Tag: mitarashi

mita-rashi:

@uchihasavior

“Be my wife.” That should hopefully come off clearer, as he leans down to nose around her ear.

Ha. It comes out as a sigh, a breath that’s rushed out of her chest before she can catch it. 

“Is that my reward for good behavior?” 

She’s a little wonder struck by the idea, and takes his hand in hers for support. 

“If you’d like to treat it that way.” But he was here for all her behavior, not just when she was trying to pretty herself up to impress his parents. 

He was always unconventional about these things. Figures he’d find the weirdest way to propose.

mita-rashi:

This is really right up her alley, and she lets him carry her. All the requirements for pampering have been met: she feels terrible and he feels warm. 

Anko kicks a foot out, like a princess.

“Is it going to be a bubble bath?” 

“I’ll buy you scented soap the next time.” He’ll treat her like a proper girl, even. Buy her makeup and heels too thick to be used for shinobi work. This is likely going to get him sick as well, but chances are Anko will be merciful enough to return the favor.

Itachi lets her stand once he’s set foot in the bathroom, so the coat of blankets can be removed. 

mita-rashi:

“I smell like fucking daisies.” She does. The most beautiful daisies. 

But she gets up with minimal complaint. Or movement. She’s pretty much a heavy weight of grouchiness, now entirely his problem.

“You’ll smell much better after a bath.” An arm comes to loop down under Anko’s legs, to actually lift her cleanly into his arms. Let him be a gentleman and spoil you, especially while you’re sick. 

mita-rashi:

Anko stays huddled under the blanket, a miserable, unwashed mess. She’s been sick for days.

Someone make her shower.

“Fuck off,” she croaks. The warning glare comes free of charge. 

“My turn to complain about odor.” Come on Anko, he’s already run a bath. It’s just a matter of lifting her, blankets and all. 

“Because I can’t makes chocolates. And store bought ones sound cheap.” She takes one of the chocolates, holding it out for his permission before she takes a bite out of it. “I’d probably poison you by mistake, and then what would you think of me?”

“I’ll be sure to have your name written on my headstone.” So the world would know he’d been killed by Anko’s confectioneries. He’s not against sharing, however. If he tried to eat them all by himself he’d cause severe intestinal distress. 

A few more won’t hurt.