#The clientele seemed easy enough at first! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delusionalvenusian · 9 months

Text

The Long Con, Pt. 1

Pairing: Max Burnett x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n, reader eventually has a nickname)

Summary: Max, having parted ways with Madeline, still can't let go of his lust for a lavish life. He now finds himself at upscale hotel bars scouting out wealthy widows and divorcees to bed and steal from to keep afloat while he cooks up his first big solo con. What seems like a business-as-usual one night stand could just end up being his perfect long con. Or hers.

Warnings: 18+ only, smuuuuuuuuuut (pretty much right off the bat, but there is a plot in there somewhere), oral, unprotected p in v, swearing, drinking, kissing, dubcon (sorta), kinda subby Max, Max and reader are both little assholes

Word count: ~4k

a/n: Hellooooooo! I don't really know what the market is for this kind of thing since I've been out of the fanfic writing world for over a decade now, but I've had this little story brewing in my head since watching Sharper when it was first released and finally started putting it into words and feeling courageous enough to publish it somewhere on the off chance someone will enjoy it. This will be a few parts, but I'm not exactly sure how many at this point. Anyway, I so hope you enjoy this if you stumble upon it and give it a shot. :)

___________________________

Max swirled the whiskey in his glass as he leaned coolly against the bar, scanning the dim Manhattan establishment for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to locate his next mark.

With what he’d heard about the clientele here, he had expected the evening to go much smoother—get in, find a desperate 50-something to leave with, pocket some cash and blank checks after fucking her to sleep, repeat—but, after an hour or so of misses, he was ready to call it a night. Weekday evenings were usually perfect for this little game he’d adopted to pass the time while he figured out his next big solo move since breaking from Madeline. The too-young girls looking for rich old men weren’t out until the weekend, and the mature divorcees were out scouting for their next fling, more than happy to accept his attention. But tonight was a quiet one, and he was growing more frustrated with each dud he spotted. Downing the rest of the amber liquid, he slammed the glass down on the bar and moved to head for the door.

“Easy there!” He heard from behind. He turned quickly to study the source of the honeyed voice. “Excuse me,” she asked, effortlessly getting the bartender’s attention as soon as she stepped up to the bar. “Could I get a vodka tonic, extra lime, and keep them coming, please? Actually, go ahead and make that a double.” She smiled softly at the bartender’s confirming nod and spun to face the crowd of patrons as she waited for her drink. Her gaze shifted lazily around the room, meeting Max’s eyes as he sized her up. “See something you like?”

She was perfect. Younger than his usual target, but old enough to have the resources he needed. Her glossy blown out hair and subtle designer label ensemble screamed trust fund baby. Her drink order suggested she was ready to loosen up for the evening, and she was at least regular enough here that she didn’t have to give a card for a tab. No ring on her finger. Cool demeanor. And she was much easier on the eyes than the women he had suffered the last few months to get by. Perfect.

“Absolutely,” he replied, pulling his most seductive smirk.

She chuckled amusedly, cocking her brow. “Forward.”

Max sidled back up to the bar to settle next to his prey, gesturing to the bartender for another. “Let me buy you a drink?”

“Not wasting any time, are we?” She took a sip of her cocktail as soon as it reached her hand. “No introductions, just right down to business. I respect that.”

“I’m—”

“No, unh-unh,” she interrupted with a fluid wave of her hand, “I don’t care. We’ve both got the same motive, so let’s just skip the unnecessary bullshit. Trust me, it’s so much more fun with no names.”

Max could hear the jackpot jingle ring in his brain as he registered her words. Beyond perfect. He wouldn’t even have to bother with creating an identity for the night or convincing her to take him home. Admittedly, it did suck some of the fun out of his scheme, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He clinked his glass against hers in enthusiastic agreement.

“Great. I’ve got this one, so next one’s on you.” She downed a few gulps of her drink and gave him a slow once over. “Not bad. I usually only catch old pervs here.”

Max snickered. “Glad to hear I don’t look like a perv.”

“You don’t look like an old perv,” she corrected.

“So then tell me what I look like,” Max prompted as he softly ran his knuckles up her bicep from elbow to shoulder, twisting her hair around his finger.

She studied his features for another moment through narrowed eyes before responding. “Attractive. New money. Arrogant, for sure. Devious— you’ve got that glint in your eye, I see it. And here tonight, so definitely a perv.”

“You’re here tonight, what does that make you?”

She smiled up at him teasingly. “You’ll just have to come back to my room and find out, I guess.”

_______________

The walk from the bar, through the hotel lobby, and to the elevator was a short one, and Max couldn’t have been more thankful. The flowing liquor and flirtatious banter coupled with the anticipation of his scheme playing out successfully had his excitement at peak. The attraction certainly didn’t hurt either. It had been months since he found himself entangled with someone he felt legitimate physical desire for—not that that mattered to him in the end so long as he left with his pockets satisfactorily lined, but it was a welcome change.

She kept her hands to herself as she led Max to the elevators, unable to leave behind the strict societal manners she was raised on and give in to her temptation to grab him and take him in the nearest secluded corner. It had been months since she’d had a good lay, and Max’s assertive air had her convinced that he’d be the one to break that depressing trend. Impatient and aroused as ever, she fought not to drum her fingers or tap her foot waiting for the elevator to finish its slow descent, not wanting to drop her poised façade and let Max see how desperate she was to be alone with him, to touch him, to taste him. She let out a silent breath in relief as the doors finally parted, quickly fishing a key out and stepping in.

Max’s eyes lit up watching her insert the key and press the accompanying “P” button. Penthouse. His cock jumped in exhilaration, and suddenly his hands were on her as the elevator doors closed. The touch of his hands on her waist and his soft breath on her neck threatened to break her and make her go feral. She fought her urge to whip around, grab his hair roughly, and pull his lips to meet hers—her resolve to appear as composed as possible still strong. As Max wound himself around her like the snake he was, pressing his body to hers and peppering lazy kisses along her throat, she counted down the seconds until the elevator stopped at her floor.

Stepping out of the claustrophobic box into the airy suite instantly flipped the switch on her demeanor. The freedom of absolute privacy from the outside world washed over her and she suddenly found herself unreservedly overtaken by the lust that had been simmering within her, pulling Max out of the elevator by the lapel of his jacket. Greedy lips collided while hands caressed skin and pulled hair. Neither wanting to waste another second, they clumsily made their way through the bedroom doorway, quickly discarding the last of each other’s clothing.

Max continued backing her toward the plush bed as she nipped and sucked at his neck. The groan he let out at her teeth grazing his skin told her he liked a little dominance. When the backs of her knees met the side of the bed she disconnected from him, looking into his eyes through her long lashes and shaking her head as she rounded on him and shoved him down instead. Max grinned devilishly as she straddled him and roughly reclaimed his lips.

“Touch me,” she said breathily between sloppy kisses, guiding his right hand from her hair at the nape of her neck down to her aching core.

“Right down to business. I respect that,” Max said, teasingly repeating her words from earlier that evening. Without hesitation, he inserted two digits, eliciting a deep moan from her right into his mouth. “So wet for me.” He gathered her slick and languidly drew out his fingers to tightly circle her swollen clit.

The sob she let out was nearly animal as he applied just the right amount of pressure but kept his movement frustratingly slow. “Fuck,” she keened, “faster.”

Max bit her bottom lip and quickened his pace ever so slightly. “’Atta girl, tell me what to do.”

She slid a hand down his chest and abdomen, grasping his firm cock, and quickly jerked his head back by the hair with the other to look him in his dilated eyes. “Make me cum and you can have whatever you want,” she promised as she stroked him so softly that he physically ached for more.

He tried to hide the breath that caught in his throat and laid back on his elbows. “Get up here,” he said, grabbing the backs of her thighs and pulling her toward his face. She laughed sensually as she shuffled her way up his torso. He greeted her throbbing bundle of nerves with a smooth lap of his tongue and hooked his arms around each thigh to draw her down until she was sat on him completely. He teased her no longer, tasting her sweetness deeply and sucking her clit, immediately turning her into a whimpering mess.

“Fuck, yes. Just like that, don’t stop.” Her cries of satisfaction and writhing on Max’s skilled tongue elicited his own moans and had him bucking his hips in anticipation of burying himself deep inside her wet heat. “Yes! Right there, right there” she chanted. Max increased the pace of his massage and shook his head, sucking her in impossibly deeper, his encouraging moans sending vibrations through her body and overstimulating her. She couldn’t form words any longer as the growing knot in her stomach came undone and she convulsed, crying out the god she did or didn’t believe in and releasing her orgasm into Max’s welcoming mouth.

Max—ever the proud lover—didn’t stop until she’d nearly collapsed. He finally freed her tender clit when she pulled his hair so hard it threatened to rip out at the root. Despite her promise, she didn’t wait for Max’s direction before taking her next steps, needing him inside of her as soon as humanly possible. She slithered down his body until her wanting core hovered just above his painfully hard cock. Before she could grip him herself, Max grabbed her roughly by the hip to hold her steady as he lined himself up and ran his leaking tip through her soaked folds. They moaned in unison while he repeated his movements once, twice, three times, until he abruptly thrust up into her. He bottomed out, sheathing her completely, and gave her a moment to adjust to his size.

Without a word, she ran a hand up his chiseled abdomen and placed it on his chest for leverage as she began to slowly rise up off of him. She stopped as the head of his dick reached her entrance, just before it could fall out, and sank back down as slowly as she had risen. Max threw his head back into the mattress, eyes rolled far back in his head, and cried out in ecstasy. She lifted herself again, reiterating her slow descent and moaned proudly at the sight of Max’s nods of pleasure. “You like that, huh, baby,” she cooed.

“Mhmm,” Max nodded again.

“Use your words. Tell me what you want,” she said, continuing to lazily ride him, drawing out each lift and descent.

Max grunted as her cervix bumped his sensitive tip once more. “Need you to ride me,” he said. “So fucking tight and wet for me. Bounce on my cock.” He gave her no chance to quicken her pace herself. He took hold of her ass cheeks brusquely, spreading them slightly, and guiding her down hard over his length, meeting her in the middle with a thrust.

She didn’t protest, giving up control and allowing Max to set his desired pace. It was fast and raucous by this point as Max’s need for release had steadily built up in the act of giving pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking good,” she sighed out through a hazy, cock-drunk smile.

Max practically growled at the praise, tightening his grip to hold her in place and giving her everything he had. The bottom of his spine was starting to tingle and his need to cum was taking over.

She intuited the meaning of his increased intensity and woke slightly from her sex-induced fog as she remembered they hadn’t used a condom. “Shit, wait,” she exclaimed. “You can’t cum inside me, you have to pull out.”

“But you feel so fucking good,” he said without really processing the bigger picture. She was right, of course, and had he been in his right mind he would have agreed in an instant.

“Please,” she said through her moans. “Fuck me on my back. I want you to cum all over me.”

The sound of her begging and the thought of her with her legs spread for him, covered in his cum, got his full attention. He flipped them over and kept his rhythm, throwing her legs over his shoulders and hitting even deeper now than before. He watched himself fill her over and over as she writhed beneath him and grabbed at whatever she could get her hands on. The tingling at the base of his spine formed again and his hips jerked erratically. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he let out through gritted teeth. He pulled out just in time and she quickly grabbed his shaft, pumping him fervently and letting his ropes of cum spread across her stomach and chest.

Max stayed hovered over her for a moment while he caught his breath, eventually flopping over next to her. As he recovered, she raised herself onto her elbows, surveying the mess they’d painted onto her body together, giggling in her pleasured, post-coital daze. “I’ll clean this up in a minute,” she muttered, collapsing back down with a smile and closing her eyes.

_______________

Max slowly left the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty next to him. She was gorgeous, and she’d been the best fuck he’d had in quite some time, but he had a job to do. Somewhere in the well-decorated penthouse was the money he’d come for. He had no trouble finding and pocketing the cash in her purse that she’d so carelessly left right by the elevator, but $1,500 wasn’t going to get him far—he needed the trust checks. Based on the state of the place, it was clear she had taken up permanent residence there. As stealthily as he could, he tore the place apart searching for the coveted checkbook, growing more and more irritated as he continued to find nothing.

Time passed quickly, and he found himself scavenging through her purse yet again. Knowing nothing was likely to magically appear, he decided to take a moment to study the contents of her wallet. He pulled out her ID card, finally putting a name to the face. He smiled to himself when he read her last name, recognizing it instantly and feeling pride in his ability to successfully spot old money types in a crowd. He was still silently patting himself on the back when the sound of a throat clearing behind him broke the early morning silence he’d been working in. Fuck.

“You’re robbing me,” she asked flatly, seemingly unsurprised. “Pathetic.”

Max chuckled darkly, dropping the charm he’d laid on mere hours ago. “You let a nameless stranger fuck you raw and spend the night in your pretty little penthouse suite. Yeah, I’m pathetic.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as he approached her, ID still clutched in his fingers.

“What’ll you tell daddy when your money’s all gone,” he taunted, brushing a featherlight knuckle across her cheekbone. He was taken aback as she broke into laughter instead of starting to break under his touch like he expected.

“’What’ll you tell daddy when your money’s all gone,’” she mimicked through her laughter. “Man, you are funny. See, for you take all my money, I’d have to have it first, you fucking idiot.”

Max’s eyes widened. Admittedly he hadn’t inquired about her age, trusting that she looked old enough to be an adult, and he hadn’t checked her date of birth on her ID for lack of interest. She stared him down, enjoying seeing the wheels furiously spinning in his head.

“Calm down, I’m not even close to a child,” she assured him. “Daddy is just a misogynist.” Max’s expression turned from alarm to confusion. “We’ll get to that in a second. First, your name.”

“Fuck off,” Max said.

She scoffed sarcastically. “Well, that’s not very nice. It’s only fair now that you know who I am, and you’re trying to take me for everything I’ve got.” She waited a moment, but Max stayed silent. “Ah, come on. You tell me your name, and I won’t have your kneecaps shot out by daddy’s friends.”

Max’s eyes darted toward the window as if he’d be able to see in the flesh the burly henchmen he was now imagining. He’d never been in this position before and he couldn’t confidently call her bluff—how else do these old money types keep their money and connections but through brute force? He resigned with a sigh. “Max.”

“Max,” she repeated. “I’d say nice to meet you, but—well, you get it. Anyway, Max, you can call me Doe.”

Max sneered. “Dough? Like money? The jokes really wri—”

“No,” she interjected. “Doe, D-O-E, like a deer. For my eyes.”

Max snorted derisively. “Okay, Doe.”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “Anyway, misogyny. You know what that word means, right? Maybe a big one for someone of your… station.”

“My station? God, you fucking people. Yes, I know what misogyny means.”

Doe nodded, smiling up at him in jest. “Impressive. See, daddy does have me set up with a trust—you’re right about that. The problem is, daddy doesn’t think women can handle millions, let alone billions of dollars, no matter how old we are or how much education we have or how long we work our asses off to prove ourselves. So, daddy set my trust up with one stipulation: I get married, I get the money.” Max raised a brow as he took in her predicament. “Right? You see my problem, then.”

Max shook his head as if to clear it. “Wait, so you have a billion-fucking-dollar trust waiting for you—billion with a ‘b’—and you won’t just do what you have to do to get it?”

“No, I will not,” she exclaimed, disgusted at the notion of even considering it. “Not in his way, anyway.”

“The will,” Max said, seemingly connecting the dots. “You think he’s leaving it all to you? He won’t let you touch your own trust and you think he’s leaving his entire empire to you?”

Doe glowered at him. She had thought that a possibility at one time, of course, but had long since admitted to herself that he would never entrust her with the family fortune. She’d even hoped that he would at least leave her enough by her standards, but that wasn’t going to happen either. Deep down, Doe wasn’t much different from Max. She wanted her money, she wanted all the money, and the thought of losing the luxurious life she’d grown accustomed to all her life made her sick. She wasn’t cut out for a boring, regular life. And, thus, she found herself here.

“Fuck you,” she retorted. “No, not the will—I’m not a fool. I have a plan, and that’s where you come in.”

Max stared at her in silent confusion.

“Please don’t drool on my floor,” Doe teased, patting his slack jaw. “Here, let me spell it out for you. I went down to the bar last night to hunt, just like you. I’ve been scouting and, like I said, only finding old pervs. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be face to face with a 70-year-old man’s flaccid penis while you wait for the blue pill to kick in? Not worth the fucking money. I physically could not do it anymore. Anyway, I pivoted to the leeches—at least you’re hot, ya know?”

“Leeches?”

“Yes, leeches. You look for money, that’s all you want, and you’ll bleed it from any woman who has it and is charitable enough to look past the Brooks Brothers sale rack suit and take you home,” Doe continued. “Call me altruistic—I scoped you out, caught you in your most desperate moment when you were just about to throw in the towel, and reeled you right in. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure how it would turn out at first, but you’re a fantastic lay.”

“Truly pathetic,” Max muttered.

“Aw, Maxy, don’t be mad,” Doe tutted, running a hand through his sleek hair. “Really, you were so talented even just as a quickie. And then, even better than I expected, I woke up for a little morning round two only to find you trying to burgle me. I mean, truly, what a perfect set up.”

“You’re pitiful,” Max spat, trying to gain some control over the unforeseen situation he now found himself in. “And the saddest part is how easy it all could’ve been. Look at you. You’re beautiful, smart, you could cut practically any man down with that fucking mouth of yours, good in bed, and fucking loaded. You could pull any sucker out there and live happily ever after. Hell, just pick one, get married, get the money, then divorce him.”

“Just good in bed? Not even great?” Max blustered in annoyance at her quips. “Don’t get huffy with me. Anyway, you just laid out the whole plan.” She paused, waiting for it to click for him.

Max’s expression quickly shifted from annoyance to an amused smirk. “I’m the sucker, huh?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Doe smiled back.

“No,” Max said, dropping the smirk in in instant. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Doe laughed sweetly. “Oh, but you are. I wasn’t kidding about the kneecaps.”

Max stepped away from her, pointing an angry finger in her face. “You’re a fucking psychopath. I’m not fucking marrying you.”

Doe rolled her eyes at Max’s aggravation. “Chill out, you’ll get your cut.”

That got Max’s attention. “My cut?” He could feel his frustration diffusing from a boil to a simmer.

“Of course,” Doe said. “What, you didn’t think I’d leave you high and dry, did you? I’m not a monster, like you.” She teased, sidling her way back into his space, gently caressing his chest. “I told you last night, make me cum and you can have whatever you want. You kept up your end of the bargain and I plan to keep mine. We’ll just get married, get the money, split it, and we can go our separate ways. We’ll be set for life—do whatever we want. Billions with a ‘b,’ remember?”

Doe’s soft touch and devious mind coupled with the thought of money the likes of which Max couldn’t fully comprehend had his cock twitching in his briefs. It was extreme—far beyond anything he’d ever planned—but he couldn’t deny it was genius. He’d striven to not be tied to another person in his game again after working with Madeline for so long, ultimately becoming completely unable to trust her as a partner, but this allowed him a freedom to walk away that he’d never had before so long as Doe kept her word. And even if she didn’t, the marriage would grant him access to the funds whether she liked it or not. He had nothing to lose.

Doe placed a delicate kiss on his neck. “So? What do you say,” she asked, pulling him out of his contemplative trance. “60/40?”

Max smiled widely, cupping either side of Doe’s face and, just like the night before, led her backward into the dimly lit bedroom. “Billions with a fucking ‘b,’” he shouted excitedly and captured her mouth in a heated kiss. Doe would get her money and her morning round two.

#max burnett x reader #max burnett #sharper #sebastian stan characters #max burnett fanfiction #max burnett x female reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sharper movie #max burnett smut #sebastian stan x reader

67 notes · View notes

afreakingdork · 1 year

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 2

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes

Synopsis: When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we're defined by our job, it's those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

First

You stare up at the imposing structure of a skyscraper much like the one you work at. If you hadn’t just walked to this one you might have even thought you’d never left work at all. This had been your first perplexing halt. The second came as the building appeared to have no storefronts around its base. There was just the shiny gleam of a half dozen glass doors and the stark interior of yet another standard lobby. Frowning, you dug through your bag for your device.

You: Hey, it’s Y/N. I’m going to assume you didn’t give multiple people your number and that you do in fact want my name.

It was the text you had sent him after work the day prior. Instead of responding, Donatello had simply applied a check mark emoji to your message and then sent the address for the next shop. Opening the follow through link to a map app, it indeed read that you were in the right place and just needed to scale a multitude of floors to complete your journey.

The only thing was, that simply didn’t make sense.

With the amount of suits funneling through the doors it seemed unlikely that this was a mixed used property. Tapping your phone screen several times, you brought up the shop’s information panel. There wasn’t even a single image or review uploaded along with the notation. Frowning, you wondered how Donatello would handle it if you questioned his accuracy. He seemed like the kind to take particular care in being right. Hovering a thumb over the shop’s entry, you debated.

“Odd, isn’t it?”

You jolted as the voice came directly by your left ear. Swinging with your device as a mock weapon, you watched as Donatello straightened up.

“Yeah, that’s one word for it!” Finding him not to be a threat, you rubbed the side of your head in an attempt to shake off the tingles.

Instead of evaluating you, he turned and sized up the building. “Their SEO is atrocious.”

“That’s not-!” You started and then stopped along with lowering your limb. He surely knew what you meant and cooing into your ear was probably his odd way of flirting.

Your mind ground to a halt at the thought.

Was that what he was doing?

“Pathetic to be satisfied with nothing more than a trapped clientele.”

You gave him a curious look. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something that was worded a little strange, but you also barely knew him. Since you had been granted an extension on your budding affection, you’d decided to make the most of it. Resisting the urge to text him had been tough enough, but at least the time between stints had been short. “There’s really a restaurant here?”

That wasn’t exactly questioning his authority.

“Word of mouth.” He responded simply and started his trek. You chased after his coat’s swinging edge and admired today’s outfit from the back. It was similar to the previous one in shade, but he now donned a mock necked zipper henley beneath what had to be different piece of luxe outwear. His sleek boots made little noise amongst the rummaging throng of lunchtime workers.

“That didn’t answer my question!” You called, making a few longer strides to catch up to his side.

He passed you a glance as you both reached the door. With a longer reach, he caught the handle and you watched with wide eyes as he opened it for you. Maybe yesterday you just hadn’t given him a chance to be chivalrous. Passing him an appreciative bob, you slipped inside. The quiet contrast of the lobby sank in. His boots now clicked with purpose and you rolled your eyes as you again had to scamper after him. You couldn’t help but catch the look the receptionist gave you as you passed. The concept had already been strange enough that you hadn’t taken the time to consider that you might not have access to this mysterious place.

“Uh-, Don-”

“At my 9th study, I heard two patrons discuss this location.”

You almost ran into him as he came to an abrupt stop at the elevators. Adjusting yourself, you got caught between smiling at his languid response time and mild embarrassment at your fumble. He seemed disinterested in the latter so you looked ahead to see if he had pressed the button. It was already lit so you craned your neck to see beyond your companion and found an annoyed businessman tapping his toe in wait. The man’s expression was already sour, but something about the way he glared at you for looking his way reminded you of the receptionist. “Are we supposed to be here?”

“What do you mean?” Donatello’s eyes were fixed squarely on the elevator’s display panel which read over 10 floors away.

“I mean…” You tucked yourself closer to Donatello’s side in an attempt to both shield yourself the other man’s annoyed aura and to keep the conversation for interested party’s ears only. “This isn’t like an exclusive dining room, right?”

Catching your little shuffle and hushed tone, Donatello swooped his gaze over you and then to the other man. With his head swiveled away you couldn’t see his expression, but you did watch as the other man suddenly snapped to attention and turned away with a cough. Your lids came down in slight curiosity as Donatello’s attention returned to the elevator panel. You studied his side profile until you saw the exact moment the muscle in his jaw tightened as he was about to speak.

“No security at the door, no keypad access to the elevators, and no check-in with the receptionist.”

You glanced to the front of the building. Everything he said was undeniably true, but something still felt off.

“It’s also publicly listed regardless of how terrible their online presence is.”

You slowly brought your gaze back and thought it over. The elevator arrived before you could come to a conclusion. You started to step forward when you realized Donatello hadn’t moved. You paused your foot’s journey and watched as the door opened. Several people got off and as soon as they were clear, Donatello moved to board. You followed, but just before breaching the threshold you caught a glimpse of the businessman from earlier who this time paled as you caught eyes.

“I-I’ll take the n-next one.” He stuttered out and glued his eyes to the floor.

What had Donatello done to the man?

You immediately swiveled your head to the mutant to find him punching in the number 27 on the panel. He then moved to stand with his hands tucked behind his back in the center of the elevator. You were about to ask when you noticed one of the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. It was the closest thing to happiness you’d seen him display, but your heart was caught in its excitement by what seemed to be the knowledge of its source.

What a menace he was.

The elevator doors closed and you leaned against the wall beside the panel.

You weren’t exactly sure what to think of his oddities, though you were still undoubtedly interested.

“Do you think I’d steer you wrong?”

You didn’t move, but his sudden question jarred you. You hadn’t expected him to lob you one, so you bided your time checking the floor counter before turning your attention to him.

“Well I would hope you wouldn’t kill me in a place this public.”

Though he also didn’t move, there was something in the way he brought his eye to you that felt like you’d surprised him. His mouth had flattened out, but it opened with intrigue.

“Was that a concern?”

You blew out so hard that a minor raspberry rumbled on your lips. “In this city? Heck! In this world? You always have to play that game with new people to make sure they aren’t serial killers!”

“I’ll keep a better eye on you then.”

You laughed and the elevator chimed its arrival. Before the doors could open, you pushed off the wall and leapt forward. You watched one of Donnie’s brows raise in incremental curiosity as you planted yourself firmly facing him and away from the grand reveal. “For the record…” You trailed off and listened as the metal split behind you. “I don’t think you’d steer me wrong, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still worry!”

With your point made, you did a little hop to see what the 27th floor looked like. There was a small landing and the walls continued the same sterile motif from the lobby. Beyond that there were a set of two clear glass doors that revealed a dining room that disappeared out of sight on the right and an odd test kitchen sort of set-up to the left.

“Woah…”

You felt a hand press against your mid back just as the elevator doors began to close due to inactivity. You stepped forward and mourned the loss of touch as you made it onto the landing.

Donatello clicked his tongue and for a moment you thought he could read your thoughts. A defense was on your lips about your fleeting feelings when he spoke something else more to himself. “Asinine waste to not market this.”

You wanted to laugh again, but you bit your bottom lip and scrunched up your face to keep it in. He was really hung up on their e-commerce.

“Is that what you do?”

Since you were a step ahead, you caught a door handle and held it for him.

He eyed you as he passed. “No.”

You gave an interested hum as he evaluated the space. You ignored the actual counter in favor of gawking at the dining room. From the sliver you had seen before, it stretched even further out of sight and presumably all the way around the floor. Various tables, chairs, pergolas, and plants filled out the space, but left the grand view of the blue sky outside stretched unobstructed. For each wooden structure, there was a fan turning on a lazy setting to keep what could have been a greenhouse effect at bay.

With your head coming back from reviewing the display, you found Donatello watching you with his head tipped ever so slightly to the side. You could feel the fondness in your expression grow as you wondered if he had been watching your excitement. He was as nonplussed as ever, but knelt down incrementally and you leaned is as he seemed to want to discuss something.

“There’s a cashier at the far end.” He pointed and you finally took in the kitchen portion of the restaurant. A long stretch of various foods were laid out buffet style with a divider thrown up to separate the open kitchen. There was a single break between the glass panes that seemed to be a place where you could order something that wasn’t readily available on a hot or cold bar presentation. “You get a tray and we’ll meet there.”

From the looks of it, there only seemed to be cold slider style sandwiches laid out in a pallet. “Think we can order our clubs from the window?”

His head turned to you a little bit more and his chin was tipped up. Though you had only seen it once before, you had a feeling it had something to do with appreciation. “If not, we’re wasting our time.”

“This was definitely not a waste.” You threw an arm out to the room in demonstration, but found you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his.

A slow blink passed between you both before he finally moved away. Your racing heart beat only became apparent when he parted though you had a feeling it had started up long ago.

“I’ll see to the order and you scout the other offerings.”

“Sounds good.” You gave a nod and he moved straight for the kitchen window. You glanced over the cashier who was absorbed into a novel she had propped against the register. Gathering a tray, you used it as a sort of partition as you slowly looked over the bars. It had a standard fair of salad building blocks, fresh cut fruit, and grab-and-go lunches. On either side of Donatello sat a few heat lamps with side dishes and a variety of beverages. Suddenly hyper aware that you had no idea what your companion liked, you reminisced on the feeling from the day prior. There was so much to learn. It felt as daunting as the choices laid out.

Sneaking a peek at Donatello, you watched as he conversed with someone on the other side. The tone sounded genial and a satisfied smile graced your lips. You were glad he could continue his conquest, but that didn’t help your task at hand. Shooing the happiness away, you furrowed your brow. Going off what little you knew about the staunch man, you bypassed the fruit as no matter how bright it looked, it was all definitely out of season. Salad seemed like a pass as it felt more like a counterpart as opposed to a companion to sandwiches. Something about that thought sparked something another, thankfully.

Turning, you moved to where some whole fruit and prepackaged snacks that required only ambient temperature were stacked. You stared at a menagerie of chips and felt flicker of pride in your chest. You had a feeling that this was some kind of test. It didn’t feel malicious, but it fell in line with his methodical sandwich choices. It all lie in if you had correctly identified that chin move as appreciation. If that were the case then him allowing you to chose an accompaniment meant he had some sort of value in your culinary decisions.

You were definitely over thinking this.

Still, it was a fun game. Ignoring the typical name brands, you perused a set of locally made kettle chips. Anything too potent would skew the sandwich evaluation so you knocked those competitors out of the ring. It left only variations of salt which at first glance seemed like the safe choice. Chuckling to yourself you tried to imagine how his computer would process the data. He probably went through whatever you were going through but charged up to some astronomical degree. There was no way a man who was trying his 13th sandwich shop would do any less. Pinching two bags together by their top corners, you hoisted them onto a tray and went to join Donatello.

He was standing off to the side waiting with a slip of paper clutched prominently in one hand. The way his eyes went right to your tray said all you needed to know about how he’d considered the endeavor.

“Sea salt and cracked pepper.”

You waited for his eyes to flick up to yours. You gleaned nothing else until that moment finally happened. When it did you were ready, you said your prepared line. “A little extra seasoning, so to speak.”

He made a clear sound of acceptance before his chin tipped up and then down into a nod.

He then turned into the motion and headed towards the cashier. You were able to keep a lid on your delight until his back was to you and you nearly skipped after his form. It wasn’t conclusive, but whatever it was still sent your heart aflutter. He paid and when you stepped up to the cashier next you watched the woman go back to her novel. Waiting further, you blinked as Donatello headed towards the dining room. The woman didn’t part you a glance.

“He got you.”

“He what?” You wondered aloud and she must have heard the rhetorical note to it because she simply turned the page in response. You frowned and tightened your grip on the tray. “Hey!”

From several lengths away, Donatello was evaluating which table would be best.

Cheeks taunt with irritation, you brushed passed him and plopped down at a table perfectly shaded by a monstrous plant and just outside of the gusty radius of a nearby fan.

“You paid for me.” You ground out as he sat across from you.

“I did.” He responded simply and picked up a bag of chips. “You forgot napkins.” He added before plopping down a few onto the tray in demonstration.

You pouted at them and watched as he turned the package over to read the back. It was clear he’d dropped the conversation and you could have just enjoyed his contribution, but you were seized with obligation. “I’ll get the next one.”

“If you want.” He set the bag down. “They’ll bring out the food when it’s ready.”

You gave a curt nod.

“What flavor do you actually get?”

“What?” You momentarily surfaced from your sulk.

Instead of repeating himself, he gave a single finger tap to the chips.

You stared at the bag with growing wonder before turning an accusatory glare on him.

He cocked his head the slightest degree.

“How’d you know?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you asked.”

“I did.”

You frowned and the corner of his mouth upturned in a tempered version of when he scared the man outside the elevator. Your jerk senses were tingling, but there was an infuriating beguiling quality to it. Probably because he was right; this wasn’t what you would normally choose in normal circumstances.

He certainly was far from average.

“It depends on my mood, but if the sandwich is gonna be more on the plain side then I get a more potent chip.”

He gave a single nod.

“How was my choice?” You absolutely wanted to know.

He opened his mouth, but another voice came out.

“Here we are!”

You startled at the sudden approach of an aproned man, but Donatello simply straightened. The man set down a tray with two sandwiches and Donatello parted the man a thank you as he left. You made room on your tray as your companion placed a plate onto it before setting up his own arrangement. You watched him take the same care as to where to pick his club up from. Shaking your head at his absurdity, you grabbed your sandwich and bit right in. They had added an herbed blend or perfumed their oil. You thought it over in way you might not have if it weren’t for your opposite.

You continued to eat, popping your chip bag open about halfway through and considered the flavors. The calm of the moment swallowed you up until Donatello finally spoke.

“Not bad.”

You looked up to find his finger still pinched from where there was presumably a chip.

“You’re just saying that.”

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite read, but there was an air of disdain to his slightly arched brow.

You suppose he hadn’t minced words before this point.

“The pepper offsets the aromatic quality.” He lifted the bread off the uneaten half of his sandwich in examination

“I couldn’t have known about that…” You responded with a heavier quality to your voice than you hoped. You weren’t actually upset about something as silly as potato chip choices, but you had been betting on a solid win which felt stripped from you.

“Don’t point out a flaw the other party hasn’t caught on to. It shows your hand.”

You brought a questioning gaze to him and found him staring back flatly.

“You think I knew…?”

“No, but you could have made an educated guess.”

You broke eye contact to glance at your surroundings. Though it were smack dab in the middle of a trade building, the ambience had an upscale quality. You almost wished you knew how much the meal cost though you wouldn’t have been able to take it into account as you’d already made your choice by then. Something about the whole thing seemed planned all along.

“What do you do?” You adjusted how you sat in your chair.

“Freelance.” There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation.

That was unusual.

You gave him another incredulous look that he pointed ignored by popping another chip in his mouth.

“Broad and vague.” You noted, doing the same.

You swore you heard another of those plausive hums, but between chews you couldn’t be sure.

“So serial killer is still on the table.” You crunched down on another chip and heard what you thought was a snort. Your eyes flew to him instantly, but found only composed stoicism there. “Did I just get you?”

He gave you that look again.

He was never going to tell.

Unfortunately for him, that in and of itself was quite telling.

You let out a little bit of laughter and shook your head. “You’re something, you know that?”

“’Broad and vague.’” He quoted with an almost amused air.

Something you’d said so candidly got a positive response. Internally you rode the high, but externally you only showed how pleased you were with a grin. “Actually, it’s a turn a phrase.”

“The intent of which changes upon inflection.”

“How did mine sound?” You put your elbows to the table and placed your chin upon your hands in a show of awaiting his response.

He looked back to his meal and lifted the last bit of his sandwich. “You’re so busy pining that it’s hard to see past that.”

You had the urge to duck against that return shot. He had a certain command for conversation even if he seemed to be in a perpetual state of not wanting to be in one.

“That obvious?” You gave a little wince.

You received that patented look for the third time.

It was unmistakable now.

The epitome crossroads between ‘you already know the answer’ and ‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response.’

At least he was aware of your intentions.

That thought had you faltering in your posing. Head now below your hands you were slow to raise back up.

What were those exactly?

Hadn’t this been a fun little crush accommodation?

Your face felt hot, but you weren’t sure it read blush.

Finally heaving your chin onto your hands, you watched as Donatello tidied up his mess. He’d already finished his meal and you weren’t sure what this whole meeting had really gotten you.

“Did you pacify your boss?”

You were thankful for the perch that allowed you to loll your head. “No way, I just don’t care today.”

“You must not be since you’re already later than yesterday.”

“Am I?” There still was a quality of fear to your voice that couldn’t been quelled. When it hit your ears you gave a synthetic laugh in a pathetic attempt to dispel it.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off for a fear you couldn’t quite place.

“Do you like eggs?”

His mouth closed and he just openly stared.

You did so back with what you assumed was the same amount of tempered confusion.

The old saying of every step being one in the right direction sure didn’t account for your mouth.

“It depends.” He responded after what seemed like an eternity passed.

At least you’d had time to fill your treacherous mouth enough to finish your meal.

“On what?” You mumbled through a napkin.

“Time of day and mood, I suppose. I’ve never thought about it in exact terms.”

“Are there any egg dishes you like?”

He leaned back in his chair.

With all your trash squared away on a tray, you gave him a sympathetic smile. “It seems odd.”

He gave a single knowing nod of agreement.

“You were so upset by the thought of them being in a club the other day I thought I’d ask.”

His shoulders seized in the smallest way. It was a telltale sign of his displeasure with the matter. “They aren’t a component.”

His tone was so dark you’d think he was talking about something pure evil.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

His displeasure must have continued because he stood to take his tray.

“W-wait, wait!” You got out between chuckles.

He waited beside his seat and looked down his snout at you.

“We can table the egg thing, how was the sandwich?” You hustled to grab your belongings.

“A solid choice, but not what I’m looking for.”

“It was like real shaved turkey, but the add-ons made it too deluxe!”

He waited until you joined him to move to the designated dump area. “I appreciate how it showcased the ingredients, but they also can speak for themselves.”

“You’re looking for a mom and pop shop kinda meal…” You nodded to yourself as you dumped your trash.

He seemed to be looking elsewhere. You watched him curiously as he was trapped within his thoughts. You reached out unconsciously to rouse him and he flinched away when you got within centimeters of his coat. With your hand still outstretched you gave an apologetic frown. His eyes flicked from your appendage to your face before he moved to the door.

He held it for you, but the atmosphere had changed in a way that words didn’t feel could penetrate. Hearing the door close as he followed you into the lobby, you moved to press the down button. You both stood, staring at the elevator screen as one unit moved down and the other up.

“If inclined I enjoy a plain omelet on occasion.”

You brought your head up a little higher before turning it on him.

“It’s something I make myself to ensure it’s cooked to my specifications.”

“Are…” You tapered off and watched him to see if a follow-up question were appropriate. Instead of his usual parted gaze, he brought it to you and seemed to wait. Something about the act made your chest tighten. “Are you a good cook?”

“To an extent.” His eyes shot to the corner as he presumably considered his catalog. “I make what I like.”

“I get that.” You stuffed your hands into your coat as an elevator arrived.

“What about you?” He asked only in passing as soon as the doors opened.

“Am I a good cook or do I like eggs?” You snickered and joined him.

You pressed the ground floor button as he hadn’t yet and when your attention returned to him, your heart nearly stopped. Though it were still tucked under that same stoicism, there was the ajar door quality to the curiosity on his face. You were beyond elated with a torn undercurrent. If he really were letting his real emotions slip through then this was a show you’d be stuck examining for the foreseeable future. It could be anything from interest to goodwill for whatever had happened when you’d gone to touch him. There was also the chance that it was all just a put on. Though if that were the case, you weren’t sure why he’d suddenly try to trick you when he seemed to staunchly only do what he wanted. Paralyzed by the many scenarios, you short circuited as the doors closed.

You could feel his eyes on you, but no matter how hard you tried your body and even your mouth refused to cooperate.

The floors ticked by as silence filed in.

Your heart sank in time with the elevator’s descent.

“I suppose I can handle the suspense until tomorrow.”

“You still want to see me again?” The question jumped off your lips so quickly, your eyes widened.

Why after all that time was that what was easy to say?

“Your phrasing could use work, but I believe our agreement was for this area. We have two more locations to cover.”

The elevator chimed and the air felt too thick to turn to him.

That made sense.

He was meticulous if nothing else.

You gave an odd laugh. “And here I thought you might have liked me or something!”

The doors opened and it was only when he also didn’t move that you felt some semblance of control.

You clutched the bottom of your coat to ease your nerves.

A flash of movement caught your eye and in your distraction you watched Donatello’s arm shoot out to keep the doors from closing automatically.

Otherwise, he still hadn’t moved.

The doors sensed his presence and opened back up.

Swallowing desperately, you felt the pull of his gaze. Tracing back to him via his still outstretched arm, your muscles tensed as you finally glimpsed his face.

Painted on it for the fourth time was what you now considered his trademarked look.

You knew what it meant.

There was no way.

He let you drink it in for enough for the doors to attempt a second close before he finally moved.

“Donatello?” Your voice sounded so small because you still couldn’t believe what you’d seen.

He, however, was long gone. You scrambled out just as the elevator doors made their third annoyed attempt to close. They bumped your shoulders and caught you. Breaking free, you sprinting out only to find him already reaching for a door handle across the lobby.

“Donatello!” He didn’t stop his trek as he exited the building.

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

77 notes · View notes

mkakki · 2 years

Text

And they were soulmates!

I am a sucker for a soulmate au, anyone else?

In which Bakugo Katsuki gets whipped.

Word count: 2150

This is the first installment on what could end up being a multi part series! Female reader. Swearing. I’m unsure if it’ll get explicit or not honestly.

All you wanted was a simple cup of coffee. Well, maybe your order wasn’t actually all that simple, but you could blame that on your ‘beloved’ best friend. In any case, you just wanted to get your cup of morning coffee, and maybe a pastry if you felt so daring, and be on your merry way to your unassuming office job. Nothing exciting, nothing remarkable. Just a quiet, easy life that you were content to live. Nothing out of the ordinary for you. It was at the forefront of your mind as you braved the coffee shop frequented by those of your office, something as equally quiet and unassuming as the clientele who ghosted along the interior.

Being welcomed by the familiar rich scent of the beans and hissing of the machines instantly lifted your mood. Even if you hadn’t been able to procure your drink, just feeling the warmth of the cozy space decorated to look like Gramas living room. Tattered furniture that almost looked like they were crumbling.a wide collection of different pieces, only having their eclectic color scheme in common. Books scattered along tables, free for patrons to browse. With an atmosphere like this, it was easy to justify forking out a bit more than you’d love to pay for a cup of coffee.

Somehow it didn’t really register that something was wrong until there was a knife,wickedly curved and glinting dangerously waving through the air in the hand of a slender woman. Her hair was unkempt and matted down her back, skin drawn too tight over her waspish features. Despite the animated way she gestured with her knife, her eyes were rather vacant and void of light as they all but protruded from her pale face. Your mind conjured up the image of some petty criminal, one pushing illegal quirk enhancing drugs on the streets to other criminals that had been on the news as you readied for work. You sighed, still hoping to manage a relatively calm morning. It could still be savaged. This was nothing more than some hopeless person, strung out on whatever stimulants she peddled to other addicts. And you could fib to the gossips in your office, claiming the tardiness was an oversight and not at all connected to the childish display before you.

Maybe if you didn’t make eye contact and tried to blend in she wouldn’t even realize you were there. You took cautious steps back, slow enough to not alert whatever flight or fight instinct had this woman going off of the deep end on a Friday morning. In a coffee shop that has average coffee, doing well enough to sustain but never quite making a name in the bustling city. It had to be some cry for help. You dared to tuck yourself ever so slightly behind a man in a pretty charcoal grey suit. It looked to be pressed professionally.

“This fucking blow. Why don’t you get a grip, you stupid wanna be?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the brash voice from behind you. The tension that had been building steadily came to its peak as the woman wheeled in your direction. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to even register that you existed. Glassy eyes staring straight past you to whoever had decided to speak up. As if on strings, you felt yourself turning after letting curiosity get the best of you.

Pro hero Dynamite was standing with a little plastic to go cup in his hand, looking entirely unamused in running clothes. With distant horror, you wondered if the green sludge visible through the plastic was something even meant for human consumption. Would it be rude to ask him what his skin care routine is? There was a scar marring the skin of his face, and it made you almost feel sorry. Even so early he looked effortlessly handsome, if not even more intimidating in his shirt and shorts. Plain enough to not draw attention if you weren’t specifically looking at him.

“Wha-“ The woman looked just as surprised as anyone else in the increasingly claustrophobic space. You took another brave half step backwards, wanting to put distance between yourself and the commotion. With a roll of his eyes, Dynamite put his cup down on the counter and flexed his hands menacingly.

“I didn’t stutter you dumbass wanna be.” Those closest to the front entrance began to pour out of the door, having seen their chance at freedom. Others whipped out smart phones to record the spectacle as he advanced on her. You tried to take another half step, trying to get out of his direct path towards her, but you miscalculated the speed he could move the broad expanse of his body.

Bumping into him felt reminiscent of walking face first into a wall. Not the flimsy drywall disasters in a cheap apartment. But an honest to god wooden wall. Maybe brick. Was there going to be a bruise on your forehead later?

You felt your mind churning slowly, trying to process who it was you should be more afraid of at this point. The half deranged woman who was now gesturing with more fervor, voice reaching its fever pitch in her crazed ramblings. Or Dynamite, who was glowering at you as if you had taken his drink and upended it over his head. Here you were, an office worker, wondering if it were possible to shrink in on yourself, when you finally noticed that out of pure instinct you had grabbed his forearm. It wasn’t as if it were intentional but you had just gotten the slacks you had on, and even your blouse was one of the nicer ones. You didn’t want to end up on the ground.

You jerked your hand back and felt your face go pale. The skin where your fingers had dug in was noticeably different. Blooming splotches the color of red wine smudged across his skin, highlighting the light latticework of scars from previous villain fights. His jaw tensed, brows furrowing further as he dared a glance over your shoulder. Already, there were murmurings throughout the remnants of the crowd. Phones pointed in your direction, eyes as wide as your own blinking owlishly at you. Even the deranged woman had fallen silent for a moment, chewing the new information over slowly. Even Dynamite, who you knew was a bit of a PR nightmare, was silent. Still glaring at you, sparing the markings on his arms not so much as a glance.

You swallowed thickly, heart deciding to spasm in your chest and settle somewhere near your stomach with a frantic flutter. Like quirks, the soul mate phenomenon had appeared subtly at first. People inclined to find a suitable mate with a DNA sequence that would produce offspring with a better survival rate. As generations passed, and people were finding it harder to find their complimentary part, so did this phenomena gain strength. Now, the touch of your soul mate produced a physical response. Capillaries dilating and reacting to the genetically perfect match to your own cells. There was a frantic way your brain sorted through the onslaught of logical information, while there was still a part of you that sighed contentedly.

I’ve finally found you, it sighed dreamily as you peered up at him through your lashes.

Unfortunately for you, the woman decided her best course of action was going to be to take a hostage. And what better hostage than the loud mouth pro hero Dynamite’s soul mate? So the momentary lapse in judgment on everyone’s part lead to what was the final nail in your coffin. Not that finding your soulmate would allow your day to be normal, anyways. But the frigid hands that yanked you back against what felt like a frail body certainly helped cement the idea in your head.

“I’ll cut her up, I swear I will! You’re gonna let me get away!” There was a tremble in not only her hands, but her voice as well. You sighed for what felt like the millionth time that morning, and tried to ignore the glint of steel from your peripheral.

“Why the fuck should I care if you cut her up? It’s not like I know who this extra is anyways.” You tried not to flinch, tried not to take it personally. There were plenty of cases where soulmates never amounted to anything at all. Some people resented having their fate mapped out for them, and maybe Dynamite was one of those people. You had never really pondered the idea you could ever meet yours. There were so many case studies done, people who went their entire life without knowing their soulmate.

It still stung to hear his complete disregard for your well being.

You didn’t want to look at his stupid, handsome face anymore, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to get away and then pretend that none of this ever happened. You couldn’t really envision anything with the serrated edge of the knife dangling near your jugular. Dynamite was smiling. Smiling! His grin was all teeth and a wild fire burning in the depths of his eyes as he took a step forward. The woman, clammy you decided because of her hands on your neck, shuffled backwards pulling you with her. She smelled like unwashed bodies.

Dynamite finally heaved an exasperated sigh, daring a look at the shocked faces. When he fixed you with a look that could wither plants, you decided to formulate a plan. You didn’t know if he was serious about you getting cut up or not, but you weren’t willing to wait around. There were two outcomes here. One and you would be cut with what was probably a dirty knife. Two, you ended up being blasted away with this woman clinging to your back. With your heart still Jackhammering it’s way around your intestines, you took a resolving breath.

Then you threw the entirety of your weight into the elbow you jammed into her stomach. You didn’t let up, you knew you couldn’t give her time to recover if you wanted to get away. But you weren’t trained, you didn’t know what to do. And she managed to grab a fist full of your hair, which really pissed you off. Twisting painfully you brought the heel of your shoe down on her toes, using your hands to try and free your hair. Everything else felt muffled as you grappled with her. Even her movements seemed to slow, your brain trying to keep track of the knife she had somehow kept her grip on.

There it was, you thought belatedly as it traced a line of searing pain across your forearm.

You tried to reel back, hissing in pain as you tried to catch up with what was happening. Clammy, having seen her shot at victory let you go without a care in the world. She scampered away as you stumbled back, tears pricking your eyes as time caught up with you. Blood welled along the laceration on your arm, and it stung as you tried to clamp a hand down over it. Distantly, sirens could be heard and you knew that a paramedic would help.

“Let me see it.” Dynamite, entirely unphased by the now writhing crowd, had grabbed a towel off of the counter next to his drink. His eyes darted up to your face as you let out a pained sound, his rough hands leaving smudges of color where he touched.

“Kacchan, why did I get the feeling that you were somehow involved?” You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the blood slipping down your arm, or the way the wine colored marks began to fade around the edges as time passed. It wasn’t like you didn’t know who Deku was, enough interviews played in the background of your office setting that you could recognize his voice even if he had had a cold. He must’ve been back for a visit from the states.

“S’not my fault that people are fucking stupid this early in the morning. I just came here for a drink. I didn’t ask to be assaulted,” he scoffed. Deku chuckled, a surprisingly boyish sound.

“Are you okay?” A hand came to rest on your shoulder before Deku gasped, having seen your arm. Though, with his track record, you had doubt that he was so shocked at the sight of blood. No, his impossibly green eyes were trained just a little further up than the cut you would probably need to get stitches for, where Dynamite’s fingers were dug into the delicate skin. Where the evidence you had been hoping to have hallucinated cemented the fact you knew.

Pro hero Dynamite was your soul mate and if the murderous look he was giving Deku was any indicator, he was not the least bit pleased about it.

And what that meant for you, exactly, you couldn't be sure.

#boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bakugou x reader

112 notes · View notes

jesytr · 4 months

Text

it was previously the moment of getting hired into Arkham Asylum when Harleen believed maybe she didn't want to be a part of the team. they gave her clients as a psychiatrist, and she ran with each of them. carefully pulling back the layers of childhood trauma, and the corporate justice system that seemed to make more, and more money for the state petitionary.

each inmate ranged from criminally insane to a more stable, and manageable clientele. though each seemed to almost lack in what she was looking for. what she wanted to find in someone. it wasn't easy to express her boredom for it all. going through the motions felt like a daily chore. she remembered when she had been told that she should've worked at a different hospital, and it was starting to feel like she should... then she found @jokethur was put into the system. and her curiosity led her straight to her boss. in which she asked to be assigned his case.

it wasn't so cut and dry, but she did manage to get on his team. which seemed extensive enough for her to be accepted as his main therapist. treatment beginning every Monday, and Fridays. enough to keep her guessing. ' how did a guy like that end up in here ? '

" well , " her freshly dyed blonde hair sat up in a ponytail and on her nose was her typical set of glasses. she had trained herself in the mirror that morning down to the last detail of how she was going to reintroduce herself to arthur. she would extend out her hand, and say, ' nice ta' meet cha' again, ol' pal - how'd ya' end up in the slammer ? ' but no. not like that. instead maybe she'd try, ' looks like we're both in here now! therapy buddies ?? ' instead she ended up clearing her throat when she was finally in the same room as him. standing in front of Arthur from her desk. after they brought him to her office. she dismissed the guards , and smiled, " ya' can sit there. " swooping her arms out to the couch in the room.

she picked up a clipboard and sat back down without waiting for him to do so himself. glancing through the papers that had personal information on him, " I uhh --- wasn't expecting ta' see ya'. " not like this anyways, " come ta' my surprise ta' find ya' here. " she cleared her throat again. eyeing the clock behind him set in her office just near the door, " first session - ya' got an hour. " she knew she had to be professional. especially since all sessions would be recorded for the board of directors to look over.

her office wasn't especially fancy or anything for the most part it had a teal wallpaper to it and some feel good uplifting posters such as a cat hanging on a branch saying ' hang in there! ' and a little kid holding a red balloon, along with a ' live. laugh. love ' that she personally picked out. she had a small desktop with a mug with a clown on it with a droopy frown, but bright red hair. she also had a laptop to keep notes on throughout the session. she picked up her pink pen, and began to write down the time , the date, as well as any noticing quirks she could pick up on right away about him.

#( jokethur )#♦️// ooc.#theres nothing very inpressive about her office since standard arkham policies dont have much room for decorating. but she tried with #little things

6 notes · View notes

nightmaretist · 8 months

Text

TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Owen @apaininyourneck & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: The Wor Hole SUMMARY: Owen and Inge meet officially, in real life, and chat as the hunter serves the mare drinks. Things get ... heated. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (suggestive)

Her return to the Wormhole (the Wor hole tonight) was a matter of principle. It wasn’t even a nice bar, hardly a place that she couldn’t live without — but she would not let some Cortez hunter keep her from a place she wanted to go to. This, however, didn’t mean that Ingeborg hadn’t used the astral to her advantage to have a peek into the bar after sundown, to try and see whether Emilio Cortez was drinking his stupid sadness away.

Coast clear. So she entered, taking off the hat that kept her eyes shielded in the darkness of the street. There might be a glint of red in her eyes in the wrong light, but generally a bar like this offered just enough light for her not to worry about such a thing. And even so, what did it matter? Life was boring without a little thrill.

Settling at the bar, Inge let her eyes pass through the crowd. Perhaps she’d go home with one of the patrons, have a glorious night in their bed only to feast on their sleeping mind once they’d succumbed to their sleepiness. Maybe she’d just drink and indulge in fanciful conversation. Lips spread at the sight of the barkeep, and once she’d caught his attention she leaned forward ever so slightly, “Hiya! What draft beers do you have? Any seasonal ones worth my time?”

—

It was a night of phone scrolling, mind numbing enough that not even the thought of ‘at least I’m getting paid for this’ was doing its job of clutching onto his last thread of sanity. Owen barely even glanced up when the door swung open, finishing off a text before finally raising his head. It hadn’t registered at first, overpowered by the sheer amount of annoyance currently filling his brain but sure enough, there it was. Faint, much too faint for a vampire, but the hairs on the back of his neck were definitely raised. What kind are you, then…

Sidling closer to the new customer, letting his eyes roam for a beat despite the crawling sensation across his skin - he was a slayer but he wasn’t blind - Owen mirrored her smile. “Ah, woman of taste. Can’t say we have the best selection but…” In a rare display of decent customer service, Owen grabbed a small cup and filled it with a taste of one of the draft beers. “Red ale. Not Scandinavian but decent enough.” Passing the cup over, he braced his hands against the bar, watching her curiously.

—

At his comment all she could do was smile and lift her shoulder, as if being a woman of taste was something that had just happened to her — rather than it being completely in her control. “Well no, you’re certainly not the Short & Stout, but they lack your …” Inge’s eyes moved around the somewhat-empty dive bar. “... ambiance.” There was something to be said about dingy bars, of course, and she could say it all if she wished to. It seemed a bit much to get into it all before she even had her drink, though.

Inge hummed in appreciation as the other poured her a sample and she downed the sip, nodding in approval. “Good. Very much. Not Scandinavian though, you’re right. Let me guess … Irish?” She pushed the cup towards him, wondering how many samples he’d let her try. “Do you have anything more summer-y, though? It’s nice, but a bit dark for the season if you ask me.” This was the time for blondes and weizens, after all. Even if the red ale had been nice.

—

Ambiance. Owen scoffed in amusement. That was one word for it. They got all sorts here but this woman should have looked out of place. He knew better, of course - the clientele was far from always being human and she was no exception. Looking for an easy victim, perhaps? Someone stumbling home drunk and alone, a common sight here. Not many people came here to drink with friends so vulnerability was definitely a pro for an undead looking for a meal. This train of thought was in no way visible on the slayer’s face, which still carried a faint smile and unreadable gleam in his eyes.

“German,” he corrected, pushing the glass to the side and cocking his head at her statement. “Not sure that any beer is going to make you feel light and summer-y in this town.” Still, Owen moved back for the taps, allowing for one more glass of tasting which was all his patience would afford. A wheat beer, not seasonal and nothing special, really, but the best she would get with a wish as vague as ‘summery’. “It’s this or white wine, darling.”

—

“Hm. You should get a good Weizen, if you’re gonna do German in summer,” she said, perhaps having too high expectations for a place like this. Still, he had offered a red ale, which insinuated they were capable of making somewhat solid choices when it came to beer. “And come, that undermines the power a good beer can have at the right time. Though maybe I should be sitting somewhere outside, in the sun, to feel exactly that.” In here it was dark and musty, but Inge didn’t quite mind.

She took the glass and a sip, nodding appreciatively this time. “Yeah, give me a full glass of that. You can keep your white wine, darling.” Her tone was saccharine, yet annoyed. It was an annoying notion, after all — how archaic, to equate her with wine, rather than beer. Hendrik had hated it when she’d drank beer, considered it his much like he did with anything. She pushed the small glass towards the barkeep, “Quiet night, then?”

—-

At her casual suggestion, Owen pursed his lips and nodded, the gesture somehow laced with sarcasm. “Yeah, let me pass that on to my boss so he can tell me to shove the suggestion up my ass.” The words were delivered dryly, the faintest hint of a grin visible through the facade.

Putting away the small cup, he poured her a glass, giving a small shrug. Her annoyance was obvious but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Especially since he’d suggested the wine because of her vague request and not just because she wore a dress. But Owen could push that button if it really bothered her. “Not my fault that you look like a white wine drinker. Glad you’re not, though. They always have the most obnoxious laughs.” Passing her the beer, Owen went on to fill up a smaller glass for himself, letting out a pleased sigh once he’d taken the first sip.

“Not so much quiet as dead.” Amused at his own choice of words, skin still prickling with discomfort at the woman’s presence, Owen offered her a hand. “Which is why I’m happy for some half-decent company. Owen.”

—

She let out a sound of amusement at his sarcasm, his delivery quite sharp and on-point. “That’s the key to a good workplace relationship. Regularly shoving things up the arse of your coworkers.” She said it with a light air, as if this was a completely true statement. Inge didn’t interact much with her own superiors at work.

Inge didn’t think she was someone who looked like she just drank white wine. She drank any kind of alcohol (barring anything anise-flavored, thank you very much), after all. “Everyone can look like a white-wine drinker in the right light. It’s good with fish.” She paused. “Which I don’t eat, so. Beer it is.” Besides, this hardly wasn’t the place to entertain herself with a glass of wine. She had some standards, and this place wasn’t going to meet them wine-wise.

She took the beer as well as a hefty sip, then extended her hand. “I don’t know much about dead, though I wouldn’t say it’s quiet,” she said, shaking his hand. “Ah, I believe we've spoken online. Owen, the lazy bully.” Lips spread into a smirk. “Ingeborg.”

—

“Yes, I truly have found that to be the case,” he said, matching her casual tone but unable to keep the mischievous glint from his eyes. “Thank god there’s no HR at this place, huh?”

She had jokes too, amused by the comment on death, not knowing that the entendre was indeed not lost on Owen. God, it felt good to have the upper hand, to hold information unbeknownst to the other. Would he tell her at some point? Force a confession from her like he’d done with the ranch-Zombie? Maybe she’d admit it willingly with some gentle encouragement and no need for Owen to reveal his cards in return.

Distracted for a moment by her next words, Owen’s grin matched the quirk of her lips. “The crazy jewelry lady,” he replied in greeting, hand lingering in her cold one for a moment longer before he pulled it back. “Lucky me that I get to judge first hand whether you really are interesting.” Inge was definitely interesting, but probably not in the way she wanted to be right at this very moment.

—

There certainly was HR at the university, but Inge knew better than to let them in on the fact that she’d gotten close to a few colleagues. “What, no HR at the Wor hole? I’m shocked. This place screams bureaucracy.”

He had been funny online, and he was funny now. She liked people who offered something of a verbal (or written, in the case of online) challenge, who weren’t afraid to push buttons and let their own be pressed in return. A back-and-forth, a cheeky grin and a jest to try and get under the other’s skin while secretly hoping the other would get under yours in return. Inge turned her head, as if offended.

“Crazy is such an outdated term, Owen, you really ought to know better than to call an expressive woman such a thing.” The word could sting, though it hardly did in this case. Inge took a long sip from her glass, turning slightly in her seat to lean against the bar with her side. “And, what is the verdict thus far? I’m still trying to figure you out.” As far as bartenders went, he was quite interesting — but surely his snipes and knowledge of beer wasn’t all there was to him.

—

“We’d all be fired if anyone cared about the bartenders’ attitudes. Especially towards each other. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s a lot of assholes that work here.” Taking another sip from his drink, realizing that it was definitely another thing that would have been banned if this workplace had any sort of standard. Not that Owen would have stuck around if it did. The second they’d bring in a blender for daiquiris, he’d be out of here.

Scoffing at her fake offense, Owen simply leaned in closer, still taller than Inge despite her being seated on the high bar stool. “I rarely know better,” he replied simply, using the lack of eye contact to try and catch a glimpse of anything unusual in her eyes. He thought back to the undead woman from back in the caves and her red eyes, similar to vampires yet different. Whether it was involuntary or not, he couldn’t remember. It would be an interesting experiment to check on the lack of sensation but stabbing her hand now was bound to draw attention.

“Jury’s still out,” he admitted honestly. “Kinda stuck between two or… hmm, three options for verdicts.” Pushing himself away from the bar, Owen spread his arms, smiling. “I’m an open book.”

—

She pulled down the corners of her lips, shook her head, “Nah, hadn’t noticed. You’re actually the first asshole-bartender I’ve come across here,” she quipped, and though it was a lie it was spoken with such ease that it might as well have been true. Inge didn’t mind asshole bartenders, most days, especially not in dive bars. You got what you came for, right?

He was tall, which was a point in his favor, and she decided not to mind that he loomed over her. Inge looked at him, taking in those expressive eyes and the swoop of his hair, and she decided she was glad to have ventured into the bar once more. It was proving to be an interesting corner of town, after all, even if a Cortez sometimes showed his face. “It seems that way.”

Taking a sip from her drink, she chuckled at his dramatics, “Sure you are.” No one was an open book, that much she believed. Inge cocked her head to the side tutting her lips in thought. “I would hope there’s more to you than meets the eye. Which isn’t to say it isn’t interesting but …” She shrugged. “Come, there must be more to you than being a tall, bartending Scandinavian. Ask me a question and I’ll answer honestly, but I’ll ask you one in return.”

—

Owen couldn’t have asked for a better distraction this evening. He would have settled for interesting, snarky and pretty but undead was like the cherry on top. His focus was still very much on the vampire scum of this town but it was clearly time to learn more, not just when it came to other undead. It was a decent enough place to start, though.

Inge’s sarcasm wasn’t veiled in the slightest and yes, Owen was obviously the farthest thing from an open book - he lived his life loudly and unapologetically but it was still all superficial. There was no need to hide anything in particular when everything that mattered was too deep for even him to reach. A good thing, since his attitude almost always invited curiosity. Case and point, Inge had started her process of digging. Good, a perfect opportunity for him to do some digging as well.

“You forgot devilishly handsome but… deal.” Arms crossing, Owen leaned fully back, finally leaving the woman’s personal space; for now. “Don’t think I’ve ever played truth or dare without the dare part,” he mused as cogs turned, trying to find a question that balanced the line of pushy without giving away his real agenda. “Worst nightmare you’ve ever had?” he finally asked, green eyes glinting slightly.

—

Whether his confidence was performance or true, Inge didn’t know. She found she didn’t care much: it was entertaining to speak with someone so self-assured, so seemingly convinced of his own handsomeness. In all fairness, he was handsome, and not just because of his height. She wouldn’t so readily reveal her hand and attraction to that bone structure, though.

“Did I?” She feigned confusion, naivete, and then she chuckled. “We could introduce dares if you’d want, at some point.” There was a small beat as he posed the question, a small flicker of something washing over her face. Inge wasn’t sure whether this was strange coincidence or something more malicious, something more potentially dangerous. Knowing this town, she was considering it was the latter.

She considered the other, thought about the Cortez she’d seen in this very bar. Thought about Rhett. Inge needed to get out of here. Even if this was nothing, the feeling of unease was unwelcome. “I don’t really dream,” she answered truthfully, “But the worst I ever dreamed must have been a flock of birds eating me alive.” That was a lie. But it was the best meal she’d recently had. “My turn.” She threw caution into the wind. “Have you ever killed someone?”

—

Inge was disarmingly charming for an undead creature and Owen was at least grateful that she wasn’t a bloodsucker. That would have been a really cruel twist of fate. At least this way he could allow himself to have a little fun. Like, for example, getting to enjoy the way her face dropped ever so slightly - easily overlooked, if he hadn’t been looking for exactly that. His own expression barely changed, maybe growing a little bit more amused if anything.

Kudos to Inge, she didn’t make an instant run for it. Her playfulness was dampened, though, which was a shame. Only in spirit though, it seemed, as she shot back a question of her own. Playful was perhaps the wrong word for it, confrontational was better - either was fine, Owen was game. “Scary,” he mused sarcastically, dragging out the silence before finally answering her questions, eyes intently locked on her. “I’ve been known to be a little aggressive, sure.” A vague answer at best but the point would definitely come across.

Before his new distraction for the night would take this new information as a sign to leave, Owen continued. “Not feeling aggressive at the moment though, no worries. You’re not my preferred type for that.” Gently pushing her glass across the bar to encourage the now-confirmed mare, he smiled. “My turn again, I guess. How long have you been on your current diet?”

—

His sarcasm was possibly even less tolerable than her suspicions about his hunter nature and Inge made something of a face at the response. She’d like to see how he’d respond having his flesh ripped from his body by bird beaks, eyes pecked out so he no longer had his sight to tell him what was happening — just his sense of touch and sound. But she wasn’t going to argue him on it, as that would hurt her pride a little too much.

Besides, what he said next was much more interesting. So here they were, both confirming what they were without really, explicitly saying it — he had to be some kind of slayer, but at least not the kind that specialized in mares. Hardly a comfort. The Cortezes were vampire-focused, and yet she bore a scar that Elena Cortez had put there. Rhett hadn’t even seemed like a slayer, and yet.

“I don’t mind a little aggression from time to time,” she said, though it was more innuendo than threat. Inge finished her glass, pushed it back towards him and tapped on the rim to wordlessly ask for a refill. “Close to half a century now.” It was honest and true. She could have lied, told him she was older than she was like she had with Parker. “What is your preferred type?”

—

The downside of being able to sense who belonged to the group of things deserving only of pain and death, was the odds of missing out on conversations like this. Should have been a good thing, really, since the last time Owen had indulged in a suggestive conversation with something pulseless, it had done a decent attempt at ruining his whole life. Something he should have learned from, should be pushing him to dig information from this mare to track her down later but…

“A woman of taste, then.” He smirked, refilling her glass but gaze never straying from her. His skin, previously rippling with that faint discomfort, was starting to get nicely muted in lieu of curiosity and definitely a bit of recklessness. She wasn’t past the line of a century, which probably explained why Inge wasn’t completely insufferable - the older fuckers always had this air of grandiose around them, which made them so much more fun to take out. “Sad to say we don’t have a discount for the elderly,” he sighed, bringing back a full glass for her before polishing off his own.

“I’m usually not too picky but it depends on the mood. Some nights I like them a bit rough but it’s always a nice change of pace to bring back a more innocent one who’ll let you lead- Oh, you meant that sort of type,” Owen cut himself off, the mock innocence audible as he corrected himself, eyes glinting. “Let’s just say I’m not a Twilight fan. Been known to disapprove of the others, if they give me reason to.”

—

This was uncharted territory. Inge didn’t often engage in conversation with hunters, after all, especially not slayers. When she did, it was usually about the way they were going to kill her or how she deserved to permanently die or how poor innocent people didn’t deserve nightmares — boring, really, if it wasn’t for the weapons they usually wielded. This was hardly like that: this was comparable to many of the conversations she had in bars with others. Suggestive, a little bit exciting.

She hummed appreciatively as he did his job and filled her glass, muttering a soft, “Good boy,” with an impish look on her face. Whether she was joking or not, she left up to interpretation. She chuckled. “Oh, I don’t want one. I like to think I don’t quite look my age.” How dreadful it would be, if she did actually look like she was nearing 80. No thank you.

Inge rested her head on one of her hands as the other spoke, lips curled up in a smirk. “Ah, so you usually prefer being led, I see.” That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? To hold dominance over a hunter, even in a different context. She chuckled, waving her free hand. “Don’t worry, I’m interested in both. And then I’ll just hope I’m not going to give you reason to. I’m not in the mood for that kind of fight.”

—

After an evening threatening death by boredom and honestly, the last few nights not being much better, Owen was so easily tantalized by this particular kind of excitement. The forbidden one, where whatever part of his brain that could be donned ‘reason’ was begging him to listen. He rarely did - ignoring it was the fun part. “It’s a nice change of pace seeing as I usually dominate every situation I’m in but… takes a special kind of person for the job.” Inge definitely seemed interested and not in a way that implied she was just excited for a chance to stab him afterwards.

He was leaning on the bar again, bringing his face closer to hers than he had all evening, eyes shining with mischief and bad decisions. “What are you in the mood-” Off to the side, someone obnoxiously cleared their throat and Owen had half a mind to throw a glass at their face, knowing it would shatter on impact and cause permanent damage. Instead, his annoyed gaze turned to the impatient customer, a middle aged man who was frowning deeply.

Pushing himself to stand, Owen’s hands moved to rest on his hips, staring down the customer until his eyes averted. Yeah, that’s what he thought. “I’m off in half an hour or so,” he told Inge, turning his attention back to the mare with a shiver of excitement. “Stick around?” Without waiting for an answer, Owen moved to serve the impatient drunkard, skin now tingling with the presence of an undead and the promise of something bad.

—

She should check herself, now. Glance at herself in the rusting mirror behind the bar and tell herself that she was wiser than this, more experienced than this — better than falling for the exciting prospect of continuing this dance with a hunter. Not just a hunter, but a slayer. But there was a thrill running through her too at the prospect of having the upper hand over the other, of making this dynamic not just one that could lead into violence but into something else.

“I could –” Her finish remained unfinished by the intrusive customer, making it obvious that if they wanted to go further with this, they’d need to find a more private place. It seemed Owen thought the same. Inge contemplated this for a moment as he turned to his rude customer, eyes trailing over the curve of his shoulder as he served him. She was, at times, a simple woman. Human in the way she listened to the song of desire.

Life on the earthly plane could prove boring and depressing, and thus risk had to be found, things to thrill her. There wasn’t much she hadn’t done yet, but entangle herself with a hunter? That would be a first. And so she waited for Owen to be done with his shift, and walked into the night with him.

#owen.#threads.#the promise of something bad.

5 notes · View notes

downrightembarassing · 2 years

Text

A Warm Meal

Cad Bane stops by for a hookup, you both get a lot more than you bargained for.

THIS INVOLVES PERIODS AND PERIOD BLOOD. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out the premise of this story.

If you’re not into that then steer clear.

Hell I’m not into that, but this idea has been in my head and I couldn’t not write it out. So many fics portray Cad as a cold blooded predator and I just kinda…ran with it.

…I’m so sorry.

F/M, reader insert, swearing, downright toxic relationship, not healthy, Cad’s an ass and I’ll stand by that, not safe for damn anything/anywhere, 18+++, absolute self-indulgent trash. So basically my usual.

———————————————————————

Cad Bane rested a booted foot on the dash of his ship, idly rolling a toothpick between his thin lips. The last bounty had been a wicked bitch to bring in, but the credits he had earned almost made up for the hassle. No new target had presented itself to him yet and he mused on how to fill the next few days. He supposed he could be proactive, track down a couple new leads, wring some information out of a couple contacts, or…..

He could get laid.

The lanky blue Duros growled under his breath and adjusted himself in the Justifier’s pilot seat. It had been a while, a couple jobs ago at least, since he’s gotten any. The thought of spending a night with someone warm and soft instead of that infernal droid…well he’s halfway hard just thinking about it.

While his ship drifts through space Bane flips through his mental little black book. Plenty of brothels in this part of the outer rim, but he was in the mood for something a bit more sporty. He continued his musing. There’s that one on…oh wait they’re dead. How about the other one…but the last round had been so boring it wasn’t worth the fuel burned getting there.

Well there’s that little minx on Tatooine? Bane groaned, remembering his last romp with her. Warm, sweet, mammalian flesh, and a mouth so hot he’d swear it scorched his cock the first time. She’d most likely still be pissed as hell after his abrupt departure several cycles ago. He grinned, sharp canines flashing in the dim light of the cockpit. That temper of hers always added that extra…spice he was in the mood for.

He set a course for the desert rat hole.

The best thing for a cold blooded reptile is heat and a nice warm meal.

——-

The Carina was busy. It seems every lowlife on this side of the planet crept in to avoid the twin suns. You threaded your way through the crowd, delivering the drinks and avoiding the groping hands, claws, and tentacles. Working as a waitress wasn’t ideal, but the tips were good. Sooner rather than later you’d have enough saved up to get off this baked rock of a planet.

As you deftly avoid the various obstacles you let yourself dream a little. The Galaxy was huge, so many places to see, there was no way you’re spending your life serving swill and picking the pockets of drunk customers. A girl’s got to make a living somehow and the there’s no way the clientele here got the money legally you’d reasoned to yourself. You’d gotten good at it too, supplementing your savings and bringing you closer to a transport ticket.

Absentmindedly you continued to pour, thinking back on the various customers who thought they were getting laid, only to wake up a few hundred credits poorer. It was almost too easy.

Except that one time. Your mouth twists in a slight frown. The Duros had seemed tipsy enough, sitting alone under a ridiculous hat. He hadn’t been bad looking and responded with interest to your flirting. Somehow it all went wrong. Instead of ending up a few hundred credits richer you’d ended up under him in a dark alley, drowning in pleasure as he pounded into you. Then he left.

The next shift was absolute chaos because the whole town knew Cad Bane had been there. You’d actually dropped the platter of drinks when you made the connection. The blue Duros who’d fucked you senseless was also the most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy. You’d told yourself it was a one time thing, better to avoid attention.

He’d showed up again, and again, and again. Every time he showed up you’d tell yourself no, and every time you’d end up screaming his name. That blasted Duros had ruined you for any other partner, you’d taken a man home a couple months ago but had stopped him before your bra came off. It hadn’t been worth it.

Cad Bane had showed up the following night, in his usual fashion of breaking in and scaring the living hell out of you. Breaking his habit of getting immediately down to business this last time he stood in your doorway and stared.

“Ya had’a man in here.”

“What’s it to you?” You snapped back.

“I don’ like folks touchin’ whats MINE.” He growled, a warning rattle coming from his chest.

“I’m NOT…” you had shrieked back but he had grabbed you and bent your form over the sofa. With that dizzying speed of his your pants were on the floor and he was pushing one of those long fingers into you. He had taken you hard, chasing only his own release. You had been close, so damn close, when he pulled out and spent himself across your back.

He had leaned forward and rasped into your ear “only tha good girls get ta cum, bad lil’ sluts don’.”

You had turned around and attempted to slap him, but he caught your arm with ease.

“Behave betta’ next time lil’ lady.” Tipping his hat and walking out your door.

You’d done some reading on Duros after that experience. How had he even known you’d had a guest? A guest that nothing actually happened with. Reading through various articles gave you your answer. Duros evolved as apex predators, their senses light years better than a humans. The bounty hunter had smelled another person in your home.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts you focused on your job. The blue bastard hadn’t been back and you needed to focus on getting off this rock.

An hour later things had slowed down and you were exhausted. A dull cramp had grown in your abdomen; you realized your period had well and truly started. No surprise there, but it was a good enough excuse to leave the cantina a little early. You walked yourself home, humming a few snatches of songs and planning what book to catch up on.

——-

Bane let himself into your small apartment. It was cozy, just the right temperature to keep him warm during the cold desert nights, and in a quiet alley where everyone minded their own business. Not that he’d actually let someone see him, he thought with a smirk. Stepping inside he took a deep breath, allowing his olfactory receptors to take in the various scents. The Duros grinned. No one else had been in this home since he’d last dropped by.

There was a new scent in the room, muted, barely there, and fresh. He inhaled again. Some deeply buried instinct twinged. The reptile portion of his brain, evolved from when Duros were simply predators, reacted to it…yearned for it. He was hungry.

Interesting smells aside, he was excited for the night’s activities. Knowing you’d be spitting mad he smirked, feeling himself harden at the thought. Chewing on a fresh toothpick he wandered to the small kitchen, poured himself a glass of whatever good stuff you’d nicked from the cantina, and settled in to wait.

——-

Your door was unlocked.

That only meant two things. Either someone had broken in, it happened often, or…

Or that damn Duros was here.

Your temper flared and you didn’t fight it. The blue asshole had some nerve after his last little visit. Well he DEFINITELY wasn’t getting anything tonight. You’d give him a piece of your mind, kick his scrawny ass out, and curl up with a book and a heating pad.

——-

The door slammed open, Bane grinned. Oh yeah, she’s madder than hell. Knocking back the last of his drink he felt himself harden. This was going to be a good romp.

He watches you stalk into the room, a sneer twisting across that pretty little face of yours.

“You giant blue ASSHOLE! I swear to whatever gods are out there I’m going kick your scrawny worthless ass out of…is that my BEST BOTTLE…….you arrogant useless fucking………GET OUT!”

Yup, spitting mad. The Duros’ cock was pressing against his pants.

Bane stood up and sauntered up to the furious human. She might even try hitting him again, that would make things fun. A lazy, cocky smile creeped onto his face.

“Thought you’d behave betta’ this time lil lady, gonna have ta teach another lesson in manners.” He growled out, a warning rattling in his chest.

He inhaled, and froze.

That smell, delicious. Warm. Coppery. Blood. It awoke everything primal buried deep in his consciousness. He lunged.

——-

You watched the Duros inhale, cheeks moving in that odd way of his species. You watched him freeze, eyes going unfocused. You watched his lips pull back in a snarl, canines on full display. The toothpick fell from his mouth.

Maybe you shouldn’t have called him an asshole…

He lunged. You choked back a scream and scrambled backwards but he was too fast. In seconds he pushed you against a wall, one large blue hand on your chest pinning you and the other wrapped around your hip, holding you still.

“….Bane” you gasp out “what…”

He growled at you.

Slowly he kneeled down until his face was level with your sex. Pressing his face into you so hard his hat tipped back he closed his eyes and inhaled.

Looking down all you see is the Duros’ broad hat pressed against your stomach. This isn’t normal behavior for Cad Bane. He’s never shown any interest in going down on you, and to be honest you’re not sure how close you want his canines to your sex. Thoughts ricochet through your mind, trying to understand this odd turn of events. The only thing different was your period…shit. All that reading on alien biology flooded back into your mind. Duros are predators with an acute sense of smell.

You, a warm little mammal, had a cold reptilian predator pressed into your sex…and he smelled blood.

Bane stands. The look on his face is feral, no shred of anything civilized in his expression. A rattle comes from his chest.

“Sofa. Now.” He manages to hiss out.

“What….Bane this isn’t the time, I’m on my….”

“NOW” he snarls.

You’re trembling, but you meekly move to his desired location. You’ve always know the bounty hunter is dangerous, but you’ve never been actually scared of him. Now you’re terrified…and incredibly turned on. Well that’s a new kink, you think to yourself. Fear. You can feel a flood of warmth and wetness flows out of your core.

As soon as you’re seated Bane moves. His large hands shred your shorts, and he sinks between your thighs. You squeal when your clothing is destroyed but his violent actions send a bolt of desire through you.

With your lower half bare the Duros spreads your soft thighs. “Keep ‘dem like this…” he rasps, as he leans forward and takes another long inhale.

You’re shaking.

Completely exposed, aching for a touch, something, anything! Terrified of what this reptile will do to you, terrified of how much you want this, and the blue bastard is just smelling you!

“Fuck” you pant “dammit…Bane…..please.”

He doesn’t even look at you.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he presses one long finger into your dripping entrance. It reaches deep inside, deeper than any other species has been able to reach. Your back arches and you gasp. Fuck, this is why you can’t say no to this creature.

He begins to move. Pumping that one long finger into your slick heat. Whimpers escape you as you watch his single minded determination to reach as deep as he can. He adds a second finger, curling them slightly to hit that special spot. His strokes are slow, methodical, hitting just the right angle over and over again.

It doesn’t take long. Under the relentless assault your orgasm hits like a lightning strike. Pleasure burns through your core, setting every nerve ending alight as you writhe under Bane’s restraining hand. You gasp out his name as your thighs quiver.

Withdrawing his digits Bane stares at the fluids covering it. Blood mixed with your usual juices drips down into his palm. He spreads his fingers, watching the strings of your arousal spread between his fingers.

He licks it. His eyes close and he groans deeply. Eyes wide you watch as he cleans your arousal and blood off his fingers. This is fucked up, you think. Why the hell am I so turned on?

When his digits are clean he finally meets your gaze. His breath is rattling in his chest and he snarls.

“I want…more.”

——-

Cad Bane, dreaded bounty hunter, has his face buried between your thighs. And he is absolutely devouring you.

Why did you never let him go down on you, your orgasm-drunk mind is reeling. Why has this never happened before? It’s incredible.

His tongue dips inside you again, lapping up every trace of blood and juices. Deeper and deeper he probes, working his strangely cold tongue furiously as it fucks you. One large thumb presses on your clit, rubbing roughly.

Gasps, moans, are curses pour from your lips. Unconsciously your hips flex, pressing your sex closer to his face as you approach your climax. Sensing you’re close he raises his head. Fangs bared, he looks at you.

The lower half of his face is covered in your blood, framed between your thighs. It’s smeared from his nose plate to his chin, dripping into the fabric of his bodysuit. You can see more blood between his canines, in the corners of his mouth, EVERYWHERE in his mouth. His thumb is still running rapid circles across your clit.

It’s disgusting…filthy…the most depraved sight you’d ever seen, this creature feasting on your period blood. A deep rattle emits from his chest.

You cum with a scream, every muscle convulsing. Pleasure swaps your body, as your vision goes white. The Duros dips his head down, mouth open as he licks…drinks the fluids gushing from your core. His tongue is relentless, tasting every single drop as his canines graze your swollen flesh.

Cad fucking Bane actually moans.

Panting and twitching you lie there, eyes closed, as the aftershocks of your orgasm roll through your body. Dimly the sounds of clothing being removed reaches your ears.

What the actually fuck, you think to yourself. What is wrong with me, why the hell was that so damn hot.

Strong hands wrap themselves around your thighs, hoisting your torso up and causing you to snap your eyes open with a yelp. Bane aligns your hips with his, running his fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, and strokes himself with the slippery fluids.

Entranced you watch as red is smeared all over his thick cock, mixing with the deep blue coloring. He grips it in one hand and slides into your throbbing entrance, filling you up in one firm stroke. Your moan is low and guttural as you arch your back. This is so wrong but it feels SO damn good.

Bane places his huge hand on your abdomen, holding you still and smearing red, as he begins to thrust. He finally finds his voice.

“Fuck…yer so damn tight, so…warm.”

His pace increases, slamming his full length in and out of your heat. The sounds echoing around the room are downright obscene, wet smacks intermingled with your moans and the rasp of his breathing tubes.

“So…fuck…ah…so SLICK”

If this is wrong you never want to know right. Bane’s cock is stretching you in all the right places, hitting all the right angles. The added lubrication from your blood feels incredible. His filthy language sends your mind reeling, and all you can do is stutter out one word.

“h..Harder!”

Bane growls, a deep rumble low in his chest, and forces your legs towards your ears. His pace increases, pounding you in to the sofa. Sobbing and moaning you lose yourself in the sensations he’s pulling from your body. Leaning more of his weight into you, he rasps into your ear.

“Such a good li’l mammal, takin’ this Duros cock so well. Perfect. Perfect li’l meal.”

Canines graze your shoulder and then he bites down hard. You feel them break skin and his rough tongue lapping up the blood, soothing the bite.

“Fuck..ah….fuck…Ca….CAAAAAD”

Bane feels you come completely undone underneath him, your hoarse scream of his name the best sound he’s heard in years. Snapping his hips hard into yours, he feels your tight little cunt clamp down on his length, clenching and shuddering as your climax wracks your body. His cock makes the most beautifully lewd sound as he pulls himself out of your twitching flesh.

He drops one of your legs and wraps a fist around his blood drenched cock. Pumping furiously, his release overwhelming him as he cums in thick ropes across your stomach and breasts. Red tinges his vision as he watches it mix with the blood smeared across your body, dripping down from his teeth marks in your neck.

He looks at his hand. It’s covered in your juices, blood, and a bit of his cum. Inhaling deeply he can smell the warmth of your blood, the bitter tang of his release, and the sweet musk of you. He looks down at the mess he created on your skin and licks his hand clean.

“Now that’s ah damn fine look fer ya li’l lady.”

You’re completely boneless, just a puddle of a human collapsed on a couch. No thoughts, fucked completely senseless by the predator now cleaning your blood off his hand. Mind completely numb you watch him stumble off to your refresher.

——-

Ten minutes later he strides back in, already clothed and cleaned of any evidence. Your brain function has mostly returned and you stare at the state of your body.

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell you think. That was so disgusting, wrong, filthy, just…just gross. I want to do it again.

A warm wet towel lands across your abdomen, breaking your train of thought. Bane looms over you, reaches into a pocket on his long trench coat, and pulls out a handful of credits. He drops them on the sofa next to you.

“….whaaat” you slur out.

“Should cover ya shift tomorrow. I want ‘cha right here when I get back.”

He tips his hat and turns to leave.

“I’ll be here in time fer…..dinner li’l lady and I’m expectin’ a warm meal”

——-

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #writing

93 notes · View notes

silky-blorbo-brainrot · 2 years

Text

Pink Slips + Pencils Ch 1

Babette’s Girl by night, Teacher of wayward Undercity youth by day, you're just trying to survive one moment of your busy life at a time. Just when it seems you’ve reached stability, encounters with the Eye of Zaun at both your professions throw your world out of orbit.

Slow burn romance, Fast burn smut. 2nd person perspective. Trigger warnings for self-harm and SA, not trying to romanticize either I have personal experience with both so they tend to work their way into my characters. Aside from scars character description is minimal as I want you to be able to project yourself onto her. SFW Chapter Below.

The night of your Bidding all the other girls at Babette’s have advice for you, and it is often confusing and contradictory. Don’t spend too much time on the pole, mingle and draw them in with conversation.

Spend the majority of your time on the pole and lure them in with eye-contact -the more mysterious you are, the better. Pick a target and focus on him, showing him the most attention will be playing ‘hard-to get’ and the others will see it as a challenge.

Don’t pay particular attention to anyone, be aloof. Don’t even look at them, pretend you're the only person in the room as you perform.

All the “helpful” advice rattled around in your brain until your head felt ready to explode. You downed the shot Babette had brought you with a quiet “something to take the edge off” and touched up your lipstick for what was probably the 50th, but what you promised yourself was the final time. The advice hadn’t stopped at how to collect more and higher bidders, but also what to do with the winning client once the bets were counted and you were alone with him. But for your sanity you decided to push that particular set of advice from your mind. You decided to rely on the old tried and true principle that brought clientele to Biddings in the first place. They were paying for your inexperience. To be the first to have you before you were seasoned and broken in. So, despite having grown up around places like Babette’s your entire life, inexperienced is what you would be.

It’s not like you were deceiving anyone in the physical sense. Babette was probably one of the few Brothel owners in the Undercity who prided herself on actually determining her virgin’s authenticity. Her degree of expertise and experience in this field was what made you want to work for her, even though you could have gotten this money years earlier if you had not been so picky. In seedier establishment’s, anyone over the age of 18 could submit themselves to a Bidding. At Babette’s you had to be over 21. I know we are all fully grown long before that age in the Undercity, she had admitted to you during your interview over coffee, but I want my girls to be absolutely sure that this is what they want to do. I don’t kid myself that they have a lot of other options, but I want them to have a few years to consider if this is really a career they can stomach. Despite its commonality, it is not easy.

You respected Babette. And despite the anxiety twisting deep in your gut, you knew no physical harm would come to you under her roof. Discomfort and displeasure, sure, definitely, but security was good and each bedroom had a secure panic button if a client tried something not agreed upon or paid for. You had wanted to work here since the age of 16, that was when you made the choice to save yourself for a bidding. It was around that age that you started to give up on other dreams, shortly after your parents had died. Around the time you had stopped kidding yourself that you could do anything you could set your mind to and hard work would get you through. There is no money in hard, honest work. But in bodies and in blood, there is always someone willing to pay. And you had a body that was decent enough to be put to use. The other girls had lended you their best clothes, if they could be called such. This was tradition until you were able to buy your own with your Bidding money. The six-inch baby pink clear-bottom shoes took some training but you trusted yourself now not to fall flat on your face. The pink slip left something to be desired, you would have liked something a bit more mature and refined, but then again, that was the last thing the clientele would be looking for from you. You dressed it up with some borrowed pearls at your ears and around your neck. And at least it covered the top of your thighs and the extensive scars that lined them, the reason why your Bidding was capped. Any noticeable deformity led to capped Bidding so the client’s would not complain about price gouging or argue to lower the rate. I don’t understand it since what they see is usually very much what they get, but nevertheless it keeps them happy, Babette had told you. Don’t let it discourage you, I know Ladies of the Night who have far worse and still lead successful careers. Missing limbs, facial scars, it’s all very normal here of course. Some clients even have a fetish for such so-called “disfigurements”.As much as you knew this was true, it didn’t ease your nerves about eyes roaming those scars once that slip was lifted, but you couldn’t dwell on it now. You needed to focus. You took a deep breath as your fingers brushed the velvety scarlet curtains through which you would make your entrance. You can do this, you promised yourself. They are hungry for something new and untouched. They already want you. Just sell it, grin and bear it, and you’ll have what you need soon.With that, you wasted no more time before pushing through to the other side. The lights of the stage were bright and you were thankful that it meant you didn’t have to immediately make eye contact with any of the eyes you could physically feel on you. You focused on dragging the tips of your toes gracefully on the stage and draping yourself over the pole before spinning your weight around it. You were also grateful that Babette’s didn’t employ any cheesy announcements of who was on the Bidding block. Your “name” was on the marquee outside and that was all they needed to know about you. Dancing was the easy part. You liked to dance but you also knew probably the key to making the most money was to take a bit of everyone’s advice. Men (and the few women there) would likely prefer variety, so you didn’t want to linger anywhere too long.

So after 2 sultry songs, you departed the stage despite wanting to run back through the curtains as fast as your legs could carry you. You could see people’s eyes now and the way they studied you, picked you apart, roved over the hem of your slip, your cleavage, your toes.

Someone grabbed hold of your wrist as you weaved your way between the patrons. You locked eyes with a hungry cat-like gaze over a distinctly strong nose and familiar golden metal jaw.

Ohhhh nooo, you mentally groaned, trying your hardest to keep the grimace off your face as he dragged you in close by your waist. Finn was a well-known frequent patron of Babette’s, especially at biddings and was known for being very rough and a cherry-hound. A bit of a sadist, girls were known to need to rest in their rooms a day after his patronage. You could think of nothing you wanted less for your first time. “You look like a cupcake,” he drawled in your ear. “And I can’t wait to eat you. I’m winning that bidding sweetheart, that’s a promise.” Your cheeks flush and you can feel your eyes widen a little with horror before you can conceal it. Even worse, those panicked eyes lock with someone you may be even more terrified to make eye-contact with, despite knowing there is no risk of him bidding on you. Still, you feel like the orange flames of his right iris might burn a hole through you. His lips thin like he might be displeased with something, and the effect of that with his glare has you quickly darting your eyes away. You have no idea what the Eye of Zaun is doing here, leaning against the wall in a private booth so casually with his silver-armed right-hand Sevika next to him, across from some equally shady characters. The Eye of Zaun does not bid. Babette would never reveal who her private clients are, but you’d heard whispers from the other girls that he had never been a public patron. If he sent for you, Babette would make sure you would never talk about it, lest you be fired. You supposed there were very good reasons for him to keep that side of his life private, if he was even the type of man to indulge in those sorts of pleasures at all. You had seen him at The Last Drop. Although you didn’t make it a habit, had never touched a hint of Shimmer in your life, you had wanted to fit in with the other girls during your training and so had accompanied them on their nights out there. You had never made eye-contact with him then, only caught glimpses of him. The crowd parted immediately for him whenever he made his way upstairs, and the sight of his broad shoulders and coattails always made your stomach drop. You shook your head to ground yourself back into the moment and pulled your body away from Finn as politely as you could. It wasn’t like he could make a show of force on you here in this room full of people. “We’ll see Finn.” You said with what you hoped was a semi-convincing teasing smile. “For now, I’m going to get myself another drink.” “Allow me to buy it for you.” He said, his hand raising to brush the side of your cheek with his black leather glove. It was sticky with what was probably Shimmer residue. You tried not to cringe away. “No need, thank you. With the money I’m bringing in tonight, I drink for free.” You murmured with a hint of ruefulness. You didn’t allow him to get a word in to insist, and quickly turned away, making your way to the bar as fast as you could in your heels. The next couple hours till the bidding closes pass by quicker than you thought they would. You relax more after having a couple drinks in you, avoiding getting too drunk but allowing it to be your social lubricant as you have boring conversations with boring men. The only thing that keeps tripping you up is feeling that distinct searing gaze on you as you continue to flit around the room to avoid Finn at all costs. You avoid looking towards Silco too, only sparing him a glance once to confirm his eyes are indeed still on you and it’s not your imagination. What the hell does he want, you think with mild annoyance. As if this night wasn’t already stressful enough. You are almost relieved when the clock strikes midnight and the bidding closes. Your fucked up Cinderella moment, Babette should announce who the winner is soon and have them escort their prize upstairs. It was the one hokey tradition she upheld here that you would be subjected to. You wait for her to walk to the pulpit, but it doesn’t happen…

You try to catch Babette’s eye, and then after waiting her arm to see what the hold up is. But strangely, she seems to be avoiding you, she’s always busy with someone and just out of your reach. Things get even stranger when the bouncer Onyx with his familiar lip piercing works his way through the crowd and begins to whisk you away. “I’m to escort you upstairs.” He told you in his comforting smokers rasp. You’d always liked his presence since you started and trusted him with your life, he was a towering man but was truly a gentle giant, treating all the girls kindly. However in this situation, it was off putting to have him suddenly coming to your rescue from the crowd. “Is something wrong? What’s going on? Did nobody… did nobody bid?” You asked with dawning horror. You would never live it down if that was the case. You felt like throwing up even more than you did before. “No, you silly girl.” He scoffed as he helped you ascend the stairs to your private room in your heals, guiding you slowly. “You got one of the highest bids we’ve seen even with the cap. But they insisted on remaining private. They’ll meet you in your room once the crowd departs.” “What?” You gaped, grasping the banister more firmly lest you trip. Your head was spinning. “Babette allowed that? Onyx, this is highly…unusual.” “Yeah, no kidding.” He laughed. “Onyx, do you know who it is? You’ve gotta tell me! Babette was avoiding me and everything feels weird.”

Onyx shook his head and shot you an apologetic glance as he deposited you outside your room, opening the door for you. Ever the gentleman, but the chivalry was pissing you off in this moment. “Honey, I genuinely don’t know who it is. She didn’t even say he or she or they, whatever. She seemed in shock herself, she was very firm that I get you upstairs right of way after she called me over.” “So I’m just supposed to go in there blind?! This isn’t fair!” Your stomach was bubbling with anger and your throat burned. You couldn’t believe Babette would put you in this situation. It wasn’t like her at all to put you in an uncomfortable position and you trusted her. What would make her act this way? “Honey, with all due respect, this job isn’t always fair, even here. I think you just gotta roll with it. Rest easy, you made mad money tonight. You are set!” And with that he left you alone, seeming to not be able to get away from you and your distraught face fast enough. You didn’t feel all set despite the promise of the money you had so badly wanted. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under you. Out of all the ways you thought this would go, all your previous anxieties and worries seemed silly now. This nail-biting uncertainty felt worse than any other moment of discomfort you had this evening. You collapsed into the chair in front of your vanity and started to take off your heels, but then thought the better of it. You supposed you should still look all dolled up and put together when your mystery patron arrived. So you just sat and stared into the mirror despondently at your trembling bottom lip. “Come on you stupid baby,” you whispered to yourself. “Suck it up.” It could have been 5 minutes or twenty that passed with the dread growing in your gut until you heard the heavy but lithe and even sounding footsteps ascending the stairs. You quickly blinked the tears out of your eyes and brushed your hair with your fingers quickly. Please just dont be Finn, please don’t be Finn, you repeated like a mantra in your head. Then the door slowly creaked open. You looked up slowly from staring at your tube of lipstick on the vanity, red and traitorous. You hoped you looked mysterious and demure, seductive but submissive, but all thoughts to your appearance vanished as you met your patron’s eyes. Swallowing sea green and burning orange.

“Good evening.” The silky and deep voice greeted you, setting your heart fluttering. The Eye of Zaun’s figure was darkening your doorway.

#silco fanfic #silco x reader #silco smut #silco x oc #silco arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends

28 notes · View notes

flameleads · 1 year

Text

@galeleads asked Chris a question: "Madame~!" Cheery disposition, perhaps a bit TOO cheerful. Her energy is up today, which should be a sign that she's almost healed. (She should really be taking it easy, oh well!) "I didn't know you'd be back in town so soon. How was your... vacation?" Yeah. That's a word for it.

Out of the two of them, she supposed it made sense that Aurora was the first to be out and about. Her son's condition made traveling harder for him now, and, despite his claims, he couldn't navigate the city with his eyes closed. Though, shouldn't she be resting too with everything they went through? The reports she heard were nothing short of horrendous. The fight everyone went through...

Aurora knew herself, though. If she thought she was fine, then Chris wasn't about to argue. What she was about to argue had nothing to do with her physical state.

"Too short. And I have a lot of work to do to get the new bar set up." She told Roy not to buy her a new building, but his selective hearing seemed to be in effect when she did. Well, it meant her girls had a place to come back to, and so did her clientele. It also meant she didn't need to go hunting for a new building herself. Paperwork needed to happen, of course, and then there was the matter of vendors, furniture, security...

But, enough of that. She had more pressing concerns.

"Someone seems cheerful. Is that because I'm not the only woman with the last name Mustang anymore?" Oh, she knew. Like hell she wouldn't know her son got married. "Or did you decide against taking his name when you rushed to get married in the hospital?"

#galeleads #ic; where there's smoke there's fire | chris #ic; from the desk of roy mustang | answered asks [ unprompted ]#[ chris knows all ]

10 notes · View notes

naturiisms · 1 year

Text

if you’re hearing GO GINA by SZA playing, you have to know FEMI LUONG (SHE/HER; CISFEMALE) is near by! the 35 year old OWNER OF AFTERTHOUGHTS TATTOO/DANCER has been in denver for, like, TEN YEARS. they’re known to be quite HEDONISTIC but being DIGNIFIED seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble KARRUECHE TRAN. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those BUTTERFLY KISSES, MESSAGES WRITTEN ON BATHROOM WALLS, MISSED CALLS AT 2 AM, FRESH TATTOOS AND HALF USED BOTTLES OF PERFUME vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the CHERRY CREEK DISTRICT long enough!

full name: femi luong nicknames: fefe, em birthday: november 8, 1988 hometown: torrance, california occupation: owner of afterthoughts tattoo, dancer hobbies: giving herself late night tattoos, taking pilates classes, roller skating, washing money lives: cherry creek district

background: tw prison, drugs, criminal activity

born to anika and duy luong, the first ten years of femi's life were picture perfect. family dinners, road trips to visit relatives, summer camp every year. that was until spring of her eleventh year, when her father went to prison for the first time on a burglary charge.

shortly after her father's first sentencing, her mother divorced him and remarried, having known nothing about his criminal side gigs. during the next year and a half, femi had little to no contact with her father as her mom and stepmom felt it would be best for her. after his release, he was allowed supervised visits and eventually every other weekend.

on these weekends her dad would take her to the ice cream shop, which was actually a deal. or the park, where they were pulling a gig. you'd be surprised how many people believe you were under their car because your kid's ball rolled under it, not because you were actually stealing catalytic converters.

femi found these secret trips with her dad exhilarating, the need for chaos and the next come up following her throughout high school. her moms often had screaming matches with her, not understanding where they'd went wrong and still not privy to what actually went on when she went to her dad's.

despite her tumultuous extra curriculars, femi maintained excellent grades and often found school too easy. after graduating high school she was accepted to el camino college where she transferred to ucla, receiving her bachelors in business. up to this point, she'd still been living a double life and painting a picture for her moms while doing jobs for her dad on the weekends.

after graduating, femi decided she needed more than la had to offer and packed her things up, moving to denver. since being in denver, femi has been dancing at various clubs and lounges, with brief stints as a bottle girl to support her luxury lifestyle. it wasn't until 6 years ago when a regular ( wc pending ) let her in on his business, washing money through their nightly dances. after doing successful work for 3 years, he was giving consistent bonuses and realized her business degree was worth something, noticing how she brought in and kept clientele while remaining discreet.

this is when they became partners rather than being his subordinate. being let in on the business, femi knew she would need something more legitimate for the amount of income she intended to have. tattooing had originally been a hobby she practiced on herself and friends, but she decided to use it to her advantage and opened afterthoughts tattoo. she's been successfully washing money and leasing to other artists yet is unwilling to give up her dancing gig because of the familiarity.

#*femi x intro.#eeeeee im so excited for her #i have lots of wcs that ill add to this in the am #but for now give it a like n ill come for plots <3 #chq;intro

8 notes · View notes

eldritchaccident · 1 year

Text

Timing: A long long time ago Location: in a country far far away Feat: @faustianbroker & @eldritchaccident Warnings: None! Summary: An eight year old Teddy prepares a special breakfast for Levi on the anniversary of their adoption.

— 1996, Vancouver, Canada —

The first few years were…. A lot of getting used to new things. On both sides, the small child and the demon’s. The pact that had been made had some rather interesting side effects. More than making the boy immortal, it seemed to impart a bit of a familial tether between them. As time passed, the bond grew. And Teddy got stronger. Stranger. More and more like the demon that was taking care of him now and less like the humans who had actually created him. He still generally bore a face that resembled the very deceased Lydia Jones, but eyes that mirrored something that one might see on his new papa. Well. When the pair of them weren’t playing human.

Turns out, human children require a lot of human interaction. Even ones that weren’t entirely human anymore. Food, entertainment, education. All that sort of stuff. He wasn’t demon enough that he could fully survive in the Leviathan’s dimension yet, at least not fully. But that didn’t seem to be that big of an issue. Teddy, for his part, took to his new caretaker quite well. In fact, he seemed to thrive with the demon’s parenting style. He could learn as much as his little brain would absorb, and do just about anything he wanted. It was great.

The Joneses (as the Leviathan had just assumed the identity of Charles Jones at this point) had moved around a lot. In no small part due to the little demon. Uncontrolled flashes of power, suspicious townies, then a few dead bodies to cover it all up, the uszhe. Through it all Teddy was a proper beacon of radiance and joy. He had it all. A papa who paid attention to him, and so many new things to explore. He was more than happy to make a game of it. Which they often did when the more… adult reasons for moving came up.

It was the anniversary of his ‘adoption’ and Teddy was determined to surprise his papa this time. He’d even gone out all on his own and gotten a whole mess of ingredients to make something special. A platter of pancakes fit for a sumo wrestler. The flavors were… inventive to say the least. Shrimp and mango, with sprinkles and chocolate syrup. Even better than last year. The little chef stood on his little stepping stool in the kitchen of the house they’d taken over since moving to this city. The whole place kind of looked like a bomb went off. He was covered head to toe in the viscera of a baking adventure gone wrong. But nothing could hide that big toothy smile as he heard the footsteps rounding down the stairs.

“SURPRISE!!!”

—

For all the time Leviathan had spent striking deals with humans, the demon had never put much effort into learning about them. Not recently, anyway—things had been a lot more simple several centuries ago. The knocks on his door were much more frequent several centuries ago, but the clientele had been more palatable. Self–proclaimed witches, for the most part, who regarded the greater demon with the respect it deserved. Not like Lydia Jones, misinterpreter of the century. Not only did she die for her insolence, but she released upon the world a powerful creature that had no moral compass to speak of, all because it thought raising a little human raisin might be fun.

But it was challenging, too, when situations arose that Leviathan didn’t know how to navigate. Adopting an identity was not as easy as all that, and explaining a missing wife was even harder. They had quickly moved away from Washington, away from anyone who might know that this thing was not Chuck Jones—and since when did Charles start going by Chuck? There were many questions and none of them had proper answers, which always led to bodies. Coverups. Another move. But Leviathan didn’t mind. It was fun.

Three years had gone by and the demon’s grasp on the modern world was improving, but still left something to be desired. One net positive, though, was that it had no reference for what human food was supposed to taste like, no understanding of what were ‘good’ and ‘bad’ flavor combinations, so Teddy was graced with a palate so unrefined that it genuinely enjoyed his questionable creations. The demon had heard the little one get out of bed early that morning, heard him rustle around in his bedroom for a while before trotting downstairs and letting himself outside. He was only eight years old, but that was no reason for Leviathan to stop him going out on his own to do whatever it was he had schemed last night. So the demon purposefully lounged around in bed, waiting to hear its ward return and set up the surprise he’d thrown together. An interesting smell was wafting up the stairs, and after about forty minutes or so of patient self-control, Leviathan finally left the bedroom and began the trek downstairs.

The shout of joy from the child brought a smile to his lips, and as he stepped through the threshold into the kitchen, he threw his hands up in the air. “What! What’s this?!” Beaming, the demon took the terrible mess in perfect stride, not minding it nearly as much as a proper parent might’ve. “Oh me oh my, what have we dreamt up this time, tadpole?” he asked as he scooped the child up into his arms, giving him a tight squeeze as he sized up the mountain of flapjacks. “Is that shrimp? You know that’s one of my favorites!”

—

Teddy squirmed with delight as his papa picked him up. Scrambling and doing his absolute damndest to be hard to hold on to. As was their custom. “I got you!!!” Like a little monkey, he climbed from Leviathan’s arms to his back, dangling dangerously by his knobbly little knees that hooked him in place over his papa’s shoulders like the great demon was a jungle gym. “There’s a even specialer surprise inside!” Teddy beamed, any brighter and it surely would have actually illuminated the room. With a swift and easy motion, the kind that only little scamps can really muster, he righted himself, sitting atop Levi’s shoulders and leaning over to his face. Just enough to place a large wet raspberry on their forehead.

The food was tradition. Obviously. Just about as soon as he was allowed, the little demon took a shine to cooking. There was so much joy and wonder in the art of mashing things together in the hopes of creating something new. Novel. Delicious. Though, anyone outside the Jones household would likely have a hard time with the choices young Ted made. The Leviathan was a big ancient sea creature, so that clearly meant there had to be something from the ocean in each dish. That’s how it worked. He was pretty sure of it anyway. Fish eat Fish. He certainly grew a taste for it the more his powers came in. Maybe sea demons were just like that.

Speaking of powers, the surprise inside was the real one. The one he’d been fretting over in secret for the last month or so. Making sure everything was just right. He really wanted to impress his papa. Inside the mountain of pancakes was a simple mason jar. But the contents were what was important.

One whole human soul.

—

Playfully pushing Teddy’s head aside after the raspberry was gifted to him, Leviathan swiped a hand over his forehead and laughed, gaze still fixed on the pile of pancakes. Another surprise inside? With a huff, he grasped Teddy beneath his arms and lifted the boy off his shoulders, setting him back down beside him. “Alright, well, I’m not sure what else can top shrimp and mango, but let’s see this surprise.” Getting down a couple plates for them and passing one to Teddy, Levi was meticulous over which flapjacks he chose, curiosity winning over as he bee-lined for the middle of the heap.

Soon enough, the silver lid was revealed. The demon gave a bemused grunt and reached for it, lifting the mason jar free of its delicious jail cell. It was a little smudged with chocolate syrup, but the bright, pearlescent, soupy smoke that swirled within it was unmistakable.

“Teddy,” Leviathan breathed, setting his plate aside to stare down at the jar in his hands. “Teddy, this is—” He looked at the boy, pride swelling in his chest. “Did you get this all by yourself?”

—

Giddy with anticipation, the boy was practically vibrating by the time his papa made it to the jar. He nodded vigorously at the question, his own chest bursting with the shared pride. “Rem’ber mister Anderson? How he asked me to help out raking the leaves? Well I wrote up a contract and he didn’t read it too clearly.” Teddy sang the last part, thrilled by his own cleverness. The man across the street probably just thought the kid was being cute. Just like his papa, he’d added. Sugary sweet, earnest, and warm as the morning sun in the middle of summer. It wasn’t like the older gentleman actually knew what papa did for a living. What sort of contracts would be written up. And how binding they could be.

Leaves were raked, rituals performed. And now Mr. Anderson was out one soul. The young demon wasn’t a hundred percent certain what would happen to the old man after but that didn’t matter nearly as much as the look on Levi’s face right now. Besides, if people were dumb enough not to read the terms and conditions, it was their own fault right? That’s what the price of dealing with a demon was. You set your own trap and fall into it by your own hubris. Teddy was becoming quite the clever little contractor. This was their first foray into taking a soul but there’d been others. Plenty of kids at the park were happy to trade the ‘good snacks’ for all sorts of things. Half of them didn’t even realize what they were giving away. But to the transient princeps of the playground all that mattered was the collection. The game they played and won without really needing anyone else’s input. It wasn’t like the other kids really ever understood ‘im anyway.

“Is it a good one?”

—

The boy had been taking notes. While Leviathan hadn’t actually taught him firsthand anything about making contracts just yet—it was part of the plan, though the demon had assumed that would be a little too advanced for him just yet—clearly Teddy was paying attention. Already fairly well versed with his verbal binds, it seemed he’d graduated to his first written deal. The demon couldn’t be more proud.

“It’s a really good one,” Levi confirmed, twisting to grab a towel from the handle of the oven and using it to clean the jar off. This one wouldn’t join the rest in his stockpile, no—ulterior motives be damned. This was a moment to treasure, and you never spent your best treasure. “Where do you want to display it, tadpole?”

—

A cat couldn't hold a candle to the delighted smug look on the child's face. Teddy hummed a happy little tune as he took one of the plates and started to dig in. "Hadn't really thought of that part, megalodon." Of course, that old ancient shark couldn't actually compare at all to the best of all beasts, the ancient eldritch boss of bosses. But Teddy had been going through a bit of a dinosaur phase. So the nickname stuck. Even if little Ted did think Leviathan was far better than any of them.

Each night they asked for stories. And went to sleep dreaming of his courageous, brilliant, strong, witty, handsome and extremely humble demon dad. It was like he had his own personal superhero. Why would he ever need anything else?

#wickedswriting #Keeping up with the Joneses #Ep 2: Happy Adoption Day #faustianbroker #eldritchaccident

8 notes · View notes

theseventhoffrostfall · 1 year

Note

Following from that line of thought, and assuming it should be its own post, are there any notable non-clan powers in that setting? Ones with the strength or political sway to rival or at least fend off the clans? I'm not sure if I'm over-exaggerating the strength of clan forces in my interpretation, but they seemed to be overwhelmingly powerful compared to their contemporaries.

Yeah, actually. Some of that is stuff I've come up with since the last time they were mentioned that I just haven't brought up since this is the setting no one cares about, some of it's older setting concepts.

First, there are alien polities all around clan space, ranging from near 'lowborn' human levels of technological and military capability, to clan peer states. These represent the primary clientele for clans that base significant portions of their economy on mercenary work. There are also human nations of unknown power and size very, very far away (in the vicinity of Earth) though contact (and contracts) with them are very uncommon.

Second, there's at least one confederation that arose from among the lowborn planets, independently developing its industrial and technological bases until it was established as another peer state (literally, the clans refer to them as if they were a fellow clan, despite being a republic with a regimented military supported by an MIC in contrast to the clans' up-jumped outlaw warband style of governance). They aren't identical in all aspects (they're far more numerous than most clans put together, which helps counterbalance that they have no shield tech outside of experimental models on some spacecraft) but they're playing in the same ballpark. It's actually their ships that elevated them from 'lowborn' to 'clan' in the eyes of the clans and nearby alien peer states; being able to build FTL drives in sufficient numbers and reliability that their civilization is no longer wholly dependent on the relic jumpgates left from the old spheres of expansion.

I elected to focus a little more on these guys moving forward, largely because I know at least some people would be rather offput by a story about weird posthuman space elves just lording over the shitty normals with no hope of response.

And, lastly, to answer your question, yes and no. Clan forces are a technological match for any power within fighting range, and tend to be extremely experienced, motivated, and with a high enough degree of self-sufficiency that stalling them out or strategically decapitating them is incredibly difficult. That being said, their numbers are hilariously low (Clan Eissenshtadt isn't the biggest, but also not far from it, among the martially-focused clans, and they can field a bit under 200,000 troops in an all-out balls-to-the-wall call-in-everybody degree of full mobilization; which isn't really as many as could be hoped for when dealing with war on a planetary scale). They succeed militarily largely by (through their raid-focused doctrine) being very good at knowing where and when to pick their fight, hit high-value targets and fade out before response can be organized to make use of their qualitative superiority. The fact that they don't have much in the way of planetary settlement or permanent, static structures tying up key strategic assets is also a distinct advantage.

So, yes, they're at the top of the food-chain at present in their region of space, but that's a hard-fought position and their victories are by no means easy or guaranteed; they're not just rolling in and curb-stomping the competition

#worldbuilding #sci-fi

6 notes · View notes

wolfbaenes · 1 year

Text

when the sun came up (i was looking at you) | pack

the drive from seattle to beacon hills wasn’t the longest camden had ever taken, but his hands had admittedly begun to tense up on the wheel a few times. the muscle spasms were normal by now; they were tremors left over from his deployment, his therapist had told him; his body was reacting to something he no longer remembered. they’d never found the cause for his memory loss, but ptsd seemed to be a reasonable enough explanation for everything else.

getting out of seattle would be good, his therapist had said when camden first brought up the idea of transferring. beacon hills was new—-it didn’t have the same ghosts of pasts relationships or night terrors; it wasn’t filled with the people that he hadn’t been able to save, or the coworkers that’d died in fires they hadn’t put out quickly enough. beacon hills was a fresh start—-it was the place to go if he ever wanted to get better.

and it was especially good if he didn’t do it alone.

“i was going to complain about you eating all of chips,” he teased ana, his eyes ghosting across the WELCOME TO BEACON HILLS sign as they crossed into the city limits, “but your timing is impeccable. you want to grab something to eat before we head to the house?” he asked. he’d taken care to make sure all of their boxes and furniture had been moved in already; the only things left in the car were a few suitcases, their electronic devices, and a few other things that they hadn’t wanted to leave in an empty house for more than a few hours. camden was infamously paranoid about leaving things in the car, but he’d been working on breaking that habit and being less tense about it. he’d certainly stash it all in the trunk once they got out of the car, but at least he wouldn’t make them go all the way home before eating.

it felt surprisingly easy to navigate the streets of beacon hills. he only knew this town as far as google maps could tell him, but he had no difficulty turning on main street and driving right past all of the bright, fancy shops lined along town square. he could blame it on common sense; the best places in town were never the big restaurants, they were always the mom and pop diners that saw a small, consistent clientele every day. camden didn’t know where he’d find such a place; it hadn’t been on any of the beacon hills websites that he’d looked at, but he knew one existed somewhere. and somehow, his hands navigated the car around corners with ease, as if he knew exactly where he was going.

“i’m off of work tomorrow, by the way,” he mentioned. he’d originally been scheduled to go into work tomorrow, despite it technically being his first day in town, but he’d gotten lucky. the fire station captain had a bit of mercy on his newbie soul and was allowing him to get adjusted to the town until monday, at the very earliest. he glanced over at ana and threw her a smile. it still amazed him that she’d decided to come with him. they’d been close for as long as they’d known each other, and she was every bit of a sister to him. the most painful part about deciding to leave seattle was the idea that he’d have to leave her behind as well; learning that she’d had no intention of letting him go unaccompanied had made all the difference. “you think you want to explore a bit?”

#bhp. › … para .#para. › … when the sun came up (i was looking at you) .

7 notes · View notes

lavaffair · 2 years

Text

Begin Again - Rated T

Chapter Ten

you can read it on AO3!

Chapter Nine on tumblr here.

The drive to work was easy, stress free, and manageable; the complete opposite of what Inuyasha was feeling right now.

After the wedding he had gone to bed and stared at the ceiling the entire night in complete agony and despair, mentally kicking his own ass until he was black and blue. Inuyasha was given so many chances to do it right, and all he seemed to do was mess it up every time.

He didn’t even tell her anything, he just kissed her and ran away.

Kagome deserved more than that, including a better kiss, and he still couldn’t do either thing right! He was so close to expressing his feelings, grabbing her by the waist to pull her into him, and giving her a kiss that left her ravaged and boneless. He sucks at expressing himself, he’s even worse at talking to others, but he needed to show her how much he wanted her, and then he ruined it with a little peck and a quick escape.

Inuyasha knew she wouldn’t be awake so early in the morning, even with things on her mind she loved to sleep in late, therefore he took advantage of that and ran off to his shop before she woke. He needed to organize his thoughts and give her exactly what she deserved from him.

Besides an explanation.

He wasn’t paying attention to the stack of papers on his desk, copies of receipts and signed documents that were in need of organization. It’s quick work, and Inuyasha normally gets this done within the hour, but he was stalling. He knew that when he got home he had to face the music, whether it was Kagome’s fiery wrath or his attempt to mend what he cracked; it was down to either of them to start the conversation.

His shop wasn’t open on the weekends because he and Shippo had lives to live and they had built loyal clientele that keep the business running. If they came to work on Sunday, it was more operational work, small things that they had no time to finish during the week that needed to be out of the way before Monday rolled back. If he had a choice, he would never come on a Sunday at all, but he was the owner, he needed to be on his game.

Within four hours of sulking and milking time, Inuyasha was done with the bookkeeping portion of his job. He closed up shop and drove to the nearest fast food joint, he wanted a burger and damn it he was going to get himself one.

The car’s radio was playing music on low volume while Inuyasha ate quietly inside of it. He watched the cars of hungry people pull into the drive through to stuff their faces just like he was. It was miserable being alone, and for the first time he couldn’t find any comfort in the solace.

As he ate, one of the songs that he and Kagome had sang to yesterday started to play, and he rolled up the volume just a bit to hear it. His passenger side was empty, even with the memory he had of her singing along to the music couldn't fill up the void. Her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders, blue dress snugged to her body, dark eyes and a smile that could kill him and resuscitate him all at once; she looked like a dream and he felt like an idiot.

His stomach was full as he continued to drive with no destination, he didn’t want to go home yet because he still needed time to sulk and think. The last thing he wanted to do was lose her, he couldn’t run away forever, and he knew he needed to explain it all once and for all.

In such a short time Kagome had changed so much about his life, seeing her everyday was enough for any shitty day at work instantly had made it better. He doesn’t know when she went from the girl next door who he likes to tease to the girl he can’t stop thinking about, but ever since he came to the realization of his feeling he’s been neither here nor there. Too afraid to speak up, show her what she means to him, eating his own words and looking like a hypocrite instead of taking a chance to be able to call her his

She stays on his mind daily, from morning to night; even on days where he doesn’t go to sleep. Everything she does repeats in his head like a movie, he thinks of her laugh or her smile and he becomes a flustered mess from the safety of his own home. He wants to hold her close, touch her skin, breathe her in and become enraptured with everything that is Kagome.

She is everything, and he’s taken more than enough time to let that truth sink in.

“I cant’t lose her,” he said into his reflection from the rear view mirror, expression serious, “Not when I’m this close.”

He made a right instead of a left like he had originally intended, because that right turn would lead him where he’s destined to be, and the former would just waste more time.

It was a bit of a drive to get home, but he had made up his mind, even if it took hours to get to there, for her he would do it.

____

Inuyasha has been avoiding Kagome all day, and it was starting to get on her very last nerve.

After he had run off to hide from her, she never saw him again. She thought she would see him in the morning, and yet he hadn’t made a sound since the day had started. Kagome had forced herself to change out of her dress and get ready for bed, told herself she would talk to him in the morning, ask him if he was okay, and why did he run after kissing her.

However, her mind had other plans and her fatigue didn’t hit her until it was three in the morning after tossing and turning for hours. Her body and brain were exhausted, she had nothing more left in her to squeeze out, and figuring out Inuyasha would have to wait until tomorrow.

Well, it was now tomorrow, and those ears of his were nowhere in sight. She waited patiently to hear if he was alive in his home, but a sound never came from it, she was only met with silence. Their little knocking technique didn’t work on him either, because every time she knocked on the wall he never knocked back.

Breakfast was made with little to no interest because Kagome wasn’t hungry, she just knew that she needed to eat or else her body would shut down. For hours she cleaned her house to distract herself, waiting for a lifeline if her favorite half-demon decodes to leave his house or return home. Her house was spotless, and she was running out of options. Huffing angrily into her bathroom, she grabbed her favorite set of loungewear and scrubbed her body clean. Paramore blasted loudly while she showered, but this time Kagome was too upset and frustrated to sing along.

If Inuyasha was home right now, he would know he was in deep trouble.

Kagome couldn’t stop the self-doubt from hitting her like a slap to the face. Did he regret kissing her? Is that why he ran away? If he was going to regret it, why do it in the first place? Did he not want her? Was it an impulsive decision that he was disgusted with?

“God, he doesn’t make sense,” she argued in the shower. “If I had just gone with my plan, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Hot water hit her back, an attempt to get to relax her muscles and ease her mind.

It didn’t work.

“Maybe if I told him it would have been worse than this,” her voice echoed in the bathroom.

Finally clean and rid of sweat and grime, Kagome brushed her hair and moisturized her skin, hoping that maybe the hydrating lotion would help her relax.

It didn’t.

It was now the afternoon, she was sitting on her couch trying to read a book with Buyo beside her lap when the jingle of keys took her attention away. Immediately she had two options, either it was Inuyasha, or her friendly elderly neighbor who never seemed to mind when she and the hanyou next door were rowdy late at night. The thing is, Mrs. Bostelo usually leaves early on Sundays to visit her grandchildren and doesn’t return until eight in the evening.

Right now, her clock told her that it was 4:30, and Mrs. Bostelo always arrived to see happy meowing kittens bellowing about her return. Kagome could hear them every time like it was a routine, yet this time she heard nothing.

She did hear a guttural, deep ground come from her door that sounded a lot like Inuyasha.

Swiftly she shut her book closed and tossed it to the side, she hadn’t been reading anything anyway, too distracted by what was going on in her head.

“I’m so scared right now I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she said as she paced around her living room, quickly hyping her self up to run to the door. “But look where fear led me, Buyo. The guy I want is right next door to me and he kissed me and I haven’t seen him all day.”

Her slippers were on her feet before she could process was she was doing, “I need answers, Buyo. I need to tell him! I’ve played this cat and mouse game enough time to count.”

Her keys were in her hands in seconds, if he was about to run inside his apartment, she’d be prepared to lock her door before he shut her out, “I screwed up by not telling him before, but not anymore Buyo. Fear be damned, rejection is inevitable and I deserve to be loved and to love someone back.”

Fists rolled into tight little balls, Kagome heaved out a breath of air and opened her door. There he was, standing right outside her door with a sorrowful look on his face. Ready or not; she was going to talk to him. Tell him how she feels about him, and deal with the painful consequences of rejection later.

“Kagome,” his voice wavered, it sounded breathless and astonished, and it made her body shiver.

She was beautiful, hair still cascading in waves around her face and shoulders while she wore a pair of puffy pants and a tank top.

He’s never wanted her more than right now.

“Can we talk?” She inwardly cringed, sounding angrier than what she actually felt.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. She wants him so much, hopes that he wants her back too. Kagome has her mind made; Inuyasha was her muse, her second chance, the person she wanted to create new memories with. It could turn into something beautiful, filled with trust, and worth the battles and the falls. She wanted to be his second chance too, if he let her, all he needed to do was give her the green light.

He heard Kagome’s breathing increasing and moved closer to her, “I-I was just about to ask you that.” She didn’t say another word, instead she grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, successfully leading him into her apartment and away from their neighbors. It was silent, the air felt heavy and constrictive; it was like their lungs were being squeezed into a box that kept getting smaller and smaller. Before Kagome could give him a chance to speak, she swallowed her nerves and decided to face the problem head on.

“How do you do something like that and run away, Inuyasha?” She shakily asked, her tone was a whisper yet it screamed like venom. She knew he could hear her, because his ears stood at attention facing her direction, flicking every so often. “Do you regret it? Is that why you ran away?”

Inuyasha’s eyes were locked onto hers while his heart thumped rapidly in his chest, she looked so unsure of herself, the complete opposite of the Kagome he’s gotten to know, and he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her.

However, he was the one who made her feel this way, and due to that he hates himself so much right now.

“I don’t regret kissing you.” He finally spoke, his baritone voice becoming the loudest sound in the room, “I can’t regret somethin’ like that.”

“Then why did you run away?” She asked, her voice becoming a little louder then before.

He groaned from his own frustration and stared up at the ceiling for some kind of answer. Inuyasha never wanted to fuck this up, and now he did, and was too scared to work up the courage to talk to her. Rejection was at the peak of the mountain, and he was hanging off it, only holding on by the grip of his fingers.

That grip was beginning to slip one by one.

“I was scared,” his eyes met hers, gold and full of worry, “Scared that I messed up everything we had because I decided to kiss you without even askin’ ya first!”

Kagome looked into his eyes to search for any kind of lie and found nothing, instead, she found a man who was desperate and afraid, just like she was. “I-I’m scared too!” She cried, “Scared that I would mess it all up!”

Slowly the truth was coming out as they uncovered more from each other, there was no other way to do it. They both wanted more with each other, the possibility of blossoming into more tastes so sweet; it was just at the tip of their tongues. One taste and they would both be addicted to it forever.

Inuyasha stared at her wide-eyed, clearly in disbelief, “God Kagome you drive me crazy.”

“What?” She asked breathlessly.

He walked closer to her with enough room to grab her and pull her into him, but also with enough space to stay apart. “You’ve driven me so crazy that none of this was supposed to happen the way that it did!”

She squinted at him in question, her heart threatening to pull itself apart inside her chest. “Are you saying you didn’t want to kiss me the way that you did, or that you didn’t want to kiss me but felt like you had to?”

Inuyasha stared at her wide-eyed, “Yes, well. No? Not like that!”

Kagome pulled herself into a tight hug to protect herself, “Inuyasha, you’re not making any sense right now,” her voice wavered.

“Fuck, Kagome!” He growled out, his patience was wearing thin. Talking about his feelings has never been easy, and confessing to the woman he’s borderline in love with was proven to be even more difficult. But he did this, and he needed to fix it; he didn’t want to see her like this because of him.

She deserved an answer, even if it meant pulling apart the last layer of skin he had to protect himself. He was going to be left vulnerable, but damn it all, he told himself he was going to confess last night at the wedding. Just because it was now the day after didn’t mean he felt any different.

‘Spit it out, you idiot!” He yelled inside of his head. The tension was high inside the living room, not even the sleeping cat on the couch could brighten up the mood. He had made up his mind last night, and confirmed it with himself this morning; and if he had any sense in keeping his word he would do it now.

“When I kissed ya, I even surprised myself, b-but I’ve been wantin’ to kiss you for a long time. Even before I knew what I felt for you.” His voice was shaking, or maybe it was his entire body, but he couldn’t take it back now. The words left his mouth and now it was up to Kagome to give him an answer.

Kagome hugged herself tighter and groaned, his confession made her entire body tighten. He feels the same way about her as she does about him, and it was making her brain short circuit.

“You make me want to pull my hair out!” She bit her bottom lip in order to get ready, it was now or never. “Inuyasha, I like you. I like you so much. I’m so infatuated with you that sometimes I wanted to go outside and scream. To go tell the entire world how much I like you!” Her chest heaved as she panted from how strongly she spoke.

Inuyasha swears he felt his heart stop beating. Everything clicked, her sleepy confession wasn’t something she did just during fatigue, she likes him back, and he wanted to go into the other room and bang his head against the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Her body was screaming from the number of emotions she’s been flipping through this entire time, “I should ask you the same question!”

His ears flattened and his face dropped, knowing good and well he didn’t tell her earlier out of fear. If he had been as confident as he pretends to be, maybe this wouldn’t have become a giant misunderstanding.

Kagome’s heart panged painfully at the look on his face, apologetic and broken. She didn’t mean to make him feel like it was his fault, she knew of his past, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out why he had been quiet for so long.

The distance between them was killing her, and she gathered herself to move closer to him until their chests bumped. “No, Inuyasha, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I know better, and I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

Inuyasha grumbled, his frustration directed at himself, “S’not yer fault it took this long for me to tell ya.” He hung his head and sighed, “A part of me thought you’d reject me, and I guess that stems from what happened with my ex.”

Kagome nodded, fully understanding what he meant. The story he told her when they ate at the diner never leaving her memory. She laid her forehead on his hard chest and laughed through her nose, she felt the his muscles contracting as she rested on his body, “I’m at fault too.”

Raising her head so her chin rests on his pectorals, she met his piercing gaze. “After what happened with my ex, I was scared about meeting the same fate if I tried again. But then, I met you, and the more my feelings grew for you the more scared I got.”

Inuyasha’s hands immediately went to her waist to feel her closer, both of their confessions were out the window, and a mixture of emotions were cascading around them like a waterfall. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have a reason to apologize because he was scared too. He let his fear of losing her hold him back from this moment, from the truth, and that his past didn’t play such a big role in this as she thinks it has.

He squeezed her sides, whether to feel or to calm his nerves he didn't know. “Kagome, you shouldn’t take all of the blame when I fumbled around you too. I let fear stop me from comin’ clean to ya.” He paused, releasing a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

She rested her palms onto his chest and pushed her head off of it, allowing them to be face to face, the feeling of closeness and the intimacy was so strong she could taste it. “Remember when you came home drunk after the elevator?”

A quizzical look etched his face, “Yes. I woke up on yer couch and then ya stuffed me with pancakes.”

A smile spread across her cheeks which made Inuyasha’s chest tighten, he hasn’t seen her smile since last night.

“After I helped you inside because I was not letting you sleep on the balcony, you almost kissed me, a-and other stuff…” she clears her throat, “I was never going to tell you because you woke up so afraid thinking that you did something wrong, and you didn’t! Please, don’t think you did. I-I was actually so disappointed when you pulled away because you told me you didn’t want to kiss me in the state you were in.”

Inuyasha was fighting his tongue, he wanted to say something, anything; ask her questions and apologize for almost taking advantage of her when he showed up drunk. However he let her speak, she asked for more time to explain, and he would give her as much as she asked for.

“It made me realize you felt the same way I did. And it scared me because I want you so much, but I couldn’t let go of the fear that tugged at me. Fear that you would reject me because I was broken, or because you didn’t feel the same way.”

He made a move to say something, but she tapped his chest with her finger to signal that she wasn’t done. “After the second incident with Kei, it changed. I told Kei that I had found someone new, someone else that treats me the way I deserved.”

The hands on his chest gripped his shirt desperately as if she was trying to cling to whatever courage she had left. “Inuyasha, I was talking about you.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to go in and try to kiss you when I was drunk.” His hands snaked from her waist to her cheeks as he cradled her head between them. “When I say you drive me crazy, I mean it in the best way possible.”

Kagome lifted one hand from his chest and flattened it against his, she could instantly feel the size difference and the warmth that spread from it.

His forehead touched hers as he inched closer, the desire to fill in any remaining space so strong it was like the sun's gravitational pull.

Clearing his throat he steadied himself, everything that happened to them since the beginning had come to this, and he wasn’t going to mess it up any longer. “You’re always in my head, you make me happy, I want to protect you with my life, and fuck it, I want to make you feel like you’re the happiest girl in the world. I didn’t avoid ya because I regretted kissing ya,” he paused and took a breath to steady himself. “I avoided you because I thought I ruined everything I had with you.”

He was breathing hard, golden eyes searching through rich brown as if trying to expel the remainder of his feelings into her soul. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Kagome flashed him a smile, bright and inviting, “You could never lose me.”

There was a change in the air and it felt refreshing, like some invisible force flicked on a switch and changed the entire lighting of the room. The oxygen they breathed into their lungs felt cleaner, as if the contaminated and heavy particles in their chests had become purified. Each time they inhaled their chests felt lighter and the weight on their shoulders disappeared.

It didn’t matter to either of them that they had baggage, insecurities, or faults; they simply wanted each other with all of the difficult parts included.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurted, raw and guttural, as if his body depended on it, pulling himself impossibly closer to her. “Can I kiss you for all of the times I didn’t, for all of the times I wanted to, and for as much time as you’ll let me?”

She watched in bated breath as he leaned closer to her lips, and Kagome raised herself on her tiptoes, the warmth of her mouth washing over his lips, “You can kiss me forever.”

For a moment it was as if a clock had stopped ticking and the entire planet lay frozen, the only movement being captured was the synchronization of their bodies. Inuyasha’s mouth was on hers within seconds, the rapid speed not giving her enough time to catch her breath. His hands were still latched against the sides of her face like an anchor, yet his fingers now found solace in her hair, entangling themselves in her tresses in order to hold onto reality.

Kagome’s knuckles were stark white as she gripped his shirt hard enough to rip it apart, she was too busy pouring her feelings into their kiss to worry about his clothes, and she knew he wouldn’t give a damn either. Their mouths molded into each other so easily as they fought to stay afloat or risk drowning in each other.

Inuyasha moved his hands from her face and bent down to grab underneath her thighs, the movement causing their mouths to part and a needy whine to escape Kagome’s throat. The absence didn’t last too long because his lips found hers again after lifting her up from the floor. She gasped at the sudden change in position and Inuyasha swallowed it with his mouth, allowing for his tongue to enter and deepen the kiss.

Her legs wrapped around his waist while her arms snaked around his neck and shoulders to pull him closer. Long, silver hair fell through her fingers as she gripped for support and it only made him kiss her harder. She moaned into his mouth which caused his chest to vibrate in a low, satisfied growl that had Kagome’s body heat up and her stomach flutter.

She pulled away first, her lungs desperately clinging for more oxygen as she stared into his eyes. Inuyasha was looking at her like a predator, his auburn gaze so piercing it was like he was staring directly into her soul. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he wanted to keep kissing her lips until they were swollen and red, and until she couldn’t kiss him any longer.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He said as he panted, “I can't get enough of you.”

He kissed her lips, her chin, jaw, and then down her neck while he walked them into his bedroom. Kagome breathed heavily, her thoughts only on how his lips felt on her skin and Inuyasha, Inuyasha, Inuyasha. Slender fingers gripped his shoulders to stabilize herself, her body tingling with every brush of his lips on her neck.

She doesn’t know when they reached her bedroom, nor does she expect to feel her back hit the mattress in one smooth, sudden landing. Her hands were still gripping his shirt while he kissed her, the changing in a position not stopping his mouth from exploring every inch of her.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome breathed, whiny and needy, “Kiss me again, please kiss me again.”

The half-demon sucked on her neck, ears flicking at every tiny moan that left her pink mouth. He wanted to devour her entirely, leave marks of his lips all over her body and permanently tattoo them on her skin. Her scent was enticing as always, vanilla and strawberry body wash mixed with her natural scent and he wanted to drown in it.

Lifting his mouth from her neck proved to be a difficult task as he continued to kiss her some more, but as shakey, gentle fingers made their way into his hair and over his ears it made his body jolt to a stop.

Kagome exhaled slowly as she gently stroked his ears, the white fur was as soft as his hair but with a completely different texture. They were as delicate and velvety as she believed them to be, the realization making a happy giggle bubble from her throat.

Inuyasha braced his hands against the mattress and lifted himself up, watching Kagome as she played with his ears. His lips were parted in wonder as he looked at her, paying attention to the flush of her skin and the way her hair haloed around her head. Her mouth was pink and swollen from kissing her, and there was a part of him that wanted to ravage her more until they were painted red. She seemed to be glowing under the light of his lamp, ethereal; like a goddess, and he took a mental picture of how she looked to keep in his memories forever.

Kagome was oblivious to his acute observation until her eyes moved from the fluffy appendages to his auburn gaze. He was looking at her so intensely that she squeaked from embarrassment, immediately dropping her hands and resting them against her hand on the bed. “I-I’m sorry, I should have asked you fir-“

He kissed her again, sloppy and deep, tongue darting into her mouth to taste her more. She moaned into the kiss and he drank it, feeling small hands slither up his forearms and onto his shoulders, resting them there to hold on.

Inuyasha broke away from her lips before resting his forehead on hers, “You can touch my ears whenever ya want to.” He pecked her lips again and again, “Ya never have’ta ask.”

Kagome made a noise of excitement as she cupped his face and kissed him back, “I can’t get enough of you,” her delicate fingers made their journey back up to his ears again.

While she touched his ears, Inuyasha kissed her nose, cheeks, and all over. The endless, soft pecks tickled her skin making Kagome erupt in light, joyous laughter. “You’re tickling me!”

“Get used to it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m gonna kiss ya all over, today, tomorrow, forever, just like ya said.”

His lips met hers again, once, twice, before they moved to her jaw. “You’re going to be worn out by the time you’re done!”

“Kagome, baby,” he risked kissing her lower, above her chest, where the soft skin of her bust poked out of her tank top. She gasped and it sent his body into a frenzy, his lips continuing to leave marks on her body. He didn't dare move any lower, afraid he’ll be moving too quickly and make her nervous. “I’m just tryin’ to make up for the lost time.”

They kissed for what seemed like hours while nervous hands explored each other’s bodies over the fabric of their clothing. Skin never touched skin besides one clawed hand venturing underneath her top, just enough to feel the heat of her stomach and the contraction of muscles that moved whenever there was a stroke of a finger. The warmth of their bodies washed over them like a wave, the movement of their mouths unfurling all their senses, tasting each other until there was nothing more but a mixture of souls.

“Mmm, Inuyasha.” Kagome called softly, “Come here, please?”

His eyes met hers from the valley of her breasts, barely covered up by the thin fabric of her shirt. Her arms were spread wide open as she invited him into her, and it didn’t take him long to figure out what she wanted.

Inuyasha crawled back into her and rested his head underneath her chin, his arms wrapping around her back to pull her in close while she rested hers around his neck and the back of his head. For a moment, they lay in peaceful silence, allowing themselves to catch their breath while listening to the beating of each other’s hearts.

“I wanna keep kissing ya,” the half-demon admitted. “I’m already addicted.”

She snuggled into his hair and smiled, “We have the rest of our lives for you to kiss me. I just wanna stay like this for a little.”

Inuyasha played with the hair that lay against the pillow, being careful not to snip any of the ends off with his claws. A thought came to him then, and he decided to finally put a voice to it. “Remember when Myoga and Totosai called me from the table to talk?”

Kagome hummed in reply, “Yes, but you never explained what happened after.”

The half-demon chuckled, kissing whatever skin he could reach from her neck he could treat to himself. “They came to talk to me about ya, basically fuckin’ giving me pointers on how to ask ya to be my woman.”

Kagome snorted from above him, “And how did that go exactly?”

“It was a waste of my time, clearly. I think if I had done what they told me to do I would be so embarrassed to ever look at ya again.” He kissed her neck more, and a low moan escaped Kagome’s lips, she held him tighter while he continued his attack on her skin.

“I doubt that,” she moaned. “I‘d probably barge into your apartment to talk to you like I did earlier.”

“God, and I’m so glad you did,” he licked her neck and she gasped from the sensation. “Now I can make ya do those sounds forever.”

“And kiss me forever,” Kagome smiled. “Just like I said.”

“Yeah,” he lifted his head and stole another kiss, this time sweet and filled with promises of tomorrow. “Ya can’t take those words back now, Kagome.” She giggled in happiness, the sound was cute and bubbly, “I don’t think I will.”

__________

It was a Wednesday and Kagome felt like she was floating on air. Sunday came and went like a storm, where the clouds that covered the sky finally settled and the sunlight peeked through, warming the land that had once been flooded due to pouring rain. Work could have been extremely stressful for her, but she wouldn’t even care, because as soon as her shift was over and Inuyasha came home they would lounge on the couch and snuggle to their heart's content.

It felt like it was too good to be true.

On Monday, with enough shoving, Kagome managed to get Inuyasha to go to work with a chaste kiss. He ended up arriving late due to his insatiable need for her, opting to share another passionate kiss instead of getting ready for a day at work. With enough persuasion, she managed to get him out, and he pouted the entire time. While he was gone at work, and she was too distracted by him to focus on her current tasks; there was a moment where she panicked. She was so happy that she was now with Inuyasha, he made her feel like there was a cloud underneath her feet with every step she took. He was all over her like she was his lifeline, and her lips were the only thing that could supply oxygen into his lungs. And yet, she panicked; because she briefly thought that this could end as quickly as it started, and she’d lose him like how she lost herself with Kei, and maybe even more.

However Inuyasha was there to pick her up, remind her where she was and that whatever bump they encountered in their new relationship they would climb it together.

And she cried because damn it, how could she think of her last relationship and what it did to her when she was now with Inuyasha? Someone who cherished her for everything she had and everything she lacked, knew of her baggage and still looked at her like she was the sun. Behind this tough-guy persona was a man who treated her like she was this delicate, beautiful thing who deserved to be protected and adored.

He wasn't what she was used to, and she needed time to get accustomed to that.

And yet Inuyasha knew that, and that’s why he doesn’t get upset, because she’s trying, and there will be a day where she doesn’t have to doubt herself or her actions. There will be a day where it clicks and she won’t even notice it. Kagome will just continue to live day to day being treated the way she should have always been treated, and eventually, she’ll stop worrying about whether or not she did something to upset him.

Inuyasha will make sure that Kagome never has to doubt anything ever again. He cared deeply for her, the magnetic pull he felt when he first met her had finally found it’s spot against the cool metal. In a sense, he felt like he had found his home, but he knew it was too early to admit something as big as that. It didn’t matter to him if Kagome had to adjust to this sort of treatment. This was another part of healing, and she was human. He lacks patience with everybody, but for Kagome all of that disappears, and all he wants to do is be near her and hold her close. Everything that comes at them, they will handle it together. Now, as his piercing gaze landed on her small frame, he felt his heart thump again. She was captivating him, like a painting he needed to admire, delicate and yet full of a fire that would not be put out. Inuyasha just wanted to come up at her and kiss her for hours, but life was unfair; he can’t stop what’s happening to ravage his her lips.

He chuckled as he walked out of her bathroom dressed in his red hoodie and worn-out jeans, his girlfriend waiting for him patiently at her front door.

“Ready now?” She giggled, “I’m in desperate need of caffeine.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes as he grabbed his car keys, poking her in the cheeks as she opened the door. “Ya gotta get that coffee addiction checked out babe.”

Kagome smacked his arm and scoffed, “Until my job gives me enough time to sleep, maybe I wouldn’t need so much.”

He laughed and followed her out the door, making sure to close it quickly before Buyo ran out. “Why are we goin’ out anyway? There’s coffee at home.”

She hopped down the stairs in excitement, “It’s a new cafe that just opened in town! They have bear-shaped ice cubes and so many pastries.”

“Bear-shaped ice cubes, huh?” Inuyasha chuckled, “Never thought of that one.” He looked up at the sky and noticed the grey clouds beginning to roll in, and he made a mental note that they needed to make it back home before the rain started.

He held her hand on the quick drive to the coffee shop, it was just a ten-minute drive down the road. The car ride was peaceful as they sang along to the radio, Inuyasha kissing every knuckle on her hand as many times as he could while his other hand held the wheel.

They parked a block down the street because all of the lots were full and they were lucky enough to find a spot not too far from the cafe. They walked hand in hand, updating each other on how work went for the day and what pastries they wanted to try that Kagome would read off the online menu.

“Okay, so the bear ice cubes isn’t the only bear themed item on the menu,” she smiled, “They have waffles, cakes, and rolls that are all shaped like bears!”

Inuyasha raised his brow, “What do they have that isnt bear shaped?”

Kagome laughed and squeezed his hand, “They have a berry tart that’s called ‘berry-nice to meet you.’”

The half-demon chuckled, completely at a loss for words when it came to the places she chose to take them to. “Of course it’s fuckin’ called that.”

A squeal of excitement immediately caught him off guard. “There it is!” she said as skipping along the sidewalk with her boyfriend in tow. The name Kuma Coffee hung off the side of the building, the sign was large enough to see across the street and it had a brown bear cub’s face drawn beside it.

The inside wasn’t as crowded as Inuyasha had expected it to be, thinking maybe he and Kagome had been lucky enough to arrive before the evening rush. They ordered their coffees, a sandwich to share that wasn’t bear shaped, and two pastries each. Kagome made sure they both ordered something different so that they could try more things at once.

The entire cafe was bear themed, and Inuyasha had to give it to them; they really did make it work. And he’s not saying that just because Kagome likes the place so much. The food was good, and so was the coffee and the pastries. He ended up getting the berry tart, and Kagome managed to eat her giant cinnamon roll that was the size of her palm. The fact that it was themed to be a bear’s head made it gigantic, and yet she ate the entire thing without giving up.

Did he help her?

Maybe.

But, it’s a cinnamon roll. He couldn’t help himself.

“So, what did you think?” His girlfriend asked with curiosity.

Inuyasha hummed in deep thought, he made sure to stare at Kagome as he did so, trying not to laugh at how antsy she was getting with every passing second. “You win again, Mrs. Higurashi,” he grinned.

Kagome gasped in delight, “Yes! You liked it!” She danced in her chair while she sipped the remaining contents of her iced coffee, “Next time it’s your turn, take us wherever you want to go.”

He took the last bite of his raspberry tart and shrugged, “I don’t think I know any places besides the bar, babe.”

She smiled, “I know you’re a beer connoisseur and all,” she paused when he started to laugh, “But ya gotta give me something better than that.”

He threw his head back laughing, eyes crinkling shut as his smile grew and her breath hitched. Inuyasha was the most handsome man she’s ever laid her eyes on, and she found him the most attractive when he laughed like this.

Her heart soared from the joy she felt, “What’s so funny?”

“I gotta step up my game, babe.” He grinned, “Or else yer gonna keep winnin’ every time we go out to eat.”

Kagome rested her hand under her chin, smiling coyly, “I didn’t realize this was a competition, Mr. Taisho.”

He smirked at her, “Only if you want it to be, Ms. Higurashi.”

The tension in the air was thick yet playful, their new and fun challenge awakening both of their competitive sides. It’ll be a struggle for Inuyasha, since now he has to find places that Kagome would definitely not know about, but he’s excited to start.

“This will be fun,” she wiggled her brows playfully, “I’ll continue to blow you away with my choices.”

Inuyasha laughed again, “And I’ll find ya a spot that’ll make you eat those words.”

The couple laughed, the atmosphere between them was light and filled with energy. After a few more minutes of talking and sharing little jokes, they decided it was time for them to go back home and become couch potatoes for the rest of the day. With the gloomy weather rolling in, taking a nap on the sofa while the rain poured on the roof sounded like the perfect idea.

However, they were a little too late, and as soon as they stepped outside the rain was already clamping down onto the earth. Their only choice was to wait it out or run to the car, but it was a block away, and they didn’t bring an umbrella.

“Let’s go back inside and wait it out,” Inuyasha declared. “Hopefully it won’t take too long to stop.”

Kagome stood at the edge of the sidewalk, the small, slanted roof above them covering them from the rain. She poked out her hand and let the water drip down her palm, it was cold and yet so inviting.

Water signified cleanliness, purity, and life. Like the flow of water, life changed drastically whether or not it was for one’s own benefit. Kagome thought of this as a sign, another chance to get it right, to love again, and move forward. Her life had changed so much in the last ten months, and the last three had definitely thrown her in for a loop.

She spent eight months healing from her ex, and the remaining three grasping at straws as she figured out her feelings for Inuyasha. Someone who was a complete stranger, who had started out as her neighbor, then a friend, and now her lover. It’s amazing how much can change in such little time, and with what she had experienced in the past, she was so lucky to have found her person in him.

Inuyasha’s addition into her life came unexpectedly, at a time when she was still fragile and learning about herself. He was a friend she needed without knowing it, and as they grew closer, he became the person she wanted to take a chance with. Whenever he came around it was like a new wave of water washed over her, and she didn’t want to talk about her past or think about what her ex had done to her. She wanted to talk about him, learn about him, and grow a new connection from the ground up. The past and the heaviness of it all didn’t carry as much weight as it used to, because here was a person who knew about what she had gone through, and continued to see the value she had.

It took her so long to see her own value during those first eight months, and after meeting Inuyasha, everything had been sealed. She knew she was more than her past, more than her ex, and deserved more than what she was given.

She wanted to grow a garden with Inuyasha, alongside her own garden where she watered her own flowers, and sometimes if she needed help; he would come by and water them too.

Kagome turned around and met his eyes, a childlike smile appeared on her face, one of joy and wonder. “It’s just water, Inuyasha.”

The half-demon watched in disbelief as she stepped out of the safety of the roof and out underneath the pouring rain. She had a smile on her face the whole time as she let the water wash over her, and sloshed her feet out onto the wet pavement.

“Kagome yer gonna get sick! Are ya crazy?!” He called out to her, “What the hell!” He grumbled before running out and meeting her in the rain.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her in, both of their clothes were now absolutely soaked and they both needed to take a shower when they got home. “Kagome-“

She kissed him, successfully cutting him off from whatever it was he was going to say to her. Her hands grasped his cheeks as if he was an anchor, and she was going to fall if she didn’t hold on tight enough. Inuyasha ignored the rain after that, too busy kissing her back to think of anything else besides the taste of her lips and the feeling of her body pressed against his. With one hand on the small of her back and in-between her shoulders he held her closely; as if the rain would sweep her away if he didn’t.

He pulled away from her and grinned, immediately lifting her up and carrying her bridal style before spinning them around once. Kagome’s laughter was loud and infectious, the sound kept him warm from the bitter cold rain.

“This is so fuckin’ cliche,” He rasped at her, the look in his eyes was full of adoration, “I never thought I’d kiss ya in the rain.”

Kagome giggled as she tightened her hold around his neck and shoulders, shrugging in delight. “There’s a first time for everything.”

He kissed her again with the same passion, want, and need as the first time. He kissed her for her strengths, her weaknesses, her beauty, and for everything that was her. Nothing else mattered, not their wet clothes or the freezing harsh rain. Their hair was stuck to their faces and their clothes were so soaked they would need to squeeze them dry when they returned home. Right now though, how they looked wasn’t their concern, too busy wrapping themselves around each other in an attempt to stay grounded.

For the first time, Kagome feels like there’s nothing that can hold her back, not with Inuyasha’s arms wrapped around her so tightly that the fear of falling never came to mind. She finally found the person she’s been looking for, and she wasn’t going to let him go.

What’s past is past, their lessons were learned, and although they both experienced a sorrowful love that fell apart, that didn’t mean it was their end.

It was a rainy day outside of a cafe when they both experienced it begin again.

29 notes · View notes