knickknacksandallthat · 10 months ago
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kevin: you're the most jealous man i know
jean: you know other men?
saw this meme and thought of them
bwahahahahaha anon 🤣🤣 yesss they fit it so well!!
Meanwhile, Jeremy in the background, eating popcorn: yeah, Kev - you know other men?
Both Jean and Kevin: 😑😑😑
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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago
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Love Me Like You Do ( Guide To Getting Back Your Self-Respect)
Summary: Dae-sung just wants Sol-i to be happy, even if that’s not with him so he decides to bury his feelings while Sol-i realizes how much strength she gained from his constant unwavering support. She becomes to questions her feelings for Cha Heon. 
Author's note: For the Dae-sung appreciators and anyone who wants Sol-i to keep her self-respect. I finally watched the recent episodes and I saw Heon making an effort but honestly I am already over him and anyone with some self-respect would be too. So in this my girl gets her self-respect back, wins over Dae-sung and gets the love and unconditional support she deserves.  
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He doesn't cry. Not there on the bench, in front of her lying his heart out. He'd never thought he'd have to lie to her always wanting to give her nothing but his genuine honesty and support, but her question had stunned him. It was ridiculously moronic of him to write something so.. revealing on the paper. He knew it was a possibility that she would see it. A small hopeful part of him wanted her to see it, to finally know his heart and how much she meant to him, she was like the sun on a gray stormy day and he was tired of carrying these feelings in his heart. 
But she was uncomfortable, that much was evident. He couldn't handle that, she was his first real friend and he couldn't imagine his life without her dimpled smile- didn't want to. So he lied. It made his stomach churn, bubbling up with bile until he felt nauseous and he had to escape from her relief, she was so relieved by his admission. It was apparent that his feelings were unwelcome, she would never look at him the way she looked at Heon. He needed to find a way to accept that. 
So he waits until he's in the pool to unleash the tsunami swirling in his eyes, sobs wrenched from his lungs as he breaks apart slapping at the water and wishing he could turn off his heart. He tried to stop this by calling her "brother" hoping he'd be able to trick his heart into truly seeing her as a brother. In the end it was all futile and every second he spent with her only heightened his infatuation, until it shifted from like and swung into dangerous territory.
It was good. This was good. It was better that he find out now, he needed to move on for the salvation of their friendship. He would do it. He could do anything for Sol-i. But he would let himself mourn today, mourn the loss of his feelings and any chance of her reciprocating. He would cry until his throat was hoarse. Roaring into the air before dunking his head under the chilling pool and submerging his feelings.
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It isn't easy but he stops doing the things that are natural to him: buying snacks he knows she likes, saving the best hand warmer for her, going out of his way to make her smile and when he sees her with Heon, he doesn't interrupt leaving Sol-i to shine brightly up at someone else. Too sad to even be jealous.
"Woo Dae-sung? Are you listening? Who have I been talking to this whole time?" Jin-Hwan sighs exasperatedly, knocking into his shoulder. He turns to smile in apology, lost in his thoughts staring out the window. It was the safest place to look with Sol-i right in his line of vision, it was difficult not to get lost in the way the sunlight hit her dark brown hair, setting the strands ablaze.
"Sorry. I was daydreaming. What were you saying?" He nods staring into the spectacled eyes of his friend, giving his full attention and he laughs and nods at all the correct moments as Jin-Hwan regals his newest plot to win over Ha-Young, his latest idea a flash mob. He laughs freely at the other boys antics as he flails to mimic the possible choreography, at least Ha-Young never seemed uncomfortable with his various love confessions. He'd even found the other girl looking at the vocally gifted boy when she thought no one was looking, an inquisitive look as if she were seeing him for the first time.
Despite his own rejection he would be elated for his friends, he wanted those he cared about to always be smiling even if he wasn't.
Before he realizes it's time to go to the pool, he has a competition very soon and his coach has been shorter than usual pushing him past his limit. He accepts the punishment, enjoying the sharp knife of the water on his skin using his heartbreak as fuel. He was in control in the pool, his domain and his first love that would never turn its back on him.
"I'll see you all later!" He calls out to his small group of friends, making sure not to let his eyes linger on Sol-i as he usually does instead sprinting out of the room. He will get over this and things will go back to normal again.
When coach praises him on his form and speed he realizes for once his mind is not filled with a certain pint-sized girl.
One day at a time.
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"Heon-ah! Wait let's go together!" She calls out to the retreating back of the boy who is always on her mind, her sweet honey Heon. Just his mere presence is enough to make her feel like she's on cloud nine. Huffing when he doesn't slow down at all, she starts to chase after him closing the gap between them. But being as clumsy as she is her feet get tangled up and she finds herself tripping over nothing, she closes her eyes waiting for the painful collision. It never comes.
Squinting one eye open she finds herself staring at the flecks of cobble in the ground, seemingly elevating above it. 
"Brother! Are you okay?" A familiar voice greets her and when she twists to look behind her, Dae-sung’s hands are latched onto the top handle of her backpack preventing her fall. She smiles in gratitude, Dae-sung is such a great friend he's always there when she needs him. She beams up at him dimples making an appearance.
He smiles back, tugging her back onto her feet.
"I'm okay. Thank you for saving me." She bows her head slightly before remembering that she'd been following Heon. She spins around only to find the boy in question already climbing into his bike, looking at them with passive eyes before riding away.
"You should hurry so he doesn't leave you. Be careful and get home safely."
She hums not looking back before running over to follow Heon, he doesn't talk to her the entire ride home fleeing before she can even wish him goodnight. She huffs but goes inside her house calling out to her parents before running to her room and diving into her bed. Tomorrow, she'll make Heon like her tomorrow.
Probably.
Hopefully.
She dozes off her head filled with the boy who owns her mind, body and soul.
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"Anyone know where Dae-sung is? Doesn't it feel like he's always in the pool, has he turned in a merman? Aquaman?" Ji-Hwan quips at the lunch table, looking around at them as he mimes swimming in a pool. Sol-i stops mid chew looking around, she hadn't noticed he was missing but it was so obvious, normally he'd be there handing out snacks and laughing at Ji-Hwan's bad jokes. Making everything brighter with his infectious smile. 
"He has that big swim meet coming up remember? Are we all going to cheer him on?" Ha-Young responds, asking in a tone that leaves little room for argument. She looks at Heon to see his answer, he doesn't look up from his sandwich chewing slowly as if he's eating alone.
"Heon-ah, are you going?" She grins at him, willing him to agree with her winning smile.
His face remains impassive but he shrugs and she takes it as a yes. Jumping in her seat and turning back to Ha-Young nodding her head at the question finally.
Her friend squints at her though, looking annoyed for some reason. But the bell rings signaling the end of lunch before she can inquire why that cold look was directed her way. She nervously picks up her tray trailing behind her friends, not remembering to wait for Heon.
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She almost slept through her alarm but she manages to drag herself out of bed and she dances when she sees that Heon is getting on his bicycle too, they can go together.
"Heon-ah! Good morning."
He turns to look at her nodding softly, "You actually woke up?"
She playfully glares at him, "If you were so worried about me, why didn't you call me?"
"Why would I call you? You have an alarm."
"Your voice is much better than an alarm though." She answers honestly, boldly staring into his eyes before he scoffs at her and grabs his bike riding off without a word.
She cries indignantly before racing off after him.
She wonders what it's like to be so good at something as she watches Dae-sung effortlessly swipe through the water, powerful strokes as he closes in on the wall reaching out a hand and screaming triumphantly when his name lights up, first place Woo Dae-sung.
They all jump up cheering, signs in their hands and they celebrate his win. Jin-Hwan starts the chant and soon every voice in the room has joined them, all cheering his name.
Woo Dae-sung! Woo Dae-sung! Woo Dae-sung!
They find him later, leaving the locker room in jeans and a hoodie now, hair still plastered to his head from the swim cap. They are cheer when they see him, his smile is blinding as he waves at them a slight blush rising on his cheeks.
"Dae-sung congratulations! You were amazing!" She proudly cries sticking two thumbs out at him.
He smiles back at her, "Thank you. Thanks for coming to cheer for me. You all really motivated me."
It's only right that they should have a celebratory meal, they stay close going to a tteokbokki place near by and easily getting a table. She sits down in the middle leaving two empty seats on either side of her, Ha-Young and Ji-Hwan sit on the opposite side. She turns to smile at Heon patting the seat next to her, he sits down immediately looking at the menu, barely sparing her a glance. She's momentarily surprised though when Dae-sung goes to sit on the other side as well, eyeing the empty seat right next to her that had been much closer.
But he's looking at the menu as well as if they didn't come here specifically to eat the spicy noodle. Weird.
Ji-Hwan carries the conversation praising Dae-sung again then telling them all about his new favorite song, crying out with Ha-Young slaps his hand when he tries to serenade her. Dae-sung laughs at them both but never starts a conversation with her, never looking over at her for too long. She tries and fails to engage Heon in a conversation, her own voice filling the void.
After a few minutes, a waitress comes to take their order.
"Hi, I'm your server-- excuse me are you Woo Dae-sung?" The girl who looks like she's not much older than them, she's short with deep brown hair in a high ponytail and a small round face. Very pretty.
They all still and look up at her question, turning to Dae-sung who looks confused but nods in confirmation.
"I'm sorry I'm a fan of yours. I've seen you around school but I couldn't bring myself to say hi. You were amazing today, that was your best time!" She gushes practically bouncing in her spot, eyes bright as she looks at the boy, who is scarlet under her gaze.
"Oh. Thank you! You don't need to be shy, you can say hi. I'm just a student like you. I'm nobody special."
"Don't say that! You're the youngest in your group and you have the best time. I really admire you."
They all sit in silence watching the interaction, ping-ponging back and forth with each exchange. Before the girl seems to recall that they're all there.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She bows low, "Do you know what you want to order?" She asks avoiding eye contact now and Ha-Young orders for them all and she tells them their food will be out soon. Bowing another time before stealing a gaze at Dae-sung and scurrying off.
"Maybe I should start swimming. I want fan girls too." Ha-Young slaps Jin-Hwan in the back of the head and he folds over in pain before crying out that his heart belongs to her, gaining another smack that he receives like it's a hug smiling through the gentle abuse.
In a few minutes the food arrives, steaming hot and delicious aroma wafting off and filling her nostril. The waitress asks them if they need anything else and it is not lost on Sol-i that her eyes never leave Dae-sung’s face. They all decline and she bows before retreating, looking reluctant to leave. Sol-i feels uneasy but she can’t decipher why. Her emotions twisting up in the pits of her stomach. 
Sol-i stealthy peeks over at Dae-sung to see if he's excited about having a fan girl but he's focused on eating, stuffing noodles into his cheeks before humming in pleasure, eyes closing as he enjoys the meal. Her stomach does a weird somersault. It must be indigestion. She grabs her glass of water, taking a big gulp. Choking a little when it goes down the wrong hole, Heon stares at her in the corner of his eye but then there's already a napkin in front of her face.
"Here. You should drink slower."
She takes the proffered napkin dabbing at her chin, "Thank you." Dae-sung smiles at her, but it looks different. Strained. Not quite reaching his eyes. Her stomach squeezes again.
What's wrong with me?
When it starts to get late they finally start to leave, Jin-Hwan slapping Dae-sung's wallet out of his hands when he tries to pay. They all chip in instead but he insists on leaving a tip and Jin- Hwan rolls his eyes but nods in agreement before a sly smile spreads across his face.
"Oh. I know why you want to leave the tip. Smooth." He throws a wink and smile the sputtering boy's way as he denies any ulterior motives. But their waitress is making her way back out and Jin-Hwan is already vibrating slapping Dae-sung on his back in encouragement. 
"I hope you enjoyed your meal and I didn't bother you too much. I'm sorry about earlier." She apologizes again and Dae-sung smiles brightly at her, a real smile that curves his eyes into half moons. Sol-i feels that same tinge in her stomach, when will her food finally digest?
"You don't need to be sorry! What's your name? Next time I see you at school I'll say hi." He sounds so friendly and Sol-i watches the other girl blush as she stares at Dae-sung, she finally turns away looking at Heon. This is where her focus should be, why she finding it so hard to focus? She likes Heon. She always has. 
"They look good together." Jin-Hwan claims shamelessly watching them talk through the window, Sol-i pointedly doesn't look. Telling herself she wants to respect his privacy.
Minutes pass by before Dae-sung rejoins them.
"Where did you all go?" He tilts his head and this time to her surprise, it's Ha-Young who teases him.
"We wanted to give you space. It seemed like she wanted to say something to you. Did you have a good talk? Did you learn her name?" She raises her eyebrows and smirks at him. 
Sol-i feels uneasy listening to them interrogate Dae-sung even more so when he looks down bashfully, running a hand across his head.
"It's Seong Mi-Ho. She um...she gave me her number."
Ji-Hwan cheers loudly jumping to put him in a headlock and Sol-i feels sick to her stomach now, like a someone is doing a drumline in her small intestine. 
She doesn't notice Heon nudging at her shoulder, until he calls her name. In a daze she turns to look at him.
"Sorry?"
"I asked if you were ready to go. I'm leaving."
She nods quietly before calling out to her friends, Ha-Young now has Jin-Hwan in a headlock as Dae-sung laughs watching them another real smile, it makes her feel small and jagged.
"We're leaving." The three stop to look at her before saying their goodbyes.
Impulsively she looks at Dae-sung and he meets her eyes for once. Maybe this had all been in her head. Her stupid imagination.
"Dae-sung, I'm so proud of you! Good night."
He stands frozen, unprepared for her exclamation before he nods smiling at her.
"Thank you brother. Get home safely."
Fake smile. This time the pain is in her chest.
When she's safely back in her room she stares at her ceiling, head of full of questions and worries. All about a certain swimmer. Void of another stoic boy. 
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She wakes up late and dashes through the door, grabbing her bike and pedaling until her feet hurt but she makes it to school with two minutes to spare.
Waves good morning to her friends minus Dae-sung who isn't in his seat, she struggles to focus as she stares blankly at her notebook devoid of any notes. Head too full of thoughts to process any new information. She doesn't even notice Heon staring at her, confused that she isn't staring back.
Dae-sung doesn't show up until lunch and she lights up before realizing he isn't alone. The same girl from the tteokbokki shop is walking very close to him, their shoulders brushing with every step. Dae-sung waves happily when he sees them all before stopping to motion at the girl.
"Everyone this is Seong Mi-Ho, she's in the same lunch period as us! Is it okay if she sits with us?" He asks hopefully and Ha-Young scoots over giving her ample space and he smiles in gratitude. Dae-sung looks at the remaining seats hesitating before sitting next to her, directly across the other girl.
They eat comfortably, but she can't help sneaking glances at the other girl. She seems nice, laughing and asking them all questions but it's obvious her attention is mostly focused on Dae-sung, enraptured every time he speaks.
"Sol-i ah do you want to go to the bathroom with me?" Ha-Young's voice cuts through her contemplation and she jumps before answering, "Yes I'll come."
She bounds after her friend before walking straight into her back with a soft oomph.
Grabbing her forehead she looks up at Ha-Young in question.
"Sol-i, are you okay?"
She squirms under the penetrating stare, shifting from side to side before tugging at her hair.
"What do you mean?"
A thin eyebrow raises, "You haven't been staring at Heon at all today. Do you not like Seong Mi-Ho? You keep looking at her."
She rushes to immediately deny that speculation, "No! I mean yes! I mean..."
Ha-Young crosses her arms now, gaze getting harder as she struggles to find an answer.
"I.. Ha-Young ah....have you ever realized something when it was too late?"
The girl tilts her head accessing her with a sharp gaze.
"What are you talking about?"
She loses her nerve, feeling stupid in Ha-Young's no nonsense gaze. The last time they'd spoken she had adamantly told the other girl she had no interest in Dae-sung, how could she possibly say that she was faltering now? Plus he'd only been joking she'd gotten nervous for no reason, overwhelmed at the idea of someone liking her. Liking Heon was easier, she could do so without any expectation.
"Nothing. I'm just feeling tired I didn't get enough sleep last night." She lies walking towards the bathroom, desperate to keep her new feelings to herself.
It's better this way.
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areiton · 5 years ago
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rage of war - chapter 1
Ok, here is chapter 1 of rage of war, the first part of heartsongs & soulmarks a fem!Tony soulmate au series. I’m really excited about it--so tell me what you think! 
Read on AO3
~*~ 
Antonia Elizabeth Stark is born with blank slate skin and metallic discordant harmony, balled up fists and a scream of rage in her throat. She’s tiny and furious and unblemished and Howard cradles her like she is precious, like she is everything he’s ever wanted and stares at all her unmarked skin, and thinks, with a ferocity to match her screams, you are mine. 
~*~ 
He dotes on her. 
Maria quietly despairs, as the little girl grows into a spoiled princess, dressed in arm baring silks, her legs pale and thin under gossamer skirts. Her skin is a taunt and a tease--and a promise, Maria knows, and she hides her grief and smiles when Toni comes running on pale little legs, pigtails bouncing and a wild grin on her lips. 
~*~ 
Her mother hums, when they sit in Toni’s bedroom and she brushes the little girl’s hair. It tugs at her, an answering song deep in her belly and Maria draws Toni into her lap. “That’s your resonance, bambina,” she murmurs. “All your life, you’ll hear it, hear people calling to you. And if you trust it--trust the song in your heart--your heart will never steer you wrong.” 
~*~ 
Maria sings to her, a three part harmony, the tune to an Italian lullaby. 
Jarvis is a low bass note, steady and comforting. Ana is a mischievous jingle that makes her giggle while she steals cookies. 
Howard--
Howard is an ominous drumbeat, something fit for ancient battlefields and blood soaked swords, the drums of war.  
Her heart pounds, a familiar metallic whining harmony and sometimes, she wonders what it means, that she can answer such different songs. 
~*~ 
 Toni doesn’t ask about the marks on her mother’s skin, the shifting opalescent black that slips and snakes around her shoulders and throat like a living thing, an oil slick necklace. 
She doesn’t ask about the delicate fringe of pink and scarlet that slips down her father’s wrist and fingers, as dainty as a glove. 
Her skin is milky white and utterly pale, and--she knows--her father wants it that way. It’s why Jarvis wears gloves and Ana only ever pets her hair, why Maria is a quiet humming song but never wraps around her, not unless Toni is swathed in blankets and sleepy. 
Howard touches her, wraps a big hand around her shoulder and draws her onto his lap, his hands on her bare knees and catching around her wrists, guiding her hand when she reaches for his tools. 
It never amounts to anything--no black slick oil blossoms, and she cries about it, sometimes, in the dark of her room, aching to be held. 
~*~ 
Toni's first mark is an accident. She watches it bloom across her skin, while a familiar bass note beats steady and familiar hands sooth back her hair, and she sees fear in Jarvis' eyes, a discordant note in a moment that sings prettier than any she's heard before. Her knee is red and skinned and shaded ocean blue, sunlit water on rocks. 
She stares at it and says, softly, "Howard can never know." 
~*~ 
Hope smiles and stands next to her, electric blue marks smeared on her father's wrist and Howard shouts and Hank rages back and when he leaves, it's with slamming doors and threats, a confused Hope dragged in his wake. 
Toni thinks she should feel guiltier than she does, sacrificing Hope to protect Jarvis. 
Howard tugs her into his lap and his big hand covers her knee, covers oceans washed into her skin, and she shivers as his drums beat angry at her skin. 
~*~ 
Her heart song is metal clashing and discordant, and it doesn't fit her mother, the sweet Italian lullabies of her childhood. It doesn't fit Ana's happy offtune hum. 
Sometimes, when they are still and quiet and the sound of the garden is bright around them, she listens to Jarvis' steady rhythm and thinks she almost fits next to him. 
~*~ 
She is dressed in silk and lace and smiles, dainty and sweet, from her father's side and she meets Peggy like that, skin bare and soul screaming metal and Peggy--
Peggy is a violent cymbal crashing, a demand for attention and respect, steel wrapped in beauty and skin layered in colors, and Toni adores her. 
~*~ 
Howard teaches her the beat of war, steady and constant, the weapons that fuel it and how to make them better. 
Jarvis teaches her constancy, deep and unyielding as the ocean he painted into her skin, bass a throbbing note she sets her life to. 
Peggy teaches her to stand , to demand what the world won't give, to wrap sharp edged words in pretty crimson smiles, to carve a place for her own song. 
Obadiah teaches her to. He teaches with oily smiles and snakecharmer song and lies twisted with charming smiles and eyes that take. 
He teaches her to be afraid. 
~*~ 
There are whispers, of course. She is a darling of the tabloids, brilliant and obscenely wealthy, and her skin is marked only once, and she walks with titans in sheer lace and gauze, dainy hands clad in lace gloves, and smiles, devilish and sharp. 
They whisper that she is soulless. 
They whisper that her heartsong is a warsong. 
They whisper that Howard’s hands, possessive and ever present on her skin, are wrong . 
They whisper about the ocean washed stone mark on her knee, smaller now than when she was little, whisper about who could have left it, whisper about the gloves she wears, the marks she has never given, whisper whisper whisper, and she smiles. 
She smiles, hides her hurt behind a pretty mask, a sheer dress donned like armor, and turns her brilliant mind to create a bomb so devastating it makes Obadiah look at her with respect, and Howard to smile with jealous pride. 
~*~ 
She fights with Howard, when she graduates at fourteen and turns her gaze to MIT. 
“It’s not necessary,” he snarls, slamming his drink down, and Maria flinches. 
Toni--Toni has always been very certain of her father’s affections. She’s a spun glass doll, a pretty piece of innovation, his greatest best work, and he has never been anything but careful with his own work. 
Howard might be jealous, might be protective and possessive, might see her as property instead of his child --but he will never hurt her. 
“I want it,” she says, simply. Throws herself into the chair across from him and crosses her knees. Ocean washed stone glimmers from her knee and he fixates on it, brief and predictable. “I want my degree, Howard. And then I’m yours and SI can use me however you decide.” She bargains because it’s not a loss--she’s belonged to SI and the future Howard and Obie will carve since she came screaming into the world. 
His eyes narrow and she knows that speculative look, has seen it mirrored in Obadiah’s eyes too often, and she smiles. 
She enrolls at MIT the next day and pushes her uncertain future to the side. 
~*~ 
She meets Rhodey when she blows up her second lab. She hasn’t been noticed yet--she isn’t Howard’s daughter, here, isn’t the socialite darling of the press, the brilliant celebrity genius--here she’s too young, too pretty, too female to be taken seriously. Rhodey notices--her or the explosion, but he notices. 
He drags her out of the lab, hands rough and gentle and burning against her skin, and he stares at her, all five feet, one inch of her in ratty jeans and an oversized, stained t-shirt, hair a tangled mess and face blackened with ash.
She isn’t sure which of them is more surprised, when he decides to keep her. 
~*~ 
Rhodey doesn’t ever ask about her skin, about the lack of marks on her. 
He doesn’t ever ask about her father and his possessive grip on the back of her neck, the way Stane lingers too close and demanding. He doesn’t ask about the way that Toni flinches away from Stane, or the jealous looks Maria gives her daughter, or the way she leans warm and safe into Jarvis, the way Jarvis watches, soft and steady and loving. 
He doesn’t ask a lot of things, but once. 
Once he sits next to her while she quizzes him on physics and he asks, “Can I touch you?” 
Something like regret flickers in her eyes and he takes a deep breath, and says, “Just here,” he taps the sole of her foot, wrapped in fuzzy ridiculous socks. “Just for us.” 
She smiles, then, and her metallic music swells a little, meets his smooth jazzy sax. 
~*~ 
She hides it, wears socks and heels and curls her feet under her when she perches on her bed and grins at her father and it’s a secret, the royal blue watercolor splashed across the soles of her feet, the steady ground she walks on. 
~*~ 
Rhodey carries her mark, a shimmering red like an explosion on his bicep, as bright and burning as a brand, and he never tells his mama or his friends, or even his CO where it came from. He carries her on his skin, a promise of family and friendship and trust, and when she throws herself into him, all pale beautiful skin and teasing eyes and gloved hands, he catches her and tucks her close, holds her safe, and ignores the furious glares from Howard. 
~*~ 
“He makes you happy,” Jarvis says, once. She sits next to him at MIT and they watch Rhodey weaving his way through the cafe, coming back to her side. 
“He loves me,” she says, simply. 
She’s been loved her entire life. A sad tragic love from her mother, a deep obsessive, possessive love from her father, the steady safe love of Jarvis. 
Even Hope loved her, once upon a time. 
She is used to being loved, to being adored by strangers and those close to her. 
But Rhodey--
“He loves me and asks nothing in return,” she says and Jarvis smiles, small and pleased, the music in his soul swelling to meet her own. 
~*~
“Rhodey,” she whispers, and he presses closer to her. 
They’re gone, now. Her father and mother, Jarvis. And she’s left standing by their casket, the music of her world almost silent. 
She feels like a little girl again, alone and desperately wondering why she is so unloved. 
Rhodey presses closer to her, steady and strong and soothing, and she blinks dry eyes and wonders why she cannot cry. 
~*~ 
Toni falls apart, in the aftermath. With her heartsong screeching and unanswered, her skin bare but for the ocean marked on her knee and royal secret on her soles, and she is suddenly free of all of Howard’s strict rules and outlandish demands, and her skin is a canvas waiting to be marked. 
She fucks her way through the last semester at MIT and then through most of R&D at SI, and the socialite scene in New York, and she leaves in her wake glittering red explosions on the skin of her lovers, and she walks away unblemished, unmarked, and thinks that maybe she really is cursed to be alone. 
~*~ 
It doesn’t stop her. The press whispering, the one-night stands selling her stories to the tabloids, the Board’s disapproval and Obie’s hungry gaze. 
She doesn't care about any of it. The only thing that bothers her is when Rhodey watches her, eyes sad enough that she curls into his arms and whispers apologies, broken sobs, into his throat and his hands are heavy and warm and safe around her shoulders. 
"I worry about you, genius," he murmurs and she wants to tell him that he shouldn't. That she's fine .
She isn't. They both know it. 
Still. Rhodey is written into her heart and her soul, is the steady ground she walks on, and she hates the worry in his eyes, in his voice. 
“I’ll be good,” she promises. 
~*~ 
She doesn’t stop fucking and drinking away her grief, but she does go back to her workshop when Rhodey deploys, and turns her considerable intellect to creation.  
She codes and she builds and she shapes her first child, unwieldy and clumsy and beautiful. He hums at her, a whirring question punctuated by an inquisitive clack and it’s not a heartsong, because machines can’t have heartsongs, but it sings to her, and she loves him. 
~*~ 
“Oh, sweetheart,” Rhodey breathes, and she grins, some of her tension easing. 
Because that right there--it’s awe and pride. 
“I built him a brother,” she says shyly, and his gaze finds hers. “And something else.” 
She shows him the code, the lines and lines of it, the way it sprawls like a song, steady bass and electronic jazz and his eyes are bright and shiny when he stares at her, and she says, “His name is JARVIS.” 
~*~ 
Rhodey paints a metallic red explosion on DUM-E’s strut, on U’s base before he goes back to the Air Force, and she almost cries, when she sees it, her beautiful babies with her soulmark bright and claiming on their metal. DUM-E chirps at her, inquisitive and proud and she laughs through the tears and goes back to her coding. 
~*~ 
She meets Ty because of Obie. He's flitted on the edge of her awareness for years, another pretty face in a sea of faces, a brilliant and beautiful son of a tech company. 
She knew of him in the way she knew all the pretty blank faces at the endless galas. She knew of him in the way she knew the other rich brats snorting daddy's money off a hooker's tit in a club where nothing was forbidden. 
She knew of him. 
But the night she met him--she was dry eyed and trembling in sheer crimson, a smile fixed fake on her lips and a headache building behind her eyes. 
Rhodey was a world away and Jarvis was in the ground and she was so lonely she ached and Ty slipped, smiling and sweet, next to her and said, "You look horrible, darling."
Toni blinks at him and he stares back, a teasing smirk on his lips and a cup of coffee in his hand and she smiles.
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akitokihojo · 6 years ago
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It’s About Time -Epilogue
Listen, this was requested ages ago and I’m so sorry it took me so long but like my soul left my body when I’d initially finished It’s About Time back in September or October, and it took a while for it to find its way back to me.
Requests (that I can actually remember) by: @littlemissinukag @cstorm86
I mean, it’s cool that I have a soul again and shit.
“Kagome, would ya slow down for a second?” Inuyasha groaned, throwing the door shut behind him as they entered Kagome's apartment.
“Nope!” She answered, stomping over to the kitchen and dropping her keys on the cheap material of the countertop. She pulled the fridge door open, snatching a water bottle from within and slamming it shut.
“You’ve got nothing to be upset about!” The half demon rolled his amber eyes, dropping his own keys along the small dining room table, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out his wallet to accompany them.
“Y’know, you can keep saying that, but it won’t stop me from being mad.” Kagome twisted the plastic cap off her drink, taking a quick swig of the water and shooting a scowl at her boyfriend, her tone sharp enough to pierce him through. Inuyasha groaned, the tail end of the noise growing louder with his built frustration. 
“You’re blowing this way out of proportion! She’s my study partner!”
“Last I checked, you weren’t taking any anatomy classes!” She slammed the butt of the bottle on the counter, water splashing out of the top from the force and soaking her fingers. Kagome wiped her hand on her hip and pushed passed Inuyasha as she exited the kitchen area.
“Kagome, she touched my arm! That doesn’t mean she wants to have my child!”
“Okay, first of all,” She whipped around on her heels, her long, dark hair spinning with the force and settling over her shoulder. “You think I’d be this mad if all she touched was your freaking arm?!”
 “It d-“
“Second, she doesn’t need to be touching you at all if you’re just study partners! There are plenty of other things to fill her grimy, little fingers with! For instance, pen and paper!”
“Would y-“
“Third, you should be a little more understanding of my discomfort considering you can hardly stand when Hojo even looks in my general direction!”
“That’s because the creep wants to get in your pants!” Inuyasha fired, flailing his arms at his side, a growl appearing in the underside of his deep voice.
“Oh, please.” Kagome rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and popping her hip out as she leaned more weight over to one side. “Hojo hasn’t tried a thing since you entered the picture, especially since I took the liberty of introducing you as my boyfriend. Yet you still blow a fuse when the guy’s around! Did I get the same courtesy tonight, though? No! I wasn’t introduced at all! As far as whats-her-face knew, I was just another study partner!”
“You’re being fucking ridiculous!” Inuyasha barked, feeling his face grow heated from his flaring temper. “What does it even matter? She was just saying hi!”
Kagome stared at him a moment, mouth slightly agape as she processed his careless response. What does it even matter? The question was like kindling to the fire, bringing her blood to boil in her veins. She tried to find the right rebuttal, a hundred different options flowing through her head, but all that came out of her mouth was laughter fueled by incredulity.
Inuyasha stood up straighter, growing weary of his girlfriend’s new-found amusement. He knew she was pissed when she laughed like that. How did this situation get so fucking out of hand? They were on a date tonight, their first night alone in ages, which was also the start of their first weekend alone in even longer. It was nice, and even a little romantic, and then went down in a shitty ball of flames the moment his classmate walked over. Sure, she touched his bicep a little. She was the touchy-feely type, and Inuyasha never really thought much of it. Some chicks were just like that. The girl was also smart as hell, and he figured the assignment would be an easy A with their brains combined. So she liked to touch a little. Big deal. That didn't mean she was flirting like Kagome insisted. 
“I can’t believe I have to spell everything out to you, Inuyasha! It matters because saying hello doesn’t usually entail fondling! It matters because I was clearly uncomfortable and no one seemed to give a shit! It matters because it’s the respectful thing to do in that sort of situation!” Kagome yelled, tearing her sweater off her body and tossing it over the head of the couch.
“Jesus, calm down! It's nothing to get so worked up over! Are you seriously jealous of her?”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re jealous!” Inuyasha accused, crossing his own arms over his chest and standing his ground. “Are you kidding me? We’re fucking soulmates, Kagome! Or do you not recall finding that shit out the hard way all those months ago?”
“That’s irrelevant! That doesn’t mean I'm fine with any girl rubbing herself all over you! And that definitely doesn’t mean I’m jealous!”
“Then what does it mean?” The half demon cocked an eyebrow in her direction, waiting for her inevitable rebuttal.
“It means I’m mad!”
He’s heard better.
“Fuck this.” Inuyasha scoffed, snatching his wallet and keys back up from the wooden table. “I’m not gonna deal with your attitude.”
“We haven’t settled this!” Kagome said, stepping closer as he threw the door open.
“I noticed!”
“Fine! Now that your plans have freed up, why don’t you take up the cleavage queen on her offer for a study date?”
“At least that way my night would be peaceful!” Inuyasha stomped out of the doorway, heading down the hall without so much as looking back at his enraged girlfriend. 
Kagome sucked in a strangled breath, fighting the urge to shout something offensive at him, opting to slam her apartment door and aggressively twist the bolt locked. She stared at the stained wood for a long moment, standing in place silently as her temper had her pulse pounding in her ears, hoping at any point the beating noise would fade away and become familiar footsteps coming back to her.
Nothing.
She swallowed thickly, taking a shaky inhale to steady herself, biting at the small quiver that took her bottom lip. Kagome turned around on her heel and headed down the hall to her bedroom, thankful that Sango wasn’t home to hear their blowout. It wasn’t often that Inuyasha and she fought like this. In fact, this was their biggest fight to date. Usually, they bickered and annoyed each other like ordinary couples. Occasionally, they found themselves in heated arguments. Never once, though, had it been so bad for one of them to storm out.
Kagome pulled her shirt over her head, throwing it into the laundry basket in the corner of the room, reaching behind her and unhooking her bra. She tossed it in the general direction of her dresser, hardly paying any mind to where it landed as she grabbed her pajamas from the bottom of her comforter. Her shirt was one of Inuyasha’s, his smell still fresh on it, and she scowled at it as if the tee were her boyfriend, himself, tossing the garment into her hamper to join the rest of her dirty clothes. She yanked the second drawer of her dresser open, the small items decorating the top of the painted wood jostling slightly from her force, settling for the first tank top she saw and pulling it over her shoulders, mindlessly adjusting the straps so they weren't twisted and lifting the bottom parts of her layered waves out of the inside of the black top. The moment her jeans were removed and her flannel pajama bottoms were snug on her hips, she couldn't seem to further swallow the emotion that began to overwhelm the barricade she'd put up in an attempt to ward them off. It was meager at best, really. Changing could only keep you so occupied.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her anger slowly shifting into a deep guilt, hiding her face behind her cupped hands. So what if she was jealous? It’s not everyday some chick walks on over to Inuyasha, treats him like a tasty piece of meat, and drags her ratchety nails from his chest to his ear right in front of her. The motion had completely set Kagome off. What if this happened every time they worked on their assignment together? What if this no-named study partner thought she had the liberty to touch her boyfriend whenever and wherever she wanted? Inuyasha clearly wasn’t stopping her, nor did he seem to have an inkling of a problem with it. If the roles were reversed, the half demon would have tossed a table right there in the restaurant in a wild fit, so why was it so unjustified for Kagome to get upset?
Because Kagome didn’t throw tantrums like that. Sure, she had a dangerous temper, but she really tried not to let it muddle her thought process. It wasn't like her to fight without reason, and act territorial, and refuse to hear Inuyasha out. Tonight, her emotions clearly got the better of her, and Inuyasha leaving like this scared her. And what makes this all so much worse is she didn't even try to stop him. She hated fighting with him. She hated any tense silence between them. She hated the gaping hole in her chest, and the burning behind her eyelids as the tears threatened to spill over, and the way a painful lump swelled in the center of her throat.
“Fuck!” Inuyasha wanted to toss his phone out the window of his parked car, staring at the text message he’d received about forty-five minutes ago but hadn’t noticed until now.
Offer stands, Inu. Pizza, beer, and homework at my place tomorrow... is it a date?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Every single accusation Kagome threw his way started to make sense, and he hated every bit of it. An unsettling feeling bubbled up in his stomach from a combination of the sudden realization, the cliche, romcom, motherfucking message, and the plausible thought of what sort of hell would break loose if he’d returned it. They were assigned this project two weeks ago, and his partner was definitely just as bold from the get-go, so how he hadn't noticed until now was beyond even him. She usually had a hand on his forearm at all times, giving little strokes, glides, or squeezes when she giggled. Sure, it was weird considering he wasn't even that funny, nor did he necessarily care for it all, but he also didn't think it was all that significant to stop her. Had he put two-and-two together, or even thought about it the same way Kagome had, he would have never let it happen. Had he known his girlfriend would have been affected like this, he definitely wouldn't have allowed her to carry on with her touchy-feely tendencies.
The thing was, he didn't think like Kagome. He wasn’t one to worry about female advances, because Kagome had his undivided attention since the moment they'd met; the soulmate thing kind of made sure of that. It was natural for him to dismiss the notion that anyone would be flirting with him, because he legitimately never noticed that shit. In comparison, It wasn't important. So, now that he was sitting alone in his car still parked outside of Kagome’s apartment, the proof sitting in his goddamn hand, grimacing at his shortened name, he felt like the fucking ass he made himself out to be.
Inuyasha grunted through his sigh, locking his phone and dropping it in the passenger seat, no longer wanting to see the ill-timed notification. The half demon couldn’t bring himself to put his car in drive, the soothing rumble of the engine hardly heard over the music playing on the stereo. He needed to fix this. Kagome had every right to be pissed; he should have never let that girl touch him in the first place. 
A familiar tickle on his left hand caught his attention, and on instinct, he glanced down at it. There was no writing, of course. That effect had disappeared the moment Kagome and he joined hands, but the sensations, though dulled, still lingered. Still, he turned on the light overhead, waiting to see if anything would show up. Nothing. Inuyasha could feel large letters being traced out, the tingle making it hard for him to figure out what was being written. He waited a moment after the sensations stopped, hoping the ink she used would bleed through his skin like a sharpie on paper, and even though his hand remained clean, he could practically feel the desperate pull dragging him back to her. Without another thought, he grabbed his cell phone, punched the overhead light off, twisted the keys out of the ignition, and headed back to Kagome.
He quickly climbed the staircase, his shoes smacking against the floor and echoing throughout the chamber, coming out on her floor and making his way back up the hall, his eyes glued to the mahogany-colored door. Without hesitation, Inuyasha knocked lightly, his stomach fluttering uncomfortably as soft footsteps approached from inside. The bolt loudly clicked from the socket, the frame creaking as Kagome opened up her entry, the dim light from the lamp in the distance illuminating the area. She peered at him from around the edge of the wood, only a small part of her body curving around as she pulled the door back further for him to step through, her cheeks flushed and eyes noticeably puffy.
Inuyasha stood near the dining table once more, setting his keys down and never tearing his eyes from Kagome as she closed and locked the door, slowly turning to face him. Her head was hung, almost ashamedly, as she chewed her bottom lip between her teeth, her big, brown eyes locking with his gaze and causing his gut to churn painfully. Inuyasha hated a lot of shit in this world; curry, his brother, shopping, traffic, conflict, the post office, but above all that was seeing the girl he loved so goddamn much with every aching bone in his body cry.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, the feeble sound causing his shoulders to sag. Did she really think he was still mad? There was no fucking way he could ever stay mad when seeing her like this; every ill feeling flew out the window when he felt her scratching at his palm to get his attention. Kagome only did that when she was feeling playful or sad. More often the latter. It was her way of talking without actually having to talk. She didn't even have to pick up her phone and type anything out. They had a permanent connection, and when she wanted to get his attention without being too obvious, she took advantage of it. Which ironically, was more obvious to him than anything else she could possibly do because Inuyasha had become so attuned to the sensations.
"It's-"
"Don't say it's okay. It's never okay for me to act like I don't trust you, Inuyasha." Kagome reached out for him, her right hand empty for only a small moment before Inuyasha held it with his own, easily using it to pull her into his arms. She immediately hid her face in his chest, and he caught a strong whiff of fresh tears, his arms reflexively tightening their hold around her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Would you quit crying?” He whispered into her ear, feeling her shake her head against his sternum in response. He bit back his chuckle as her small arms squeezed around his waist. "No?"
Kagome shook her head again, this time with a muffled nuh uh to go along.
"You won't?"
She shook her head, trying to burrow her face further.
"Are you getting your makeup on my shirt?"
She nodded.
"Alright, bedroom. Now." Inuyasha led her down the hall, forcing Kagome to walk backwards as she clung to him, her feet only stumbling a little until she adjusted to his stride. He shut the door behind him, a gesture he was used to taking even though they had the apartment to themselves for the weekend, and sat her down on the side of her bed. The half demon stepped back and peeled his shirt off, noticing there was only a small smudge of makeup. "You've done worse."
"I took most of it off, already." Kagome said, giving a little shrug and wiping at the drying tears on her cheeks. She watched as he dropped the shirt to the floor, leaning over to turn her desk lamp on and headed across the room to switch off the harsh, over-head light. Her bedroom now swam in a mellow, calming color, most of the nooks and curves shadowed from the small lamp's disadvantage. Inuyasha sat on the bed next to her, his arms resting on his thighs, her body tilting toward him from the small dip his weight provided in the mattress.
"So... you were right." He admitted, voice gruff. His amber eyes stared down at her carpet, still partially able to reflect the sullen, yellow light.
"Hm?"
"She was, uh... she was flirting."
"Oh?" It wasn't often the half demon would admit someone else was right, especially after an argument. It was no secret that he was prideful, and she made sure to keep her tone as steady as possible, showing level interest so that Inuyasha wouldn't feel like there was any chance she would rub it in his face.
"She invited me over."
"Yeah, I was there." Kagome remarked flatly.
"No, I mean again. And the texts I had suddenly made perfect sense. I guess I never paid any mind to her advances before because I had you, Kagome. No other girl could ever match up, so why bother acknowledging them? I should have caught on and told her to knock it off or something, but to me Yura was just a very attentive study partner. I never meant for any of this to happen."
She tried not to react to the persistency of the girl, or even that fact that she seemed to have a name, honing in only on his explanation. If there was ever a right thing to say, it was that. Kagome felt like a complete and total jerk, and she took her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she repeated his words over and over in her head.
"If you're about to apologize again, don't. I just said you were right -stop chewing on your lip, you're gonna make it bleed again." Inuyasha gently dragged the pad of his thumb along the underside of her lip, willing her teeth to release their hold. She had a bad habit of doing that when she was anxious or stressed, and if it happened around him, he made sure to stop her before she incidentally hurt herself.
"It's not that I wanted to be right. In fact, I wish I weren't. I wish it never happened in the first place and the lurker kept her hands to herself. I just got so mad when she -ugh... and when she winked -don't even get me started! Like, who does that?! It was obvious you were there with me! I mean, we're clearly a couple! If she's made it this far in university, chances are she's smart enough to piece that puzzle together! It's not even one of those tricky, hundred-piece puzzles! It's a preschool-level, eight-piece, large, foam puzzle! What, do I have to sit in your lap to properly stake my claim? Figure it out and back off, lady!"
"Ah, so you were jealous." Inuyasha smirked, cocking an eyebrow in response to her enthusiastic rant.
"Yeah, what of it?" Kagome huffed, rolling her eyes as the nerve of his classmate still crawled under her skin, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from her overly-amused boyfriend.
"So, what about this whole thing made you jealous? Tell me so I can make sure it never happens again."
"No way! You're too happy about all this!"
"I'm serious! I've never seen you like this before! I need to know what tipped the scale!" Inuyasha wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to fill the minor gap between them, his hand gliding down the material of her pajama bottoms that covered her thigh. "It's for science."
"Well in that case, Bill Nye, you know exactly what it was! She did the whole touching thing!" Kagome groaned, mindlessly following his direction and turning herself around, leaning a knee over his leg to straddle him.
"Miroku touches me all the time, and you aren't jealous of him." He said, rubbing his thumb over the small, smooth portion of skin showing at her midriff, the tight tank top riding up her sides.
"Miroku only touches you sexually when he's drunk, and usually when that happens I, myself, am drunk enough to find it amusing."
"Oh, so is it just sober people?"
"I've only encountered one stupid enough to try anything, so it's just her."
"Ah, okay. Noted." Inuyasha lengthened his back, leaning up to press a scant kiss to her soft lips. "Tell me in as much detail as possible what she did that you didn't like."
"She came over.” Kagome said plainly, cocking a brow at the half demon. He merely copied her expression, leaning a hand back against the mattress to better hold himself up.
"You're gonna have to give me a little more than that. I can't stop every girl from coming over to talk."
"Alright, fine." She dropped her fingers to the back of the hand he held to her hip, raking her nails up his forearm so slowly and gently, small bumps began raising on his skin beneath her touch. "You see, I was completely disregarded when she came over, and it only took her about fifteen seconds to put her hands on you." Kagome leaned in just a smidge closer, Inuyasha's gaze glued to her own, keeping her voice hushed. Her fingers continued their trek along his arms, curving over his bicep to give a meager massage.
"That was incredibly rude of her." His tone matched her own as he pushed himself up just a little straighter, regretting the distance he'd created by leaning back.
"I think so, too." She agreed, nodding as if she were giving a lesson and confirming his answer. "I also thought it was rude that she just... kept going. Clearly, she's awful at minding a person's personal space." Kagome trailed her fingers over to his pec, drawing little patterns into his bare skin with the tips of her nails over and over until a light, red line appeared.
"You're right. I'm definitely gonna have to set her straight." Inuyasha gave a barely-audible grunt, watching as she took her bottom lip between her teeth once more, this time without an ounce of worry. Still, on instinct, he placed his thumb to her chin, just below where her teeth bit along the plump, pink skin, willing her to let go. She grabbed his hand, guiding his palm back to her thigh and leaving it there, giving a gentle grind as she pressed herself even closer, her hot breath dancing along his skin.
"But you know, what I hated most of all..."
Inuyasha clutched the thickness of her leg, his free hand curving around her ass in hopes she'd roll her hips again.
"Was when she grabbed your ear..." Kagome rubbed the appendage in between her forefinger and thumb, giving a teasing and gentle tug, her other hand holding him at the crook of his jaw as her voice died off to a whisper. "Like she owned you."
Inuyasha tightened his grip on her butt, practically begging her to grind against him. Kagome tensed her inner thighs, holding herself still, hovering just above his erection that continued to grow harder and harder. "Looks like it wouldn't have hurt to sit on my lap, and what was it? Stake your claim?"
"Mhm." She hummed, moving further away from his hips as she rose to her knees. She placed her hands flat against his chest, pushing him to lay back, her own body never more than a few inches away from his own. Kagome dipped her head down to hover her mouth over his own, her hips still propped above him as his hands glided up and down the length of her thighs. “I’ve realized the best part about this is, I'll never have to. She could touch, and grope, and stroke, and flirt to her little heart's content, and it wouldn’t make a difference. See, you didn’t bat an eye at her, and..."
She brushed her lips to his, kissing him slowly, softly, tantalizingly, her teeth scraping against his bottom lip to draw out that helpless sigh from him she'd been waiting for.
"You're weak for me."
A deep rumble emitted from Inuyasha's chest as he braced his feet on the edge of the mattress, propping his knees up behind Kagome's bottom. He hugged an arm around her waist, swiftly rolling her over to lay beneath him. “You got that right.”
She giggled, spreading her legs further apart to welcome him in. His body radiated a heat she craved, her hands immediately grazing his naked chest as he peppered lingering kisses down her neck. She could feel his arm reach down, his pelvis only inches away from hers as he unbuttoned his jeans and adjusted himself, allowing him to grind against her with pleasured ease. Kagome swallowed her moan as she arched her back, trying to feel his chest pressed against her thin shirt.
One at a time, Inuyasha grabbed her wrists, arresting them above her head like he knew she loved more than she'd ever admit, sitting up to watch her breath hitch in her chest right on queue. Black scribbles caught his peripherals, his attention shifting to her left hand. He splayed out his fingers, pushing his hand into hers, her own fingers flattening with the pressure before he pulled away.
Come back.
A dull ache spread throughout the cavity of Inuyasha’s chest. He swallowed thickly, his amber eyes meeting her deep browns, releasing one of her wrists to better opt for cradling her neck, crushing her lips in a passionate and heated kiss. He'd forgotten all about the message, caught up in each little moment with Kagome since he'd reentered her home. She moaned into his mouth and he happily swallowed the soft sound, his tongue diving in to taste her own, everything moving so slowly and wonderfully, and he swore he would show Kagome right then and there that, when it came to him, there would never be a reason to feel jealous again.
There wasn’t another woman alive that could make Inuyasha feel even an inkling of what she did to him.
Kagome lifted her hips, trying desperately to meet his, his jeans chaffing roughly along her thighs even through her flannel bottoms. Inuyasha pushed her back to the mattress, breaking their kiss, and traveling down her panting abdomen as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pajamas, pushing them down as he kissed further and further. She took over as he rose, kicking off her bottoms from the knee down while he hurriedly removed his jeans, throwing them to the ground without looking at where they landed. 
He pressed his body to hers once more, absent-mindedly rolling his pelvis as soon as the heat that soaked through her panties washed over him, a guttural grunt leaving his throat of its own volition. Again, he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, a weak gasp leaving Kagome’s mouth as he ground into her once more. He spread her fingers wide, putting more pressure on her left side, dragging his hand back and forth over the offending palm that matched pace with his bucking hips.
Inuyasha wanted the message gone. The fight was over. Done with. Easily forgotten in the midst of their heated passion and playful teasing. There was no need for either of them to see the reminder, bringing him to increase the amount of friction he applied, Kagome never once protesting or closing her hand until he was properly satisfied with her blotched and dirtied, illegible palm. He dipped down, giving a heavy thrust that she met with her own, hovering his mouth just above hers and backing out of reach as she pursed hers for a kiss, their lips grazing ever so lightly.
She hated when he did that.
“I thought I was supposed to be doing the teasing.” Kagome stated, pouting up at him. He smiled, unable to help it, and placed a kiss to her forehead, slowing his hips as she tensed her thighs against him.
“Oh, is that what you were doing?”
“Shut up! I want top!” She bucked upward, tensing her thighs even further and pushing against his grip on her wrists, hardly budging her boyfriend who smirked amusedly at her. “Inuyasha! Move!”
“Yeah, keep going, this is romantic.”
“I’m not trying to woo you, I’m trying to fuck you.”
“Excuse me, did you just curse?” Inuyasha asked, his expression beaming of both delight and shock.
“I will fight you, Inuyasha, I swear. There’s one night of every month where I can take you, and I will take full advantage of it in a couple of weeks, so help me-”
“Say it again.” He teased, dropping to the crook in her neck, dragging his tongue along the dip in an attempt to find the spot that made her weak.
Kagome gasped, unconsciously opening her neck to his ministrations, her chest arching into him once he found it, sucking and nipping at the spot until her fingers clenched shut and a whimper left her mouth.
“I want…”
“Say it.” His hushed breath against her wet skin sent a ripple of chills down her body, and he gave a slow and steady grind against her, biting back a hiss of his own as the deliciously heady scent of her reached his nose. Inuyasha gave a powerful suck with intentions to leave a mark, keeping his firm grip against Kagome’s wrists as she writhed against him.
“F-fuck…” It was drawn out and hoarse, and it made Inuyasha’s cock throb painfully. Quickly, he flipped Kagome over so she laid on her belly, gripping her hips to prop her bottom up until her knees supported her weight for him. Kagome pushed her upper body up, leveling her position, peaking at him over her shoulder as she waited patiently for his next move. Without haste, Inuyasha stood off the bed and removed his boxers, enjoying her stare before he kneeled back behind her, letting his cock rub against her silky panties.
Kagome sucked in a breath, the heat from his member searing her skin, causing her head to hang down. She heard him whisper something along the lines of be careful, noticing that she’d come dangerously close to the wall her bed rested against, but she didn’t care. She’d learned on more than one occasion that bumping your head against the wall or bed frame, be it once or multiple times, was well worth it when it came to this. Inuyasha pulled his hips back, but before she could protest in any way, she felt the pads of his fingers stroke over the thin material that covered her, bringing out a moan that she couldn’t manage to swallow in time.
Inuyasha dragged his middle and index back and forth, the heat soaking through her panties, wanting so badly to caress her wet folds as her bottom wriggled to feel more. Once more, he pressed himself against her, reaching up and grabbing a handful of dark hair, her tank top riding up her back to follow the curve of her spine. He stopped grinding, knowing that if he continued to stroke himself with her heat he’d be done for too quickly, instead opting to distract himself with the beautiful sight of her toned back muscles peaking out from the black top she still wore. Inuyasha pushed her shirt up to show more and more, watching as she arched a little further at his tickling touch, curving his fingers around her waist and leaning over her.
“You still want top?” He whispered huskily into her ear, his fingers still entwined in her black strands.
“Y-yes.” Kagome managed to say, relishing in the feel of Inuyasha pushed up against her, hovering over her, holding her, gripping her, breathing on her. She didn’t necessarily care what position they were in anymore, her mind fogging over, her core beginning to ache as he continued to make her wait. At this point, she would agree to anything.
“I’ll tell you what…” Inuyasha released her hair and reached down, pushing the blue, cheeky panties to the side while he adjusting himself. She whimpered at the small touches he granted her, and it sent a wild and flaming thrill through his veins. “You come, we switch. Fair?”
It was all Kagome could do just to nod. She gripped the blankets beneath her palms as he slid inside of her, biting her lip to stifle the whine, leaning back to welcome more of him in. Inuyasha grunted, the sound causing her to shudder against him, the hand on her waist tightening its hold as he thrusted. His pace evened out, gently grazing his free hand down her sides until curving around her ass, squeezing the thick, fleshy area, a low rumble reaching her ears. She swore she could feel the vibrations course through her.
Inuyasha leaned over her once more, his fingers curving around the bone of her hip, nails scraping the tender skin, his pace quickening as he began to slam into her. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him as his fingers trailed to the apex of her thighs, pushing the underwear aside further as he searched for the sensitive bud that would throw her over the edge in no time. Kagome whimpered as he slowly got closer, taking his time as he carefully rubbed her folds, her grip on the comforter slipping as he continued to fuck her hard.
She gasped as he grazed her clit, almost sliding forward into the wall but his hand shot to the bed, stopping her collision. Her hips bucked back against him as he continued to tease the bundle of nerves, the pad of his calloused finger sliding over it, each time harder and harder until she was writhing and moaning beneath him, ducking down to hide her face in the thick covers beneath them.
“Take over.” He ordered, and she did as she was told, reaching down with one hand to rub her clit, his fingers only moving away when he felt her push them aside. Inuyasha straightened upright, his hands anchoring at her waist as he fucked Kagome into the comforter, skin slapping skin, her whines growing to cries which evolved into broken versions of his name as she wriggled and tensed and came closer and closer to climax.
Kagome gasped, the high pitched sound stopping midway through her throat as an overwhelming fire took over her body, her thighs quivering as they fought to hold even a little of her own weight. Inuyasha slowed to a stop, bending over her to press light kisses in between her shoulder blades, stroking her sides until her breathing steadied and her body seemed to stop shaking.
She pressed herself up, the half demon following her lead as she rose to stand on her knees, pulling out of her and curving around to the front of her body. He kissed her shoulder, pushing the strap of her tank top down her arm, her head lolling to the side to welcome his warm and wet ministrations. The tips of his fingers traveled down her arms, feeling the small bumps that rose in response to his gentle touch as he grazed back up just to trail over her breasts, his hands lingering for a small moment to kneed and massage. He licked up the length of her neck, sighing out as he reached her jaw, his fingers curling around the hem at the bottom of her shirt and pulling it up to remove. Their chests pressed to one another’s just as quickly as they had pulled away, the warmth of her naked skin burning his own in the most wonderful fashion, bringing him to pull her closer as they kissed softly, slowly. Her hands curved around the crook of his jaw, holding him to her, and he sighed out raggedly, knowing full and well he could kiss her for hours on end and be perfectly content with the time spent.
Kagome had to be the one to break away, pushing him to lay back along the pillows at the top of the bed, following his path as he propped himself up to a seated position. His amber eyes traveled down her body, drinking the sight of her in, his gaze stopping at the blue panties she donned, then flicking back up to her, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively.
“No, you may not rip these! I like this pair!” Kagome said, quickly pulling the silky garment down to her knees so she could wiggle them off.
“You say that about every pair.” Inuyasha droned, rolling his eyes.
“That’s because I paid for them.”
He huffed as he gave in, welcoming her thighs along each side of his body as she straddled him, running his hands over every inch of soft skin he could possibly touch until reaching her neck. Inuyasha pulled her down for another kiss, their lips dancing perfectly with one another’s as she alined their bodies and sat back onto his cock, taking all of him in.
He groaned as she splayed her fingers out on his abdomen, raking her nails along the way, feeling his muscles tense in response to her touch and her hips that moved against him agonizingly slowly. Kagome took her time, rolling in a grinding motion, sitting up to watch the half demon watch her. He had a habit, she noticed, of staring while she worked. His hands would find her waist, or the place where her thighs and ass met, and grip firmly, while he studied her every move with heated eyes. He would respectively start at her face, usually watching her mouth and the way she stifled her noises by biting her lip, and at this point in the game, he was too distracted to stop her. Then, he would travel down to her breasts, undoubtedly bouncing with her motions that she would intentionally speed up the tiniest amount. He tended to linger when he reached her tummy, and Kagome never knew why, but loved it nonetheless, his sultry stare doing things to her that his hands and mouth couldn’t.
Inuyasha’s grip on her tightened as she gave a deep roll of her hips, her entire body going into the movement. Fuck, he loved when she did that. He loved when she rode him, period. She was so fucking beautiful, it almost wasn’t fair, and what made it even worse was that she took her damn time with him. Kagome took the reins and she held them with care, making sure to handle the ropes with practiced ease, and good lord did she know what she was doing. The grunt that left his lips was deep, raspy, and low, almost a growl, and he gripped the fleshy parts of her hips, guiding her into a faster motion as he pushed his own up to meet her.
Kagome’s hands fumbled along his chest, gripping at his shoulders the moment her fingers reached them, following his demands and speeding up her pace, unable to stop the whine she gave in response to his cock thrusting inside to match stroke-for-stroke. She watched his jaw drop, heard his heavy breath hitch in her chest, felt his body tense beneath her. Inuyasha was getting close, a curse word laced into each gasp and groan, his hands clumsily running along her skin with no intention other than to touch and cling to any part of her that he could. Kagome braced a hand on the bed frame behind his head, gripping the top of the wooden board as she used the sturdy material to push herself down in an angled glide, her clit rubbing against him perfectly. 
He grabbed her neck and closed the scant distance, crushing their lips together in a messy kiss, unwilling to allow their bodies to separate as he felt her walls begin to constrict harder and harder. Their moans clashed as their bodies pressed together in synced and unchoreographed movements, the bed frame banging against the wall behind them until Kagome’s body went taut. Inuyasha swallowed her drawn out and broken cry, taking over, thrusting upward just a few more times until he met the tail end of her climax with his own. His fingers threaded into her hair, entangling in the thick strands at the back of her head as he rode out his orgasm.
Their bodies went slack, Kagome’s head falling to his shoulder as her arm went limp along the pillows. She gave a deep sigh of approval. Whenever they laid like this, pressed to one another, she could feel his heart beating against her chest, a sensation that could so easily soothe every worry her body harbored. They stayed like that as long as they could until the night air brought a chill, Kagome finally shifting off Inuyasha so they could crawl beneath the blanket. Still, they huddled close, the two of them gently drawing designs into each other’s skin with their fingers, some spots tickling more than others.
“Still think you have a reason to be jealous?” Inuyasha asked jokingly, his voice soft and breathy. He pushed hair out of her face, following the length of the dark strands over the side of her cheek and around her neck.
“Shut up.” Kagome rolled her eyes, flicking his chest in warning.
“Just making sure.” He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she didn’t push him away as he’d expected. “I love you.”
It wasn’t something he said often. Kagome was well aware that he would prefer to speak with his body language when it came to anything sentimental, and luckily she picked up on what he was conveying just as easily as if he’d screamed the words to an audience. If he never once said it aloud, or chose to never say it again, she’d still perfectly understand how he felt. Inuyasha was wonderful and kind, fiery and passionate, guarded and protective. He was her heart. She never had anything to worry about with him. “I love you.” She smiled.
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themiddlelayer · 5 years ago
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It’s Just a Fantasy...
As Billy Joel sang, “...it’s not the real thing. Sometimes a fantasy is all you need!”
Jersey got in touch again today. It was 5 years ago last week that I left the job where we met. He managed the factory, I worked in the office. On the surface, he was just this hot Italian guy in jeans and flannel shirts who made me feel like a silly schoolgirl with a crush whenever I saw him walk by. I had no idea at the time, but there was so much more to him.
On my last day of work he stopped by my desk and handed me his card. He seemed to stammer, “Um, if you need a reference or something” His cell number was hand-written on the back. I remember holding onto that card until it was soft from my sweaty palms... I felt like I had to hide it, even though MM and I were non-monogamous. I felt like I had to hide the goofy grin that kept coming up... the embarrassing blush... and I finally got the nerve up to write my number down to give him. It took me another few minutes to work up the courage to try to bring it to him in his office. I honestly don’t remember if I actually gave it to him before I left. I think I did, but he later said that he lost it so he was glad I messaged him.
Somehow we started chatting shortly after. My memory is awful... I’m remembering an awkward kiss goodbye in the parking lot of the Mill that had the bar/restaurant I’d go on dates at. He seemed afraid to actually kiss me properly... because he is married. 
At the time, he was living in MD and his wife and son were back in New Jersey. Apparently he had lived apart from them quite a bit over the years. I was really trying to behave myself and keep my non-monogamy ethical. MM and I actually had more than one tense conversation about him because he was a cheater. 
I moved to AZ and he continued to just pop up from time to time like people tend to do with me. The more we chatted, the more enamored I became. Mr. Hot Italian in Flannel is a volunteer firefighter, an artist... a painter, and a DJ. He would play rooftop parties in NYC and things like that. Big deal parties with big paychecks. 
He talked about being hit on by one of my favorite artists, Keith Haring, when he hung out at the Paradise Garage or “Gay-rage” as it was called. We talked about his love of Jean-Michel Basquiat and the art he wanted to make. 
Our conversations always woke up this part of me that just wanted to be more, create more, live more. 
Last time he surfaced, he was talking about whether to move out of the suburbs and to a beach town or back to the city. He’s never outright said that he’s not happy at home, but all he has ever talked about is running away from it. His son was the only part of his ‘real life’ that he ever talked about, and he’s in college now. 
From time to time, he’d talk about meeting up in Vegas for a weekend or him coming to Arizona because he’s never been here. Today when we were chatting we talked about Sedona. He sent me a link to a beautiful resort where he said a friend of his stayed. We talked about driving into Mexico together, just because I’ve been here almost 5 years and haven’t crossed the border. I told him about Bisbee... an old mining town that’s a crazy mix of hippies and real life ranchers where ghost hunter shows like to come. 
He said, “Who knows, if I come out there I may never leave... sounds enticing.” And he asked if there’s a volunteer fire department in my town. He even followed up on that saying that his certs are ‘pro board’ so they will transfer from state to state. It’s just a fantasy... oh, oh, oh, oh... (Billy Joel again) But what a fantasy it is! 
I wish I knew what it is about Jersey. We literally had 2 dates-ish. We worked at the same address, but barely spoke beyond the pleasantries and work-stuff during the staff lunches in the conference room. I only learned that he was married and that she’s Puerto Rican with the stereotypical hot latin temper when he brought something to work that she’d cooked. 
Whatever it is, it’s mutual. Today he said, “You have always been fuel for my soul... can’t explain it... the paths we have taken are different but the emotion is parallel. If that makes any sense.”  And it totally does in that I feel it, but it makes no sense whatsoever. 
That’s a thing with me that I’ve never been able to find the root of. When someone clicks, they just click. There is no halfway with my feelings. 
The Mad Scientist is a prime example of that. We only dated as a triad of sorts with MM for a few months, then the two of us for a few more weeks or so. During those times, we didn’t see each other often and I really knew very little about his day to day life. I only went to his house once the entire time. He had a pot-bellied pig named Hibiscus Tea aka ‘Hibby’ at the time, and I saw a massage table set up in a half-room of sorts off the foyer and felt jealous for no good reason. And I was so in love with him. 
I know the thing that happened with him... he looked me in the eyes and called me by my name in bed. It was a kind of intimacy I’d never experienced, and have only had with one other partner since, Nomad. Just talking about it makes my heart flutter. 
Part of me wants to reach out to him... to see if he’s happy and make sure he knows I still think of him often... and it makes smile. But I know better. What if he’s not happy? Or what if he is, but hearing from me brings stuff up for him? Or the ultimate what if that’s always been in the back of my mind... what if he meant more to me than I meant to him? Ugh.
Whatever the case, fantasy is all I’ve got right now. That’s something else that Jersey and I talked about.... the virus. He’s been helping EMT’s and fire duty has been busy because of people setting fires in their kitchen more often. He’s been quarantined other than fire duty for a week now and said that ‘people are dying left and right’ out there. 
The fantasy now is once this virus thing is over and we can get back to normal life...Once they find a vaccine and it’s safe to travel again...
But part of me feels like there will never be normal life like it once was. Between the economic crash, the hoarding, the lack of concrete information because of limited testing, all of the unknown and the panic it’s induced... 
Even if the country... the world... finally goes back to being ‘open for business’ as the commander-in-tweet kept talking about, it won’t be the same. Lots of people are saying that it’s for the best that it won’t be the same. That we have the chance to build something better. But that kind of rebuilding, no matter what it ends up looking like, takes a long time. 
I’m afraid this will become my normal... that I won’t ever get out there and date again. I’m afraid that I’m a couple cats away from being that sad, old cat lady everyone looks at and wonders... what happened to her? Only nobody could look at me because I’m such a reclusive hermit that seeing me outside my apartment is limited to when I check my mail and the days I tote my laundry to Cookie’s and try to feel some sense of family and belonging again. 
Fuck that got morbid. 
Time for me to attempt sleep... and look for a pair of pantyhose. I’m allowing Faust to Dom me without being my Dom. It’s a weird balancing act, but having some accountability and direction feels good. I’ll roll with it. 
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gaypopandlockmein-blog · 7 years ago
Text
Red Lipstick Smears
Pairing: You / Minhyuk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,054
Genre: Soulmate!AU // Non-Idol!AU
Summary: Lee Minhyuk has always seen in shades of gray, though his soulmate can see all the colors he can’t. Spite fuels him to be better without them, but when they find each other, not only is the world in color, he can’t stop thinking one thing. What does red lipstick look like, smeared on someone’s lips?
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{Third Person POV}
Minhyuk has spent his whole life seeing in black, white, and gray. When he was younger, probably around five, he never understood why some of his friends saw the world like him, while others would go on and on about colors he couldn’t see. Sometimes, those kids would upset him, and he’d find himself getting in fights with them over it. It wasn’t fair they got to see all of that. It wasn’t fair that he didn’t know what periwinkle looked like. What was red, other than a word? Around that time, the teachers at school taught their students about soulmates, and how the world consisted of all varying kinds.
“Everyone has a soulmate. Someone who they’re going to spend the rest of their life with, and you will all find your soulmate someday with your soul connection.”
There were people who had clocks to tell them when they’d meet their perfect match, those with tattoos that finished when they met, some with a string connecting them to their soulmate; and there were those like Minhyuk, seeing in shades of gray while their soulmate saw all the beautiful colors in the world. Even though he was told that he would see them too once they met, it did nothing to curb his anger towards them. How was it fair that this other person got to see all the beautiful things in the world in color and all he got was stupid black and white? Some days he would lay and bed and think he was no better off than a dog.
Years of bitterness towards his better half caused Minhyuk to seek refuge in the one place he found he could pour out his feelings – art. In art, it didn’t matter if you painted with all the colors of the rainbow or only the three he could see clearly; so long as your work was amazing, no one cared if it was dull or vibrant. Minhyuk gave his all to his pieces, making them stand out amongst students in middle and high school, earning him a free ride scholarship to one of the most prestigious art universities in his country by the time he was seventeen.
For him, that day was his proudest moment; no graduation or marriage or death would be as spectacular as knowing he had used his masterpieces to create a better way of life around for himself. Now, three years later and midway through college, with his degree nearly done, Minhyuk was satisfied. Yes, perhaps there were some moments where he found himself wistfully thinking about what it would be like to finally see color, but all in all, he pushed those aside. He had no time for any of that, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize his future for something as silly as a soulmate.
No, Lee Minhyuk was not about to let someone waltz into his life and change his whole universe. Even if he sometimes found himself jealous of his friends who had theirs; no, he was not going to let that affect him. He was fine on his own. Or so he thought.
{Readers’ POV}
Struggling with my bag, portfolio, and umbrella, I let out a heavy sigh and shake my head, looking out at the rain that pounds on the ground with the force of a waterfall. Of course, the one day I needed it to be sunny and dry, it had to rain. Grumbling to myself about stupid weather, I continue my long trek to the art building, praying that my work won’t get soaked through before I can show it to my professor.
I’ve just pushed open the door into the fine arts building when someone comes running past, smashing into my arm and causing my portfolio to fly from my grip. I watch in horror, as if I’m in some stupid slow motion scene of a movie, while said object hurtles right into the downpour and slides across the concrete walkway. I pay no mind to the person who ran into me, dropping my bag and umbrella as I run to grab my giant folder, tears brimming in my eyes when I realize it’s ruined, soaked through before it even hit the ground.
“I am so sorry, oh my god. I didn’t see your portfolio in your arms. I-is it-“
“It’s ruined. All my photographs for the gallery are in here!” Spinning on the person, I feel rage seethe through my veins and spur me into action. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, I open my mouth to yell at him when I see his hair and frown. My head tilts to the side, confusion washing over my features as he gasps. It takes a minute for my eyes to comprehend the depth to his face, or the fact that the building next to us is now in a vivid white, practically blinding.
Our eyes meet briefly before he’s shoving himself away from me, not caring that he’s getting soaked as he stumbles down the steps away from the building, leaving me standing there in surprise. That was my fucking soulmate…and he totally ruined my portfolio! I glare after him, chancing a glance back at the building before deciding I would email my professor and solve this later. Right now, I have to confront that asshole who not only destroyed my photos, but just happens to be my soulmate.
It takes longer than I thought to track him down, my whole body shivering as I stand in the lobby of the library, glaring at the boy whose black hair falls in front of his eyes when he moves his head. The whole outfit he’s wearing, paired with his hair, are so foreign compared to the colors I know, bringing with it thoughts of the night sky I heard about in school. This boy whose fingers are now using a pencil to create some drawing in a sketchpad resting in the crook of his crossed legs, instead of pushing my portfolio out into the rain. He’s dry, which means he probably had the chance to go back to his dorm and change clothes, but I don’t really care about that right now. Even if he does look adorable in his oversized sweater and ripped blue jeans.
“Hey!” My voice rings in the open air of the area, causing everyone to look my way except the one person I want to. His shoulders tense, and I can see his fingers twitching around his pencil, his fight or flight response taking over. Ultimately, his shoulders slump low, head tilting towards me, though his eyes never leave the page in front of him.
I storm over, water dripping onto the tile floor with every stomp of my feet. Dropping my things on the ground beside him, I place my palms down on the table and lean in close, a drip of water falling from the tip of my nose and landing on the corner of the paper. His fingers flutter about, swiping at the spot as he mutters under his breath. I don’t catch what he says, but I honestly don’t give a shit, merely leaning closer and clearing my throat.
When he looks up at me, attention totally focused, I find my words are stuck in my throat. All the anger I had before is slowly spiraling out of my system, replaced with the panic and excitement of knowing what the color black looks like brushing against his forehead. I search his eyes, seeing the white there and inhaling slowly, leaning impossibly closer without noticing the way he’s soaking in all the color that I’m emitting as well. After a brief moment of silence, I snap out of my trance, moving away from him with a curled lip.
“You ruined my photographs. I spent…I spent ages on those, and you just…have the audacity to run into me and destroy them and be my soulmate all at once!” I jab a finger into his chest, watching his gaze move down and inspect how my digit presses into the fabric of his sweater.
I try to fight the urge to twist my fingers into it and drag him closer; fight the urge and make his dark eyes look back at me and kiss his too pink lips and- No, Y/N, you are not going to become dumb over some cute, charming, hot boy. Even if he has that pout that you love on people and even if he’s got some of the softest looking hair and-STOP.
I nearly lurch away from him this time, realizing how close I had gotten to him while I was distracted with my own thoughts. He seems just as surprised, lips parted slightly and eyes glazed over in a way that tells me he was probably wanting to do the same thing to me. Another step back makes me take stock of how stupid I am for going after him, and one more has me grabbing my things and bolting, not looking back when he yells out after me. I can’t be around him anymore, and not just because I’m angry, but because I barely know him and he’s already becoming my whole world.
{Third Person POV}
Lee Minhyuk does not need a soulmate, and he does not care to find one. Lee Minhyuk does not need a soulmate, even though he’s found his. Lee Minhyuk is pretty much going insane for thinking in the third person and telling himself he doesn’t want his soulmate even though they are in his every freaking thought. Sitting up in his bed, he rubs at his eyes and grumbles, wishing he had never run out of the front door that day. He wishes he never saw them, never felt the utter shock of knowing what red lipstick looks like on someone’s lips. Never felt that shock of knowing what red looks like.
He wishes, he wishes, he wishes- well fuck his wishes, because now he’s royally screwed and overstimulated by all the colors that he sees. There are so many more than his meager black, white, and gray, which throws him off. After running away from his soulmate and promptly going back to his dorm, he nearly passed out from all the shades that assaulted him. The only place where he could breathe right and not go mad was in his bedroom, where all the hues were dulled to the three he knew so well.
Then they found him, huddled up in the library amongst the softer pigments that didn’t hurt his eyes so much. They had stood over him, dripped water on his drawing of them, and then proceeded to suck him into a place where only the two of them existed. Minhyuk still can feel the heat of their body rolling off them, can still see the beautiful color of their eyes and how much their pupils dilated. That thought alone has him shivering as he sits on the edge of his bed, remembering how he had soaked in all their features and seen the close proximity of their bodies; nearly ready to kiss, when they had shot away from him. It had taken everything in Minhyuk not to grasp their wrist and pull them back in for said kiss before they ran away from him this time.
Rubbing at his face, Minhyuk whispers over and over that he’s being stupid. He does not need a soulmate and he certainly isn’t worried about whether they got back to their dorm or whatever safely. No, he is not concerned about if they are now warm and not shivering like before, and he is not letting himself think about how so very tempted he was to go out and find them and kiss them in the rain.
Minhyuk doesn’t want to know what it looks like when red lipstick smears after being kissed breathless, though his body tells him that is exactly what he wants to know.
He gets up from his bed then, pulling on his shoes and a rain coat, muttering to himself softly that he is insane for doing this. Jooheon peeks his head out of his room when he hears Minhyuk moving around, glancing outside to see it was still pouring rain.
“Where the hell are you going in this weather? You’ll get sick,” Jooheon states, worry lacing his voice.
Minhyuk grasps the handle to the door leaving the dorm suite and huffs. “I’ve got to go and find out what it’s like to see red lipstick smeared on someone’s lips. I’ll be fine.” He gives no other explanation, heading out and feeling something like excitement coursing through his veins.
{Reader’s POV}
I run my fingers through my hair, thanking whatever higher power is out there for the blessing that is a hot shower and warm clothes. Snuggling further into my large sweater, I sip at the tea in my hands, watching the rain fall down and puddle on the sidewalk. Students are milling about, some heading to classes or work or to get food, a couple stopping to enjoy the rain. I think about how nice it must be, and feel a smile pull at my lips as I can finally see the shades of black and white and gray that people are wearing. The sky is a beautiful color of slate, twined with a dark blue that I know more than well. My smile falters when I think about my soulmate, who is likely being bombarded by all the new pigments, but I push that aside.
He ruined your work, Y/N. The photographs you spent months taking and editing and perfecting. All that effort down the drain, and then he nearly got you to kiss him.
My mouth presses to the rim of my mug, sipping at the warm liquid that rushes to meet my tongue as I swallow it down. When I pull it away, I notice the small red mark left behind, reminding me that I’m still wearing the lipstick I put on earlier this morning. Setting down my mug, I stand to go and take it off when something outside catches my eye. I’m not sure why it does, until I’m leaning closer to the window and see the mop of black hair that I find myself coming to like more and more. He’s the only one standing outside of the dorm, seeming to hesitate whenever someone opens the door and offers to let him in.
Sighing, I chew on the inside of my cheek and decide, fuck it, we would need to talk at some point anyway. I snag my room keys and slip on my coat and shoes, leaving the suite and nearly hitting this guy with the door when I’m exiting the dorm itself. I move out of the way, pushing us beneath one of the awnings on the side of the building and raising my brow.
“What are you doing here? It’s pouring outside, if you haven’t noticed, and cold as hell. You’re lucky if you don’t have hypothermia or something,” I chastise, though an ounce of worry works its way into my system. What if he did catch hypothermia or another illness because of this weather?
Before I can ask if he wants to come inside, he speaks, stepping closer to me. “I’m Minhyuk. Lee Minhyuk. I-I want to apologize for the portfolio I ruined earlier today, I swear, I never…I never usually am in such a rush.” He thinks for a moment, spurred on by my continued silence. “I didn’t want to meet my soulmate, or didn’t care to, I suppose. I spent a lot of my life angry at you for being the one who got to see the world in all its vibrant colors, but I…I’m not…angry anymore. If anything, I’m confused and…and really want to know something.”
I blink, tongue running over the front of my teeth behind my closed lips. Shifting my weight from my left to my right leg, I cross my arms over my chest, swallowing thickly at what he’s said. I never really thought about it like that, how he has spent all of his life with only three shades of color to see everywhere, and yet he was an artist. An artist whose works I regularly saw in the art building’s gallery and thought were the most beautiful things to exist. Despite their simplicity, the works he created were breathtaking, and now I’m the one staring back at him, drowning in the work of art that is him.
“Y/N. My name is Y/N. It’s alright about...about the portfolio,” I pause, thinking a moment, “I never thought about the fact that you’ve never gotten to see all of this the way I have.” As I speak, I gesture to the things around us, watching his gaze flicker about before landing on my face again. I’m drawn back to his eyes, a pull starting in my chest that brings me closer to him until I can feel his breath washing over my features. “What…what did you want to know?”
Minhyuk looks back at me, left hand rising to stroke over my cheek, moving back to cup at my neck. His gaze is searching, desperate in a way I’ve never seen anyone’s before, and then he’s dipping his head and pressing his lips to mine. His touch is cold, slightly wet from the rain that falls down as heavy as ever as we grip each other and move in tandem. The feel of his tongue against mine is odd, but I don’t hate it, and a small noise escaping from my throat that has his lips pulling up.
We pull away, breathless and panting, water dripping from eyelashes and hair onto the concrete below our feet. I find myself laughing softly at the sight of my lipstick on his mouth, smudged and messy, but otherwise fitting. His smile takes away what little breath I have left, his hand grasping mine and pulling me back into him.
“I wanted to know what red lipstick looked like smeared on your lips. Now, I’d really like to know if it can get any messier,” he whispers, leaning in again and stealing away any other thoughts in my mind.
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