked on the guy next to her even managed to clear the annoyed frown from his face.

His heart stopped. Kagome? What the fuck?

There was an exhilarating jolt that coursed through his body, his heart remembering it’s purpose and pumping powerfully against his ribcage as he studied the girl as best as he could from where he sat. Was it her? Long, black hair, slim figure, kind of short - he’d groan loudly if he could have from his building agitation. These were all general factors of identification. He needed to see her face or hear her voice.

Turn around. Turn the fuck around.

And, as if she sensed his need, she twirled around as they continued on, her smile as beautiful as ever in the dress she donned as she spoke with the elderly man behind her, walking backward to keep up. It was her.

It was Kagome.

As calmly as he possibly could, which was a feat on its own, he whispered into his brother’s ear that he needed to check in on something with his own facility. Work-related meant there was a good chance Sesshomaru wouldn’t gripe. His brother gave him an empty stare, and Inuyasha pressed that it was important, to which Sesshomaru gave a nod of approval and momentarily dismissed him to slip outside. The second his foot was out the door, the hanyou bolted, chasing after that sweet scent of hers that he could pinpoint anywhere. They couldn’t have gotten too far, she had an old geezer on her tail. Still, the further down the road he got, the more narrow and crowded the street became.

A huge part of him couldn’t even believe they were so close to one another right now. It was hard to digest; hard to understand that this was real. His heart was pounding, his stomach was in a violent flurry, his fingers were shaking with a debilitating need to grab onto her and never let go. His eyes scoured the area, looking for his girl, his love, his soulmate. If he ever met fate, he was going to punch that fucker in the throat and then thank her for the opportunity - because, as kind as she seemed to be, she was still a petty ass bitch for putting them through this.

Free from the claustrophobic street and coming into a large, open, touristy square, he spotted her from behind a good ways ahead. Without thinking, unable to stop himself even if he tried, he shouted her name, his lungs pumping air fervently as the anticipation for her to see him knocked the wind from his diaphragm.

Hearing a thunderous bellow of her name, Kagome abruptly stopped walking, startled while a frenzy of flutters erupted in her abdomen. She spun around, searching the area for the voice, the call, her mom asking what was wrong beside her but she couldn’t answer.

Her breathing stopped, her heart sputtered, her body heated, and the biggest surprise overtook her when she spotted Inuyasha where they’d come from at the far end of the square. She didn’t even pause to process. Kagome ran to him, sprinted, enveloped in ecstasy when she saw him running toward her, too.

He’d braced to catch her and she threw herself into his arms, her own encircling his neck as he squeezed her tight, spinning her around once before setting her toes back to the ground.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here!?” She cried, unwilling to let go yet.

“I flew out for a meeting; I’m just here until tonight!” Inuyasha replied, holding her so tight his body curved protectively around hers.

“I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I didn’t want to mention it! It was last minute, and it’d be like salt in the wound! I thought you were in Connecticut, anyway!”

“No, I had it wrong!” She laughed, more from the overwhelming happiness than anything else. They finally let go of each other, but Inuyasha cradled her jaw with his hands, keeping her to him, and Kagome held onto his forearms, tightening her grip to attempt and still her trembling fingers. “His Connecticut interview is on a different date. This was apparently a Chicago interview trip all along.”

“You dummy.” He laughed, pulling her in for the kiss of a lifetime.

He breathed her in, holding her close, his shoulders curling over her as she whimpered beautifully into the breathtaking kiss. It heated him thoroughly, making him feel whole for the first time since August.

“I swear,” She sighed as they broke apart, but he interrupted her with another kiss. “I texted -“ Another kiss, this time accompanied with a tiny growl to shut her up. It only made her giggle. “You.”

“I haven’t been able to check my phone. I’m so sorry.” He murmured breathlessly, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I just can’t believe you’re here!” She squealed, bouncing to hug him again.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve missed you so goddamn much.” He laughed, engulfed in sheer bliss. “Was that your family I saw you with?”

“Yeah.” Kagome smiled, allowing him to let go, though their hands quickly sought the other’s out, fingers pleasantly entwined for a sense of completeness.

“I’d like to meet them.” He said with a quick peck to her cheek before gesturing for her to lead him over. She was giddy, practically skipping as she guided him through the square to where her mother, grandfather, and brother waited; two of which looking more confused than anything while the awaiting woman seemed nothing less than sweetly content.

“I’ve never seen my daughter run to anyone so fast in my life. You must be Inuyasha.” Kagome’s mother chuckled, the sound smooth.

“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He greeted kindly, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Inuyasha, this is my mom, my grandpa, and my brother, Sota.” Kagome said.

Her younger brother held a grimace of bemusement, and she rolled her eyes, her head lolling to the side in mild exasperation.

“My boyfriend.” She clarified.

“Oh!” Sota’s expression cleared, like a lightbulb literally flickered on over his head. “Cool. The sweet-talker.”

“Oh my god.” Kagome mumbled, tucking her embarrassment behind Inuyasha’s arm as he laughed.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” The hanyou agreed with a smug grin, shrugging. It wasn’t a lie; he knew the level of his own game.

“Yeah, my sister never shuts up about you. How do you turn it off?” Sota sarcastically asked.

Kagome’s jaw dropped in shock and Inuyasha pinched his lips together to stifle his laugh. A look of humored fear struck her younger brother as she narrowed her eyes, silently mouthing the words, “I’m gonna fucking hit you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, boy.” The old man greeted, interrupting the siblings and taking Inuyasha’s hand to shake. “It’s a wonderment to see proof that the concept of soulmates still exists in this era.”

“I can’t agree more.” He nodded earnestly, squeezing Kagome’s hand as he still held it.

“If my son were still here, he’d damn the whole thing and insist on giving you a hard time to make sure you deserved Kagome.”

“I guess you’ll have to do it for him then. I’d happily take the challenge.”

“Shit, you are a sweet-talker.” Sota murmured, casually ducking behind their mother when Kagome sent him an incredulous glare to shut his mouth.

“I like to hear that.” Her grandfather stated.

“Are you here on business?” Her mother asked in reference to his professional attire, dressed to the nines thanks to Sesshomaru’s need to be uncomfortable, her genuine smile never having once faded.

“I am. Yes. I saw you all passing by the window of the restaurant we were having a meeting in. I couldn’t stop myself from running out.”

“What?” Kagome gasped. “You were currently in the meeting you were flown out for? And, you just ditched it!?”

“Don’t worry!” He laughed, giving her hand another comforting squeeze. “I told Sesshomaru I had to take a work call, so he thinks I’m on the phone.”

“Your brother was in the meeting, too!? How much longer can you pull this off before he grows suspicious!?”

Inuyasha pulled the cellphone from the pocket of his slacks, his humored expression deadpanning as he noticed a recent text from Sesshomaru telling him to wrap up the call so they could get on with business. He shifted an apologetic frown toward Kagome, pressing a long squeeze to her palm.

“Thought so.” She compassionately smiled.

“I’m sorry.” Came his whisper.

“Mama, I’m gonna walk him back, okay?”

“No, you don’t -“

“Alright, dear. We won’t go far.” Her mother beamed, waving a goodbye.

“It was so nice to finally meet you all.” Inuyasha politely said before turning around, dragging his soulmate off with him.

She hugged his arm close, the body heat of hers radiating through his suit. They didn’t say much on their walk back, which he intentionally took at a leisurely pace. It was a moment to respect; to savor. He wanted to memorize the prints of her fingertips that held his hand, every ridge and line of her skin engraved into his own. He wanted to absorb every ounce of warmth she had to offer, and be privileged to remember the exact rhythm that her lungs worked at. And, when they neared the restaurant, he physically felt the wrenching sputter of her heart, and though he knew it was from ache, he wanted to remember that, too. Because, it was for him. Because, she loved him. Because, she didn’t want say goodbye or any variation of the word. Because, it helped him realize that he was truly the luckiest bastard in existence.

Inuyasha turned around to face her, his hands instantly cradling her jaw and threading through her soft hair. “I’m sorry this was so short. I’m so sorry, Kagome.”

“Stop. Are you kidding me?” She lightly giggled. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you until you finished up in Europe. Even if this was short, I’m so happy right now.”

“You promise?” He asked for his own reassurance, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Pinky promise.”

Inuyasha curved her chin up in his grasp, kissing her deeply, taking every last bit of her in as he could. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her body pressed against his, everything.

“Get in there, business man.” She breathed, gently rubbing the tip of her nose against his.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much.” Kagome placed one last, sweet kiss to his lips before giving him an encouraging nudge in the direction of the door. “See you later.”

“Tap twice to let me know you’re back safe with your family.”

“I will. Go.”

“Wait, one more.” He laughed, reaching for Kagome and pulling her in for a final, hungry kiss. She melted in his grasp, sighing delightfully, fucking with his mental stability. “Now I’ll go.” He rumbled sedately.

Composing himself, Inuyasha calmly entered the restaurant, crossing to the side his meeting was held on and taking his seat at the window with an apologetic look for the inconvenience. He was glad Sesshomaru didn’t ask questions; for once grateful for the general look of disinterest his brother’s face had seemed to be stuck in for as long as he could remember.

Three slow sensations tickled his left wrist and Inuyasha reflexively went to give them back, stopping himself as he looked out the window. Across the street, Kagome stood in her floral dress, the breeze blowing gorgeous strands of dark hair into her face. With a warm smile, she bit her lip, tucking her hair behind her ear before waving to him. A grin grew on his face, one he knew wasn’t subtle at all but who the fuck was he to care? That was his girl, his Kagome. Without removing his eyes, Inuyasha tapped his device three times, watching her brown eyes flutter down to see it illuminate and then smile even wider before gifting him with one last glance, and walking away.

From that point on, things were easy. Easier. It was still hard to be apart, but the sense that everything was going to be perfectly fine settled any nerves that had the tendency to get aggravated. Kagome’s schedule gradually cleared as she finished her internship and locked away the experience under her belt, and her classes weren’t as strenuous as the end of the school year approached. She was freaking out a little to try and lock down a job after graduation, as any graduate would be, but calming her down had become a simple task for Inuyasha. Frankly, he wasn’t worried about a damn thing anymore. He wanted Kagome to experience that level of tranquility, too. Everything was bound to fall in line for them from this point on, within their relationship and out, and if it didn’t happen organically, Inuyasha would personally see to fixing it, himself.

Interestingly enough, a plan was set in motion. A chain began to form, unbeknownst to both of them. Until he received a call from a number he didn’t recognize. On a whim, he answered, surprised to hear the soothing voice of Kagome’s mother on the other end; apparently having had Sango play the in-between intelligence that stole his number from Kagome’s phone. With the simple question she presented, the offer on the table, the hanyou cleared his schedule with no debate necessary. His answer was an immediate, “I’ll be there.”

Kagome stood with her graduating friends, waiting for the call that directed them all to get in line in the respectful categories of their majors, donned in celebratory dresses - and button-ups for the guys - beneath their gowns, caps held in their hands until absolutely necessary to put them on and ruin their hair. All of them were proud, joyful, excited, and albeit slightly nervous. Of course, as the ever so reliable one of the group, Sango pulled through with a small - and easily concealable - bottle of tequila. All of them pretended to be surprised that she would pull this stunt, but it would be a lie if anyone would expect anything less of her. Especially on such a jubilant day. Everyone took a straight swig from the bottle, passing it along to the next person until the circle was complete and everyone felt a little more pumped and prepared to cross the stage and wrap up their college career.

After the ceremony, the cheers, the jumps for joy, and the loud pops of confetti that damn near gave everyone a heart attack, students filtered out into the the courtyards to find their families. Kagome was dragged to the side with Sango and Miroku to wait, shadowed by trees in the large lawn dozens of students spaciously inhabited. Multiple times, Kagome felt she should try to find her family, worried they’d gotten lost in the crowd and maybe wandered to a different courtyard, which wasn’t difficult to do at her large school, but Sango insisted she stay put and just wait, claiming she was worrying too much. All she could do was constantly check the phone in her hand to make sure she didn’t somehow miss any notifications from her mom or younger brother.

Moments later, the warm voice of her mom called her name and Kagome beamed with happiness, running to hug her mother, hoping she’d succeeded in making her proud with her accomplishment. Her brother hugged her next, and then her grandfather kissed her cheek, all of them rosy in the face from smiling too much.

“Who’s the stud?” Sango flirtatiously asked, waltzing up to casually join the group and nudging her arm.

Kagome looked at her curiously, then followed the path of her eyes when Sango notched her chin to her left. Against a tree not too far away, a handsome man with short, silver hair leaned, an infamous, crooked grin adorning his face while his arms were nonchalantly crossed in front of his chest. He wore dark jeans with a light, untucked, button-up shirt, dressy enough for the occasion while still maintaining comfort.

“Oh my god!” She cried, carelessly dropping the things in her hands into Sango’s grasp and running over to her cunning boyfriend. “You’re here! You’re here!”

Inuyasha met her halfway, stealing her into a tight embrace as she still bounced on her feet, too excited for stillness, laughing.

“When did you get here!? I FaceTimed you this morning!”

“I know, I was bunkered in your room at your mom’s house.”

“You were at my mom’s!?” Kagome pulled away, completely taken aback.

“It was her idea for me to surprise you.” The hanyou couldn’t bite back his amusement, chuckling and ecstatic that they’d pulled it off without an inkling of suspicion.

Kagome spun around, pinning her best friend with an audacious stare. “You knew, didn’t you!?”

“Of course, I knew! I played a roll in getting him out here!” Sango laughed.

“And, I just knew because that’s my right.” Miroku added, throwing his arm over Sango’s shoulders.

Kagome, too grateful for words and hoping her smile showed all the thanks she could possibly give, spun back around to Inuyasha, hopping back into a hug and robbing a kiss from him. “I can’t believe you’re here! Did you watch?”

“From start to finish. I’m so proud of you!”

“How long are you here for!?”

“Two days. You’ve got me for two days, baby.” Inuyasha squeezed her tight, pulling apart so he could kiss her on the forehead.

Sango and Miroku had parted to find their own families, and Inuyasha and Kagome enjoyed a night out to dinner with her own, celebrating her achievement before she headed back to her own apartment, rightfully dragging Inuyasha home with her.

They were merely in the hallway outside of her apartment before it hit them like a freight train, maddening desire catching up with them after months and months. Their lips had crashed into each other’s, their kiss heated and loving and mind numbingly hot. She was stumbling backward to get to her front door while Inuyasha held firmly around her waist, the two of them actively refusing to part until they absolutely had to - which just so happened to be when she dropped her keys while trying to unlock the door with one hand.

They both laughed, wonderfully flustered, and though he let her go so she could reach for the lanyard that held her keys, Inuyasha took residence behind her, his fingers gripping her hips and pinning his body to hers. His job was to make it difficult for her to get anything done, because in his eyes, he wouldn’t be doing it right if she could concentrate through his ministrations. Lips grazed over the tender flesh of her neck, his searing breath trailing over tended to spots and making her quiver where she stood. Kagome’s fingers were fumbling over keys, and he just fucking knew his girl was biting her lip to keep from making a peep.

God, he was so hard already, ready to fuck her over and over. And, over. And, over. And, if she asked nicely, one more time. He had so much pent up frustration for her to take in, and sleep was for the wicked. Her neck tasted so good, her reactions - stifled as they may be - made him feel borderline feral.

Finally, Kagome unlocked her door, throwing it open and spinning around to claim Inuyasha’s mouth and pull him through, allowing him to shut and lock the bolt.

“Sango?” He murmured into her kiss.

“Not home.” She breathed.

“Sure?”

“She’s smart. She’s not home.”

“Oh? Yeah?” His husky tone piqued in ruttish interest, one of his hands coursing through her hair to snag blissfully at the back. “You already knew what was gonna happen, baby? My little slut.”

Kagome could only reply in a moan, gripping the front of his shirt as she tried to guide him to her bedroom without tripping. She’d left her cap and gown in her car, leaving her donned only in the new dress she’d gotten just for the occasion. It was form-fitting, hugging every curve of hers beautifully, accentuating her perfect tits, her grabbable ass, the straps thin and the hem ending above mid-thigh. Through the door of her bedroom, he wasted no time in locating the zipper, dragging it down her back to release the dress’s enviable grasp on her. The straps fell from her shoulders easily, and Inuyasha gladly dragged them over her arms, flawlessly pushing the dress down her chest, her waist, her hips, and to the floor where she stepped out of it and kicked her flats off. Her breasts were concealed by a strapless bra, and after she eagerly undid his shirt and shoved it off of him, he yanked the useless delicate down to reveal the gorgeous and tempting sight of her hardened nipples. Inuyasha’s mouth instantly claimed one, not bothering to take his time. He was needy for her. Too much time played a cushion between them and he needed the fervent reminder of what she tasted like, how she felt while she laid helplessly beneath him as he fucked her, the erotic sounds she made when he hit just the right spot that made her clutch the bedding and arch her back.

Inuyasha pulled her to follow him as he sat on the edge of the mattress, sucking and using his tongue to flick her nipple within his mouth. Without instigation, she straddled his lap, allowing him to do whatever he wanted, and he rewarded her by grabbing her ass and maneuvering her to grind against his erection. His jeans hindered the sensation he craved, but the way she trembled told him how much she loved it all.

Easily, he unhooked the bra still wrapped beneath her supple breasts, unable to remove the wretched thing fast enough, and switched to pay attention to her neglected nipple. His hands made home on her ass, massaging, giving a little spank, but mindful to be frugal in how often he allowed her to grind into him. He’d stop her if she tried to do it herself, and just to show her he was in charge, he would sometimes only move her in simple, light motions that gave her limited satisfaction. The pleading whimper she made was music to his ears, and he gave a taunting chuckle in response each time. If only she knew he was just getting started with her.

“You miss me, baby?” He whispered hoarsely. Kagome whined, almost gasping as he littered steaming kisses over her chest. “No, no. I asked you a question. Answer it.”

“Yes.” She replied breathlessly. “I missed you so much.”

“Good girl. I missed you, too. All those pictures you send me almost make me lose my mind. I was so fucking close to buying a ticket to see you when you sent me the ones of you touching yourself. You know the ones?” Another keen, breathy and voiceless as he nipped her ribcage lightly. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She sighed at the exact moment he ground her against him.

“The ones where I know what you’re doing, but I don’t get to see anything. Not a fucking thing. You’re such a little tease, you know that?”

That time, Kagome gave a satisfied and sultry giggle, licking her lips in response.

“Oh, you do? You’re a little too proud of yourself there, baby girl. You like driving me crazy?” His voice was deep, throaty, driving her wild and Kagome could barely manage a pout while she nodded that time.

“You wanted me to buy that ticket to you, didn’t you?”

Another nod, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as he pushed his hand between her pussy and his pelvis, dragging his fingers over her lace panties to taunt her as she created the respected space to allow him, again, to do whatever the hell he wanted to her.

“All so I could fuck you?” That time he whispered, feeling his hot breath bounce off her soft skin. “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, come on now. You can do better than that.”

“Inuyasha.” She trembled, her hips bucking mildly when he applied a little more pressure to her core.

“Do it.”

“Please.”

“Fucking beg me.”

“Please.”

“Give me more, baby.”

“I want you so bad.” She whined, her fingernails raking over his shoulders.

“I know you do.” Inuyasha gently pushed her to stand, following closely, one of his hands going into her hair to softly grip while his other undid his jeans, all the while leading her backwards toward the far wall. “But, that’s not what I asked. You need to beg me for this cock.”

“Please. Please, I want it so bad. I’m begging you. I’ve missed you so much. I need you.” The plead was almost too genuine, each waver to her tone like a lick of fire to his flesh, and he smiled arrogantly, tightening his grip on her hair and pulling her in for a feverish kiss.

He pinned her to the wall, pressing his body against hers, feeling the way her chest rose and fell with each heavy sigh. In his devotion to make sure she was going to get everything from him, including a refreshment course on how powerfully he worshipped her body, he steadily dropped to his knees, kissing down along the way. To drag those wanton breaths from her lungs, he place scalding kiss after kiss over the cloth of her panties, teasing her before giving in with a content chuckle. After pulling them down her gorgeous legs, Inuyasha licked his lips, propping one of her thighs over his shoulder as he set to his delectable feast. Fuck, she tasted so ungodly delicious, bringing a deep groan to rumble from his throat. He alternated between flattening his tongue to drag it over her entire pussy and playing with her clit with the very tip, and when her legs quickly began to tense and wobble, he wondered just how much she’d be able to take. He held her thighs, taking a deep lap with his tongue and then sucking on her clit, swallowing her juices. In the sexiest voice, the most desperate moan he’d heard from her yet, Kagome cursed, her hand gripping at his silver hair.

“Fuck, baby. Please.” She rasped, trying to pull him up.

Like a sucker, he complied, drowning her in a deep kiss while his hand curved around her throat. Kagome’s adventurous hands scraped down his bare sides, blindly making sure he’d undone his pants before finding the band of his boxers and reaching through to pull out his cock. Her palm was hot and he was throbbing. Using one hand brought a groan from his throat, and as she incorporated a second one, he couldn’t prevent himself from rolling into her grip, captivated by her mind numbing touch.

Inuyasha pushed her hands away, taking the liberty to curl her arms around the back of his neck as he leaned down, picking her up by the thighs and pushing her solidly against the wall for support. Without missing a beat, he gingerly pushed inside of her, hissing an unrestrained, “Shit!” Her legs wrapped around his hips, his girl ready to take him all in, and the sight of her mouth hanging open from the blissful intrusion had him going mad.

He moved his palms upward, gripping her ass as he began to thrust into her. It almost felt like it had during their first time together; so lost in each other it was impossible to stop. So enraptured, so taken that it would be debilitating to hold back. He could see Kagome losing herself, keening, grasping him tighter as her head dropped to his shoulder. Fuck, she was already shaking, enjoying herself too much, and it brought a wicked grin to Inuyasha’s face.

“You like that?” He teased.

“Harder.” She shockingly answered, lightly digging her nails into the back of his shoulders.

He had an unhinged need to give her exactly what she wanted. She was light in Inuyasha’s arms, easy to move, easy to manipulate, easy to fuck, but for better grounding, he further trapped her placement against the wall, their gasping mouths just centimeters apart as he thrusted deeper into her with nearly-bruising force.

“That what you want?”

“God, yes.” Kagome mewled, allowing her head to rest against the wall, a sinful smile growing on her face.

Inuyasha lavished her open neck and throat with adoring kisses, nips, licks, and sucks, intentionally leaving his mark. She was his. He wanted Kagome covered in his hickies, he wanted her smothered in his scent, he wanted the world to know that fate didn’t have to play a part in their union; Inuyasha would have willingly chosen Kagome time and time again.

Feeling the searing and overwhelming pleasure of her pussy claiming him, he pulled away from the wall the smallest amount; enough to give him room to play. He moved her hips, bouncing her on his dick as if she were the one fucking him, absorbed in the way her entire body responded. She was trembling, her voice broken, her legs squeezing him harder, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and as she sucked in a shivering breath to hold, Inuyasha claimed her mouth, kissing her as she came on his cock.

Her legs were unstable, wobbly, but he set her down anyway, encouraging her to wrap her arms around his waist so he could support her as he guided her over to the bed, languid kisses peppered as they went. As they reached the mattress, Inuyasha smiled into his kiss, spinning her around and pushing her to bend over the edge of it. Kagome’d caught herself on her hands, temptingly biting her lip as she glanced over her shoulder at him before crawling further onto the bed to brace on her knees as well. Inuyasha shoved his pants and boxers down a littler further so they were out of the way, giving his cock a couple of jerks as he observed the tantalizing sight before him. Daringly, Inuyasha smacked her ass, his eyes rolling back ecstatically when she gifted him with a sensual sigh.

He spit into his hand, lubricating his cock before kneeling onto the mattress behind her and pushing inside, filling her whole. His pace started slow, but it was too simple. Kagome wanted more and she was willing to take it on her own, moving herself back and forth to match his rhythm and push him deeper inside of her. Altogether, Inuyasha stopped, allowing her to do as she pleased for a moment because the way her ass bounced against his hips was just too sexy to ignore. But, when she seemed to be thoroughly pleasing herself, he reached for her waist, anchoring himself as he pushed so hard into her that they both groaned loudly. She’d almost lost her balance, her hands clambering forward to clutch her comforter and support herself. Muscles engaged in her back, accentuating the curve of her spine, and Inuyasha felt a dangerous heat bubbling inside of him.

He’d completely admit that he’d lost himself to her in that moment, absolutely captivated by the way her body contorted, bounced, flexed, and ultimately welcomed his aggressive thrusts with how hard, how deep he fucked his girl. Reaching forward, Inuyasha safely gripped her hair, supporting her waist with his free arm as her scooped her torso up to meet his, the angle a little different while her hands grasped the forearm he held around her front, and her moans took on a pitchy effect.

“Play with yourself.” He ordered in her ear, releasing her to fold over completely with zero hesitation to do as he said.

He’d anchored himself by gripping her hips, enraptured by the beautiful expressions displayed on his soulmate’s face while she rested the side of it against the blanket, one of her hands tightly clutching the bedding by her shoulder while the other had glided between her thighs, massaging her clit. The way her breathing increased, her body responding to the ample stimulation, it was sending him spiraling, clenched curse words slipping off his tongue like they were the only hope of remaining grounded for however long it took to force Kagome to succumb with him.

“Come on, baby. Come on.” He gently coaxed, her squirming testing his willpower.

“Don’t - don’t stop!” She begged, muffling her voice with the comforter while she continued to vigorously rub herself.

Fuck, those words were like a fire hazard, building the heat that was already threatening to burn him down. Inuyasha clenched his jaw shut, grunting as he forced himself to maintain everything exactly as it was so as not to throw her off. What this goddess wanted, she got, and if she told him not to stop, especially in that desirable, whimpering manner, then obey he would.

“A l-little harder, please.”

Son of a bitch, she was going to be the death of him. The politeness, the submissive way she requested what she needed to reach climax had Inuyasha soaring, his fingers gripping harder so as not to reveal that they’d tremble against her supple flesh if he didn’t. That didn’t prevent him from bequeathing an ounce more of fervency to get her closer, closer, the enchanting sound of skin slapping skin all he could focus on until she rolled her hips in an irrepressible reaction to the orgasm fervidly overtaking her, the shuddering gasp she released proving to be the absolute end of his discipline. With just a few more powerful bucks of his hips, Inuyasha pulled out in time to cum on her back, biting back curses as his core went taut.

Sleep was for the wicked. So he said. Inuyasha had cleaned Kagome up, taken care of her after to make sure she was okay, gotten her water from the fridge while she was in the bathroom, and the moment their heads hit the pillows, they were sedated, lethargic, yet so greatly inclined to resist the pull of sleep. Kagome laid in his arms, eyes closed but still conscious, still whispering little stories to him that made him laugh. His bottom arm was loosely curled around her, but he earnestly tended to her with his other, stroking her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, massaging her temple to relax her, satiating his own desire to softly stroke her bottom lip with his thumb. It was a moment he wanted burned into his memory for as long as he lived. How easy it was to worship her, to love her, to respect her and cherish the light that she offered by just being. How simple it felt to just exist with her in such an insignificant moment that still meant the world to them both. It almost hurt, how much he adored Kagome. It was a pain he gladly accepted, though. It was a pain that reminded him he was alive, fortunate. It was a good pain. It made him question who he’d ever be without her, and then it made him immediately squash the thought as he silently swore he’d never let a living soul hurt this woman. Ever. He’d give his life for hers without a second thought.

What didn’t seem to hurt so much anymore, though, was parting. Goodbye was always bittersweet, but the both of them also felt complacent. The hard part was gone and passed. Had been for a little while. And, four months later, their path was reaching an alignment.

He’d succeeded. Inuyasha was finally receiving his promotion in his father’s company, attaining his share of the partnership. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and a moment he couldn’t help but hope his late father would be proud of.

This also meant he was coming home.

The moment Sesshomaru and he finished speaking about the upcoming changes and their next course of action, Inuyasha purchased a ticket for a flight home for the following week. The call to inform Kagome was nerve-spiking, because he anxiously awaited her excited reaction. He anxiously awaited closing the gap and ending the remainder of their madness. And, she didn’t fall through. God, when her voice got so high pitched because she just couldn’t contain herself, it brought the dumbest grin to his face.

Momentarily, she’d been staying with her mom, the job she was currently working lackluster and only a means of experience for the time being. Not too long ago, Inuyasha presented the idea of them finding a place together whenever he got back - which would involve her relocating to a different state and leaving her job - and he’d be a fucking liar if he said he wasn’t nervous as all hell that she’d decline. It was a big move for them, but one neither of them could neglect to acknowledge would eventually happen no matter what. Considering the incredibly obvious circumstances. To his surprise, she’d enthusiastically agreed.

As unsure as everything was, no apartment to come home to but a hotel to stay in until they found a place of their own, the couple was just too happy to care about the details. Finding an apartment would be a simple task, anyway, since money wasn’t a thing to worry about in Inuyasha’s book. Kagome packed her things and got to their new city a few days ahead of him, and though he watched her roll her eyes time and time again over their FaceTime call, her boyfriend actively refused to allow her to stay in a hotel that looked remotely shoddy. They were looking online together before she’d left, but he proved to be resolute in his decision, deciding on one he’d approved of and booking it for her with his own card. Oh, he got an earful for that since she felt it wasn’t fair he was paying for it, but he took it all with an arrogant smile. This was his way of taking care of her. Kagome could protest all she wanted; it was done and set in stone, and Inuyasha felt no inking of regret.

She’d caught a taxi from her hotel to the airport, practically bouncing in her seat the entire ride there, which escalated into a vibrating anticipation as they sought out the terminal he’d be landing in. Kagome was so giddy, so excited that she felt like she was high, her chest weightless and fingers slightly shaky from the overabundance of endorphins flowing through her system. Inuyasha’s flight was scheduled to land by ten-thirty that evening, but surprisingly the airport still had a good amount of foot traffic within. It was physically impossible to fight off her body’s reaction to bob from foot-to-foot while she stood idly in the waiting area, but it was all she could do to stay put when people started flowing out, a nearby, electronic board stating his flight had landed moments ago. Taking her cue, Kagome unrolled the small-sized poster paper in her hands, “Cujo” written on the front of it in bold, decorative handwriting. She’d warned him she’d do this if he continued to make fun of her the other night, the two of them having too much fun joking around, but he clearly thought she was full of it. The moment his silver hair came into view, though, ember eyes staring down at his phone, the hanyou donned in jeans, a loose tee, and a hoodie, Kagome just couldn’t contain herself. The paper loosely rolled back up on its own in her hand as she dropped it with the other, squealing loudly and sprinting over to her boyfriend. Inuyasha glanced up, a bright smile appearing on his face as he opened his arms and caught her when she jumped into his hold, her legs wrapping around his waist and body hugging him as firmly as she could.

“Hi!” He greeted, holding her securely and laughing.

“I missed you!” Kagome squeezed him tighter, too happy to let go yet.

“You have no idea, babe.”

She leaned back in his arms, just enough to kiss him, smiling gleefully as she peppered his lips in affection over and over. “Welcome home.”

He was hot, happy. Thankful. Licking his lips to welcome her taste when she pulled back to smile at him.

“What’s the sign say?” He smirked, letting her know he hadn’t missed the fact that she was carrying a poster. Kagome laughed, unfurling it to show him, and he groaned with feigned annoyance. Inuyasha hiked her up in his arms, easily tossing her over his shoulder as she yelped and laughed even harder, supporting her upper body with her hands braced on his back. “Where’s the fucking trashcan? I’m throwing your ass away.”

“Inuyasha, no!” She pleaded meekly in the midsts of her giggle fit.

| Cruel Summer |

#I literally started this thinking it would be 5k words tops #and Nikki literally called me out and said YEAH OKAY #hahahahaha help me #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #InuKag fanfic #InuKag fic #soulmate au #cruel summer #chasing the seasons #akitokihojo #smut #lemon

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mary1andonly · 3 years

Text

A “fun” little conversation I’ve just had with a random person regarding Jaime Lannister.

“The other person:

Jaime and Cersei sept scene was rapey in the books as well: "No," she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, "not here. The septons . . .""The Others can take the septons." He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother's altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon's blood was on her, but it made no difference.

It doesn't matter whether Cersei asked him to hurry up later or changed her mind. Jaime would have forced himself on her either way because of his unquenched thirst.

Me:

I agree that's its rapey but not straight up rape like whatever D&D came up with. In the books Cersei was definitely taken aback but she was mostly worried about being caught. She often thinks of the times Robert straight up raped her (and the times she confronted him about it while Robert pretended not to remember), never Jaime, and she later on in the story tried to have sex with him again, but he refused her. Basically GRRM's intent with the sept sex scene in the books is to show just how much Cersei and Jaime's relationship is completely fucked up and toxic. And since that was the last time they had sex, it kinda also summed up their entire "love story". Just a fucked up thing. (Jaime is also the same person that talked about how to sleep with a girl with his squire Peck, and made sure that he understood that consent matters, by saying "Go for it, as long as she's willing". And we know his stance on rape, by how much he hated Aerys for raping his wife, and saving from rape Brienne and Pia. But GRRM wanted to show that, when he's with Cersei, Jaime's at his worst...and he succeeded, the sex sept thing is one of the most disturbing things I've ever read).

The other person:

1. It's rape without consent. Jaime forced himself on Cersei initially. Regardless of Cersei giving in later, it's still a form of rape. 2. You're not remembering the exact quote he says to Peck. He states consent matters but his hunger for Cersei nullified his own supposition, it looks like. 3. I'd argue that he isn't on any redemption path in the books. Of course I maybe wrong but still. He afterall threatened to trebuchet babies and also wanted to kill Arya once.

Me:

1 Except that GRRM doesn't view that scene as rape, and just like me, he thinks that the sept scene in the show was clearly more rapey, while in the books it's just a scene to show how fucked up about each other Cersei and Jaime were, and Martin put emphasis on the fact that they've been away for a long time: https://watchersonthewall.com/george-r-r-martin-addresses-jaime-cersei-sept-scene-depth/

And I hated that scene. But I beg you to re-read the quote you sent me about that scene. Cersei was clearly worried about being caught, not saying no to having sex with him, because she said "NOT HERE", which doesn't imply not giving consent, she just wanted to do it somewhere else. You also probably missed a lot of context about the push and pull sexual nature of Cersei and Jaime's relationship. Cersei always did the "fists at his chest" thing. It's a very old literature trope (the woman that plays hard to get in order to feel more desired). We saw other flashback scenes of Cersei doing that, like when they were discussing the Bran thing, in a flashback scene in one of Jaime's first POVs. And Martin used that trope in their relationship, because it's supposed to be a very wrong, fucked up relationship, in every sense of the word.

2 I also stated that he clearly was at his worst with Cersei.

3 He made that threat to take Riverrun without killing anyone, he used his reputation as the monstrous Kingslayer to actually avoid killing anyone in that situation, maintaining his vow to Cat to never harm any Tullys. He didn't actually planned on doing any harm to Edmure's son, because he knew his threat would have worked, and it did.

He didn't want to kill Arya. Cersei asked him to kill Arya, or at least maim her, and Jaime recalls that incident because he's finally understanding what fucked up things she was asking him to do for her, by manipulating him with sex. That was Jaime becoming self aware about his own shitty and fucked up behavior, he loathes what he became because of Cersei. Dude really needs some serious therapy. And he only just started his redemption arc. We're still talking about a man that abandoned his camp to follow Brienne who knows where, alone and unharmed, because she told him Sansa was in danger.

Jaime is clearly a complex character. Someone that did terrible things, but also good things (differently from his sister who never did something altruistic in her entire life), so for every horrible thing he committed, you'll find something good he did, it's a never-ending circle. It's just dishonest to always point out his flaws while pretending he never did anything good. He's the guy that pushed Bran out of a tower and also the guy that jumped into a bear pit to save Brienne. There's nothing wrong in acknowledging both sides of him. “

Like, is that really so hard for people to just not start listing every single shitty thing Jaime ever did, pretending he was just that and he never did anything good? Nobody’s claiming he’s a saint.

Also maybe people should try reading books and actually understand what they are reading!

#jaime lannister #asoiaf #grrm

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goldinavonlea · 4 years

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Prompt: Anne/Gilbert courting they’re in Anne’s room and then marilla returns so Gilbert has to sneak out lol!

OKAY HERE WE GO! I actually finished something for once! It is TOO LONG and SELF INDULGENT and I had the BEST TIME! A few people have expressed interest in this (madmen, all), so I’ll tag you in then post with a cut, or you could rock on over to read it on Ao3! @platonic-oxymoron, @jump-on-winds-back, @chocolatelatte121, @andim-pirate, @neliel-deathberry

So without further ado (or only the brief ado it takes me to figure out how to cut on desktop)…

Summer had arrived in Avonlea. In all truth, summer had arrived in Avonlea several weeks earlier, but the inclement internal weather of Anne’s life of late had rendered the view rather cloudy from her window for a while there, and so perhaps it was better to say that summer had arrived—finally—in Anne.

And what a summer it was.

The Snow Queen had advanced her reach so far that year that, with Anne’s window thrown open to the warm breeze, her outermost boughs reached past the casement and allowed the scent of blossoms to settle without having to do the tremendous injustice of cutting any sprigs loose. In the deliciously lazy few hours after lunch, the sun was in its prime and perfect position to extend its rays into the gable room, that so beloved tree stepping in again to render the light not sharp or overbright, but soft and golden and glorious, throwing shifting patterns on the floorboards. All the air was warm, perhaps under other circumstances too warm but with the light wind, the shade being indoors offered, the lack of necessity—there, in her own space—for long thick stockings or fussy aprons, no one to tell her to roll her sleeves back down her arms, rather than oppressive the afternoon seemed sweet, a little sticky but not unpleasantly so, stretching out slow and endless like toffee.

The house was quiet, Matthew tending the back field and Marilla having retreated to Rachel’s for the afternoon, leaving Anne alone but for the beating embodiment of her sudden shift in seasonal outlook, making himself quite at home as he lay, barefoot and trousers rolled to the knee, nose in a book with his head hanging upside-down off the edge of Anne’s bed.

He had more freckles, in the summer. Anne could count them all, if she wished to, but for the moment found herself quite content to sit propped up against the footboard, a book of her own in her lap, watching.

Well. Almost content.

“I don’t believe for a moment that actually works.”

“Sure it works,” came Gilbert’s reply as he lazily turned a page, the book obscuring his face for a moment though she could hear the smile in his words. “The brain needs oxygen to function, oxygen is carried in the blood, blood is as amenable to the affects of gravity as anything else, therefore: lying upside-down makes your brain work better.”

“There’s a logical fallacy in there somewhere, I can smell it.”

“Oh can you?” Gilbert asked, the smile in his voice broadening. “Where?”

“Don’t know,” Anne replied with a sigh, flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It’s too hot to think: ask me again in Autumn.”

“I strongly suspect neither of us will remember to raise the argument again come Autumn.”

Anne snorted. “Me, miss an opportunity to point out a flaw in your intellectual argument? I think not.”

“Well that’s true,” Gilbert agreed, his smile finally reappearing to Anne’s eyes as well as her ears as he set his book down, still open, on his chest. Blinking at her a few times (and looking rather comical doing so, being as he was upside down), he sighed. “I’ve been reading the same three pages for half an hour and I don’t think I’ve taken in a word of it.”

“Probably too much oxygen to the brain,” she quipped back, before setting her own book aside. “I never would have thought there was any circumstance that could deter me from the written word, but even I am struggling to process much from the page on so compellingly syrupy an afternoon,” Anne said, swallowing down a yawn and swinging her legs round so that she could lie back besides Gilbert, eyes drifting shut. “It’s like bathwater: I just want to fall asleep.”

“If you fall asleep now you won’t tonight, and then you’ll have hell to pay from Marilla when you refuse to get up in the morning.”

“Oh why should we get up in the morning, anyway? There’s so much day to be getting on with at the moment, surely some small portion of it could be given over to that most delightful and rare of luxuries that is the lie-in?”

“I thought mornings were for chores around here,” Gilbert said with the grin of one allowed entirely free reign over his own comings and goings.

Anne groaned. “Oh don’t, it’s summer: a season much too romantical to be tainted by the likes of laundry before ten in the morning. And don’t think I can’t feel your smugness without looking at you, Bash keeps you on entirely too long a leash.”

“Hey, I do laundry!”

“You do laundry precisely when you do everything, which is at whichever point in the day suits you. I love Marilla with the depth and wholeness of my heart, but Lord in Heaven does the woman love a schedule. I swear, once I have my teaching certificate and the promise of endless, uninterrupted summers, I won’t be getting out of bed before eleven a single day of them. I won’t even sleep that long, I’ll just wake up and stay in bed for hours and hours and hours, simply because I can.”

Gilbert’s grin softened at this, all teasing and fond. “I don’t reckon you could last ten minutes in bed after waking up without being bored to tears.”

“I certainly could,” Anne insisted, warming to her theme. “I’d keep a veritable mountain of books on my bedside table and spend the whole morning just reading. Maybe I wouldn’t even bother with a bedside table: just pile up all my books on the floor and balance my coffee on top of them.”

“If you don’t plan on getting out of bed,” Gilbert began slowly, clearly aware that he was walking into a trap and full of the imminent delight of being thus caught, “how do you suppose you’ll be getting ahold of coffee?”

Anne paused, then rolled her head ever so slightly to the side and cut a pointed and speculative glance at Gilbert.

The beaming, boyish smile that overcame his face was thrilled.

Gotcha.

“Now that seems decidedly unfair.”

“Well,” Anne sniffed, returning her gaze to the ceiling. “Doctors don’t get summer holidays.”

“That is a sore wound and rubbing salt in it is actually very cruel.”

“Oh how you shall suffer, upheld as you shall be as a paragon of upright gentlemanliness wherever you go—”

“I’ve no doubt you plan to make that very difficult.”

“Positively fawned over by your grateful patients bringing you flowers and cakes and… and jars of various preserves—”

“From which you will get equal if not greater enjoyment, so you are, in advance, welcome.”

“People naming their dear children after you—”

“God, I hope not.”

Anne pulled up short at that, snapped out of the playful exchange as she turned again to Gilbert with a frown. “Well what’s that supposed to mean?”

His face screwed up in evident distaste. “We have to swear an oath, you know: Do no harm. Not sure I’d be able to say I was honouring my promise if my presence lead some poor child to being named Gilbert.”

“What’s wrong with Gilbert?” Anne asked, contrarily offended on his behalf. “I like it.”

He gave her a look that suggested she might have gone quite mad.

“Well I do! I don’t think I’d considered it all that much prior to coming to Avonlea, and… I will admit for a while it did prompt a thrill of what I generally assumed to be rage, but now… names are just words for people, aren’t they? Gilbert is the word that means you, so naturally it has to be one of my very favourites.”

Again his faced softened, became something that wasn’t exactly a smile but was so unflinchingly open, so tender, Anne was of half a mind to look away. She didn’t.

“You know,” he said, absently tangling their fingers together on Anne’s faded quilt, “for someone who seems to relish in being mean to me you can be incredibly sweet when the spirit moves you.”

Anne shrugged. “I contain multitudes.”

Like that, the broad, delighted grin was back. “That’s Whitman—Song of Myself.”

“I know. I might have to wait until sunset at the moment but I have managed to do some reading.”

“And you chose to read Whitman.”

“Of course,” Anne said, genuinely a little baffled that he seemed so very pleased by the fact, as though it wasn’t obvious the copy of Leaves of Grass would leap directly to the top of her extensive to read list the moment he placed it in her hands. “I know it means a lot to you.”

He simply blinked at her for several moments, before his mouth went crooked in a wry smirk. “I might start handing you copies of The Lancet, just to see if you could force yourself through all that dull writing.”

Anne, forsaking for a moment the mantle of a mature young woman, stuck out her tongue. “Now who’s mean?”

“I suppose we’re equal.”

“Well then, rejoice old world, for all is as it should be.”

He squeezed her hand, his eyes soft and brown-sugar warm, something in them that, even in the summer, always seemed to remind her of Christmas. He smiled. “Yeah.”

Anne wasn’t sure, with all the years and years of promise she had ahead of her in order to test the truth of such a belief, that she’d ever grow accustomed to this part. For all the marvellous, sweeping romances she’d read through the years not one of them had ever truly provided any great detail on a kiss, shying away into the vagaries of metaphor which, while lovely, paled in comparison to the focus and specificity of the real thing, and to that entire grand pasture (until recently existing entirely unbeknownst to Anne even in her wildest imaginings) of all that was around a kiss in and of itself.

For example, this: those breathless moments leading up to it, wherein contact became an inevitability and yet still—even after several seemingly eternal weeks of increasing familiarisation with one another—the thrill of nerves, the restless, impatient aching in the palms, the sides of the neck, the small of the spine that those eyes, suddenly heavy, brought forth in her. The fading out of the outside world, only ‘fading out’ wasn’t quite right, it was more like fading in, all the focus that had been spared for other things narrowing its scope (and how could she ever have imagined that a narrowing of scope might bring such a rush of muchness!) until all it encompassed was her, and him, and them—this thing that they became together, united in purpose and humming like one of Miss Stacey’s wires, the length and breadth of them startling and electric and alive.

God, he hadn’t even touched her yet. Perhaps attempting this with their heads hanging off the edge of the bed wasn’t their wisest of plans: the whole thing left her light-headed enough when she was the right way up.

Still, Anne had never been one to back down from a bad idea, and Gilbert had never once tried to dissuade her—only ever asked for the chance to join in.

He asked her now, with the tilt of his head, his breath warm in the already warm room, the soft downturn of his softer eyelashes blurred to dark brown smoke from this close (and he really was terribly good at getting that close without Anne entirely realising it was happening. Probably she should ask how he did it, but really she already knew that the answer was magic).

Anne, as she was so often inclined to do where he was concerned (now that she had allowed her inclinations the free reign they rightly deserved) said yes.

Oh, she was certain she’d never get used to this.

It started soft, as it usually did, the barest brush of lips that sparked and made her breath catch, reminded her that she was breathing at all. His fingers, still intertwined with her own, tightened their grip involuntarily, and even with her eyes closed Anne could feel the furrow of his brow, that little line of concentration and control that baited her, bothered deliciously at her until she inevitably managed to soothe it flat, until he relaxed and melted into it like clay under her hands.

That wasn’t just yet, though: that part came a little later.

For now it was delicate and fluttering, not indecisive but unhurried, a little awed. There was no reason, Anne had concluded, no reason at all why placing one’s mouth on someone else’s ought to be so thrilling to every last thread of her, except for the fact that every point of contact, every movement of his lips against her own (a little firmer, now, a little longer, a little more intent) sang with the knowledge that this was Gilbert, Gilbert with the good heart and the gentle hands and the lopsided smile and the brilliant mind, and that that mind had chosen in that moment to put his mouth to her, to kiss her this way and then that, that of all the things that he could have elected to be doing right then it was kissing her that he wanted… that was where the thrill lay. Kissing in general, she supposed, might well be fine enough, but kissing Gilbert…

He shifted his attentions from Anne’s top lip to the bottom, and she pressed her sudden advantage to slot them together properly, like puzzle pieces sliding into place. Surely no-one else would fit her the way he did? Surely they were made for each other, when they worked together so well?

Ever so gently, his teeth scraped against her lip, and any question marks in her thoughts turned to dust.

Loathe to lose the contact, Anne decided against trying to sort out which fingers belonged to who on their entangled hands, instead rolling onto her side just enough for the hand she had spare to reach Gilbert’s face, trace the high of his cheek, the cut of his jaw of which she was so inexplicably fond—perhaps because its sharpness under her palm felt so very real, perhaps because the roll and motion of it took her back, again, to the mechanics and deliberation and will—his will, Gilbert’s!—behind his mouth on hers, or perhaps because of the way that every time she touched him there he shivered a little, and she felt the kick of it in her bones. She felt rooted, certain of and one with her skin in a way she rarely had the luxury of experiencing: she knew she was solid, and grounded, and there, because Gilbert was, and she had moved him. What a power that was, she thought as her fingertips skimmed the shell of his ear, found their way to the curls at the nape of his neck (which she had found she was also tremendously fond of)—to know that she could put her hands on him and he would move for her, just like that. She couldn’t entirely fathom what she’d done to deserve such a thing, but then she felt the instinctive shift of her own spine under his hand as it found her waist, and realised perhaps that was it: the utter trust it took Anne to be able to respond to him without thought or hesitation was a gift that earned the same in return. It was about balance, and faith, and equality, in this as in all things between them.

She loved it.

She ran her fingers down the line of his throat to his collarbone, felt him draw a sharp breath straight from her own lungs as his hand flexed, tightened against her waist, and then gave her breath back in the shape of her own name.

“Anne.”

She wondered whether that was one of his favourite words, too—it certainly sounded that way, when he said it—and decided it was only fair she got the same opportunity to voice the name of her own joy that he did.

“Gil.”

Things blurred and sharpened then, the passage of time becoming hazy and malleable even as otherwise minute details—the exact pinpoint location and pressure of his thumb against her ribs, the back of her foot brushing against his shin, how she could just feel his heartbeat against her palm with her fingers hooked over his shoulder, the only fast thing in a world gone slow as honey.

What a thing, to feel with her hand the impact she had on the heart of him; to know his love (he loved her, he loved her!) as something tangible, this thing she’d longed for no longer only curled through the landscape of her imagination but right there, held close, a rhythm against her skin.

His mouth sought out her throat, the exact spot just above the collar of her dress where her pulse beat strongest, and how could she do anything but smile, laugh breathlessly at the reassurance he was searching for? Yes, she said, with her fingers tangled in his curls, with the tilt of her head to make room for him, yes, Gilbert Blythe, I love you too.

And so they went, the tick of Anne’s clock forgotten amidst the heady sweetness of being together, and close, and in love in their own little corner of the world, into which nothing else might enter and from whence no-one might remove them.

Or… almost nothing. Almost no-one.

Divinely and determinedly distracted as she was, even Anne’s dubious sense of self-preservation cut sharply through that most pleasant of fogs at the creak (oh blessed creak!) of the kitchen door. Gilbert, who had eventually corralled enough mental direction to unwind their joined hands and set about one of his favourite pursuits—the utter destruction of whatever sense of order Anne had managed to impose upon her hair—displayed less wisdom, taking a few moments to respond not to the sound of the door itself, but the sudden tension of the girl in his arms.

“Anne?” he asked, withdrawing with evident reluctance from the crook of her neck, eyes dazed, colour high in his cheeks and—and this Anne noticed with a dangerously distracting level of satisfaction—his hair just as dishevelled as her own would inevitably be.

“Shh,” she hissed, utterly still as she strained to hear any further sound from downstairs, as yet hopeful that she might have been imagining things.

Footfalls, sharp and eminently recognisable. Anne’s eyes snapped back to Gilbert’s, wide and alarmed as the same sudden understanding dawned on his face. “Marilla.”

Sitting bolt upright (and fighting the sudden head rush the movement prompted), Anne let out a soft curse she’d never have voiced in any other company, hands flying to one of her braids as Gilbert followed suit, the protocol for such a disruption already perhaps an undignified level of established.

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be back until five?” Gilbert whispered sharply, doing, Anne had to admit, an admirable job of not becoming sidetracked as he combed his fingers through her hair and set about reconstructing her right braid.

“She’s an autonomous being, Gilbert: evidently she changed her mind! See this is precisely why we should meet at your house instead of here.”

“And risk Hazel wandering in? If you’d like to explain to Bash how his mother came to have a heart attack then be my guest!”

“You have a barn, don’t you?”

“You have a barn!” Gilbert replied, sounding just a little hysterical as he fumbled with her ribbon and dropped it. Twice.

“My barn is regularly occupied by both Jerry and Matthew, idiot.”

“And mine by Bash.”

“Better Bash,” she said, turning her focus to the potentially tricker task of flattening out Gilbert’s hair into some semblance of decorum, “than Marilla.”

“I… that’s fair. Okay, what am I doing?”

Anne bit her lip, casting about the room for escape routes. “You could climb out the window?”

“Out the window?” he repeated, managing to sound simultaneously amused and horrified. “Anne, I’d land directly outside the window downstairs, do you not think she might notice?”

“Well what if I climbed out the window?” Anne asked, rather clutching at straws at this point.

Gilbert was evidently trying to swallow down laughter. “What good would that do?!”

“Fine, okay, okay you’re just going to have to be quiet and hope she doesn’t come in here, and then we’ll… figure it out.”

“Anne, what do you—”

“Shut up, shut up she’ll hear you just, just shh!”

“Alright, alright I’m—” he stopped mid sentence, falling abruptly silent at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Again they stared at each other, eyes locked in panic, although it became rapidly obvious that this was a mistake as Anne felt a fit of giggles bubbling up her throat.

“Anne? Anne, are you up here?”

Praying that the Good Lord (being entirely responsible for sending trouble her way) might allow her passage through her current trials unscathed, Anne swallowed the laughter down and attempted to even out her voice. “Afternoon Marilla!”

If the look on Gilbert, eyes screwed shut and the back of his hand pressed to his mouth as his shoulders shook silently, was anything to go by, her attempt had failed.

“Oh, you are home! I’d not have expected to find you inside on a day like this,” came Marilla’s voice again from the other side of the closed door.

“I… it’s only, you know,” Anne began a little desperately, thwacking Gilbert with the back of her hand as the trembling of his suppressed laughter increased, “sunburn is such a tremendous pain to be dealing with, I thought I’d better not chance it.”

“Well now. How uncharacteristically responsible of you.”

At this Gilbert threw his head back, having to turn his hand to cover both his mouth and nose as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, the suggestion of her responsibility whilst she desperately fought to evade the detection of a young man in her bedroom clearly proving itself too much for him. Not today, and perhaps not even tomorrow, but some day soon Anne was going to push him into the Lake of Shining Waters for this.

“Yes, well. Thanks.”

“Well I’m only back for a minute or two—Rachel’s gotten it into her head that she absolutely must furnish you with a new quilt when you leave for Charlottetown, honestly that woman has too many sons and is far too intent on spoiling other people’s daughters,” Marilla added in a undertone which threatened to unbalance Anne’s tenuous grasp on herself and reduce her to Gilbert’s level of amusement, “so she’s sent me back to collect all my patterns that she might judge the most appropriate.”

“That’s… that’s very kind of her. She really needn’t trouble herself.”

“As I have endeavoured to explain to her, though she’s having none of it. Still, I don’t suppose it can do any harm—I do hate to imagine you getting cold all alone, come winter.”

Something about the tone of Marilla’s voice bled the hysterical amusement from the moment, leant it a fond softness that Gilbert clearly felt too, since he was able to uncover his mouth and reach for her hand, thumb brushing softly across her knuckles.

Anne squeezed his fingers. “I won’t be alone.”

“No,” came Marilla’s reply, before a pause. Anne, who was well acquainted with Marilla’s various pauses, could hear the smile in it. “No, I don’t suppose you shall. Well, anyway, I just thought you ought to know my return may be a little later than I’d anticipated, what with Rachel on a mission, so you and Matthew may have to fend for yourselves for dinner. Stick to the stovetop, mind, and don’t be laying a finger on the cake in the pantry, it isn’t for you as you well know.”

“Yes, Marilla, I know.”

“Good. And enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

“You too,” Anne replied, the tension slowly draining from her shoulders as she heard the footsteps retreating back down the stairs and then, a few moments later, the opening and closing of the kitchen door.

A further few beats of silence, and then a great relieved sigh from her co-conspirator. “Well. That was a bit close.”

Anne, entirely without hesitation and displaying the height of dignity, picked up the small cushion Marilla had sewn for her and whacked him over the head. “You rogue, you utter disaster of a man, could you not have made a little more of an effort to contain yourself? She could have heard you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Gilbert laughed, sounding anything but as he raised his hands in defence.

“You are not, scoundrel, you’re no good at lies and they don’t become you so you’d do much better not trying. See if I invite you here again.”

“Perhaps it’d be wiser if you didn’t,” he replied, still evidently amused. “Wouldn’t want Marilla thinking you aren’t responsible.”

“Oh she already knows I’m not,” Anne said primly, standing at last from the bed and smoothing out her skirts. “It’s your dishonourable conduct she’d be shocked by: she thinks you’re such a nice young man.”

“Most do,” Gilbert agreed cheerfully, leaning back against her headboard with that lopsided grin again, entirely at his leisure. Oh how intolerable of him, to make her love him so even when he was being absolutely insufferable. “And what do you think, Miss? Do you find my conduct to be dishonourable?”

Though he smiled, Anne was attuned enough to him by now that she could detect the undertone of sincerity in the question. Seating herself again on the bed beside him, she raised a hand to his face then ran it back through his curls, flooded with impossible fondness at the way he leant into the touch. “I believe… that there surely cannot be anything dishonourable in offering a young lady precisely the affection with which she longs to be treated.”

“Well then,” he said, his hand coming up to cover hers where it had come to rest against his cheek. “Can’t imagine anyone else’s opinion matters all that much.”

Anne grinned. “Except Marilla’s.”

“Except,” Gilbert said, tilting his head in deference to her point, “perhaps Marilla’s.”

They sat like that in tender silence for several long moments, before Anne sighed and broke it. “You do realise you have to leave now, right?”

The wide-eyed, childlike disappointment on his face was Anne thought, tremendously comical. “What, why?”

“Because if you don’t we’ll only end up having this exact palaver again in a few hours.”

“We’ll keep an eye on the time!”

“Do you have the faintest idea what time it is now? No, don’t look.”

Having been instructed away from the small clock on Anne’s bedside, Gilbert narrowed his eyes. “… One…ish?”

“It’s half past three,” Anne informed him, unimpressed.

Blatantly disbelieving, Gilbert sat up to get a look at the clock himself. “It never is, it can’t…” He stopped, blinking at the hands. “Are you sure that’s right?”

Anne grabbed his hand and pulled, tugging him up from the bed. Probably her pillows would smell like him that night. “Come on, out.”

“No, Anne, come on, don’t make me go home: Dellie’s teething, the crying’s unbearable.” He fought her as she dragged him to the door, not hard but enough to make her laugh at his recalcitrance. And to think, she’d once thought mystery and melancholy to be the grand romantic ideal: how much better this was, to love and be loved by someone who shared his feelings with her unreservedly, however fleeting or ridiculous they might seem.

“Then don’t go home,” Anne suggested, pulling him behind her down the hall, then giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the stairs. “Go for a walk, get some fresh air: they say it’s terribly good for you, Doctor Blythe.”

“Sunburn isn’t,” he argued, somehow managing to reach the ground floor without falling as he took the steps half-backwards, eyes still on her as she followed him. “It’s a terrible pain to be dealing with, I hear: I could be laid up in bed for days, and then how would you feel?”

“Find some shade,” Anne said, restraining a grin as she held the kitchen door open for him.

“Surely, being the far greater adventurer of the two of us, you’d be much better at such a search than I would,” he said, standing firm in the doorway and giving her a look of such utterly unconvincing false innocence she couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, it’s a beautiful day: how could you stand to miss out on it? And think—it’s a matter of weeks before we’re off to the city, surrounded by smog and buildings and the great urban sprawl.”

“Eight weeks, which is in fact two months.”

Gilbert elected to ignore this correction. “Think how badly you’ll long for a summer afternoon with trees and flowers and rivers then. Can you really throw away this chance, when it’s right here for the taking?”

Anne crossed her arms, fighting a smile and doing, she knew, a very poor job of it. “I suppose it is a glorious day…”

“Glorious,” Gilbert agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

“And I wonder… have I introduced you to my very favourite tree yet?”

He tilted his head, considering. “The Sugar Maple, up near the Andrews’ place?”

“Elm, outside of town—past the old bridge beyond the schoolhouse?”

“Then no, I don’t believe you have.”

“Well then,” Anne said, answering his triumphant grin with one of her own as she fetched her hat from the hook by the door and slid into her boots. “Who am I to deny the most wondrous call of summer?”

“Who indeed?” Gilbert replied, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her beside him, out into the sun.

#anne with an e #awae #avonlea writes #shirbert #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #awae fic

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