Pretty Girl by cuethe_pulse, La Corda d’Oro, list 1 #13
Title: Pretty Girl
Author: cuethe_pulse
Fandom: La Corda d’Oro
Claim: General
Pairing: Azuma Yunoki/Nami Amou, also implied Hihara x Kahoko and background Ryoutarou x Len
Theme List: 1
Theme: 13-Unexpected Guests
Rating: PG-13
Description: Het, background slash, follows “Pretty Boy”
Disclaimer: La Corda d’Oro and its characters do not belong to me.
When Azuma Yunoki showed up alongside Hihara on her doorstep, Nami blamed Kahoko.
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” she apologized weakly. “You wrote so nicely about him in your article, after all.”
Yes, but the party she was throwing was supposed to be for Seisou General Ed students only. And Ryoutarou had already broken that rule by dragging a reluctant Len along with him. She’d let that slide, if only because she knew they’d be spending most of their time locked away in a room together.
Boys.
And Hihara, she supposed, was all right. He was nice enough, and fun, and she was this close to forcing Kahoko to open her eyes…
But Yunoki.
She watched with as much nonchalance as she could muster as the girls who’d been too hesitant-or too frightened of his fan club-to approach him at school flocked around him like hungry birds, eating up his every word about university and the weather and whatever else they asked him about. She rolled her eyes.
Girls.
When she glanced their way again, her eyes met his and she hastily turned away as heat flooded to her cheeks. So she hadn’t gotten over whatever spell of lust he’d put over her. She’d just have to avoid him, then; she couldn’t allow herself to look like a hormonal fool in her own home. (She’d leave that honor to the two boys who were, no doubt, already taking advantage of one of the house’s bedrooms.)
She busied herself in the kitchen, refilling the punchbowl, the food platters. But her mind kept going back to the man in the other room. She hoped beyond hope that these constant thoughts of him wouldn’t act as a siren, wouldn’t call him away from his group of admirers, wouldn’t-
“Amou-san.”
No such luck.
Cursing inwardly, she pasted on her most fetching smile and turned to face the man of her dreams-nightmares-fantasies. “Hey, party crasher,” she greeted him. “How goes the life of higher learning?”
“It goes,” he replied idly, looking at her with not-very-thinly-veiled amusement; she bristled slightly. “But that isn’t what you really want to talk about, is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, wary, wanting. “What else is there to talk about?”
He said nothing for a moment, just looked at her, just looked at her with that scrutinizing stare that made her squirm. “Your hair,” he finally said.
“What?”
“Your hair looks nice tonight,” he explained, lifting a hand. She watched with widening eyes as that hand moved toward her. The counter was behind her; she couldn’t move away, but she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. “You should wear it down more often.”
And then his hand touched her hair. His fingers ran through it slowly and her imagination ran wild. She thought of him moving closer, leaning in and kissing her. She thought of him laying her down on the counter, pushing the punch and the food aside and not caring about the mess. She thought of him hiking up her dress. She thought of him making love to her.
He pulled his hand away rather abruptly, jolting her into reality. He looked at her with a funny glint in his eyes, as if he could see inside her, as if he knew everything she’d just imagined. She couldn’t speak; she could only look back at him, mortified, nearly-breathless.
And then he smiled-that troubled smile-but she couldn’t bring herself to care when he told her, “You’re a very pretty girl.”
He left her in the kitchen with a wink and a warm sensation between her legs.
Author: cuethe_pulse
Fandom: La Corda d’Oro
Claim: General
Pairing: Azuma Yunoki/Nami Amou, also implied Hihara x Kahoko and background Ryoutarou x Len
Theme List: 1
Theme: 13-Unexpected Guests
Rating: PG-13
Description: Het, background slash, follows “Pretty Boy”
Disclaimer: La Corda d’Oro and its characters do not belong to me.
When Azuma Yunoki showed up alongside Hihara on her doorstep, Nami blamed Kahoko.
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” she apologized weakly. “You wrote so nicely about him in your article, after all.”
Yes, but the party she was throwing was supposed to be for Seisou General Ed students only. And Ryoutarou had already broken that rule by dragging a reluctant Len along with him. She’d let that slide, if only because she knew they’d be spending most of their time locked away in a room together.
Boys.
And Hihara, she supposed, was all right. He was nice enough, and fun, and she was this close to forcing Kahoko to open her eyes…
But Yunoki.
She watched with as much nonchalance as she could muster as the girls who’d been too hesitant-or too frightened of his fan club-to approach him at school flocked around him like hungry birds, eating up his every word about university and the weather and whatever else they asked him about. She rolled her eyes.
Girls.
When she glanced their way again, her eyes met his and she hastily turned away as heat flooded to her cheeks. So she hadn’t gotten over whatever spell of lust he’d put over her. She’d just have to avoid him, then; she couldn’t allow herself to look like a hormonal fool in her own home. (She’d leave that honor to the two boys who were, no doubt, already taking advantage of one of the house’s bedrooms.)
She busied herself in the kitchen, refilling the punchbowl, the food platters. But her mind kept going back to the man in the other room. She hoped beyond hope that these constant thoughts of him wouldn’t act as a siren, wouldn’t call him away from his group of admirers, wouldn’t-
“Amou-san.”
No such luck.
Cursing inwardly, she pasted on her most fetching smile and turned to face the man of her dreams-nightmares-fantasies. “Hey, party crasher,” she greeted him. “How goes the life of higher learning?”
“It goes,” he replied idly, looking at her with not-very-thinly-veiled amusement; she bristled slightly. “But that isn’t what you really want to talk about, is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, wary, wanting. “What else is there to talk about?”
He said nothing for a moment, just looked at her, just looked at her with that scrutinizing stare that made her squirm. “Your hair,” he finally said.
“What?”
“Your hair looks nice tonight,” he explained, lifting a hand. She watched with widening eyes as that hand moved toward her. The counter was behind her; she couldn’t move away, but she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. “You should wear it down more often.”
And then his hand touched her hair. His fingers ran through it slowly and her imagination ran wild. She thought of him moving closer, leaning in and kissing her. She thought of him laying her down on the counter, pushing the punch and the food aside and not caring about the mess. She thought of him hiking up her dress. She thought of him making love to her.
He pulled his hand away rather abruptly, jolting her into reality. He looked at her with a funny glint in his eyes, as if he could see inside her, as if he knew everything she’d just imagined. She couldn’t speak; she could only look back at him, mortified, nearly-breathless.
And then he smiled-that troubled smile-but she couldn’t bring herself to care when he told her, “You’re a very pretty girl.”
He left her in the kitchen with a wink and a warm sensation between her legs.