#both petitions I signed were pretty much thrown to the side
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Dean’s Jeans 2
What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!
Title: Dean’s Jeans 2
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 5561
Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.
Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end
It was a big day for driveways and garages.
You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.
“Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.
“Should be. Why, what’s up?”
“I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”
Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.
“Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.
Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.
You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.
“Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”
Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”
“No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.
“A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.
“Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”
“’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.
“Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.
“Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.
“You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.
“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch. They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”
You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.
“Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.
“Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.
“Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”
“Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”
“Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”
You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.
Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.
DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.
“Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”
You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”
“Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”
“That’s why he needs a hug?”
“Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.
“It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.
A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.
Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”
Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”
His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.
“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.
DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”
“Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”
He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.
She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”
“It’s okay.”
The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”
After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.
“I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”
You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”
He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”
You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.
It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.
“My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.
“He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”
Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”
“Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”
He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.
They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.
“Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.
He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”
“You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.
As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.
“How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.
Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”
“You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.
“I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”
“Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”
“Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.
You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”
Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”
“Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”
Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”
Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”
“Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”
“As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”
“Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.
“Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”
“You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”
It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.
He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”
Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”
The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.
He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.
“Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”
“Like father, like daughter.”
You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”
“You’d think I drugged them.”
He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.
You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide. You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.
It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.
The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.
Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.
“You’re thinking about your knees right now?”
“That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.
You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.
But here he was still.
Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.
No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”
“All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”
Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.
“Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”
“Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.
-
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The Summoner’s New Drug
This was originally conceived as a joke between me and tumbyrumblings except I kinda wrote a lot and kept going lol. Though I feel like I wrote a whole lotta nothing despite this being 4k words abjsbjbbs
Please know that any inaccuracies is cause I meant it that way lmao. Story involves the obvious three characters at ridiculously large sizes
"They're brownies," Corrin softly chimes in from his seat in the corner, his downcast eyes focusing on his warm chamomile tea instead.
"And what exactly is so special about these…" Grima trails off with a grimace. A plate of freshly baked brownies held in Kiran's hands, Grima eyes them warily as if concocted to destroy him.
"We have nothing like that in Phoenicis," Tibarn stands behind Kiran. He inquisitively glances down at the baked goods. A quick sniff relays enough information on his lack of knowledge on the dessert. "Chocolate huh. Those Begnion pigs loved that stuff,"
"Unsurprisingly, Corrin's the only one to really know about this kind of stuff," Kiran gives a small sigh before going on to inform them. "They're brownies. A nice little gooey, fudgy, chocolaty sweet. And they're special because I baked them myself! Doubly so since they're pot brownies,"
Upon the sudden adjective, Grima and Tibarn both turn towards Corrin. "I've never heard of that word before," He curves his tail closer to himself, not exactly appreciating the attention.
"They've got weed in them," Kiran clarifies. With a lack of a reaction, he divulges further. "You smoke it to feel good but you can also use it in food?" All three of them simply stare at him with morbid curiosity, none of them understanding the summoner. He lets out an exaggerated sigh before placing down the tray of goods. Grabbing a notebook he roughly sketches out the plant.
"Ah, you mean bud," Tibarn is the first one to respond. "I didn't think you'd know of such a thing. I used to enjoy it from time to time with Ulki and Janaff growing up,”
"That's the devil's grass," Corrin adds, now eyeing the brownies warily.
Kiran holds back a small snicker. "Oh come now; this is nothing so morbid like that. It's perfectly harmless and it makes you feel pretty nice,"
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Familiar with it, only in a different form, Tibarn shrugs his shoulders without a care. Grabbing one of the brownies, he merely takes a simple sniff before heartily chomping into the delicacy. “Mmm, you’ve outdone yourself,” Tibarn takes another quick two bites to finish it, a content thumbs up thrown Kiran’s way. “Heh, don’t mind if I take another one, right?” His eyelids drooping, Tibarn doesn’t wait for a response; instead he grabs two at once, one in each hand. He lets out a small, breathy chuckle. He stares at his hands while he continues to munch, as if each digit contained limitless knowledge possessed by Ashunera.
"Who cares about a weed concoction? It is yet another pointless distraction meant to please you pathetic worms," Grima skulks about as ever. Unwilling to partake in merriment enjoyed by others, he keeps his arms crossed.
“I guess you’re right,” Kiran sighs. He turns his back towards Grima. “Alfonse did like these, so I should save some for him if you won’t eat any,” As he goes to walk towards the plate, Kiran already has a grin forming on his face while he waits for his plan to work.
“That pathetic princeling has no need or right of anything that is yours,” And work it does as Grima barrels past Kiran in a frantic rush to reach the brownies. Only wishing to deny someone else enjoyment, Grima angrily takes a bite of the brownie. Chocolate smears his lips. “Much less anything that is mine,,, ooh,” The sweet brownie dances on his tongue. A faint blush forming on his face, Grima’s shoulders lose their tension as they slack. “Perhaps I was mistaken. This weed thing is good,” Grima licks the chocolate smeared all over his teeth, desperate to not let a single gram go. “What was I even complaining about?” Grima’s eyes turn a bit red, the effect seemingly instantaneous.
“I think I’ll pass,” Corrin remains in his secure little corner; he continuously passes concerned glances at Tibarn and Grima.
“Oh come on. It’s not even bad for you,” Having already gotten two out of three, Kiran becomes pushy, pushing the drug onto Kiran. “They’ve only got a small amount” Standing over Corrin’s seated form, he towers over the petite dragon.
“I’m…” As Corrin mulls over on what to do, a voice suddenly pops into his head. ‘You know, my wife Nancy has a saying. Tell ‘em Nancy!’ Corrin’s mind is perfectly silent for a fraction of a second as it waits for another voice to join in. ‘Just say no!’ Corrin stares at the brownie in Kiran’s hand, his willpower marginally renewed from the voices of ghosts not from his world.
Seeing Corrin push back, Kiran pipes up more. “Everyone else is doing it. Just be cool about it,” Holding the brownie right in front of Corrin’s face, Kiran keeps a neutral expression. “Just try it,”
“Fine,” He brushes a bit of his hair to the side as he responds. Corrin trepidatiously accepts the brownie from Kiran, as if it were going to explode in his hand. His stomach churns and toils. He takes a few deep breaths to psyche himself up. Lifting the confection to his mouth, he takes a lil nibble of it. He nods his head in agreement, his body gently swaying to the side in clear enjoyment of it. “This is actually good,” He still takes small nibbles of it but each consecutive bite is always a bit larger than the last. A puff of air comes out his nose in a definite sign of contentment. By the time he finishes his first brownie, he grabs another one to peck at. He makes himself comfortable as he lies down on the couch. He stares at the plain empty ceiling. His mind relaxing, a myriad of shapes and colors that he never knew existed bounce around on the ceiling.
“You guys hungry?” Asking as innocuous as he can be, Kiran already knows the answer to his own question. “You boys wait right here, I’ll be right back with some snacks,” A chorus of hmms sound out as he saunters out the room. Kiran grabs the already prepared cart of food placed right beside the door. Waiting a few minutes, afraid to perhaps come off as too prepared and give something away, he comes right back inside after his self imposed time is up. “I figured you might be a bit peckish, so I got some snacks for you all,” Grima TIbarn and Corrin alike are all too faded to give much of a response besides another round of humms. Kiran doles out snacks to them, the three hungry men snacking away.
His plan on introducing the drug working exactly as planned, Kiran goes onto phase two. Not planning to crack down on them with unjust and pointless laws meant to harm minorities and benefit those in power, the second part of his plan is fundamentally the exact same as the first part; introduce more and more of the drug and let things take their natural course. As natural as the course can be with him being in charge of it all now.
All three perfectly chill and calm ever since having their first taste of weed in Askr, as befitting the effects of marijuana, they all feel another much more important side effect. Well, important to Kiran. The munchies. Addicted to it, all of them are constantly doped up on dope. They simply laze about throughout the entirety of their day, their days now filled with weed and food. Completely lacking awareness from being high all the time, they easily allow it. The pot brownie the gateway drug into other variants, Kiran introduces them to gummies, weed beverages, before even having most of their food contain it once their bodies build up enough of a resistance to it. Marijuana ice cream, weed milk, weed infused lobster, weed mac n cheese, weed gravy, anything and everything, upon hearing it contains weed, Grima Tibarn and Corrin clammer to try it. The more weed in their system, the fiercer the growing pit in their stomach demands food, the munchies taking a tighter grip on their bodies.
Their trim bodies gain an inkling of a pot belly, a trim sliver of pudge forming on the lowest part of their abdomen. That promptly thickens with a bit more time, said sliver of pudge blossoming into a full fledged gut, their arms gaining a bit of circumference all around as do their legs, their appendages getting a bit closer and compressed to their chunky middle. Over time, their usual outfits grow snug in places never before; shirts tighten around their swelling middles, pants constrict their jiggly thighs, and sleeves compress their flabby arms. Too faded to care, their addled brained minds preferring to fixate on satiating their cravings, they simply adorn their tight clothes even as those seem more akin to rags as their burgeoning bodies outgrow them near completely. They lack a single concern in the world with Kiran providing them all the weed and food they could want. Lazing and grazing about their only objective each day, all three’s activity spike down to near nonexistence. The only activity they get is shifting around a few times a day and the semi occasional walk to another location to space out and enjoy their environment, like the castle’s gardens or the lake. But even that minimal effort of movement begins to die down over time, their widening waistlines proving too taxing to bother themselves.
Moving past fat to obesity, Tibarn’s upper figure is the most prominent part of himself. A veritable gut rolls down his tree trunk thighs. The lowest roll of flab nearly reaches all the way down to his swollen calves. Each ponderous step Tibarn takes, the few that he has to, causes the great flabby beast to sway to and fro before undulating from the deep, heavy breaths he takes afterwards from the exertion. His defined pecs look like they never existed on his figure, two pendulous sagging breasts plunging to the side of his mountain of a gut. His arms are wider than the average heroe’s thighs, the doughy sagging arms constantly at an angle from the upper rolls of his torso. His once angular face lacks any sort of severity to it, Tibarn’s now cherubic face taken up by his puffed out cheeks and multiple squished together necks. His ass respectable in its own rights, the shapeless mounds for an ass sag down.
“About..” TIbarn takes a moment to catch his breath, his cheeks puffing out. “time,” Seated on a couch, Tibarn’s immensity takes up the entirety of it, his girthy love handles oozing out onto the armrests. Not a single space left on the seating, his gut rolls off of it and his thighs. The couch sags at the center from his crushing weight.
“Can’t keep you waiting for too long, big guy,” Kiran places a hand on Tibarn’s sprawling gut before rubbing slow circles on it, the immensity of his flab caving in from the slight pressure. “Brought you your favorites,” Handing him a tray consisting of meat, meat, and some more meat, Kiran places it on the titanic shelf of his chest. Kiran also hands him weed gushers. He pats Tibarn’s gut, the mass of fat wobbling in return. Tibarn promptly digs in as soon as his overly laden arms reach the plate of food.
Heading towards Corrin, the once constantly worried dragon is much more relaxed and chilled out. Used to some manners, he continues to sit at the now comparatively tiny table in the room. His body filled out everywhere, his plush rotund body bulges out with fat all over. One chair can no longer withstand his crushing weight, so now he sits on an entire three, the sides of his ass spilling off the sides of them. The inner rivets of his thighs curve inward from the fat piled onto them only for his great gut to smother the entirety of them under its weight. His flab digs into the table, his plush fat seeping above and below it despite it not being as massive as Tibarn’s. His breasts somehow retain a sense of form to them, his juicy, plump chest resting atop his gut.
“How’re you doing?” Kiran comes up from behind, placing a gentle hand on Kiran’s should as he walks around his obese form. “Hungry or anything?”
“I’m fine,” Corrin lets out a small sigh, his fat face giving a contented smile. His nose perks as the wafts of what Kiran is carrying reaches his nostrils. More weed arriving, Corrin’s gut involuntarily grumbles, a deep cavernous rumble shaking his entire body. “Actually,” Corrin pauses, embarrassed to admit his needs.
“I got you covered,” Kiran ruffles the top of Corrin’s hair. He places a plate atop his buxom chest. A spread of food, all of them contain fair amounts of weed. Knowing Corrin will wait a few seconds before stuffing himself, Corrin goes to check on Grima.
The fat fell dragon sitting on a mattress, the cushion offers no real purpose besides customary, Grima’s massive ass oozing off the edges of it. His titanic door crushing thighs remain plastered onto the mattress. The wide, gargantuan appendages spread over the entirety of the mattress. His gut nowhere near as exaggeratedly big as his lower half, the doughy mass of fat rests comfortably atop his thighs. His generous chest lurches forward down onto his heaping stomach, his line of neck rolls and chins resting above said chest. His fat addled arms are at a constant angle from the jutting fat from both his torso and his arms. “And why am,” Grima lets out a groan to catch his breath. “I last?”
Kiran wasting no time waiting, he steps to the side of Grima with a plate ready as well. “Cause I knew you could hold on a bit longer for me. And besides, I'm here right now aren't I?” Kiran places a plate full of nothing but sweets. Each confection is chock full of cannabutter, exactly to Grima’s liking.
Stepping back, he takes an appreciative look of all three’s bloated bodies. Not quite yet immobile, their bodies holding out a bit longer than expected, Kiran’s brain whits as he imagines their obese figures even bigger, said image only a matter of time.
The time coming very quickly, it doesn’t take much longer for the three of them to find themselves unable to get up. Unconcerned from before when moving was already taxing, they display the exact same lack of concern on the same day they can’t get up. And still, they continue to eat and grow. What is once the beginning somewhat resemblant of a body immobility eventually turns into shapeless immobile blobs. Clothes go completely forgone, the amount of fabric needed to cover a single mountain of a gut astronomical. Furniture gets swallowed under their lard, mattresses and couches alike unable to withstand and withhold copious amounts of flab. Space diminishes. With not one. not two, but three pathetically food addicted and weed addicted men, their ever flowing flab presses up against not only itself but against each other with only so much space in the room to go around. So much fat swaddling their entire forms, legs and arms become useless, the appendages becoming buried in a sea of flab. All too eager to keep on eating, the bulging walls are of absolutely no concern when their fat builds and pushes against all four corners of the room. Flab busting down a wall and seeping out in desperation of more room only earns a sigh of relief from them with more breathing room. The ever increasing rolls making up a chin eventually seem to meld together. A tire of fat forms around their fat faces. A handful of heaping rolls lining their stomach become two handfuls into even more, more and more fat piling on top of their corpulent frames. Where once a room was sufficient to house all three immobile piles of lard, soon it becomes a room plus a hallway. Then it turns into multiple rooms before half an entire wing is necessary. Eventually, they take up the entirety of said wing only to require even more space with their ever constantly fattening forms. Soon, the entirety of Askr castle becomes uninhabitable with the looming threat of the three blobs burying the castle under a cascading blanket of lard.
Askr castle now entirely devoid of any sign of people besides three blobs, the only sound one can hear is the churning of overtaxed machines as they perform their best to keep feeding their users. One machine per person is no longer sufficient, each of them requiring two to sate their black hole of a stomach. In what is presumably the throne room, a location Kiran can only guess from how big his heroes’ have gotten, what with any and all furniture destroyed and smothered by their fat, Grima’s big bloated body greedily guzzles away at his liquid food. His hands and legs are equally smothered under titanic fat rolls. His pale blubbery legs have absolutely no definition or shape to them, the oozing oceanic thighs splaying out on both sides around him. A sea of rolls making them up, each thigh alone rivals the size of an average room. So much fat stacked on top of fat, they even give Grima some height to his billowing, massively wide frame. Not that it means much when he’s over six times as wide as he is tall. His ass melding into his thighs, there is no distinction on where exactly they separate from his thighs. The back wall of the throne room bulges outward from the substantial weight pressing onto it. The side wall is already destroyed from his thighs. His stomach able to house, well a house, the big lake of fat comfortably slots itself in between and atop his thighs. His breasts divot down to the sides of his gut, each of them alone larger than an actual person. Tibarn visible in Kiran’s peripheral vision, at least one of the three immobile blobs visible even when far away from the castle, it takes Kiran a whole 50 meters to walk from the center of Grima’s body to Tibarn’s center.. Tibarn the unfortunate one to be stuck in the middle of the three, he took the role with gusto. Unwilling to let himself be outdone, his body gushes outward onto Grima’s and Corrin’s. So immensely fat, three tubes are stuck inside his mouth at all times, his fat cheeks cascading down onto his shoulders. A multitude of chins stacked on top of each other, the rings of fat sag all the way down to where his plunging chest is. Each breast so massively bloated with fat, his great big tits reach far down his stomach. A great feat considering Tibarn’s stomach alone could fill up a library twice over. So many rolls riddling his stomach, they all blend and mix in with his overtaxed thighs and ass, Tibarn’s body hard to tell where each part ends and another starts. His thighs mostly smothered by his absolutely mountainous stomach the appendage somehow manage to look comparatively small despite their overwhelmingly large size. Kiran walks another 55 meters to reach Corrin’s gut. Corrin the runt of the three, his body still puts a pack of elephants to shame. His body once holding out on keeping a semblance of a figure, now he is nothing but a bunch of fat laden rolls of a blob. His arms completely useless, the two rotund cylindrical columns of fat splay out to the sides of his engorged body. His back fat and neck rolls encroach his face, a bit of his hair obstructed by the growing mass of fat. On the right, most of his body takes up the entirety of a single wing where they first got addicted to weed. So massively big that he alone takes it up, Corrin’s gut and thighs are equally impressive. Able to cover far more than a dozen mattresses, his tonnage goes where it pleases, overtaking the few furniture not crushed under one of the three’s weight.
Returning from his own world, Kiran sighs with pleasure. Buying out an entire store, he holds a mere fraction of his pull. “I brought some more weed for you all,” He speaks into a small mic, the three unable to hear him from the gushing sounds of their guzzling without a speaker placed by their sinking faces of fat. The mere mention of the drug gets all of them going, the poor machines whirring even harder as they greedily suck on their slop of feeding tubes. “This is the life,” Kiran smiles to himself with a few stretches to prepare himself for the taxing climb of three mountains of fat.
Later in the day
“Kiran, don’t tell me you gave them even more of this weed thing to them?” Pacing back and forth in his new room in some other smaller, remote castle, Alfonse exasperatedly sighs as he slumps back in his chair.
“I went to check on them. See how bad the weed has been affecting them. Which is why people shouldn’t be taking drugs,”
Alfonse’s eyes shoot wide open from Kiran’s lecturing tone. “Y-you gave it to them! And you keep giving it to them! There is absolutely no lesson to be had here. No moral. No aesop. Nothing. Besides!” Alfonse points an accusatory finger at Kiran, staring up at them even as Alfonse goes to stand up. “There is no way such a drug normally exists. You had to have enchanted it,”
“And what about it?” Kiran noncommittal shrugs. He goes to sit in his chair, far too pleased with himself even as Alfonse berates him.
“Th-then!” Alfonse momentarily stops. His brain wracks itself as it tries to figure out what to say now, not expecting Kiran to purposefully admit being at fault. “Then stop acting like you’re innocent! You gave some to Kaden and Keaton and now this castle is soon to be overtaken by two blobs! They fill up the entire west wing now. Kaden’s chest is so huge that they could crush a wagon! And Keaton’s stomach could crush three of them! And if you’re admitting to being at fault then you need to fix this right this instant!” His entire chest heaves as he finishes his impassioned beratement. He finds himself standing right in front of the seated Kiran who only has a far too amused grin on his face.
“You’re wrong about that,”
“Huh? About what?” Alfonse’s eyes keep steady as they glare at the summoner.
“It’s not going to be two blobs,” Kiran stands up. He stares down at Alfonse, right in front of him. His steely eyes grin down at the confused prince, Alfonse’s body suddenly yelling at him to run only for his feet to remain plastered to the ground. Kiran whips Alfonse around, pressing him against himself. Producing a brownie out of nowhere he tauntingly holds it in front of Alfonse. “It’s going to be three,” He whispers in Alfonse’s ear. A single bead of sweat rolls down the side of his head as his arms and legs thrash about. His struggling slowly dies down the instant the brownie reaches the inside of his mouth, Kiran holding his hand against Alfonse’s lips. Feeling Alfonse’s body begin to slack, Kiran slowly lets him go.
“Ugh I…” With lidded eyes, Alfonse looks at his hands. “I feel so chill,” A little burst of giggling ensues as he drapes himself onto the couch. His flat stomach lets out a small little grumble. “I feel kind of hungry,” Grumbling to himself, he gently holds his stomach in hopes of soothing the pain.
“Here, I have some snacks for you,” An angelic smile now adorning his face, Kiran caresses Alfonse’s hair as he hands him some snacks. “I’ll go get you some more just in case too,” Walking off, Kiran goes to bring him the entirety of the kitchen’s stock.
Alfonse succumbing to the same fate as the others, Kiran has him working overtime in order to catch up. Stuffed to the brim with food all hours of the day, that is nothing compared to the copious amounts of weed he feeds him every half hour. So aggravatingly hungry, it takes only a few weeks for Alfonse to find himself immobilised by his crushing weight. Unaware of ever being angry from the use of weed, he can barely find himself begging for more of it before Kiran supplies it to him alongside another feast or two or three. His fat body is as plain as his once thin body; fat simply cakes itself onto it all over. No exact body part is a standout from the rest even as his body fills the entirety of his room only to take up a whole wing by itself, a sea of fat spreading all around with only Kiran able to tell that the body belongs to Askr’s prince. Making sure to give him a rough time, it all works out for Kiran as Alfonse soon grows to be fatter than Kaden and Keaton combined, the poor kitsune and wolfskin each taking up only a quarter of the smaller castle compared to Alfonse’s three fourths.
Kiran rests on top of Alfonse’s numerous chins, the cascading folds sufficiently enough for him to comfortably rest. He sighs contentedly as the whirs of three feeding machines fill his ears, Alfonse requiring two now. “Pretty soon you’ll need even more, fat ass,” Chuckling to himself Kiran grins from ear to ear. A good portion of Alfonse’s fat taking up his vision, Kaden’s and Keaton’s crushing weight take up another significant portion, the two of them needing one feeding machine. But it’s the sight in the far background that brings him the most joy. Off in the distance, the distinct sight of three blobs looms over the landscape. Askr castle entirely now no more, the great structure would be unable to contain a single one of them, much less three. A mountain itself an apt comparison to each of their bloated figures, Kiran simply grins himself as he thinks about his visit to them tomorrow, a great climb comparable to Mount Everest only done thrice in one day awaiting him. Though he considers it more than worth it, wondering just how big they can further grow, all of them happy to do so.
#My writing#SSBHM#male weight gain#maleweightgain#immobility#fat emblem#feeder emblem#fat!heroes#fat!Grima#fat!Tibarn#fat!Corrin#fat!Alfonse#fat!Kaden#fat!Keaton
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🔥I’m Sorry, Um..., Congratulations? 🔥
~~~
Levi had to admit, even with anger clouding his system, he was impressed by the determined look on the small doctor’s face as she stared him down, one hand on his chest as she held him back from the infirmary room where his lover had been taken after returning from an expedition. He could feel her trembling against him, her body betraying her nerves at the murderous look on his face, but her eyes were hard and unyielding as she stared right at him.
“She is fine Captain, she has just been pumped with a lot of sedatives and needs her rest. If you go in there, she won’t be able to talk to you.”
“I don’t care, I need to see her,” Levi growled, pushing harder against the hand that blocked him.
The doctor sighed when she saw the fiery look in his eyes. She was determined but she wasn’t heartless. She knew she would be able to work better on the young woman under her care if Humanity’s Strongest Soldier wasn’t watching her every move like a hawk, but she also knew that he was just scared for the person he loves the most. She could see it in his eyes, the desperation that was buried beneath the anger. He just needed to see that his wife was okay.
The doctor hesitated for one more moment before closing her eyes and nodding once, standing aside for him to pass. Levi wasted no time, quickly pushing into the room behind the doctor, only relaxing when he saw (Y/N) in the bed in front of him. He moved over to her bedside and slid down into the available chair, ignoring the doctor as she came in, grabbing a hold of (Y/N)’s hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She was alive, he could see the rise and fall of her chest under the sheets, but he still felt nervous. The sight of her paler than normal skin and the bandages wrapped around her arm and chest was making him feel light headed.
He hadn’t been there when she got hurt. He hated it, but as Squad Leaders, the two of them usually had to separate during missions, (Y/N) leading her squad while Levi ran his, working to save as many people as possible whenever the missions went awry. He knew she was very capable, knew that if he ever suggested she back down as a Squad Leader to be in his own squad or stay home while he went off to fight that he would probably lose a limb. He couldn’t stop her from saving people and fighting for a better world, but he hated that he couldn’t always be there to save her.
Her squad had told him what happened when he found her in the medical cart on the way back to the walls. Apparently, an abnormal had lunged for one of her squad members when they had been busy slicing the nape of another titan. She had propelled herself into the titan’s hand, which had knocked it away from the soldier, allowing him time to escape, but had crushed her own gear to her side in the process, breaking her ribs and spraining one of her arms. The injuries had been further bolstered by her being thrown into a tree, knocking her unconscious on impact.
Levi sighed and squeezed her hand. She could occasionally be so reckless that sometimes he wanted to thump her over the head. Maybe even tie her to a chair if it kept her out of trouble. Levi chuckled quietly to himself as he pictured the fury she would bestow upon him if he ever told her to stay home like a good housewife. He figured he’d be safer in a horde of abnormals. She was such a little spitfire, but she was his spitfire, and as he looked at her prone form lying motionless in the bed, he knew he wouldn’t have her any other way. He was just grateful that she was still here with him after pulling that stunt.
The doctor took a few notes as she lifted the sheets, checking (Y/N)’s injuries before clicking her tongue and leaving the room, probably to get more supplies. This gave Levi the chance to place a soft kiss on (Y/N)’s hand, running his lips softly along her palm as he savored the warmth that met his lips. No matter how long they had been together, Levi still felt embarrassed about showing her a lot of affection in front of others, usually only going so far as holding her hand. With the doctor gone, he gave himself the luxury of showering her with small butterfly kisses, revealing how much he loved her and how worried he was for her. Finally leaning back in his chair, Levi brought (Y/N)’s hand away from his mouth and settled back with a sigh, content to wait for her to wake up, giving her hand another comforting squeeze.
Levi had just been about to close his eyes when he was surprised by the feeling of his hand being squeezed back. Levi immediately jolted in his seat and glanced over to his wife’s face to see her features scrunched up as she fought her way back into consciousness. Levi leaned over her, his other hand joining the first to hold her hand to his chest as he watched her eyelids flutter.
“Come on, (Y/N), open your eyes, baby,” Levi murmured.
The doctor came back in as (Y/N) let out a groan, the petite woman brightening at the sight of her patient waking back up. Moving to her other side, the doctor began to check her vitals as (Y/N)’s eyes blinked open, her (e/c) hues roving around the room in an attempt to focus on something.
Levi watched her eyes clear as she woke up completely, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth at the sight of the recognition in her eyes when she saw him.
“Levi…,” (Y/N) sighed.
“Hey, baby,” Levi murmured, using one hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” (Y/N) said with another soft groan.
The doctor chuckled at (Y/N)’s response as she looked her patient over, carefully running her hands over her chest and sides. “You should, you took quite the hit,” she said.
“Really? What happened?” (Y/N) asked, leaning on Levi as he helped her sit up.
“You saved one of your squad members by taking a hit from a titan yourself,” Levi answered, his gruff tone making (Y/N) wince. She knew that tone, it was the tone he used whenever she managed to get injured on an expedition. It was a tone that both warmed her heart and sent a chill down her spine. She knew it just meant that he was worried about her, which was what made her heart warm, but she also knew it was a warning.
“Oh yeah…,” (Y/N) said, gently rubbing the ribs along her right side. “Are my ribs broken?”
“Yes, three of them, but your arm is only sprained. I’ve set your ribs and wrapped them so you should be fine aside from some soreness. You can’t do too much though, or you’ll risk fracturing them. You will need to take a break for awhile if you want to heal as fast as possible, so don’t even think about training, even with a lessened training regiment,” her doctor ordered.
(Y/N) hung her head in disappointment but nodded, her hair curtaining her expression.
“I’ll have your arm in this sling for a little bit, but after a few days you should be fine to take it off, alright? Just don’t do too much physical activity or you’ll make your entire body worse, alright?”
(Y/N) nodded again but lifted her head. “Thank you, Doctor…?”
“Santiago. Doctor Santiago, but you can call me Rosita.”
“Thank you, Rosita,” (Y/N) finished. “I appreciate all of the stuff you’ve done to help me.”
“Oh it’s nothing,” Rosita said with a wave. “It is my job, but you do so much for the good of humanity, the least I can do is patch you up after the fight.”
“Well thank you. I appreciate your consideration for my desire to get back in the field as quickly as possible.”
Levi grumbled something (Y/N) chose not to hear and flashed a warm smile at the suddenly bashful doctor, the small young woman wringing her hands in front of her while a pretty blush stole across her cheeks.
“Well actually, I meant to thank you,” Rosita said, still not looking at (Y/N). “The man you saved today, the one on your squad, is actually my older brother, Nico. When I heard what you did and how you got hurt, I knew I had to treat you and do it in the best way possible, in return for saving him. He’s all I have left, we lost the rest of our family when the titans broke through the wall, so I can’t thank you enough for keeping him safe for me.”
(Y/N) and Levi both exchanged looks of shock, but quickly shook it off. (Y/N) smiled even more at the doctor and quickly gave her a hug, ignoring her squeak of surprise when she brought her into her arms.
“I’m glad I could save him too. That’s why I do this job, to bring people back home to their friends and family,” (Y/N) said before releasing Rosita, smirking when the girl still looked dumbfounded at the idea of one of the most powerful Squad Leaders in the Survey Corps giving her a hug. She finally collected herself and busied herself with analyzing the data on her clipboard, turning her back to them.
“I’m glad he’s okay too but you need to stop getting yourself hurt,” Levi scolded, frowning at the smile his wife threw at him.
“Well what’s the fun in that?”
“(Y/N)...,” Levi said in warning.
(Y/N) giggled at the dark tone in his voice and leaned up to kiss him, fighting the urge to wince as she strained the muscles along her sides. Levi kissed her back with a roll of his eyes and gently stroked her uninjured arm, his fingers causing sparks to flicker along her skin. When they parted, Levi’s eyes were molten, the hot steel in them making her shudder.
“Just be more careful, brat. I can’t lose you.”
(Y/N) softened at his words and gave him another soft peck before Rosita turned back around to face them, Levi quickly moving back into his chair as if he hadn’t just been snuggling up to his wife. Rosita eyed them with a tiny smile on her lips but didn’t comment.
“Well, I’ve got the results for your tests and I’ve checked you over a few times and it seems like you will be able to be discharged later tonight. You were lucky, you broke a few bones, but you didn’t have any signs of internal bleeding and you’re both still relatively healthy with limited long term effects. I’m actually surprised that you were even out on that expedition considering your condition, things could’ve been significantly worse, and if you weren’t careful, you could’ve killed either yourself or the baby. If I were you, I’d start thinking about laying off the expeditions and focus on working from home until it’s safe for you to go back out on the field.”
Rosita looked up from where she had been reading off of her clipboard when she was met with silence, her eyes widening at the shocked expressions on both of their faces. (Y/N)’s jaw had dropped, her eyes wide and her chest heaving as she placed a hand over her stomach in surprise. Levi had gotten significantly paler, the color draining from his face to where he looked as white as a sheet, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he stared at the ground, his lips slightly parted. It took Rosita a moment, but suddenly it hit her.
Rosita brought her hands up to her face, covering her mouth with her overlapping palms as guilt and shock flowed through her system like an electric current.
“Oh my gods, did.., did you not know?”
(Y/N) shook her head woodenly and Rosita paled, rivalling Levi’s lack of color as dread flooded her.
“I am so sorry! I thought you knew! I- oh gods…,” Rosita stumbled over her words, her eyes wide as she paced the room, trying to escape the situation by doing something, anything. Unfortunately, her frazzled brain didn’t give her time to think and she quickly took her leave with a mumbled excuse, slamming the door shut behind her in her haste to leave. Silence filled the room, the young couple frozen in shock as the doctor’s words replayed in their minds like a broken record.
(Y/N) glanced down at her stomach, running her palm over the still flat surface. She had noticed the signs, the slight increase in her weight, the fact that she vomited her guts up every morning, the dizzy feeling she would get when she worked her normally easy exercise routine. But all of these things she had dismissed as being overworked. She knew she was prone to working herself to the bone, often getting chastised by her amazing husband for forcing herself to do too much. The vomiting, the nausea, the weight change, those were all things she had experienced already whenever she worked too hard, the lack of sleep causing the dizziness, the inconsistent diet causing the weight change, and the migraines causing the vomiting. She had never even thought about the possibility of being pregnant, even though it made sense. She realized she had missed her last period, but she had been so busy she had failed to notice it, only focused on the upcoming expedition and preparing herself for the danger that would come with it.
Fear struck her heart then. The expedition. She had gone on the expedition with a baby in her belly, and had gotten hurt, would’ve died if it weren’t for her last minute efforts to make the fall less painful as she slammed into the tree, or the wonderful doctor that had healed her. She knew she had just been told the baby was alive and healthy, but what would she have done if it wasn’t? What would Levi have done? The thought made her close her eyes.
Levi was right beside her and still hadn’t said a word. What was she going to say to him? Would he believe her if she told him she hadn’t known when going out to fight? She was almost too afraid to look at his face, to see the fury and condemnation in his eyes. They had never talked about children, the two of them too worried about wiping out the titans and saving humanity to worry about a family. (Y/N) knew she wanted this, had always wanted kids especially when she got together with Levi, but the titans were still roaming the world. How would he react to having a baby thrown into the mix of chaos that already weighed heavily on both of their shoulders?
(Y/N) knew she had to face this. This was the man she loved more than anything. They had been together for years, even before they were dating, their friendship lasting strong since the day they met when Levi was forced to the surface with Isabel and Farlan. They could figure this out, would figure this out, together.
Opening her eyes, (Y/N) gathered what little courage she had left and turned to Levi, her mouth open to speak when she froze. Levi was crying. The tiny teardrops sparkled in the light of the hospital room as they slid down his cheeks, cutting trails down his perfect skin. He had regained some of his color and his eyes had narrowed back to their normal size, but the hues themselves were shining with emotion.
The sight was overwhelming. Levi had never shown this much emotion, even with her. The only other time she had ever seen him like this had been the night of their wedding when they were back in their room alone, a similar expression on his face as he made love to her for the first time as husband and wife, his eyes shining with emotion in a way that made her heart stop.
He turned to look at her and she felt herself break, tears welling in her own eyes to stream down her face. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst from her chest as she met his intense stare.
“Levi- mppffhh!”
(Y/N) was cut off by Levi’s lips on hers, the passion and love that was being conveyed through the kiss making her feel light headed as her breath was stolen away. Levi was kissing her like the world was about to end, his tongue insistent as it mapped her mouth, his teeth biting and pulling at her lips almost feverishly. (Y/N) could do nothing more than whimper and moan into his mouth, her hands flying to grip his biceps and hold on for dear life.
They were both huffing and panting when they broke apart, (Y/N)’s whole world spinning in the aftermath of his soul searing kiss. Her eyes searched his, trying desperately to see what she hoped to see in his gaze. She thought his kiss was clear enough on how he felt, but she needed to see it. She needed to know that what he was telling her was true, needed to read it directly from his gunmetal eyes like she did every time she needed to know the truth from him. Years together had taught her how to read Levi like a book, her favorite book, so she would know his true feelings if she just met his gaze.
Levi didn’t shy away from her when she leaned closer to peer into his eyes, her hues flickering back and forth across his face desperately. Levi smiled and kissed her again, less aggressively this time, but no less passionate. (Y/N) slumped against him, her eyes fluttering closed until he broke away again. Leaning their foreheads against one another, Levi held her close, his hand tangling in her soft (h/c) locks.
“(Y/N), thank you,” Levi murmured. “I never thought I’d ever get this. Thank you so much.”
(Y/N) beamed at his sentiment, initiating her own quick kiss with him, relieved he wasn’t rejecting her or the new little life they had created together. “I love you, Levi.”
“I love you so much, (Y/N)” Levi whispered, pecking her lips again before leaning back, his eyes shining with the love he usually kept shuttered away. The sight made (Y/N)’s heart melt, her own eyes reflecting the love right back at him.
“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t aware you didn’t know,” Rosita said, the couple jumping away from each other in surprise, the pair having been so absorbed in each other they hadn’t noticed the bashful young woman come back in.
“Oh it’s okay!” (Y/N) said brightly. “You didn’t know, and we would’ve found out eventually, right? We just found out a little sooner, that’s all!”
Rosita was still mortified, but she seemed to relax a little at (Y/N)’s words, her hands wringing in front of her again as she faced the two captains.
“Well, I ran the results by one of my colleagues to be sure, but it looks like both you and your little one are just fine. You will be discharged tonight with an updated training schedule so you can remain active without putting yourself and your baby in danger. I’m sorry again, and um…., congratulations?”
(Y/N) chuckled and smiled at the doctor. “Thank you so much, Rosita. For everything.”
Rosita nodded and quickly took her leave again after grabbing a few things from the room, heading off to file the proper paperwork and bury herself in her embarrassment.
Levi smirked at the door Rosita had just scrambled through. He would have to find some way to thank her and let her know everything was fine, but for now, he had other things to worry about. Looking down at his wife, Levi couldn’t help the smile that crept along his features. They were going to have a baby. They were going to be a family. He had never in his life expected to have one of those. In the beginning, he had always assumed he was destined to be alone, the world always taking away the ones he loved most. But then (Y/N) had burst into his life like a firecracker, throwing his carefully structured world out of whack and destroying the walls around his heart in the same (Y/N) style fashion, never shying from his cold personality and laughing at his sarcastic shit jokes.
After they were married, he always expected to wake up and have it all be a dream. Everything had felt so surreal and yet he had never been so happy. This gave him the same feeling. He felt like he was floating, like he was going to wake up any minute now to find (Y/N) curled up against him in bed. But he knew he wouldn’t. This was reality, his reality. He was going to have a family and he had the stunning woman in front of him to thank for it.
His eyes hardened when he looked at the bandages wrapped around her body. He knew (Y/N) had had no idea she was pregnant when she rode out on the charge earlier that day, but Rosita was right. Something could’ve gone worse, and he could’ve lost one or both of the lights in his life. He knew (Y/N) was not going to be happy about being left behind, but he needed now more than ever to protect her. She was the diamond in a cave of stones, and he wasn’t going to give her up for anything.
He needed to kill all of the titans so his family could live and grow up in a world without the fear of being eaten. He wanted his child to be able to laugh and smile and enjoy life without the constant threat of death, without the fear that one or both of their parents might not come back for them. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist subconsciously as he dared anyone to even try to take his family from him, or him from his family. He was determined to give them the best life he could possibly give them, no matter what, and even though he would die for them if necessary, he wanted to be a part of it. Even if he was afraid of his possible lack of skills as a father, never really having had a proper role model to show him how it was done, he would try everyday to be his best for them.
A warm hand on his cheek snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see (Y/N) watching him, a concerned look on her face. His own hand came up to rest over hers, his eyes closing while he nuzzled into her palm.
“You’re overthinking this. I can see it in your face,” (Y/N) said, snickering at the half-hearted glare he threw her. “We are having a baby, Levi, and I am here with you. You will not have to do this alone.”
“I’m here too, (Y/N). I promise I will be here every step of the way, and I will protect you with my life. So please, promise me you won’t do anything stupid during this pregnancy?”
(Y/N) smiled and leaned up to peck his lips lovingly.
“I promise, I won’t. I love you, Levi.”
“I love you too, (Y/N),” Levi said as he gently moved her to the side and slid into the bed with her, curling his body around her protectively. (Y/N) sighed and pushed herself against him, feeling her eyes droop as his warm presence lulled her to sleep, her hands laying lovingly over the child that rested in her belly as the soon to be new parents basked in the glow of their newest surprise.
#levi x reader#captain levi x reader#Captain Levi#captain levi fanfiction#levi#levi ackerman fanfiction#LEVI ACKERMAN#Levi fanfiction#levi attack on titan#snk levi#aot levi#aot fanfiction#aot x reader#aot#snk x reader#snk fanfiction#snk#shigeki no kyojin#attack on titan fanfiction#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan#Levi Heichou#reader insert#xreader#x reader#reader x levi#levi x y/n#levi ackerman x reader
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Ok! So tanaka, kageyama, tusukishima, and asahi are all pretty scary boys at first glance. So I was wondering how they would react to a new 2nd year manager not being fazed by them at all (maybe she has alot of older brothers or something) and calling them cute. Love you writing. I didn't see a character limit so if this is to many feel free to cut some 😘😘
Thank you!!!! I loved this one it was so fun to write so please request again :) Hope you enjoy it 🧝🏾♀️😘
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“Scary” Karasuno Volleyball Boys Meet Their Maker!
Tsukishima | Asahi | Kageyama | Tanaka x Reader
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You and Kiyoko used to be friends in elementary school because her mom and both of your dads were in the military so you’d often be the only two young kids at events and ceremonies
She would only come sometimes but you would be an active member of your dads military boot camp year after year, and seeing Kiyoko, another girl sometimes was always awesome
The two of you became pretty good acquaintances and one summer at boot camp she would occasionally show you the ropes when you said you were interested in joining the 200m hurdle
While you two weren’t close, you followed eachother on all social media platforms and would sweetly comment “😍😍😍” on eachother’s posts
When she got injured you made sure to send her a text of endearment and she thanked you
Y’all were those type of friends
So that’s why you weren’t too surprised when you received a text from her while painting your nails one night in your room
Kiyoko had kindly asked you if you could take over her duties as Karasuno’s volleyball manager while she left to Greece with her family tomorrow for a wedding
She would be gone for 2 weeks and apparently the girl she had gotten too replace her just backed out completely at the last minute
You thought about it, realizing you had nothing to do other than train your team of female spartan racers, before replying ‘sure! 🤷🏾♀️’ and asked her what you needed to do
Kiyoko prepared you to the best of her ability, sending you a long scrolling text of the job. She said that although she wouldn’t be able to introduce you, the the boys are super kind even though they can get a little rowdy
A little nervous but wanting to help nonetheless, you agreed and confirmed the favour once again
The next day the boys had a practice and you had a little bit of difficulty finding their gym. You had gone to the girls vball team gym first and the captain pointed you in the right direction
When you approached what must be boys’ gym from outdoors you saw a blonde girl about your size scarily jutting around the outside of the gym like she was being stalked for murder
She was clutching a bag tightly
You guessed that maybe this wasn’t the gym, but you could have sworn this is where that team captain told you to go
You held your ground a few feet away because she was obviously terrified and you didn’t want to scare her more than she already was. You could hear her mumbling under her breath things like ‘they’re going to kill me’ ‘I’m too little to die’ ‘so strong, so tall. So very tall.’ ‘Attack on Titan is me. I am attack on Titan. I am MARCO!’
Who is Marco.....? You questioned in your mind.
Your military senses peaked as you changed modes to enemy approaching preparation.
You didn’t know you had these senses, but your dads would be so proud
The petite blonde was twitching and fiddling her hands while her eyes darted around.
She also had been so wrapped up in her terror to notice you there watching her. Seeing a cute mini side ponytail in her short blonde hair reminded you of a toddler’s hairstyle and you immediately felt the need to protect her. Your dads had taught you as much, and your years of self-defence class and borderline military training by copying the guys at your dads camps had built you quite the esteem. You knew immediately that you were going to save her.
“Excuse me?”
“AH!” The girl screamed and jumped 4 feet in the air when you spoke. You held your hands up in surrender, though you remained on guard for her pursuer.
“Hey, hey! I really didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
With bugged eyes, the girl explained to you that she had been studying in the gym by herself when she heard a bunch of gang men approach. According to her they were huge, threatening and super scary so she scrambled for cover but when she tried running through the door she had bumped into their leader who had a bunch of piecings, a rockstar dye-job who was smoking a cigarette. Before he could beat her up for crashing into him she picked up her bag and and ran away. Come to find out she had taken his bag by mistake because it was the same colour and size and she didn’t mean to! Now she is being hunted down by the leader’s big scary hunchmen who will literally pummel her when they find her! They’ve been calling after her saying threats like ‘We just want the bag, we promise not to hurt you’ but she’s heard that in scary movies and apparently that’s what they want her to think before they hurt her!!!
Before the girl (who you were able to get her to introduce herself as Yachi from class 1-5) fainted induced by anxiety, you stopped her.
You were pissed. How could big tall men be okay with trying to hurt a sweet first year girl like this?!
The world was evil.
She couldn’t be much smaller than you, but she had no where near your combat expertise.
You held your hand out for Yachi to hand you the bag.
She handed it over with trembling hands
“Where did you last see them?” You demanded just like your dads would have.
Yachi immediately freaked out, claiming that you’re just as small as her and they would crunch you like a potato chip!
Slightly insulted, you managed to give her a sweet smile and ask again.
She pointed in the direction of the outdoor vending machines near the gym.
“I’ll get your bag Yachi don’t worry. Do you want to wait here for me or do you feel safe coming with? It would be great if you were able to actually point them out, because there are a lot of boys here by the school not to mention I can better protect you when you’re close by.”
Yachi gave you a look as if she was seeing the stars for the first time. She was in complete awe of you because you emitted a mass amount of strength.
The energy around you was comparable to that of a decorated military Five Star General who had just been challenged to a game of laser tag.
Seeing Yachi visibly gulp, she agreed to come with you because chances are she’d be able to call for help louder than you and she held onto your arm as you walked.
She hid behind your shoulder, afraid
Looking around, you spotted a group of 4 large guys in the distance by the vending machine— just like Yachi pointed out
Without your glasses on, you couldn’t make them out very well from this distance
Yachi almost squeezed a bruise into your arm which confirmed that was indeed the guys that were awaiting her decease, she said
There was a tall one with dark hair that had a permanent scowl on is face who was staring at the vending machines options like a psycho. The smallest one (who was still very tall) looked tough—must be the braun because he had quite the biceps and his hair was shaven like the boys in your dad’s training camps. One of them looked like a grown man with a man bun that really should be signing off on big stock deals or something. The giant one was blonde with glasses but he appeared to be the verbal slicer—since you could see his mouth mumble something to the military looking one, who flinched like he had been physically stabbed through the chest.
You had to admit, you could see why Yachi was scared of them...a little
Straightening your shoulders so to seem a little bit taller, you took a deep breath and stalked towards these bullies
You were ready to give them a piece and a half of your mind
You would rip them a new one like they deserved
And if it got physical, you were more than equipped to handle them due to your years of training
As you approached, the boys noticed the bag you held and their eyes lit up like they’d just been saved
They started toward you making Yachi gasp.
You cracked your knuckles in preparation
But... when you got closer to them enough to make out their faces, something Kiyoko explained to you got thrown to the forefront of your memory..... and then you realized.
Wait a second.....
“There you are, uhh... small person. You took our coaches bag!” Exclaimed the one with defined biceps.
The small blonde girl behind you let out a shriek and tried to book it. You held onto her arm now as she screamed bloody murder, begging the 4 boys not to kill her because she had a single mother at home who needed her. The boys tried to explain their reasoning over her screams which only made things more chaotic! You gave the four boys a look of death to shut up and they did.
You patiently waited for toddler girl to chill.
“Uh Yachi??”
“Y-y-y-ye-ye-yes?”
“You said these were the assailants you were running away from?”
“Mhm. Don’t look them in the eye!” She shut hers tightly.
You smirked, officially letting your guard down. Now you remembered everything Kiyoko sent you in that text, including who-was-who on the team, what they looked like, and what each player specifically needed managerial-wise.
“Is it Tanner? No, Tanaka from my year, Asahi 3rd......and those two—- Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio, right? They are in your year..... they’re all Karasuno volleyball players.”
Yachi looked dumbfounded.
“Volleyball players...........................of doom?”
You shook your head, cupping Yachi’s shaking hands in yours. You gave this girl who reminded you of a toddler the kindest smile you could muster.
“I’ve never officially met these guys but Kiyoko has told me lots about them. I do see them bickering in the hallways a lot though, and it’s adorable. They are totally and completely harmless.”
“Harmless?” Yachi repeated you as if she’d never heard the word before.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it in such a de-masculine manner......” Tsukishima deadpanned, irritated by the fact that you spoke of them like they had the strength of a group of newborn goldfish.
Tanaka felt the same way. He mumbled “We do harm on the court! And just because you’re a pretty girl doesn’t mean you can say that we aren’t tough—“
Tsukki told him to shut up before he scared the toddler girl again.
Kageyama drank his little milk carton, barely listening to the commotion as Asahi, silent in the back, was about to start bawling. He was just so happy to be called harmless instead of monster by someone so much smaller than him his heart was going to explode 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
Luv him
“Yep! Harmless.” You chirped, eyes twinkling at Yachi. You reassured her some more. “Total softies. You have nothing to worry about! Kiyoko told me that once on the bus ride home from a game she played a movie on the bus......and in the end Kiyoko counted all of them crying to the wedding scene in Princess and the Frog.”
“Hey now—“ Tanaka yelled, red in the face from anger but mostly humiliation. You looked over at the boys and noticed they were all pretty red. Tsuki had actually turned away to totally hide his face, starting toward the gym without so much as a goodbye.
“Brat.” He muttered. The boys followed with their tails between their legs.
“See? They couldn’t even deny it.” You smiled at Yachi. She visibly calmed down. “They’re just a bunch of cute little crows😊.”
Tsukki has returned with a scowl that didn’t scare either of you this time. He held out his hand expectantly.
“May we have our coach’s bag back, now? I trust you two can find your way back to Snow White the other 5 dwarves in one piece, correct?”
Ouch. You winced at his short person joke. Wow, Kiyoko was right about Kei’s stinging verbal jabs.
But Psh. You were a black belt. You could handle military men. You could even beat some of them in an arm-wrestle sometimes.
So you definitely weren’t afraid of any volleyball boys, no matter how badly this cute tall one’s jabs stung.
You smiled at Tsuki who didn’t return it in the slightest. You moved to hold out the bag in front of you for him to take, but low enough so he’d have to lean down to retrieve it.
When he went to grab the bag, you expertly maneuvered it out of his grasp before taking his cheek between your fingers in a tight squeeze. So gullible, this one. You had him trapped, just like you would a toddler.
“I’ll bring it to coach Ukai myself cutie patootie.” You gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. He stared at you with surprised eyes before you continued. “After all, we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well as temp-manager and coach. Don’t you think?” The King of Passive Aggression’s eyes widened in shock behind his adorable glasses. You released his cheek from your grasp.
“Now get in the gym, soldier. You can introduce me to the rest of the team’s cuties and tell them that Karasuno’s new babysitter is here!”
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu sfw#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu funny stories#haikyuu humour#haikyuu funny moments#tsukishima x reader#kageyama tobio#hitoka yachi#tanaka x y/n#tsukishima x you#karasuno#crows
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Day Five - Red Noses (Lukanette)
Luka was fond of winter. It was the time of sweets and no school and gloomy weather and enjoying time with the people he loved most. Schoolwork was dwindling down and soon, it would be another year finished. He played his guitar with the tune he had made for his sister. He loved his sister with his whole heart - even if Juleka was still unsure of herself. He knew she just needed a little guidance and help, and Luka was the best big brother for the job.
“Sup, bro,” she greeted as she walked in through the door.
“Hey, little sis.” Luka finished the melody and set his guitar down. “What’s good?”
“Who even says ‘what’s good’ anymore?” She scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out in a teasing fashion. “I want to go to the park with my friends, but Mom said she wants you to come with me. Adult supervision or something.”
“I hardly doubt as an adult.” His laugh filled the room. Before he was about to agree, Juleka pressed on.
“Marinette is going to be there. Not Adrien though, what a shame.” Siblings knew the right buttons to push, and Juleka knew Marinette was Luka’s soft spot. Knowing this, he rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her.
“I was going to say yes, punk. But now, I suppose I will think about my appearance.” When Juleka first started dating Rose, Luka was careful about looking like a presentable older brother. As time went on, he found that Rose loved and cared for his sister, so he stopped trying to look cool when she or Mylene would come over. They’ve seen him shirtless or in his pants before. Marinette was something else, though. He had to look for an outfit besides the sweats and sweatshirt he was going to wear.
“I’m rooting for ya!” She gave a mock salute before retreating to her side of the room to get ready.
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The park had a good amount of snow. So much so that Alya and Nino had already made a makeshift fort. Luka knew of them from Marinette and Juleka, but never explicitly spoke to either one. He settled for waving and that seemed like enough since two other people came looking lightly dressed for the weather.
“Alix, Kim, this is my brother Luka. Luka, Alix, Kim.” Juleka motioned.
“How’s it going?” I shook both their hands.
“More competition? This is going to be so much fun!” Kim cheered.
“Ignore him. So you’re Luka, huh?” She looked him up and down before a smirk settled on her face. “I’ll be watching you.” Alix then walked away.
“Rose! Hey, Mylene. Hey, Ivan!” Juleka went off to greet her friends. Little actions like this showed that she was starting to be more comfortable with herself.
“Kim, start with the other forts while we wait for Mari. I bet she’s still sleeping,” Alya laughed. Kim quickly took to gathering snow and putting it into a pile. Alix was throwing some in his direction defending the actions with an “I’m not trying to hit you! You’re just in the way.”
“Sorry I’m late!” The baker’s daughter called out as she approached them. “I overslept.” Alya and the others laughed while Marinette went and greeted everyone. “Oh hey, Luka! I didn’t know you were going to be here.” She started to blush.
“Mom wanted me to make sure that Juleka was going to be safe. She may have also mentioned that you were gonna be here.” Luka gave her that soft smile that made her insides melt and blushed even harder.
“Let’s get this show on the road!” Rose called out. “Partner up everybody.” The couples went with their respective partners.
“It seems that it was a good idea that you came.” It was now Luka’s turn to blush. Marinette had her arms lightly wrapped around one of his.
It was a free for all. Snowballs were flying in all different directions. Surprisingly, Marinette had quick reflexes and dodged a lot of the projectiles that were heading towards her. Luka wasn’t so lucky. He was mostly wet and even through his gloves, he could start to feel the cold of the snow. It was a solid five minutes of hurling snow at each other before Nino spoke up.
“Dudes, we should like, do a tournament!” Everyone ceased fire to hear his idea. “Partners against partners until there’s a winner!”
“Heck yeah, I’m down!” Alix cheered.
“Yeah, what she said!”
“You are all going down!” Rose exclaimed. There was a bit of competitive banter going around until Nino was able to calm everyone down.
“First will be Rose and Juleka vs. Mylene and Ivan. Then Alya and I vs. Alix and Kim. The winners in the first match will go against Marinette and Luka. Then those winners against Alya and I. You all ready?” Everyone nodded and went back to restore some of the forts.
“What are the rules?” Ivan spoke up.
“Right.” Nino blushed. “Five hits with a snowball and you’re out. We’ll be judging closely.”
Juleka made the snowballs while Rose threw them. She had a surprisingly good right arm and took Ivan out easily. He was bulky and peaked his head out pretty often. Not long after that, Mylene went down.
“Dang, girl!” Alya complimented. “Next time we play dodgeball, you are totally gonna be on my team.”
“You think that was impressive?” Kim shouted to get the attention on him. “Watch us dominate you!”
This round went on longer. Alix was as agile as a bunny, Alya as sneaky as a fox, Nino as slow as a turtle, and Kim as random as a monkey. The first to go was Nino, but the members on the other team only needed two more hits before going down. Alya needed three. It was a clutch, but Alya came out victorious.
“Babe, you were amazing!” Nino gushed and kissed his girlfriend. Alix threw a snowball at them and everyone laughed.
“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re my sister,” Luka taunted.
“I wouldn’t have to go easy to beat you.” A series of oooooh’s followed that comment.
“Let’s show them what we’ve got,” Marinette whispered to Luka. Her face showed signs of determination and Luka mirrored it.
Marinette focused on Rose and the siblings focused on each other. So much snow was being thrown that it was hard to discern who was getting hit. Luka used this as an advantage to wedge himself in a corner that couldn’t be seen and tossed relentless snowball after snowball. They were victorious.
“It’s because you had Marinette on your team. She’s crazy awesome!” Rose laughed.
“Yeah. She really is.” Luka sent Marinette a longing gaze that she blushed under.
“You’re amazing too, Luka. The way you were hiding and-”
“Come on lovebirds! I wanna see who’s gonna win!” Mylene cheered.
“If we win, you’re treating us with treats from the bakery,” Alya taunted to her best friend.
“And if we win?” She had her hands on her hips.
“We’ll stop teasing you and Luka,” she thought aloud after a minute.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road!” Marinette skipped over to their fort. “I have no intention of losing. I want to wipe that smug grin off her face.”
Luka nodded and started to form the snowballs. Marinette knew her friends’ style, and that gave her the upper hand. When Alya dodged, she would often land forward on all fours and scurry behind the ice wall. Nino would throw up a shield of ice to protect himself and his girlfriend. They didn’t know Marinette’s style though.
A snowball was heading towards Luka who was too busy making ammunition, he didn’t see it. She grabbed him by his leg and pulled him down. It barely went over his head. Mari then grabbed a handful of snowballs and dodged out of the hiding place. She threw three balls in quick succession and all three of them made their mark on Nino before he could even react. Taking advantage of the confusion, Luka threw one at Alya and another at Nino. The latter was out.
“Why am I always the first one out,” he huffed. Although, it was clear he was impressed with his friends. Alya was not going to give up, though.
Marinette was hit in the face and then in the chest. Luka rushed to her side and got hit twice as well. Marinette sent a couple of balls in the enemy’s direction and was satisfied when she heard a thump.
“Woah, she wasn’t even looking!” Kim admired. The two were back behind the fort, breathing heavily. Luka got out finally and now it was the two girls. Each needed one more hit. Whichever ball made contact first would dictate the winner.
Marinette scanned her surroundings, scrunching her nose as she looked for something that may help her get the upper hand. She looked down at her scarf, then her beanie, and then the stick that lay not that far behind her. She knew Alya was waiting for her to peak out. Once Mariette showed herself, Alya would throw an onslaught of balls to declare her victory. Even the spectators were getting edgy. Marinette knew foxes were good at burrowing, but Alya had major patience.
Mari grabbed the stick that balanced the beanie and scarf and braced herself. The fort was small enough for them to crouch behind but easy enough to jump over. She delve the stick into the ground and the beanie popped up. Immidetaly, Marinette dashed forward and used the fort to jump up. Alya was too preoccupied with the decoy that she didn’t notice the assault from overhead. Ladybug owned the sky. She knew exactly how hard to throw things in the air and add spin if she needed to. The sky was her friend. That’s why it was no surprise when the ball met its target.
“Woah!”
“Did you see that!”
“You go Marinette!”
The baker’s daughter landed roughly in a nearby patch of snow. Thankfully it wasn’t frozen yet, so her landing wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been.
“Marinette!” Luka carefully ran over. He took his own scarf off and wrapped it around the girl as he helped her up. “Are you ok?” His eyes were so full of concern and worry that Marinette felt her heart swell.
“Y-Yeah,” she managed. She so hope Tikki saw the whole thing from her window because that was awesome!
“Good.” The worry seemed to mostly evaporate. “That was so amazing! You are so special, Mari. I was captivated by you. I think I know how to finish your melody after seeing that.”
They stood only a few inches apart. Luka’s arms were still around the petite girl’s waist. Their noses were bright red from the stark cold, but their cheeks were red for entirely different reasons. Hesitantly, Marinette took the boy’s face in her cold, gloved hands and kissed him. She kissed Chat before, but that couldn’t compare to this. Her body started to warm up and she felt light on her feet. She was thankful the boy was able to keep her standing.
“Finally!” Rose cried out. Everyone started whooping and hollering and the two teens split apart.
“Your nose is still red. Should I do it again?” Luka raised a teasing eyebrow at her.
“C’mon everyone. I’ll get us some warm treats,” the champion proclaimed. No one complained and all started walking to the bakery. “Maybe I do,” she answered once her friends were a little bit ahead. Luka obliged and kissed her with such passion, her hearts did jumping jacks.
“Hey, Rudolph!” Alya called. “You and Prancer coming?” The fashion designer stuck her tongue out and grabbed hold of the musician’s outstretched arm. She was super pale, so it was easy for her nose to get red with the cold. However, if that meant more kisses from Luka, she wasn’t going to complain.
#mlholidays2k19#luka#marinette#lukanette#red noses#this is so cute#i had a lot of fun writing this#never been in the snow before tho oop
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Hey, can I please get some headcanons or short scenarios for America, Japan, England, Germany, Russia, Lithuania and Romania reacting to their very petite (short and scrawny) s/o wearing one of their shirts? And since she's so short, it absolutely just drapes over her and it's all super fluffy and cute? Thanks so much!
💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
America
A grin spread across his face as you came out of the bathroom. His shirt from the night before was drapped over you. It went past your knees and the sleeves were much to long. Not to mention it was one of his favorites. It was a white dress shirt that had an America flag sewn into the collar. His possessive side practically melted at the claim. It also didn’t help the fact you had some dark brusing on your collar bone and neck. Pushing his glasses further up his nose he cleared his throat to grab your attention. Your head snapped away from the drawer you were digging through to look at him.
His bare chest was on display and the sheets hung extremely low. His chest and body was covered in a layer of fat but you knew as soon as he moved his muscles would pop out. Light traces of hair ran down his chest getting thicker the further you went.
“Come back to bed baby girl.” He stated lifting the covers, making you blush. His voice was deep and raspy from just having woken up 5 minutes ago. Biting your lip you crawled back into the bed, curling yourself up against his side.
Japan
His dark brown eyes watched as you bit your lip, to engrossed into the show to notice his staring. You were wearing one of his favorite sweaters. It was a dark grey and was probably made from the softest fabric in the world. Your knee high socks make him swallow harshly.
Turning his head away he tried to focus on the anime playing infront of his eyes. But he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering back over to you.
You groaned as one of your favorite characters made another stupid decision. Adjusting yourself you moved so your shoulder was pressed against his side and you tucked one of your legs under your butt.
“What is he thinking?” You asked rhetorically. You leaned your head against his side, the top of your head almost going into his pit.
(He’s always clean so don’t worry)
His arm was thrown over the back of the couch but he brought it down so you were pressed closer against him. You looked up at him not expecting him to do that.
He was still staring at you but flashed you a small relaxed smile making your heart flutter. Smiling broadly you snuggled against his chest as he breathed in the combination of your sent and his.
England
“Love have you seen my bl”- he cut himself off seeing your small form wrapped in the same shirt he was looking for. It was a plain black shirt that he always wore under his uniforms.
“Your what?” You asked tilting your head to the side. The action cause some stray hair to fall in your face but you quickly blew them away, making his knee buckle from cuteness.
“Nevermind.” He quickly stated, coming around the counter so he could get a better view. You just shrugged and turned back to your mixing bowl. He had a meeting to go to in a few hours so you were making him some scones.
His emerald eyes scanned up and down your form. His shirt went down past your knees and he swore when you reached up to get something he could see the very bottom of his boxers on your form.
(They were clean calm down-boxers are hella comfy. I buy them for myself to waltz around the house in)
Smirking softly he came up behind you and placed his strong hands on your hips. He pressed a hard kiss against the back of your head before he rested his chin on top of it.
“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured leaning down and softly kissing your neck and down your exposed shoulder. He chuckled against your skin when he heard a sharp gasp and felt your body melt against his.
After all he did have 3 hours to kill.
Russia
All of the loneliness he had gone through had been worth it and he would gladly do it again if it meant he could always come home to this sight.
He had come home from a long and boring meeting with his boss, wanting nothing more than to escape from the cold and feel you curled up against his chest.
As soon as he came home he was greeted with the sight of your sleeping form curled up on the couch in one of his shirts. It was an old soccer jersey that had his last name on it.
He was 100% going to wear it after you.
His insides practically purred as he quickly took off all of his clothes except for his boxers. He carefully lifted you up making sure you didn’t wake up and laid down placing you on your designated spot on his chest. You instinctively buried yourself deeper into his slightly chubby body. Grabbing the faux fur blanket off the back of the couch he draped it over both of you and held you tightly against him.
Lithuania
He couldn’t contain the smile as he watched you dance around the bedroom in nothing but his shirt.
It was dark green and went all the way down to your knees. And every time you lifted up your arms he caught a small glimpse of your bare bottom.
Your dog/cat watched and even ran around you as you sung to it.
He will never get how someone like you could ever love someone as scarred and broken as him. But who is he to complain.
As the song ended your dancing slowed down and eventually halted as the closing lines became quieter and quieter.
Panting softly your turned around and looked at your boyfriend who had a lazy smile across his perfect face.
He straightened up so he wasn’t leaning on his arms and held them out to you. You took his unspoken offer and rushed into his arms, practically jumping on him. Once you were in his arms he fell back so you were on his chest and listened as the sappy lyrics of your favorite love song played through the happy room.
Romania
His eyes couldn’t focus on the pages infront of him as the kept finding their way back to you. You were laying on the bed next to him on your computer paying Poptropica :) and you silently cursed to yourself when your character catapulted themselves off a cliff on accident.
His eyes scanned themselves down your form biting the inside of his cheek when he saw his large shirt pooling around you.
It was dark red and had a few small rips in it from being so old but it was his favorite shirt- and as it turns out it was yours too.
Putting his book down he turned off his bedside lamp and leaned over and grabbed your computer away from you. He quickly pressed save and then closed the device and also place it on his night stand.
“I was just about to figure out who had been ruining all the carrots!” You declared glaring at your boyfriend.
“You can play tomorrow.” He replied smiling lightly. He reached over and turned off your light. He then softly grabbed you and pulled you so you were his little spoon. “I love you.” He murmured against your head.
Germany
He watched you protectively as you climbed up the rock trail. He always walked behind you to make sure if you ever did fall he was right there to catch you before. Reaching out he put a hand on your hip lightly guiding you up the steep climb.
He tried to focus completely on the path in front of you but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from you.
Well that wasn’t unusual- but this time it was different.
You had both decided to go on a hike and you just decided to throw on his shirt and a pair of workout shorts. It was a black shirt with a big German flag printed on the back. The fact you were wrapped up in his flag made his protective and clingy side shudder. It was like a warning to every person who even dared to look or god forbid touch you. It was a warning sign that screamed;
“Don’t touch what’s mine.”
And he was living for it.
Once you finally made it to the top he gave your hip a light squeeze before releasing you. He bent his arm behind him grabbing a water bottle out of the side pocket of his backpack. Handing it to you he watched as you took a few large gulps before handing it back to him. Bringing the water bottle up to his lips he quickly finished the rest of it and threw it in a nearby trash can.
“Look at how pretty it is!” You giggled grabbing his huge arm and pulling him to the edge. He instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist preventing you from getting to close.
The view was outstanding.
But he wasn’t talking about the same one you were.
#hetalia#aph#aphhetalia#hetalia x reader#allthinghetalia#axishetalia#alliedhetalia#germanyhetalia#americahetalia#russiahetalia#englandhetalia#lithuaniahetalia#japanhetalia#romaniahetalia#hetaliacomfort#hetaliaimagines#hetaliaheadcons#hetaliablog#allthingshetalia#country x reader#requestsareopen
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In Heat
@atc74 @alleiradayne @arrowsandmixtapes @captain-s-rogers
Warnings: Explicit smut, swearing, canon typical violence
Word count: 2706
Pairing: Dean x OFC
Summary: Rhea has lived and hunted with the Winchesters for over a year, secretly pining after the elder brother, until she gets hit with a spiteful witch’s spell. It’s not subtle, either.
Dean’s POV
‘If you’re going to be a bitch,’ The sorceress snarled at Rhea as she raised her knife before her. ‘Then you can be a bitch in heat.’
Faster than any of them could anticipate, she hurled a bolt of golden light at the huntress, catching her directly in the chest.
‘That should keep you busy enough.’ The witch’s parting laugh was accompanied by a rustle of feathers and a raven rose from where she had just been standing.
Sam got off a couple of shots, but the bird escaped unharmed through an open skylight in the abandoned warehouse’s ceiling.
‘Rhea?’ The brothers rushed to her side, her gaze was unfocused as she got to her feet.
‘Where’d she go?’ Dean snapped at Sam. ‘Son of a bitch, we’ve been tracking her for a week.’
‘Uh, Dean?’ His brother’s voice held a hesitant note that drew his attention from the skylight. He followed his gaze to the third hunter with them. ‘I think we have a bigger problem.’
***
It had taken the combined effort of himself and Sam to get Rhea back to the bunker. Sam had had to drive, seeing as in her current condition, the huntress was making it very difficult for Dean to concentrate on anything.
‘What’s up with little Magpie?’ Crowley appeared beside Rowena without warning, head tipped to one side as he regarded Rhea mouthing at Dean’s collarbone. The sounds she was emitting were doing nothing to help the situation in his jeans.
‘Why do you care?’ Sam snapped at the demon, glowering at him from the opposite side of the table.
Crowley just shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Unlike the rest of you, she’s not a pain in my ass. She’s worked a few jobs for me in the past, mostly writing up contracts – she’s excellent with words. Must be all the research she’s done on the fae.’
Sam seemed to be gearing up for an argument when Rowena interrupted their bickering.
‘She got hit wi’ a spell. A powerful one.’ She was lent against a pillar, barely raising her eyes from the tome she was flipping through. ‘I don’t think I can undo this one, lads. Looks like you’re going to have to wait until it runs its course…or find another way to break it.’
The red-haired witch cast a meaningful look at him that he dutifully ignored. If it hadn’t been for the fraying grip on his self-control, he would’ve already hauled Rhea onto the table and fucked the magic out of her.
‘Cas, can’t you do something about this?’ Because Rhea was attempting to slip her hand beneath his shirt and her touch was everywhere…
‘I can try, but short of rendering her unconscious, I am not sure what else I can do.’ The angel laid a gentle hand on Rhea’s arm, trying to prise her from Dean’s person. ‘I need you to focus-‘
But he was cut off as Rhea whirled, pulling a knife and slamming him against the nearest pillar with the blade pressed to his jugular.
‘He’s mine.’ She snarled, eyes wild and teeth bared. ‘Don’t fucking touch him.’
For a moment no one moved, too taken aback at the normally easy-going hunter suddenly turning feral. Then everyone was in action, Sam moving into her line of sight, hands up and expression placating.
‘Rhea…’
‘Alright, that’s enough.’ Cas moved before she could react – touching two fingers two her brow and with a flash of white light she crumpled into his arms. ‘I will take her to her room and seal the door until we can figure out what to do.’
In a blink, both angel and hunter were gone, the only sign of their departure the fading echo of wingbeats.
‘Looks like things around here are finally getting a bit more interesting.’
Sam only spared the demon a sideways glance before turning on his brother.
‘Look, Dean, I don’t see why you won’t just-‘
‘I said no!’ He clenched his jaw so hard it felt his teeth would crack. ‘It’s not the same and you know it. What happens when the spell breaks and she wakes up having done something she didn’t want to? Why can’t you or Cas help her?’
‘Cause she hasn’t spent the last hour trying to get into our pants.’ Sam signed through his nose and glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Rhea wanting you isn’t a new thing – this spell just seems to have amplified her feelings.’
‘Sam is right.’ Dean started and whipped around as Cas’s gravelly voice sounded directly behind him. ‘Rhea has been radiating desire for months, all directed at you.’
‘It’s been nauseating, really.’ Crowley chipped in, grinning over the rim of a glass he’d somehow acquired.
‘Oh great. So everyone knew about this except me?’ He threw his hands up, nearly taking out a lamp in the process.
‘Pretty much.’ Rowena smirked, one side of her red-painted mouth drawn up.
‘If the feeling isn’t mutual, why don’t you love her and leave her, squirrel? And after you’ve broken her heart, maybe she’ll sell it to me; I’ve been trying to make her my right hand for years.’
The King of Hell only chuckled as Dean fisted his hand in his suit jacket and slammed him against the wall, one forearm pressed to his neck.
‘Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch.’ His voice was pitched low, but the promise of violence rippled like an undercurrent, dark and dangerous and just below the surface.
‘I’m right hear y’know!’ Rowena protested as Crowley spoke.
‘Oh look, the feeling is mutual. Looks like my work here is done. Bye, boys.’ With a final smirk, the demon vanished from his grip, leaving him clutching thin air.
‘Sonofabitch.’ Dean slapped his palm against the wall where Crowley’s head had just been.
‘Again, right here.’ The witch speared him with a glare that by all laws of physics should’ve set him on fire, no hoodoo required. ‘Now, you listen to me. You might be that lassie’s only chance for breaking this spell, so stop pretending like you haven’t been staring at her ass for the last year, get in there, and get busy.’
Momentarily lost for words, Dean gaped at the petite woman, then at his brother who was trying and failing to stifle his laughter. Asshat.
‘Fine. Fine.’ He rubbed a palm over his eyes. ‘Sammy, shut the hell up.’
With a final glare at the three of them, Dean stomped down the corridor with Sam’s laughter ringing in his ears.
****
He could hear her moans from outside her door - it seemed that Cas’s mojo hadn’t worked for very long. Letting out a long breath, Dean turned the handle and slipped into her room.
Soft lamplight illuminated the space, gleaming on the trinkets and blades that lined the shelves and walls. His heart almost stopped as his gaze found her. Holy fuck.
Her wine-red hair spilled around her head like a halo, her normally ivory skin flushed and turned to palest gold in the lamplight.
Her eyes were closed as she continued her ministrations – one slender hand worked at the apex of her thighs, back arching as her legs trembled.
His mouth went dry, and he was acutely, painfully aware of the aching press of his cock against the seam of his jeans. Rhea gasped as she buried a third finger inside herself, her thumb never ceasing in the pressure it applied to her clit. She was panting now, her cries coming at irregular intervals as she pushed herself closer and closer to the edge.
Dean could pinpoint the exact moment that she shattered, head thrown back and hand stilling momentarily as she chased her pleasure. His own hips jerked involuntarily and his grabbed onto a side table for balance, knocking over a picture frame in the process.
The noise alerted Rhea to his presence and she took him in with those crushing blue eyes as she rose from the bed on surprisingly steady legs. She stalked towards him like a predator, all lithe muscle beneath an hourglass figure like sweet sin.
Dean had seen plenty of naked women in his time – too many, probably – and this shouldn’t have been any different, but it was. This was Rhea, and she was looking at him in a way that had only happened in his dirtiest fantasies and he felt like a butterfly pinned to the wall by that cornflower gaze.
And then she was on him, pulling him down to cover his mouth with hers. The kiss was hot and hungry; the nip of her teeth on his bottom lip had him groaning into her mouth and fisting his hands at his sides.
‘Don’t you think we should talk about this, ah fuck, first, sweetheart?’ His head slammed back into the door as he tried to control his breathing. ‘You’re making this pretty damn, god, hard.’
‘That’s the plan, Winchester.’ She purred, smirking up at him from under her lashes and that snapped the final thread of his tattered self-control. ‘Please, Dean, I need this.’
One heartbeat, he had her in his arms, her long legs wrapped around his waist, vice-like.
Two heartbeats, he flipped their positions, pressing her against the door hard enough to rattle the hinges.
Three heartbeats, Rhea’s hands were under his Henley again, this time pushing it up and off to bare the lean muscles of his torso.
Four heartbeats, her lips were back on him; his mouth, his neck, his jaw, everywhere.
Five heartbeats, he ground against her, the wetness between her legs already soaking the front of his jeans. He needed to be inside her. Yesterday.
He carried her back to the bed, setting her down and making quick work of the rest of his clothes. He hissed in a breath as the cool air brushed against his swollen cock, already leaking.
‘Turn over.’ He barely recognised his own voice, the rough way it caught in the back of his throat. ‘Just how much do you need me, darlin’?’
There was no hesitation as Rhea rolled onto her hands and knees, spreading her legs as she glanced back over her shoulder, eyes dark with unconcealed lust.
‘Please…’ He’d never heard her like this, never thought he would. On cases, around the bunker, she was teasing and kind, with a spine like stainless steel. But now she was melting in his hands as he grasped her waist, lining his cock up with her entrance. The spell had made her desperate, made her beg for him. ‘Dean, please. I need you.’
Rhea cried out as he pushed into her in one smooth thrust, seating himself fully in the warm, wet heat of her. She was already stretched from her solo-session earlier but she was still exquisitely tight around him as he filled her. Her whimpers became moans as he began to move, setting a rough pace from the beginning.
There would be time enough in the future to go slow, to map each other’s bodies and strengthen the bond that he already felt shimmering between them – but right now he settled for what they both wanted, what they both needed.
The slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with their shared moans. Dean kept his voice low, still holding on to some inhibitions in an occupied bunker with thin walls but Rhea had no such reservations. She didn’t bother to muffle her screams as he reached around to find the bundle of nerves between her legs, clawing at the sheets as she trembled around him.
She tensed and he saw stars, his thrusts becoming erratic as he barrelled towards the edge.
‘Fuck, Rhea you feel so good…’ Dean hauled the whimpering hunter up against him so that her back was flush to his chest. ‘I’m close… come for me, sweetheart.’
His arm was a vice around her midriff as his other hand continued it’s work at the apex of her thighs. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling down his back, baring her throat to him.
‘Dean…’ His name was almost a sob on her lips as he pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the column of her neck. ‘I’m gonna…I need to…’
‘That’s it, come for me.’ His stubble was rough against her skin as he slammed into her over and over, her full breasts bouncing with the motion. ‘Now.’
As if following his growled command and not the cresting tide of pleasure within her, she came hard around him, pulling him over the edge. Her whole body trembled in his arms as he spilled into her.
With a trembling gasp, the strength left her body and he tightened his grip as she slumped to the mattress. Gold light danced along her skin, rising from her form in shimmering whorls.
It worked.
Dean’s heartbeat was still racing hell-for-leather as he set Rhea down on the bed, too intoxicated by the aftershocks of his own orgasm and the rising panic over the what now? to worry about the mess.
‘Rhea? You still with me?’ He brushed his fingers over the sharp line of her cheekbone and the sprinkling of freckles beneath her dark lashes.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, the dark lust replaced by bewilderment.
‘Dean?’ She pushed herself upright, hair spilling over her bare shoulders. Her jaw dropped as she took in his naked form, then her own state of post-sex disarray. ‘Oh my god… Did I…?’
‘Try to climb me like a tree?’ Dean offered her a lopsided grin. ‘Yeah, you did. It was pretty damn fun.’
Rhea groaned and buried her face in her palms and his stomach dropped.
‘Look, I’m sorry, really sorry. Just, we couldn’t find another way to break the spell and you seemed uh… interested in me so I lent a hand. I told Sammy that this was a bad idea. And why would you want me without a fucking hoodoo spell? You can do a hell of a lot better than my fucked-up ass.’
He pushed himself off the bed, scrambling for his discarded clothes. He wanted to be out of there as fast as possible, to find somewhere to hide with a bottle of whiskey and no one to bother him.
He’d just found his jeans when he felt a warm hand grab his wrist.
‘Dean.’ From her tone, it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention. ‘I don’t regret it. Any of it.’ Her voice was soft as she looked up at him.
He swallowed thickly, trying to keep the hope from showing on his face because god damn it he’d been through too much, let down far too many times, so why should this be any different?
‘I’ve wanted this, wanted you for months. Sam and Cas were right. I’m in love with you, you idiot. I’m only embarrassed that I tried to get in your pants in front of everyone.’
Dean was pretty sure he was doing a fantastic impression of a landed fish as he blinked at her. It took him a second to process her words. I’ve wanted you for months. I’m in love with you.
‘Come here.’ Her smile was gentle, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘I reckon we have a good while before anyone comes looking for us.’
And there she was, back to her old self again as Dean let her pull him back down onto the memory foam mattress. Her movements were languid, yet just as compelling as before as she tucked herself against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist, still not sure whether this was just some angel-induced fever dream.
‘This is real.’ His voice caught in his throat as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.
‘It is.’ Rhea reached up to cup his jaw in her palm and kissed him softly.
‘I love you too, darlin’.’ Dean let his own eyes shut as he breathed in her gunmetal and moonlight scent. He’d never admitted to anyone his fear of dying, not even Sam. To everyone he was the fearless hunter – facing death and danger every day. But knowing that this was waiting for him in heaven? He could live with that.
#oc appreciation day 2020#oc's are people too#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#crowley#rowena
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The spray of bullets could be heard down the stairs as she sat up in the room she had been staying in–another solider, Colonel Lancaster eyed her as she posed, ready for the attack that they were about to endure. “Hawthorne, watch out!” The sound of several footsteps had been heard leaving the room, both thinking they were safe before a spray of bullets filled the room–the last thing Addison saw was the silhouette of a man standing on the outside ledge of their window and Lancaster trying to shield her from the assault but there was too much fire power–too much damage. The woman’s body dropped, blood spurting from between her lips. The wolf within her was trying to heal her, trying to undo the damage that was done as her eyes frantically looked around at all the bloodshed, Lancaster having retaliated the best she could before dropping lifeless, blood flowing from the middle of her forehead. The pain was beginning to become too much. White hot pain filtering through her until everything went completely black and finally… the pain was gone.
Something jolted within her, some sort of life source weaving through her veins, making her wolf incredibly uncomfortable–trying to fight off the intruder but finally giving way, merging with the darkness that was dipping into her cold, dead heart. What was going on? There were noises around her, but she couldn’t see. Her body felt like it was on fire… why was it so hot? She had died. What was going on? Something slammed so hard into her chest, her body threw itself forward–sitting up as her had swung over to her heart, eyes wide as the most blood curdling scream pushed from deep within her chest. Green-blue eyes shifted wildly around the room, taking in everything. It was pure white, smell so clean and sterile it almost made her sick. Each and every bit of dust could be seen floating in from the window, the sun shining brightly upon her body; that’s where the heat had been coming from. The girl looked down at her body to find her body clad in a simple outfit–a black t-shirt, leggings and plaid shirt.
And the worst feeling scratched at her throat–that burning. Like some one had stuck a hot, curling iron down there, hand coming to her throat; rubbing at it feverishly as Lancaster came strolling in the room, causing Addison to jump so hard that she fell off the side of the bed before scrambling backwards until she hit the wall, “You,” She paused to put her hands out, to stop the woman’s stroll towards her, “You were fucking dead! I saw the bullet wound in your head. You were dead! I- I was dead. What the fuck is going on? Is this heaven? I don’t even believe in God, let alone think I even deserve the right to go to heaven.” The brunette stopped as Bethany shook her head, putting her hand up to stop her from talking.
“For someone who is supernatural as well, I’d think you’d catch on pretty quick.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Addison, I’m a vampire. I saved you. So therefore, you’re a vampire now as well. Thought you knew this whole time.”
“No, I’m a werewolf… I can’t be turned, that’s impossible.”
“I thought so too. But here you are. You’re alive. Your body didn’t reject the change like most wolves do.”
“I can’t be… Vampire’s are monsters. I’m… a… monster.” And if that didn’t fit every outcome of her life, she didn’t know what else could. Addison’s life had always been nothing but a mess. It was one thing after the other. The anxiety in her body began to spew over the proverbial lid, eyes turning such an angry crimson red as her nails began to elongate into claws, unable to hear anything the blonde woman before her was trying to say. The next thing she could feel were soft hands on her hot flesh and it hurt, the loudest grunt filling the air before throwing the woman to the side and taking off out of the room.
☾
A bump in the road caused her to jolt awake from the light sleep she had finally fallen into, the same dream of her death and awakening coming to a halt. Peering outside the large bus window, her eyes fell upon the sign she’d been waiting to see for hours.
“Welcome to Bullhead City, AZ.”
Sage was hitting random towns as she tried to keep undetected; with her new identity and the fact everyone thought Addison Hawthorne was dead, it was proving to be quite easy but then there was Bethany Lancaster. The woman knew Sage was the one behind the murders; who else could do the things to them than a vampire? They had a run in back in Wyoming but being what she was, Lancaster was no match to the added strength of werewolf and vampire. The only thing that was making it difficult to stay hidden from the woman who brought her to life was having such a tough time not killing people. The blonde had mentioned something about her giving into the vampire instinct and cutting off all empathetic emotion, but she had cut her off by snapping her neck to get away – Sage had never been one for emotions, she had a shitty life and this felt better to her.
Being sloppy drunk seemed to be the “norm” these days, having fallen back into old habits. She’d been incredibly messy and stupid since the moment she woke up in that white room. But she could never exactly admit that to herself because she just didn’t care anymore. Sage had been here before, as a teenager and she thought going into the military would help her become the woman she had always dreamt of becoming.
But being who she was–she should’ve seen this outcome.
It felt as if the girl she was before, died with her humanity; her soul went right along with it. What every one of her mom’s friends said was spot on–they were soulless monsters who wanted to drain you of your life source. That’s all she wanted to do when she came across every single human–wanted to rip them from their dignity, take them away from the life they live on this Earth. Sage tried to strike up conversations with people, especially when her solidarity was becoming too much, and she became lonely but, within the first five minutes, she lured anyone to a dark and quiet area. She wasn’t like any vampire when she fed, though. The wolf in her always made her take it one step farther. Always unable to hold back from burying her fangs so deeply into the necks of her victims that their head pops off as if she were playing that childhood game with a dandelion. That’s when she’d flee, leaving the body for someone else to deal with and possibly traumatize.
But what did she care? They were mere mortals who’d die someday anyhow. Who cares if the lot of them were sad and depressed? Who cares if they came across a mutilated body just to push them that much farther over the edge? She’d been there, and she died, and she became something stronger than anything else in this world. A hybrid. A cross between vampire and wolf and she could quite literally take anything down. Honestly, if she wanted to, she could probably take over the world.
She would only stay here for the night, then by morning she would head out again; Arizona was still way too close to where Bethany had last spotted her but something about this place stuck out… like she was meant to come here. She wasn’t sure what it was but seeing the town sign. Something sparked in her chest the moment she crossed town lines. As she got off the bus, she set out to find somewhere to sleep, finding the smallest little motel. It was dingy, and the green paint was fading into the brown stains, but it had promise. She headed to the desk, paying for the room in cash and giving her, her fake name; Sage Westphall. Given the room key, she smiled at the woman with a sweet smile. Once she got to her room, she was fairly impressed with how the room looked; not nearly as disgusting as she imagined, it was thoroughly clean. Her enhanced eyesight didn’t pick up a lick of dust on the furniture, the beds covers, and pillows clean as a fiddle.
Confident she wouldn’t catch a flesh-eating disease, she went into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. Pushing the door open to the bathroom, it was no bigger than a closet but just like the room, it was clean; even smelled of lavender. A memory of someone dear to her wanting to peek through but the darkness shut it down, slamming it back to the back of her mind. After getting everything situated, she pulled off the dirt and blood-stained clothing off her body. It proved almost difficult, this time around, they were really stuck to her skin; some days, she stopped for nothing, either walking or jumping bus to bus and since her last encounter, she had to just go, there was no time to stop. Finally able to peel off the crusted clothes, she tossed them into a trash bag, ready to be thrown out in the big green can outside the motel. She reached into the shower and snapped the water on – turning it all the way to the left, she stepped in, the water spray ran down her skin in seconds, the steam filling the air in a matter of minutes making it even hotter. The hybrid let out a small moan, it felt so good – the water went from clear, to brown and pink and then back to clear as every bit of grime washed off her. A stifle moan escaped her lips, hand snapping the water off—this was the cleanest she felt in forever.
Reaching out, she gripped into the white towel, expecting it to be as rough as pavement but the soft fabric brushed her sensitive milky white skin and she let out a satisfied sound. She judged this place way too harshly, guess every teacher she had was right; never judge a book by its cover. Wrapping the towel around her petite frame, she stepped out and stood in front of the mirror; pushing the palm of her hand to the steam covered glass, wiping it off to expose the very naked woman. Her pupils were big, skin flushed with patches of red over the skin she could see; her long dark brown hair draped neatly over her shoulder. The dark color was taking a bit to get used to. She had been born with the shade, but she had spent so much time with blonde hair in recent years it was weird to be back to the girl she once was. She had changed the color to symbolize change when she left for deployment. Sage shook her head and headed to the room to find something to wear. She had a long few days and needed a drink more than anything. And hopefully she could steer clear from murdering anyone today but something within her was craving the blood way too precariously.
When she left, the hybrid was clad in jean shorts, a black tank top complete with a cerulean and lime plaid shirt and a pair of beat up white converse that were more tan and holes than anything now. Grabbing the key to her room and wallet before heading out, the person housing next to her coming out, she asked where the nearest bar was–she was directed to “The Blue Lion”. Definitely an odd name but, like she discovered with the motel, she wasn’t judging, she always did appreciate smaller, close knit bars; she could tell people knew each other well. What she should’ve been focusing on, went right over her head though; not paying attention that there were other wolves. Normally, she could sniff it out, but it was one of those nights where, she wanted her drink now, upon entering, she sat down immediately with a smile before the man at the bar came up to her to see what she wanted, “Amaretto Sour, please?” Her blue-green eyes scoped out the place, making sure to see every exit, coming up with every escape plan she’d need, just in case. When the man came back with her drink, she smiled at him once more before heading to a spot in the back. Slowly sipping at her drink as she continued her thorough look through. That’s when the person next to her started to talk to her, “Never seen you around before,” She simply shook her head as she got up, not wanting to make any kind of small talk, anything could set her off and she couldn’t afford that. Making her way to the other side, she took a seat at an empty table when she felt the same man’s presence.“Can I help you?” The woman side eyed him, the male grinning widely, causing her to set her drink down, ready to slam it against his head if she needed to.
“I just couldn’t help but notice how hot you are. We don’t get girls like you around here much,” His tongue slid over his bottom lip, and she had to physically stop herself from gagging; bile rising to her throat once his next words slid passed his lips; they seemed to be in slow motion, “And while you were walking away, I watched the way your ass rippled in those shorts and damn, I had to come see if I could hit that up, because girl, I could fuck you good.” The glass was in her hand again much faster than anyone could’ve anticipated before she smashed the glass of liquid into the side of his face, the room falling into complete and utter silence except for a few select gasps. The woman watched the blood begin to rush down his face; her hybrid visage breaking over her face, the hue of her iris shifting from its normal shade to a bright red; her fangs sliding from their sheaths before she could tell herself she needed to calm down. Her body launched towards him, trying not to stick his fangs into his pulsating artery. The man’s torso pressed to the floor as she grabbed his arm and pulled it back, so he couldn’t move, making sure he felt her strength as he whispered out, “what are you,” And once she got the scent of wolf, she mentally cursed to herself. She might’ve walked into the wrong town if the scent of wolf filled the air much more than the man below her. The emotion “fear” flew out the window though and she bent down, whispering in his ear, “I am the monster parents tell their children about at night. A little bit of wolf, a little bit of vampire. You really should’ve thought twice before talking to me the way you did. I am a lady,” She brought her free hand up and gripped the back of his head before slamming it into the floor, not caring about all the eyes on her as beat the man almost to death. Blood caking the floor below them.
#writing#one day ill finish this#i have so much more written out but its all a mess#what happens when you rp your story#books and libraries#maybe one day ill be published#its my dream
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Chapters: 45/?
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Chapter Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland
Additional Tags: Fereldan Civil War AU, Romance, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort
Chapter Summary: Something’s happened to Rosslyn.
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The dog lay with his head in Alistair’s lap, boneless from the sedative the horsemaster had given him, with only the occasional twitch of an eye as a broad hand passed soothing strokes over his ears. His wound had been treated with charcoal and merrybud oil to draw out the poison, and more oil had been rubbed along his gums so that the rich blood supply there might also be purged. Amell, the healer who had tended both Alistair and Teagan after West Roth and had travelled from South Reach with Rosslyn’s house guard, had offered hope that Cuno would recover, had murmured that if he had been smaller, or slightly longer away from medicine, the outcome might have been different. She had left only moments ago, with an apology that she couldn’t do more – venom was tricky for magical healing, because of the way it acted on the blood, she said. That left only Alistair under the canvas roof of the picket lines, curled up in enough straw that he hardly felt the cold, with one leg numb and his mind far enough away that he barely noticed anyway.
Rosslyn looked harder, sterner than he remembered, dressed formally in embroidered split skirts that matched the elegance of court attire with the practicality needed for the field, with cavalry boots and riding breeches underneath that clung to the shape of her legs. He shouldn’t have noticed. She had barely glanced at him, and when she had, the set of her eyes in her summer-tanned skin had retained all the snap of winter, the aloof cold that had set them so far apart at Aeylesbide, that spoke of worse things than mere offended pride, and that was, at least this time, entirely all his fault.
No, he reminded himself. Not mine. Eamon’s. He had thought himself angry when he confronted the arl in Orzammar, but having seen Rosslyn’s pain with his own eyes, the way she stood out of reach and contracted in around herself as if his very touch might burn, the urge to inflict that same pain on Eamon had curled tight in his fist and surged through his veins.
“At least she had you,” he muttered to the dog, and chuckled. “Although you certainly picked your time to be dramatic. I was this close to telling her everything.”
Cuno slumbered on, oblivious. His nose twitched.
Alistair smiled, his fingers idling in the loose folds of the dog’s ruff. “I can’t let it be like last time,” he confessed. “And I can’t lose her. I can’t –”
A rising tide of noise outside distracted the line of his thoughts. At first he thought the commotion must be some disagreement or excitement among the ranks, but as he listened, he recognised a tinge of alarm in the shouts, and a whisper of dread breathed across the back of his neck.
“No…”
Carefully settling the dog in the straw, and glad he hadn’t been given a chance to remove his sword, he emerged from the lines and set off towards the source of the noise. Others had been roused, too, but he ignored them. The grip on his sword hilt tightened. His pace quickened, until a distant, panicked shout broke him into a run, heart pounding, and he skidded to a stop in front of Rosslyn’s pavilion. The place blazed with light, the entryway thrown open with soldiers prowling about its insides like hounds casting for a scent.
“Your Highness!” one of the guards cried when he was spotted.
“What happened?”
The woman, one of Rosslyn’s house guard, shifted on her feet. “Her Ladyship’s gone, Ser. Someone cut through the back of the tent wall. Looks like there was a canny right ding-dong, but they took her.”
“Where were the guards?” he snapped, already storming through to eye the evidence for himself.
“Drugged, Ser. We’ve put out the word – nobody leaves the bounds of the camp until Her Ladyship is found.”
Alistair had stopped listening. Panic rode high in his throat but he squashed the sick coil of his gut and forced his mind to focus. The back wall of the pavilion sliced; bedclothes scattered over the floor, in a trail towards Talon. The sword lay on the floor next to its stand, half out of its scabbard, as if someone had lunged for it and been interrupted.
And then he spotted a gleam of something underneath the food of a blanket, and his heart stuttered. His dagger, the one he had given her, discarded in the middle of the fight with a congealing line of scarlet along one edge of the blade. Beneath the surge of hope it gave him to see she had kept it, his ears rang, and bile crawled up his throat.
No. No no no no no…
He grabbed a torch and strode into the dark, following the trail of blood.
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“If you scream, I’ll cut that pretty throat of yours,” the assassin promised, in an accent delicate but unmistakably Orlesian.
Rosslyn snarled. “Why haven’t you already? unless you’ve realised that I’m your only insurance for getting out of here alive.” The words were slurred, a match to the unresponsive drag of her limbs, and the sweet taste in her mouth that remained from whatever paralytic powder her attacker had blown in her face.
Around them, the camp buzzed like a nest of kicked ants, bristling with stings and shouts, and yet somehow the small, slight woman at Rosslyn’s back was managing to stay out of sight, her arms pressing daggers against Rosslyn’s neck and stomach to stop her crying out, the stolen scout armour sharp through the single thin layer of her nightclothes. Feeling was returning, but she pretended otherwise, exaggerating the flail of her arms and the wobble in her legs – her captor was fast, it would take surprise and opportunity to be free of her.
The dagger at her side bit deeper.
“I suggest you be quiet, ma petite,” the assassin hissed.
“You’re the one who poisoned my dog.”
“How clever!” The assassin gave a brittle chuckle. “My employer warned me I could not touch you with that infernal animal on guard, and so I took steps to get it out of the way. Be grateful I am more used to human targets.”
Drizzle collected on Rosslyn’s hair, sheened her face like a cold mask as she swallowed her rage. They would know by now that she was the target, and people would be looking – dogs with her scent – even if the assassin made it to the edge of camp, going further would be near impossible.
“Baudrillard?” she tried, aiming for distraction.
The dagger poked her again. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Marjolane!”
The assassin froze. With precise deliberation, she spun around, dragging Rosslyn with her sharply enough that the blade held at her neck nicked the skin. Ten feet behind them, A figure stepped onto the path from behind a tent, bow nocked and draw-arm half pulled back, ready to loose.
“Ah, Leliana,” the assassin crooned. “How lovely to see you again, chérie.”
“I recognised your trick with the dog,” Leliana replied, casually, though her eyes were trained on Marjolane like a cat’s. “Though I am certain you meant the dosage of the viper’s sting to be lethal. You must be getting sloppy in your dotage.” She drew her arm back further. “Let her go.”
Marjolane chuckled again as she backed away. “Not even you are that good a shot, chérie. I would move her into the path of the arrow before it had a chance to reach me.”
Rosslyn stayed silent. She watched Leliana for any sign of movement, any indication that she would act, but forced her body to remain unresisting, heavy, a burden to her distracted captor, and all the while she measured the slow creep of the tingles up her arms as feeling came back to them.
“You would be left without a bargaining chip,” Leliana pointed out. Her draw arm was starting to shake.
“Perhaps,” the assassin answered. “But your desire for her survival is much greater than mine. You would not dare chance it. And nor would any other fool here,” she added, as another figure came barrelling into view through the nearest row of tents.
Alistair halted behind Leliana when he saw what was happening, his knuckles white on his sword and his face thrown into flickering relief by the torch he held aloft in his other hand. The snarl that contorted his features when his mind processed the details of the scene in front of him sent a shiver down Rosslyn’s back, but when she met his eye and shook her head, he held back.
“Good boy.” Marjolane had turned to him, was still backing away, but with her attention split in an extra direction, her options for escape were thinning.
“Where are you going?” Leliana called. Her blue eyes still burned, but the expression around them had crumpled into something almost desperate, the tension in the drawstring faltering. “You do not seem to realise, we have a score to settle. You framed me, had me caught and tortured. Why did you hate me so much?”
“Hate you?” the assassin repeated. The daggers at Rosslyn’s neck loosened, imperceptibly. “I never hated you. But did you think I did not know where you were, that I watched you? ‘What is she up to?’ I asked myself, as I saw you scrabble around in this country that smells of wet dog.” She snorted. “And then, of course, you wound your way into the confidence of this Falcon of Highever, and I saw – I saw that you planned to use this influence to set yourself against me.”
Rosslyn caught Leliana’s eye, a warning not to be baited, a signal to be ready.
“How fortunate it was that I found another who shared my concerns,” Marjolane continued, smug with her success. “Once I have delivered her to my employer, I will be free once more, and you will be free to crawl out of this filthy mud hole and come back with me, back to the life you were made for.”
Leliana shuddered, but swallowed her resolve. “I came to Ferelden to be free of you. Now I see my mistake. You’ve caused too much pain for too many people, Marjolane. It ends here!”
In an instant, Rosslyn dropped, twisting, her weight an advantage against the smaller woman. Above her, she caught the dull thud of an arrow hitting flesh, the breath of someone knocked back. A dagger came into her hands and she surged upwards again, driving the blade hilt-deep into the cavity beneath the ribs. An eternity passed and Marjolane clawed at her, gasping, her dark eyes wide with confusion then fury by turns, before finally she slipped off the steel and collapsed unmoving in the mud. Silence fell. Rosslyn stood and let the dagger fall from her hands. Her pulse roared in her ears, her breath a laboured rasp, as if her body couldn’t quite believe it was still working, and when she brought her hand to the sting in her neck, her fingers came away sticky with blood.
A sob roused her from her shock. Leliana had sunk to her knees, her shoulders slumped and shaking, one hand over her mouth, leaning on her bow like it was the only solid thing in the world. She barely seemed to notice when Rosslyn knelt beside her to coax her into an embrace, and only wept harder at her stilted, murmured assurances that everything would be alright.
“It’s over,” she repeated, again and again. “She’s dead. She’s dead.”
“Come on, we can’t stay here.”
Half-entreating and half-hauling her friend upright, Rosslyn finally took stock if where they were. Her limbs still felt heavy from the poison she had been given, the lack of coordination unhelpful given she now supported Leliana’s weight as well as her own, but adrenaline steadied her, and she grit her teeth as she began leading the way towards the healer’s tent. Something warm fell around her shoulders as she took the first steps – Alistair’s cloak. She had forgotten him in the heat of the moment. His hands lingered just a little as he made sure the fabric covered her properly, his eyes tight at the corners, but to her relief he said nothing, only fell into silent step behind her as she led Leliana away. When the first guard found them, he took charge and ordered the man to find somewhere to keep Marjolane’s body, and again she was grateful.
Amell greeted them at the entrance to the modest infirmary, though whether she had been roused by the commotion or just hadn’t gone to bed was impossible to tell. She didn’t say a word as the three of them emerged from the gloom, only hustled them inside and laid gentle hands on Leliana’s shoulders to guide her to the furthest and most private pallet from the opening. The sobs had subsided now, and only the shining tracks across her pale cheeks betrayed the loss of composure.
“She’s had a shock,” Rosslyn explained as the mage ran a brief check of her patient. Without any occupation for her hands, she drew the edges of Alistair’s cloak closer, taking comfort in its fastness and the warmth of his scent on the collar, however much her better judgement warned her not to.
“Someone should send out, and fetch Captain Morrence.”
“Well it’s not going to be you,” Amell replied in clipped tones. “You’re not going anywhere until I look at your feet.”
“My…?”
She was barefoot. She hadn’t noticed before, with the combination of the knife at her throat and the soporific she with which had been dosed, but looking down now, every sensation crowded in at once; her toes burned with cold, her soles were bruised and bleeding, and to top it all, the loose trousers she wore for sleep were caked halfway to the knee in mud. Dazed, she accepted the healer’s fussing without complaint and sank to the nearest pallet, though she had to stifle a hiss as her feet were first rubbed clean of the worst of the dirt, then dipped into a bowl of warm water sharp-scented with herbs and vinegar.
“No lasting harm done,” Amell informed her with a smile as she sent a healing spell twining up her legs.
She was too tired to answer, the pain and the dregs of her resolve stolen away by the magic. “Will Leliana be alright?” she asked instead.
The healer shrugged. “Depends what happened. I gave her a draught so she won’t have to deal with it until the morning, at least.”
The chantry sister’s form, distinguishable only by the red shock of her hair, was already curled under the covers of the farthest bed. With a sigh, Rosslyn turned away and watched in silence as Amell cleaned the worst of the cuts in her feet, trying to ignore the faint headache growing behind her eyes that might have been the day’s stress or the paralytic, or even just the bright wisp-lights of the infirmary. After a moment or two, she realised Alistair had left, and berated herself for missing him. She said nothing, and Amell, satisfied with her work, went to discard the muddied water.
“Oh, Your Highness!”
Rosslyn turned. Alistair stood sheepishly in the opening, with a pair of boots in one hand and some spare clothes thrown over his arm. From what she could tell, he had had a narrow escape from the contents of the bowl
“I think they’re too big,” he apologised when he saw her looking. “But the quartermaster was very grumpy at being woken up. They should do, at least as far as, uh…” his smile faltered as he set them next to her, and she dropped her gaze.
“Thank you,” she said. “And you, Enchanter. It was lucky we brought you along.” Twice over, she added mentally, as her mind drifted to Cuno, resting under the horsemaster’s care. She didn’t dare ask if he was otherwise.
Amell smiled again, a pretty expression that brought out dimples in her cheeks. “I enjoy the excitement, though by all accounts of luck you should’ve had enough for a while. You’re cured, by the way. Off you trot.”
“I’m –? Oh, thank you.” She stood and tried her feet. They were still tender, but the lingering magic in her veins would probably take care of that by morning. The mud caked onto her clothes stuck unpleasantly to her skin, however, and her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“If Your Highness would like to excuse himself?” Amell prompted.
“What?”
“Her Ladyship needs to change.”
“I – oh.” He froze, eyes bugged wide as he gulped back his embarrassment. “I’ll, um – of course… But if I could – I mean, Teyrna Rosslyn should really have someone to escort her back. See she gets there.” His hands twisted together, and he peered at her through hopeful lashes. “May I?”
Her mind was too fogged to craft a proper refusal. She nodded.
And yet she took her time getting changed, making sure the boots were laced with proper tightness in case they slipped and gave her blisters, until she could no longer put off going out to meet him. He was waiting for her in the pool of light outside the tent, and fell into careful step beside her without a word, respecting the space she put between them. Even so, his gaze burned hot against the back of her neck, adding to the weight of the silence with every step they took, but she didn’t turn. When they finally did reach her pavilion and the guard posted outside, she might have cried with relief, because it marked the point where she could get him to leave, to drop her back into her certain loneliness where her actions were prescribed, the requirements of her easy to meet.
One more day, just one, and I’ll suffer through whatever I must.
Servants had tidied away the mess, all the evidence, as if her fight with Marjolane had never happened. Talon stood in its sheath, back in its stand by her armour, with the scattered blankets once more laid neatly over the bed and the shadows chased into the corners by the steady light of lyrium glowstones. Even the tear in the wall had been mended, patched up with neat stitching like a darned sock.
Alistair still hovered behind her.
“Of course,” she realised. “Your cloak.” She shrugged it from her shoulders, ignoring how cold the air suddenly seemed without it, and kept her gaze on the floor as she held it out. “Here – thank you.”
“Maker’s breath, I don’t care about the cloak.” He all but lunged across the space, taking the garment only because it was in the way. “How could I think about that when you might’ve been… Are you alright?”
Startled, she leaned away, shrugged, swallowed back tears. “fine.”
He inhaled as if to say something, but his gaze fell to the line on her neck where the assassin’s blade had broken the skin. Seemingly without thinking, he reached out to touch her, but she flinched away, the graze of his fingertips a shock that brought heat surging to her face. Her head felt squeezed, pressed in a vice, with her throat closing and her limbs held taut to keep from shaking. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She wanted him gone. She wanted to sleep, or to throw herself into his arms, or cry, or run screaming down the mountain that she couldn’t do this anymore, or –
“I’m fine,” she managed for a second time. “A little choked, is all. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
His hand still hung in the air where he had reached for her. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.
Her patience snapped. “I already know.” Grief corded into a jagged lump at the back of her throat and she reeled away to put her desk between them, teeth clenched to calm the rage boiling hot enough to turn her stomach. “I know. Cailan isn’t exactly… reserved with his expectations, he’s made everything about it clear. And… you don’t need to worry, I – I understand. You owe me nothing. I’ll hold you to no obligations.”
The sigh of her name, uttered with a tenderness as if it had been waiting on his lips for months, set like a lance in her gut. But she stood her ground. South Reach had been worse than this, and she had endured.
“Rosslyn,” he said again, firm. “I’m not getting married.” When she didn’t move, a breathy, half-hysterical giggle slipped his tongue. “At least, not to Valesh. Really, I should have worked out sooner that’s what was planned but… well, if I’d gotten your letters…”
“What?” Her mind couldn’t focus, whirled with the chorus of an entire flock of starlings, so bewildered that when he eased a cautious step towards her, she forgot to pull away.
He swallowed. “Your letters – they were intercepted. I didn’t realise until I read the one you sent with Duncan, and then, well…” He turned, and brought something out of a back pocket, a pristine stack of papers tied together with ribbon, which he held out as cautiously as a traveller might offer an apple to a wild deer. “I left as fast as I could to find you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Eamon.” The name escaped as a growl. “He was trying to separate us, for the good of Ferelden, apparently. I am so sorry that I didn’t realise sooner.”
Questions tripped over themselves on her tongue. Uncomprehending, she traced the lines of her name written in a broad, meticulous script as he handed the package to her, as if the action might bring the clarity drowning in the blackened landscapes of her brain. So much had already happened. Her legs wobbled at the end of their strength, so she staggered like a drunkard to the bed and collapsed onto it without ceremony, still marvelling at the treasure in her hands. At least a dozen letters in his hand, hidden away, never sent. She had fortified her heart against his indifference, wrapped it in barbs and palisades and strong iron shields, and yet this one simple revelation was enough to bring the walls of her castle shattering to the earth.
Alistair followed her.
“All this time,” she croaked as he knelt before her, as his fingers brushing tentative across her wrist, the other warm on her thigh. “You wrote all these… even though you thought I wasn’t writing back.”
He smiled like blossom in spring. “I did.”
“You didn’t get my letters?”
“None since the darkspawn attack.”
“I wondered, that’s why I –” She looked up. “And… and you’re not betrothed?”
This time, he laughed. “No – no, I’m not.”
What little air remained in her lungs left her in a lightheaded rush. It didn’t matter which one of them moved first, only that in an instant, she had her arms around his neck, wrapped in an embrace tight enough to block out everything but her relief. The scent of his skin hadn’t changed, nor his warmth, the softness of his hair against her cheek. She dropped the letters as she tightened her grip, buried deeper into his shoulder, because what did they matter next to having him here, real, holding her like he had ached for her just as desperately as she had for him? Her cheeks were wet but she didn’t care, it didn’t matter, he had never stopped writing at all.
“I’ve missed you,” she breathed. “I’ve –”
His breath caught. “I’ve missed you, too. So much.”
She wanted to laugh. “Why do I always end up crying on you?”
“I’ve just got one of those faces.”
She denied it, shook her head, but still the tears kept falling. He hummed and stroked her hair, the most beautiful sound she had ever heard even through the dampness she felt trickling onto her own shoulder. Her breath shuddered. Time stopped. They rocked together in the thin confines of the pavilion, settling into one another’s breathing and the play of idle, self-assuring touches, sagging like winter branches laden down with snow with the weight of what had so nearly been lost. At last, everything lay quiet, and by degrees her grip on him relaxed, soothed along with the fear that he was no more than a wisp of smoke, bound to disappear again. Guards clanked past outside, rain pattered down, and still they didn’t move.
“Rosslyn?” Alistair asked eventually. “Are you asleep?”
For a moment he thought she might have drifted off, but then a tiny headshake and a mumbled no brushed against his pulse, and he had to remind himself where they were.
“You probably should be, it’s so late,” he replied, and pulled away. His hands went to steady at her waist.
Pushing her hair out of her face, she sighed and tried for a smile, but it faltered as her eyes flitted to the patched side of the tent, where the blade of her would-be assassin had first cut through. “I’m not sure I could,” she confessed, and dropped her gaze to her hands twisting in her lap.
“Hey…”
“Will you stay?” she asked. “Please? I – I don’t want to be alone right now, and Cuno…”
He laid a hand against her cheek, torn between wanting to offer comfort and knowing that the entire camp would hear of it by morning if he stayed.
“Please,” she repeated.
He couldn’t stand the sight of the tears on her cheeks. “If you’re sure, I have one condition,” he told her, covering for his uncertainty with the most officious voice he could muster. “You have to promise to get a decent amount of rest.”
She smiled back, but her attention darted to the wall again. “I can promise to try.”
“I suppose that will have to do. Here –”
Carefully, he reached down and unlaced the boots he had borrowed for her, nudging his cheek against her knee when a warm hand landed on his shoulder, and when she was barefoot, he guided her up the bed and under the covers. Their fingers brushed as he retrieved the letters to place on the desk and he smiled at her as she thanked him. After that, there’s was nothing to do but draw the curtains that divided the main area of the pavilion from the sleeping quarters.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He ruffled a hand through his hair. “Uh, do you have any spare blankets?”
“Why do you…?” Her eyes widened. “No. You are not sleeping on the floor.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he argued.
“That’s a lie.” She sat up straighter, with the covers bunched in her lap. “You’ll catch your death this far up in the mountains. And besides, it’s undignified.”
“I’ve slept on the floor before.”
Her expression darkened. “Not when you were Prince of Ferelden and had a perfectly good bed available. If one of us is going to sleep on the floor, it should be me. You outrank me.”
“And you were nearly killed tonight!”
She flinched. Too far. The gap between them yawned again and he yearned to cross it, but the thought of what that might mean left his stomach tying itself in knots, doubting, giddy, terrified of stepping too far.
“It seems we’re at an impasse,” she said, reading the flustered colour blooming across his face.
“You and your damned protocol,” he huffed. “I don’t – I wouldn’t want to compromise…”
“People will talk no matter where you sleep,” she pointed out, with a blush of her own. She even shuffled sideways to make room for him under the covers. “You… might as well be comfortable. Unless – if you don’t want to do that, I’d understand, forget I said –”
“Hey.” He was by her side in an instant, the touch to her shoulder light but reassuring. “I don’t want to leave you alone. But… are you sure there’s room?”
“Cuno manages, and I swear he doubles in size when he sleeps…”
“He’s alright, you know,” Alistair said. “Just sleeping off the worst of it, I promise. The horsemaster said he’d make a full recovery.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, then unbuckled his belt and the quilted jacket that had seen him warm from Orzammar – any more would be excessive, but this way he wouldn’t overheat, and there wouldn’t be any stray edges of metal to dig into Rosslyn’s skin. When he finally turned, he found her looking demurely away, as if he were taking off more, and for the first time the desperation of seeing her again was subsumed by the possibility of all the things he had imagined in her absence, everything he wanted to say but did not dare. Still, she made room for him, sidling to the far edge of the pallet and waiting for him to lie back on the overstuffed pillow before closing the space once more.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
He smiled. “Come here.”
The bed really wasn’t made for two people. Designed for light storage and travel, it creaked as they settled themselves, Alistair on his back with Rosslyn tucking herself as best she could into the gap under his arm, her ear settled above the pulse of his heart and her fingers tangled in the loose folds of his shirt. When she finally stopped wriggling, he plucked up the courage to lay his own hand against her waist. She didn’t move away.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Mmmm…” She was looking at the hole in the wall again; he felt her held breath.
“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” he murmured. “If something else is stupid enough to come after you tonight, they’re going to have to get through me.” He threaded their fingers together with his free hand, quietly enthralled by the way her body fitted against his. “And I promise they won’t get through me.”
Some of the tension unwound from her limbs, and quiet seeped into the space around them, the drum of the rain and the dull scent of mud soothing after the fraught hours of the day. Alistair tried to stay awake and be vigilant so Rosslyn might feel safe, but his eyes were scratchy and the weight of her at his side already succumbing to sleep lulled him towards the Fade, and somewhere between one slow blink and the next his last thoughts slid away into slumber.
#dragon age#dragon age: origins#da:o#the falcon and the rose#alistair theirin#rosslyn cousland#cousland#alistair x cousland#anti-eamon#dragon age au
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Fleeting 2 | Baekhyun
Summary: You lead a double life. For everyone else, you are the pretty girl with a great sense of fashion who works at Sephora. But it isn't your only job. For the other one you require only two things: the collection of weapons you keep in your closet - and zero emotions.
ft. Luhan
Genre: assassin!au, mafia!au, street racer!au, fluff, angst
Word count: 2.8k
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You stood there, completely frozen.
You couldn’t put all the pieces of the latest events together, no matter how ridiculous it sounded in your head.
If you weren’t so startled, you would just laugh at yourself. The confusion you were just experiencing, rendered you entirely speechless and unable to think clear.
Clear, at least for a couple of minutes.
You, a trained killer, who was supposed to keep her cool in every possible situation and act with a clear mind under any circumstances, were only gazing blankly at the scene right in front of you with furrowed eyebrows and your mouth agape.
You missed Baekhyun holding onto the table next to you tightly, his expression not less incredulous than your own. Tao was still laying knocked out on the floor, not showing any signs of waking up too soon.
Then it hit you again.
Your eyes immediately shifted back to Luhan, stopping on his still smiling face.
“What...” You practically choked on your own words, trying to calm your running thoughts down. “What... Luhan? What are you doing here? What the hell was all of this? How... I thought you were-”
“Ah, don’t tell me you thought I was dead” He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I had a hard time, but you know I keep my promises.”
“I thought you stayed in China.” You made one step towards him. “What’s wrong with Tao? And why the hell are you two here? I think I need some explanations.”
“Look, of course you do honey. But I think he will wake up soon, and as soon as he wakes up he will most probably call his backup to come after us, if they’re not already on their way, that is.” Luhan extended his hand to you, gesturing for you to take it. “So if you don’t mind getting out of here in the first place.”
You widened your eyes, turning your head to look at Baekhyun who, you totally forgot was still there.
“Uhm” Baekhyun finally spoke up. “Yeah, I’m still here, if you haven’t noticed.”
Luhan shifted his eyes in his direction too. “Ah” He put the indicating finger on his upper lip. “Byun Baekhyun, right? I heard about you.”
At this point, you felt like your confusion had just built up. “Wait, why do you all know each other?”
“I don’t know him!” Now it was Baekhyun who with furrowed eyebrows pointed at Luhan. “Ah, actually doesn’t matter right now.”
“Yeah, all the formalities later.” Luhan took your hand and pulled you with him.
“Later? Lu, wait.” You stopped. “You seem like you have some kind of a plan? And what about Baekhyun?”
Luhan raised his eyebrows. “Huh? Ah, yeah.” He looked over to Baekhyun once again, who was now standing with his arms crossed and lips pursed. “They are after you too as far as I know, so you might as well come with us. For now.”
“Wait, hold on a second.” Baekhyun ran his hand through his black hair. “So am I getting it right, you two have some history?”
Luhan huffed, still holding your hand. “I said, all the explanations later. But yeah, if you really have to know it right now, we know each other since we were eight. Satisfied? Can we go now?”
“Do you kill too?”
A fake smile appeared on Luhan’s lips. “So what if I do?”
“Okay, cut it.” The visible tension between them both was slowly becoming unnerving. “You said Tao will wake up soon. Baekhyun, just come with us.” You glanced at him, a little plea in your eyes.
You could already tell he was everything else but happy with you right now. If you somehow manage to get yourselves out of this, he will sooner or later burst out and let you properly know how upset he is with you. You never thought you will really have to prepare yourself for that moment. Looking back, exactly that was everything you wanted to avoid.
Baekhyun let out a heavy breath. “Alright. Where are we going?”
“For this moment, as far as possible from here. On the other side of the city in the south, I heard Elyxion is being renovated right now. And today at the hour we arrive there-” Luhan took out his phone with the free hand, looking at the screen. “There shouldn’t be a living soul around, so we will be safe for the time being.”
“Elyxion? It’s like an hour and a half from where we are now.” You looked up at Luhan.
“Yes.” He looked back at you. Then he squinted his eyes, turning in Baekhyun’s direction. “Illegal street races, huh? Let me guess, you must be pretty fast, right?”
“If you heard about me just like you said, didn’t you hear anything else in particular?”
“I did.” Luhan tilted his head to the left. “One of the best in the league, lost only one time. Well, if we’re being honest I’m actually more than fine with you here now, because I myself suck at driving.” He took a glimpse at you. “And so do you if I remember it good.”
“Ey! When was it, three years ago? I made progress, okay.”
“Mhm. Nope. You’re not driving.” He smiled at you sweetly.
You made a face. Yes, in your early training days you learned how to drive as well, but Luhan was right. You were extremely bad at it, just like him. Well, guess you really can’t have everything. Rifles, guns and shooting, that was a thing you were the best at. Who would think that.
Just as you were about to head to the elevator, you heard a mumbling, barely audible noise.
Tao was waking up.
Shit.
The three of you immediately looked in the direction where he was still laying.
Baekhyun took a few steps closer to you and Luhan. “If you want me to drive, then I would suggest really getting out of here now.”
After these words, all of you quickly ran towards the elevator, trying to make as little noise as possible.
You managed to get out of Cloud 9 and the whole building, luckily, without any difficulties. You were scared that all of a sudden there will be someone armed running after you, but surprisingly there wasn’t. Despite that, you refused to believe that that was it. You still needed things to be explained to you, but Luhan didn’t want to speak a word before you arrive at Elyxion. After asking him a few more times, you decided to let it be. Maybe he had a reason for that.
Also, the police didn’t show up. You thought that even if threatened like that, there would be always someone to call the cops. But apparently, this time none dared to dial the number.
But regarding the whole situation from afar, maybe it was a lot better. Heck, you were all doing illegal things here - criminal, in your and Luhan’s case. Baekhyun could always get away with it, but you two? You would be thrown in jail right away. Not mentioning Yixing being sent there along with you.
Meanwhile, you learned that Baekhyun’s car was left a few blocks away - it was exactly then, as you were still sitting up in Cloud 9 when he called you, he was running away from Tao who was chasing him after miraculously managing to hide the said car - it was also that car Tao was talking about back there in the café.
Now the three of you were on your way to Baekhyun’s car, ready to drive off as soon as you get in.
“I will seriously laugh my ass off if it got stolen.” Luhan shook his head, his tone amused.
Baekhyun sent him a glare. “Don’t. Don’t even joke like that. You have no clue how much that car is actually worth.”
“Ah, don’t tell me. Enough exciting news for today.”
Baekhyun straightened and looked around the corner of the street. “Ha! I see it. Stolen my butt.”
Luhan peeked above his shoulder. “Wha... Tsssk. Really, a Rolls Royce? Okay, so now I can understand better why they are so obsessed with you.”
You couldn’t help but look at Baekhyun. You knew he had a car, naturally. But every time when you went somewhere together, or he just came to pick you up from work, he was riding a Toyota. You never saw a Rolls Royce before.
Now you could very clearly see how much things you both were hiding from each other. Could you even still call it friendship? Could you generally call it friendship? Even if Baekhyun didn’t lead a double life himself, you still would be lying to him about yours.
No, now wasn’t the time for this. Now you had to concentrate on getting to the south to Elyxion in one piece.
After double checking if the coast was clear, you ran up to the car and swiftly got inside. Luhan took the front seat next to Baekhyun, so that left you with the backseat all to yourself.
“Alright, so now let’s hope none will suddenly pop up on the way.” Luhan put the seatbelt on and looked out of the window. “Y/N, seatbelt.”
You noticed Baekhyun sending him a weird look. “Lu, we are not sixteen anymore.”
“I said something.”
“God-” You mumbled, but did as he said. Luhan was always very caring and protective when it came to you, and a part of you was really happy that it apparently didn’t change. He always paid attention to such small things like putting on your seatbelt when you were driving, made sure you ate and never let you out of the house without a bottle of water. Those were the calmer times of your childhood and early teenage years that you shared together.
The drive was very quiet. The tension from before disappeared, leaving only unspoken words in the air. You leaned your head on the window and watched the city sights fleeting before your eyes.
You caught a glimpse of Luhan in the front seat, leaning his chin on his palm and doing the same as you.
He grew up so much.
He still looked young and petite, but somehow you could see a change in him. You just couldn’t put a finger on it yet.
You arrived at Elyxion just as the sun started to set. Luhan was right, there was no living soul around here, so you didn’t have to worry about being seen - or caught.
Elyxion was an even higher building than the one where Cloud 9 was. After making sure that Baekhyun’s car is well hidden and possibly safe, you entered the building and took an elevator - which very luckily for you was working perfectly despite the renovation in process - to the top of the building.
“Alright Luhan, now that we are here you can start explaining.” You grabbed his wrist to get his attention.
“Let’s sit.” He gestured to the enormous window in front of you.
You sat right beside him, Baekhyun plopped on the floor just to straighten again before speaking up. “I guess that doesn’t concern me, though.”
“I guess we are all in this now.” You looked him in the eyes, for the first time after Tao exposing your true self in front of him.
“He’s actually right, that doesn’t really have anything to do with him, but-” Luhan cut in, pouting slightly. “Well, what do you want to do else?”
Baekhyun opened and closed his mouth, starring at him. “Yeah, right.”
“So” Luhan began again. “I had to escape from China as fast as I could if I still wanted to live. And I mean-” He raised his indicating finger “Not just Shanghai, China. Something very unexpected happened. Uhm.” He hesitated, searched for the right words. “Xianmiao is dead.”
You froze.
Xianmiao is dead. It couldn’t be. He was the one who raised you and Luhan after picking you both up from the burning ship all those years ago when you were just about 8 years old.
“What?” You starred intensively at Luhan. “How?”
“I don’t know. One day I just found him dead in his office. At the first sight it looked like suicide, but then again...” He bit his lip. “I’m not so sure anymore. And as far as I know, he didn’t have any reason to take his life. He still had us. Even if you were away when this happened.”
“And what happened to you? Why did you have to escape from China?”
“Remember our lovely Kris? Well guess what, after announcing Xianmiao’s death he went literally crazy. And not because he was mourning after him, oh no. I always knew that Kris had some issues, but you could just say that power completely got into his head after that. He started bossing around as if he owns us all. And he wanted me to do his dirty work for him. Screw the dirty work, he was requesting such things totally out of the place that I seriously got headache. I know what our job is and what we get paid for, but sometimes there really must be some limits.” He paused for a brief moment. “Can you believe he wanted me to shoot a girl, who probably wasn’t even eighteen, because she didn’t know his usual coffee at Starbucks?” He started laughing. “Can you fucking believe it, Y/N?”
“He is very clearly, literally insane.” You gave Luhan an incredulous look. “Are you serious? That’s why you ran away?”
He stopped laughing, shifting in his spot. “Oh no, that’s more to it. Actually, there is really a bunch of sick things that happened during your absence, so I will try and keep it short but understandable.” He licked his lips, making a pause again. “One day I told him what I think of his behaviour. And, that was the mistake. He practically started yelling at me, hell, he even threw a plate after me.” He rolled his eyes. “If I hadn’t seen it flying, that asshole would have cut my forehead open.”
You just stared at your friend, speechless. Would Kris want you to do such things as well? You suddenly felt guilty for leaving Luhan alone there. But then again, how could you predict all of that to happen?
“And in the end, he decided he wants me gone. Dead, precisely. So with that being said, I made myself on my way out of there. Let me tell you, it was hard as hell to get past all of the men, also, he managed to get everyone on his side so this is how I ended up being in this sick turn of events all alone.”
You expected him to say it in an accusing tone, because you weren’t there with him, but he didn’t. It was rather... sadness audible in his soft voice.
“I’m so sorry, Lulu.” You felt your eyes welling up a little. No matter how long passed, or how long you haven’t heard a single word from him - you cared for him. So much. You really thought he ended up dead, but the deepest parts of your heart never accepted it to be actually true. You couldn’t think of what it would be like if one day you really had to discover that he got a bullet through his head.
“Don’t be. None of us was prepared for this.” He put his hand on your knee, a gesture of comfort. With the corner of your eye you could see Baekhyun shifting uncomfortably on the floor at this gesture.
“Tao said Kris wants me dead as well.” You spoke up again.
Luhan let out a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s true. He knows us two are the best at-” He quickly glanced at Baekhyun, than back at you. “You know. He knew that you would refuse as well. And I personally think, this is exactly the thing he wanted to prevent. Me and you together again.”
Now you could swear you saw Baekhyun literally flinch at Luhan’s words. You didn’t really want to know what he might think of you right now, though. The situation the three of you were in was already sucking out all the energy out of your body.
“That’s pretty much fucked up.”
Both you and Luhan looked surprised in Baekhyun’s direction. He was resting his chin on his knee, gazing at some invisible point in space between you and Luhan.
“It is.” You looked back at him.
Wait, what was actually Tao’s and Kris’ deal with Baekhyun anyway? All you were concentrating on since all this mess started, were you and Luhan. The least you could do now, is to listen Baekhyun’s part. If he even wanted to tell you about it, that is.
“Baek-” You started, suddenly unusually shy. “What do Tao and Kris exactly want from you?”
“Yeah, come on. I’m curious.” Luhan put both his palms on his cheeks, resting his arms on his knees, waiting for Baekhyun to start talking.
Baekhyun looked up.
“Well, that’s a whole different story.”
A/N: OMG, ok it’s here! I’m super excited to read your opinions! I’m sorry it’s so short, but it just felt right to me to end this chapter here. I hope you liked it! also feel free to reblog!
#exo#exo scenarios#baekhyun#baekhyun scenario#baekhyun scenarios#baekhyun imagine#baekhyun fanfiction#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun imagines#baekhyun x reader#baekhyun fluff#baekhyun angst#luhan#luhan scenario#luhan scenarios#luhan imagine#luhan imagines#luhan fanfiction#luhan fanfic#luhan fluff#luhan angst#luhan x reader#lay#yixing fanfiction#exo fanfiction#exo fanfic#exo imagine#exo imagines#lay fanfic#exo fluff
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It’s Been a While
Chapter 7
Warnings: Bad Writing, dark characters with bad intentions, angst?
What was she going to do? What could she do? What was she capable of, did she tell Hvisterk, would he believe her? Worse yet, would she tell Ivar, even Ubbe wouldn’t take your side after this. Ivar had a lot of power in Norway, but could their reach extend this far? What could they do to you and your child? They couldn’t really drag you home to Norway, they couldn’t.
Still, you were terrified and told Arne, who hired a score of security guards and wouldn’t let anyone in the gates without authorization. You tried hard not to scare your son, you ‘let’ him sleep in your bed like he used to as a toddler, and you felt safe inside your locked rooms. Your baby was going to stay with you.
“Vald Rasmus,” you would whisper into his ear at night. “You are powerful, and you are so, so very beloved.”
A few cars were turned away, matching the descriptions of Ubbe and Hvitserk, Ivar riding with them on both occasions. It hadn’t taken them a week since you had thrown out their mother. You told Arne and Cora not to bother you with them anymore, they weren’t allowed on your or Arne’s property and would keep it that way.
Five days had passed since Aslaug’s departure, two since uninvited visitors were around, you were playing with Vald on the carpet, humming.
“There are some people here for you, they have a warrant, they say you’re in trouble,” Arne had opened the door to the playroom, quieting his voice when he realized your son was paying attention.
“What are you talking about?” You stood, confused as to what was going on.
“They’re from the Embassy, something about taxes,” Arne looked nervous, was wringing his hands and glancing to Vald. You sighed and crossed your arms, unhappy with another uninvited guest, who happened to get inside the house.
“I’ll deal with them, you stay here with my son,” you told your brother in an even voice. He nodded.
Down a staircase and into the foyer, your housekeeper Violet was standing with two men in law enforcement uniforms.
“Ma’am, Mrs. Lothbrok?” Spoke one of the officers at the bottom of the staircase.
“I haven’t been Mrs. Lothbrok in years, what’s going on?” At the bottom of the stairs you waited with crossed arms and a furrowed brow, not wanting to let these men in your house.
“Mrs. Lothbrok, I’m afraid we have to place you under arrest for tax evasion in Norway,” the larger officer spoke and reached for handcuffs, while the thinner man pulled out a piece of paper and held it high.
“Tax evasion? What are you talking about, I’m a US citizen! I haven’t had taxes to file there in years!”
“Ma’am if you come quietly, we won’t need to restrain you,” the larger officer stepped forward.
“Is that a threat, you sad excuse of a police officer?” Being mouthy and angry never got you anywhere good, and in this case, it got you into a pair of handcuffs and being pulled towards the door.
“Take care of him, keep him safe!” You shouted as Violet followed you out the door, officers strong arming you into their car. She nodded as you pulled away from your home, terrified of what was going on.
Out of the car, into a room, at the Embassy, this was quite unorthodox, your head was spinning. You were uncuffed and led into a conference room; two men in black suits on either side of the table, one standing alone, the other in front of Aslaug and Hvisterk. The officers left at the nod of Aslaug’s head, the five of you in silence.
Hvisterk had aged since you had seen him last, he was taller, you could tell though he was sitting, his hair grown long and pulled back, grey eyes shining. It hurt to see the way he was looking at you, all anger and distrust, you could only imagine the stories Aslaug had spun for him. You saw your son’s eyes in his face, it almost made you cry, though you knew there would be none of that today. Aslaug by contrast seemed smug, content, happy to be watching you face your ex-husband.
“Unfortunately,” Aslaug’s lawyer spoke first, “there is an issue with your income taxes in Norway. The problem being, they don’t exist.” Her lawyer passed a folder to you, the man by your side flipped through it. You weren’t sure if he was your lawyer or if he was also working for Aslaug.
“I don’t live in Norway,” you looked the lawyer dead on, “I haven’t lived in Norway in over five years, so I have no reason to file taxes. Not only that, but I haven’t been a citizen of Norway for a few years either, so I don’t understand why I have been dragged across the city for something that didn’t happen!” Fear had turned to anger by now.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Aslaug cocked her head and smiled slightly, waiting for you to provoke her to continue.
“No, it’s not,” you snapped back, she was a liar, a liar and a thief.
“She’s right.” It was Hvisterk that spoke up this time, his voice gravely, but carrying the same anger that his eyes held. Aslaug continued with an even bigger smile.
“You see dear,” she was happy to perform, Aslaug loved an audience, “you didn’t have the right people help you with that divorce paperwork, and you can’t simply get divorced that easily in Norway, where the marriage was held. You never petitioned for a separation, you certainly weren’t separated for a year, and to mention you never once filed any divorce paperwork in Norway. Now that you two have a child together, you’ll have to complete mediation sessions with your child before being allowed to submit an application for separation. Under Norway law, you and Hvisterk are still married.”
The information was like a blow to the face. You had been unnerved by how easy it was to divorce in America, versus the longer process in Norway. You had been surprised when Hvisterk hadn’t made a fuss about signing it.
“I gave you an opportunity my child, but you wasted it. You are not only still a Norwegian citizen, but also owe the government large sums of money for the interest you’ve been making off the trusts and bank accounts, property holdings that you opened for your son.” Her voice was deadly, you wondered if you could ever win against her.
You had opened no accounts for your son, had no oversea holdings or property that Aslaug hadn’t taken, but you weren’t stupid either. It would be easy for her to put things in your son’s name and pass off your signature. She had been doing that for years.
The lawyer at your side finally spoke up.
“Mrs. Lothbrok, I’m afraid that you await trial in Norway. You must face a trial and there they will set the fine or jail time.” Jail time? Fine?
“I’m not going anywhere,” you crossed your arms.
“I’m afraid that you are Miss,” the lawyer across from you spoke. “There is a warrant and law enforcement standing by dear.”
“How could you do this!?” standing now, you were shouting at Aslaug, sitting pretty in her seat.
“How could she, how could you!?” Hvisterk stood as well, leaning across the table shouting was a shocking sight. He was taller than you thought, his voice loud and low. “You hide my son from me for years, and you’re upset that we want to bring you home?” Hvisterk let out a dry laugh. “Can’t believe you.” He muttered as he turned away.
“I need to make a phone call and get some things in order, I have rights.” You were glaring at both lawyers on and off, shocked and disgusted all at once. They nodded and sent you into the hallway then another office, with the officers inside the doorway staring you down. Picking up the phone, you ran home, asked for Arne.
“Arne, I need help, it’s Aslaug. Aslaug and Hvisterk.”
“What?”
“I’m at the embassy and they’re arresting me for tax fraud, I don’t know what’s going on, just keep my son safe, okay?” you could tell he was shocked, but you knew you didn’t have much time. Within minutes Aslaug and two more officers stepped into the room, ready to lead you to another location.
“You can’t take away my son,” you spit as her as you passed.
“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Aslaug said with a wink as you tried not to think of what she could possibly mean.
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Two Faced (Ch.7)
↳ gif header is made by © @softjeon. Please don’t try and steal it and make it your own.
➵ Pairing(s): Gang!Jungkook x Female!OC & Gang!Mark Lee x Female!OC x Gang!Seokjin
➵ Genre(s): College!AU, Mafia/Gang!AU, Angst, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Love Triangle & Slight-Fluff
➵ Warning(s): N/A
➵ Words: 4.7K
➵ Co-writer: @softjeon
➵ Summary: Two girls. Two gangs. One craved absolute control over the city of Seoul. While, the other simply craved sleep and good grades. Now, what do these two ladies have in common? Simple. They have nothing in common—or so they think. Everyone knows the saying, “never judge a book by its cover”, so maybe there is something more to these two than meets the eye…especially when one of them is suddenly thrown into the underground life. Loyalties will be tested. Romance will blossom. Yup. Sounds like an average college day…
« Previously | Next Time »
Chapter 7 - Promise Me
It had been weeks since Sumin received that beautiful crystal vase of roses. Since then, there hadn’t been any signs of those luxurious gifts stopping anytime soon. Quite frankly, it annoyed Sowon to no end as their dorm room turned into a storage closet for Sumin’s presents. She knew that Seokjin had money to burn and how incredibly smitten he had become when it came to Sumin, but the gang leader didn’t realize that he would seriously waste thousands of dollars of gifts for her precious little roomie.
If anything, Sowon would think that Seokjin would spend a decent amount of dinner and then use his interesting charms on the girl. Yet, at the same time, he wasn’t luring an innocent little lamb into his clutches. So, his usual tactics wouldn’t even remotely cut it.
God… the more Sowon thought about a possible explanation as to why the eldest member of her little gang of misfits bought gift after gift for Sumin, the more her migraine grew worse…
A long, tired sigh escaped her lips as the exhausted older woman nestled her head into her arms. Why did she come to her morning class? Oh...that’s right...Sumin used her brainy side and made an excellent point about protecting her.
“What better way to make sure that I’m safe than for you to sit right next to me in the class that the both of us are currently enrolled in…” Sumin’s words echoed throughout her tired mind.
It was safe to say that the gang leader understood the fact that Sumin would make an excellent lawyer…
“Wake me up when lecture is over…” Sowon mumbled, closing her eyes and finding a comfortable position.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sumin saw her roommate falling asleep—and they sat front and center of the lecture hall.
Her mouth parted just a bit as she was in total disbelief that Sowon had the guts to fall asleep right in front of the professor. But she soon remembered that this was Sowon, A.K.A the leader of one of the infamous gangs in Seoul, so she took her immediate thought back. Instead, she replaced it with a fun game of how soon would their professor scold her for falling asleep.
“I think the professor will do that for me, Sowon…” Sumin whispered, turning the pages of her notebook in search of a blank page.
Only a few minutes later, exactly that happened—but much to Sumin disappointment, Sowon didn’t even look half as scared as she would be if the Professor would wake her up and embarrass her in the middle of a lecture. Instead, the leader just simply answered each and every question the professor had about the ongoing topic making everyone stunned about where Sowon had gotten her knowledge from out of a sudden.
She didn’t even blush. Sumin scoffed. She would have really wanted for someone to whoop Sowon’s ass, but apparently there was not much that could shake her confident aura. While she was still staring in disbelief at her roommate, when they both sat down for lunch, Sowon simply laughed at her cute expression.
“You talk in your sleep,” Sowon shrugged her shoulders, “And you repeat every fucking law there is...and some might say...that I’m pretty smart myself.” She winked at her flustered roommate. “I know this must be a surprise for some...but,” She took a sip from her coffee, a smirk appearing on her lips, “But I didn’t threaten or blackmail anyone to get into this university.”
And there it was again. There she thought she knew almost everything by now, the gang leader was surprising her with another info about herself that made Sumin speechless. How many secrets did the gang leader carry around with herself?
“C’mon, sunshine,” Sowon said and shook Sumin out of her stupor, “We got one more lecture and then I want to get rid of those stupid withered flowers of yours. And those stupid packages. Oh, and Jungkook will get you after work today.”
Sumin made a face, “Does he have to? I mean the last time he did, he ended up scaring off a few customers…And the coffee shop doesn’t even close until 8:30 P.M.!” She complained, raising her tone just a bit but not enough to disrupt the lecture.
Sowon perked her brow up, feeling a bit intrigued that her husband would do such a thing. Though, she wouldn’t put it passed him to do so.
An airy chuckle escaped her lips as she then asked her cute little roomie to explain that.
Sumin sighed, quickly jotting down any important information before setting down her pen.
“Okay. Fine…” She began, recalling that rather interesting yet intense night…
Smiling sweetly at the customers, Sumin, with her hair neatly tied in a ponytail, greeted the customer and kindly asked what the person would like.
A slim, tall female pursed her lips as her eyes scanned the menu. All the drink choices looked and sounded yummy! How could she simply choose one?
After thinking about which drink suited her current mood, the petite female gave up and asked Sumin what she’d recommend for this Autumn season.
“Oh! Hm...that’s a tough one since I have more than one personal favorite of mine.” Sumin looked behind, glancing at the menu, “Though, since it is a bit chilly tonight, I recommend our apple cinnamon latte! It has just the right amount of apple and cinnamon flavor, so it does not completely overpower the hints of coffee. However, we can definitely add more apple and cinnamon flavoring if the taste of strong coffee is not your forte.” She said, suggesting her number one favorite drink.
The female customer smiled and instantly asked for that drink. The way Sumin advertised it immediately piqued her curiosity to the point that she had to try out this drink. She dug out her wallet and pulled out a credit card before handing it over to Sumin.
Sumin took the card and slid it through the card reader. She handed both the card and receipt to the young woman as she told her that her order would be up soon.
The customer smiled politely before walking over to an empty seat to patiently wait.
Sumin tapped her register as she mentally counted down from ten. Her golden rule was to always wait at least ten seconds before leaving the register to help out her co-workers.
In a matter of seconds, she reached ten. However, just as she turned to help her fellow baristas, she noticed a familiar face walk inside the shop. The sweet, young lady halted in her steps; her brows became knitted together.
What was Jungkook doing here? She had thought that Seokjin would come and fetch her—just as he’d been doing for weeks now.
Jungkook nodded at Sumin, smirking slightly, as his eyes surveilled the little, adorable coffee shop that his wife’s roommate had been working at for almost a year. Prior to being thrown into the gang life, the innocent ray of sunshine decided to work here because as she quoted, “I can’t rely on my mom to pay for my tuition. I’m old enough to make money on my own, so why not?”
At first, Jungkook nearly laughed at the girl’s reasoning but soon directed his laughter at Seokjin, who wanted to shell out thousands of dollars to pay for Sumin’s schooling.
That poor lovesick fool…
“Are you ready to leave?” asked the gang leader’s husband, glancing behind him for a moment.
Sumin raised her brow, “No…” She began, “Besides, I’m the closer today, so I need to stay until 10 P.M. at the earliest” She explained.
Jungkook blinked a few times. The fuck…? Had her shitty boss always made her stay late?
More importantly…
Why didn’t Seokjin say anything to him and the rest of Bangtan about Sumin working until the late hours of the night? There were a few times where they couldn’t pick her up from work. She could’ve been fucking kidnapped!
Blinking a few times, Jungkook nodded and turned away from the counter. Sumin, raising her brow, stared at Jungkook’s retreating body; confusion etched on her face.
From her months of knowing her roommate’s husband, she knew that it was never a good sign when he suddenly becomes quiet. Most of the time, it ended with Seokjin being forcibly used as sparring partner but seeing how her newly appointed bodyguard was not here—what was he planning?
“Jungkook…?” The anxious girl questioned, drawing out the last syllable in his name.
Unfortunately, no answer.
Moments of silence continued to pass her by as Jungkook remained still in the middle of the coffee shop. Soon, many bystanders glanced his way as their curiosity bested them; though, Sumin was almost certain that many of the females only stared because of how good looking he was. Judging from their faces, she knew that they were more than likely wondering if he was taken, and if he wasn’t, then they hoped they’d have a chance with him.
Good thing Sowon wasn’t with her…
It had been almost an hour, and Jungkook continued standing like a statue. Finally having enough of his strange antics, and the fact that her manager was about to demand that he leave, Sumin quickly asked a fellow barista to cover her before walking over to her bodyguard of the day.
She cautiously approached him, remembering what Sowon had said when it came to sneaking up on Jungkook, and slowly placed a warm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.
Just as she opened her mouth to kindly ask him to come back later, she noticed him reaching behind him.
Her eyes widened as the color practically drained from her face.
Jungkook had slowly reached for his gun.
Why was he going for his gun? There's absolutely no reason for him to do so.
Then, it hit her.
He was about to do something that would definitely cost her her job...
“Jungkook...don’t...you…” However before she could finish her warning, Jungkook pulled out his gun and fired a few rounds into the air, alarming everyone in the cafe.
“EVERYONE GET THE FUCK OUT! THIS SHOP IS NOW CLOSED!” He demanded; his voice boomed, creating this echo.
Without a second thought, everyone, including the workers, scrambled out of the coffee shop. Every single one of them screaming their heads off, while Sumin covered her face with her hands; a few whines escaped her lips.
She thought Sowon lived to embarrassed the shit out of her but no. Jungkook had taken over that role.
Waiting a few seconds, making sure that no one would have the balls to come back inside, Jungkook calmly secured his gun again, tucking it in the waistband of his jeans. Of course, he made sure that the safety was on. He’s not stupid.
He then swiftly turned, grinning widely as he walked up to Sumin. He placed a friendly hand on her head and said,
“Well, looks the like shop is closed now. We can go home,” He glanced at his expensive watch, “Oh and look at the time! It’s not even 9 P.M. Go you!” He shouted happily. His smile ever so bright.
Slowly, Sumin removed her hands from her face. Her eyes narrowed, sending icy cold daggers his way.
Jungkook, on the other hand, became oblivious to her fury. He’d never seen her pissed off. His wife? Yes. Sumin? Nope.
Without saying anything, Sumin balled her hand into a fist and then drew it back. Before Jungkook could ask her what she was doing, he felt a rough impact against his shoulder.
Aw...Sumin tried hurting him. That’s cute.
“You’re an idiot!” shouted Sumin, unleashing Hell on to him.
Jungkook gawked, “How am I an idiot?! I did you favor, Minnie!”
Sumin made a face as tiny creases formed on her forehead. The fuck? Minnie? What kind of nickname was that?
“First of all, don’t call me that again. Second of all, how is you firing your fucking gun inside the place that I work at doing me a FAVOR?!” She argued; her voice increased an octave.
Jungkook smirked, “Why? You remind me of Minnie Mouse. Plus, your name is “Sumin”, so why not?” He retorted, earning himself another punch in the arm. “And, to go back to your second point, the rounds were blank, so no harm came to you or the customers.” He added, shrugging nonchalantly.
Out of frustration, Sumin threw her hands up and simply walked away. He’s too much of an idiot right now and arguing with him would only create even a bigger migraine.
However, Jungkook didn’t see it that way. He saw it as a victory for himself. She walked away; therefore, he was right.
And of course...he had to let her know...
“Ha! I win this argument!” He bragged, smiling from ear-to-ear.
Okay...that did it…
An almost animalistic growl emitted from her lips as Sumin grabbed a nearby knife and threw it at the annoying gang member.
Jungkook instantly stopped smiling and ducked just as the knife flew over his head. He couldn't help but let out a long whistle.
Damn...that was quite impressive.
He slowly stood up, eyeing the knife that impaled the wall. The longer he stared at it, the more an idea began to circulate inside his devious mind.
“I wonder if Sowon would allow her cute little roomie to be properly trained in weaponry…” He glanced at Sumin, who currently calmed herself by violently cleaning the counters, “Specifically in knives…” He finished his thought.
Sumin shook her head to get herself out of her daydreaming, when Sowon pushed her back into their shared room.
“But it also had a good thing he had been there,” She shrugged her shoulders, as she let herself fall onto her bed, ready to fall asleep again even though she just took a nap while the lecture was still going on up front, “We now know you are pretty good with weaponry and it’s a good style of defense for you.”
She happily smiled, feeling content with herself. Sowon yawned, as she closed her eyes, “Wake me up when it’s time to get you to work, sunshine.”
While Sowon was getting her rest, Sumin, on the other hand, got rid of the few wilted flowers and proceeded to study, mumbling law after law quietly to herself. Working part-time and suddenly training with gang-members didn’t give her much time to study, so she needed to take what she could get...
It was about an hour from closing time and only a few customers were lingering over their coffee. Sumin kept mumbling a few laws she keeps forgetting to herself as she cleaned the counter.
As soon as the chimes over the door jingled, she put a smile on her face either greeting or wishing the customers a ‘good evening’ before she returned to her duty of cleaning everything for closing. She diligently disinfected the equipment and prepared the area for the next mornings business rush, organizing all of the coffee, milk, creamers...everything, really.
Then she took a box and put all the remaining muffins into the box with a smile on her face. The boys would love the little surprise as they always loved what they had in the shop. This way she didn’t need to waste anything and throw it away. She put it aside and then walked around the counter, closing the main door behind the last customer. Sumin quickly returned to the counter and got out her personal bag and carefully putting the muffins away. She kept looking over to the glass windows, wondering where Jungkook was, as the young man never came later and most likely showed up way too early.
Shrugging her shoulders, Sumin proceeded to the tied-up trash bags and got them out the back door, stuffing them into the trash can. Humming to herself, she pulled down the lid again and turned around only to freeze in her movements completely. Her eyes fell on another intense gaze, a wicked smirk appearing on the strangers lips.
“There you are, little one,” Mark spoke almost softly, cornering Sumin easily against the backdoor of the coffee shop, “Has no one taught you to not go out alone in empty alleys at night?”
Her breath hitched. Her heart nearly stopped. Her fingers trembled slightly as fear slowly took control of her body.
What the fuck was Mark Lee doing here?
More importantly... how on Earth did he figure out where she worked?
“And has no one taught you that it is a dick move to drug a defenseless girl?” She snapped back, though, what she really wanted to ask was, “What are you doing here and how the fuck did you know I worked at this coffee shop?”
Mark, on the other hand, simply scoffed yet had this scheming like smirk plastered on his face. While, Sumin radiated this innocence like aura, she started to develop a little bit of a backbone. More than likely thanks to Sowon and the rest of her little band of mischiefs.
He then took a step closer to her, unbothered to answer her questions, causing the poor girl to take a step back. He continued to close the gap between them, slowly trapping her against his body and the door. His eyes displayed this predator like stare as he slowly swept his bottom lip with his tongue.
God, the things he could do to her that would have her begging for his touch. Just him imagining her this moaning mess stirred up his hormones and sped up his heart. It’s not every day he had the opportunity to claim such a beautiful angel like Sumin.
A low chuckle escaped his lips as Mark swiftly yet gently pinned Sumin’s arms above her head. He lowered his face and nestled it against the crook of her neck. He slowly inhaled the sweet and addicting scent of her perfume that smelled like country apples. It’s nice to know that she hadn’t changed it since the night they first met. He would honestly go crazy if she were to change anything that got him so damn obsessed over her that fateful night—the night that he knew that Sumin would be his.
Moments of silence continued to pass them by as Mark had yet to show any signs of releasing the poor girl. At first, Sumin struggled to free herself, but that only annoyed the NCT gang leader. Every time she’d squirmed underneath his touch, he’d either softly kiss or nip her precious neck. Whenever he did that, Sumin felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. This unfamiliar noise that begged for a release.
What kind of spell did he have her under?
“C-can you let me go now? I have a feeling that one of my guy friends will be showing up soon, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” Sumin requested softly; her eyes glanced around, hoping to see any familiar faces.
Mark hummed in response, remaining still, as he did not want to leave the comforts of Sumin’s neck. Something about her warmth relaxed him. A feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long ass time. He placed on final kiss on her neck, but this time it was different. He gently sunk his teeth in her skin and sucked; though, he was careful to not bite too hard. His tongue gently swept over the area as his teeth continued to pull on her precious, soft skin.
A sigh of content exited her lips as her mind grew fuzzy. Out of nowhere, Sumin tilted her head; her eyes closed and her lips parted just a bit. That foreign sensation, that she experienced earlier, continued to grow within her. Her rational thought slowly faded away as she wanted nothing more but to tangle her fingers within his hair and capture his lips with hers.
Wait...what?
That’s not what she wanted to do, especially with the leader of NCT—the sworn enemy of Bangtan.
Without a second thought, she pushed him away, uncaring about the fact that he could’ve tore a piece of her skin off by doing so.
Mark, with his pupils practically dilated, panted. He secretly thanked Sumin for doing that because if she hadn’t, then they’d be naked inside her coffee shop and filling the place up with their loud moans.
Yeah...the first time he’d claim her body would be in his bed—where no one would have the privilege of seeing his precious angel’s bare body.
“I think you should go, Mark…” Mark heard Sumin say softly. He then met her gaze; his eyes flickered towards the love bite that he had created.
He scoffed softly with a short grin on his face, “You’re probably right. I don’t want your little bodyguards to get the wrong idea about us.” He said, reaching inside one of the pockets of his leather jacket and fishing something out.
Once he felt something cool against his skin, he pulled it out and dangled it in front of Sumin.
“I want you to wear this.” He instructed vaguely.
Sumin’s eyes widened as she produced this loud gasp. Her eyes took in the fine details of the necklace, noting the mixture of diamonds and blue sapphires as it created this beautiful flower design.
She redirected her focus on Mark, who’s silently pleased with the reaction that he had gotten from her.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept it,” She began, smiling apologetically, “I mean, we aren’t even dating, so for me to take this will just feel wrong to me.” She finished, hoping her explanation would convince him.
Sadly...it didn’t…
If anything, it only added to his strong desire to claim her as his.
Mark quickly mustered a sincere smile, hiding this calculating gleam in his eyes.
“I know but, I want you to have it. While, yes, we are not exclusive towards one another, I hope you see this as my way of courting you.” He said, walking towards her and clasping the necklace around her neck. “I know it has only been a few months since we have met, but I am a firm believer of love at first sight, and I want you to know that I will do whatever it takes to convince you that I am right man for you regardless of the fact that I am the leader of NCT.” He added, staring at Sumin with hopeful eyes.
To say that she was speechless would be an understatement. Not only did she had that effect on Seokjin, but Mark as well. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that two fellas both expressed a huge interest in her, and all she did was simply smile.
God...where was Sowon when she needed her. She was her go-to guy chaser whenever some creep would have the audacity to speak to her after they’ve been rejected.
As the innocent girl opened her mouth in hopes to try and convince Mark that things would never work out between them, the NCT leader placed a finger on her lips.
“Before you reject me...just think about it…” He said softly, smiling, before turning away and leaving her.
Sumin eyed his retreating body, confusion dawned on her face. Great...how was she going to explain things to Sowon…
Meanwhile, as Sumin collected her thoughts, Mark strolled down the alleyway but soon halted in his steps as he came face-to-face with someone he did not want to see. Someone that could ruin his perfectly good evening…
A fucking member of Bangtan…
“So, you really think this was a wise decision to come here, huh?” Jungkook clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side, one hand settling on his gun, ready to use it if Mark made one wrong move. “The rumors are true then, you’re all are pretty fucking dumb then. Good-looking but no brains,” He laughed lowly, eyeing Mark as he circled around him, slowly backing up to Sumin, so she could hide behind him safely.
“Fuck off, now…or I’ll kill you right here,” Jungkook hissed, grabbing Sumin by her wrist to pull her against his back. Mark growled low in his chest, not liking the way the opposite gang member was treating his love-interest, but there was one thing the other was right about. It would be fucking stupid to stay here in the open with Jungkook any longer. Mark winked playfully at Sumin, saluted at Jungkook teasingly and then turned around, running off and vanishing into the dark.
Jungkook stayed frozen in his spot for a moment. He listened closely, trying to make out any noises that would tell him that Mark would come back but there was nothing. So, he cursed quietly and without saying anything else he stomped along, pulling at Sumin’s wrist to motion for her to come with him.
Just as she wanted to open her mouth, Jungkook’s rough voice echoed through the dark, “I don’t fucking care if you haven’t closed the coffee shop yet, and if you’re not finished cleaning up. We’re going to go now.” He was walking fast and Sumin had a hard time keeping up. Jungkook pushed a second helmet into her hands before motioning to his motorbike. “Oh, don’t you even think about going back to the dorms tonight.”
This cool sensation penetrated the warmth that radiated from her skin. Confusion glazed over her eyes yet there were tiny hints of fear. Fear that she may never see her friends and mom again if Mark were to successfully kidnap her.
What a truly frightening thought…
“Minnie…?” a questioning voice penetrated her thoughts. Sumin looked up and saw a worried expression written all over Jungkook’s face.
“Are you okay?” He asked as he started up his motorbike, revving the engine a few times to get it nice and hot.
Sumin slowly shook her head, still frozen in her spot.
Jungkook raised his brow as he hopped off his bike, making sure the kickstand was firmly down and resting on the pavement. He then walked up to the afraid girl and placed a friendly hand on top of her head. A faint yet warm smile appeared on the boy’s face as he disliked seeing how distressed his “sister” had become over some creeper who refused to get in his fucking thick head that Sumin would never be his.
“Hey…” But before Jungkook could finish what he wanted to say, Sumin interrupted him, saying something that would never leave his mind for the rest of his life.
“Can you promise me that Mark will never get me?”
“Minnie…”
“No, Jungkook. Swear on your life that you and the rest of Bangtan will make sure that I am safe...”
Jungkook stared sympathetically at his wife’s roommate. He even felt a slight twinge in his heart as he’d never seen this innocent girl become extremely vulnerable. Not even after the whole drugging episode a few months back.
The girl in front of him was vastly different from the spitfire he had met while Sowon was in hiding.
The fuck did Mark do to her?
With this confident smirk gracing his face, Jungkook courageously stared straight into Sumin’s scared eyes and said,
“I swear on Seokjin’s life that I will make sure that you are safe with us and not with that creepy fucker that thinks that you’re his.”
Sumin chuckled softly, finding it amusing that Jungkook used Seokjin’s life as a bargaining tool yet again.
“Why do you always swear on Seokjin’s life and never yours?” She asked before putting on the helmet.
Jungkook laughed, “Because my wife would kill me if I somehow ended up dead.” He explained as he too put on his helmet before straddling his motorbike.
“Wait...what?” Sumin became confused, trying to figure out how on Earth Sowon could kill Jungkook if he was already dead. Great, her head started to hurt just thinking about it.
“Let’s just go back to the mansion. It’s past your bedtime, young lady.” The second-in-command teased, propping up the kickstand and ready to head back to the mansion.
“When did you become my dad?”
“When my wife suddenly adopted you.”
A/N: Wow! Talk about ending that on a heavy yet cute note between Jungkook & Sumin. Honestly, I love the sibling dynamic the two of them share! Anyway, we are slowly ending the end of this amazing series! But...I think Jey and I were thinking of making a sequel, especially with certain aspects of this story taking a different turn. What do you guys think? ;)
Also, by the time this is officially released, I will be done with my last ever semester of school (well until the teaching credential program lol) Go me! So, I will have more time to write more updates, one shots, and everything in between!
Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/and an ask in mine or Jey’s inbox! We love hearing your thoughts!
- Kim
#kpopwonderlandtag#btsguild#bangtanarmynet#prettyboysnetwork#kwritersworldnet#thekpopnetwork#smtownnetwork#/mystories#bts#bts aus#bts au fanfic#bts au#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts gang au#bts stories#bts x oc#nct#nct au#nct gang au#nct fanfic#nct story#nct x oc#seokjin#seokjin fanfic#jin#jin fanfic#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#mark lee
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Glass Pt. 2
Here’s another CEO!Cal. It’s the same characters as the other one but a different scenario. I might have taken it too far, but i enjoyed writing it soo, sorry not sorry.
Part 1
Summary: You and Cal go to a dinner with friends and have sex in their bathroom.
Words: 3.8K
Warnings: None
Monday. It’s already Monday. Calum thought as he rolled on the bed, his arm landing on the side of the bed that belonged to you. He groaned as he felt the cold empty spot and sat up, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. Looking at the picture of you as his screensaver, he smiled and reminded himself that it was only two days till you got back from your trip.
A month had been too much for him to be away from you, and it warmed your heart when he would randomly send texts reminding you how much he missed you and loved you, in his own way of course. Those actual words would never come out of his mouth, but he expressed it nonetheless.
The alarm clock went off as he had the phone his hand, so he got out of bed and got himself ready for the day. With you getting everything settled to open the sister firm in New York, work was slow. Calum took his time as he walked from the office to the coffee shop across the street. It was a cloudy morning, which wasn’t new for Seattle, but the wind was chilly and it left his cheeks and nose red.
A petite girl took his order, handing him the hot cup of espresso a minute after. He made his way back into the office, only to be met with a blonde man he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Hey!” Luke smiled widely at the sight of his best friend “Haven’t seen you in so long, bro.” He wrapped Calum in one of those manly hugs, slapping his back a couple times.
“I know, mate. It’s been forever.” Calum replied, eyeing the girl that stood beside Luke “And who might this pretty girl be?” Said girl gave Calum a shy smile as Luke wrapped her hand in his.
“This is .Nora, my soon-to-be wife.” he smiled proudly as he introduced them. “Nora this is Calum, Calum this is Nora.” They shook hands and smiled.
“So this is the girl who won your heart over and is now going to make an honest man out of you?” Cal was smirking, he knew that Luke wasn’t fond of comments like that, but it came with being friends with Calum.
“Yes. That’s what we came for actually”
“Oh?”
“So Nora’s mom wants to have the engagement party on Wednesday, we're having a dinner at my place. Wanted you and Y/N to be there.” Luke handed Calum the piece of paper that held the details of the event.
“Y/N is in New York and will be back that morning, so I'll see if she's up for it and we’ll be there.” The friends smiled at each other and talked for a couple more minutes until Jess came and took Calum away to a meeting.
Tuesday. Tuesday. Tomorrow is the day. You thought to yourself for the umpteenth time today. The thought of being so in love made you sick at some point in your life, but now with Calum all the way on the other side of the country, it was hard not to miss him. You two practically spent every waking moment together, but neither of you ever complained. Sure, there was the occasional argument but that didn’t stop you from loving each other the way you did.
You smiled to yourself in the middle of the meeting you were in. It wasn’t too important, so you were drifting off every chance you got, the occasional hum in agreement being thrown in the mix. The papers had already been signed and everything was in order, but these phone conferences had to be held just to inform everyone else, and how to make marketing better for both firms. It had been fairly easy, so getting home to give Cal good news would be a reason to celebrate.
The screen on your phone lit up, notifying you of a text.
Cal: Mornings are hard without your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, angel
Y/N: Your hands not been enough?
You smirked and had to hold back a laugh, starting something that was definitely going to get you in trouble when you arrived home.
Cal: My hand is nowhere near as good as those lips and tongue of yours. I bet you miss me fucking you, don't you pretty girl?
Y/N: I’ve been okay with my own hands. But i wish you had been there watching me, daddy
The bubble that signaled he was typing appeared for a second before disappearing again, making you smile widely again.
Cal: Don’t tease, princess. You know what happens when you tease me
Y/N: But its so fun teasing you baby
Cal: Just wait until you’re home, pet. By the way, Luke invited us over to his engagement party tomorrow night.
Y/N: Who has an engagement party in the middle of the week? And who is he marrying anyway??
Cal: Dunno, but he’s my best friend so we’re going. Buy yourself something pretty. Gotta get to the office, take care.
Y/N: Love you too :)
A cough brought you back to reality, and everyone stared at you as Michael, your colleague, nudged your arm.
“They were asking about the project in Italy that Mr. Hood and Mr. Hemmings started last year and what progress it has made.” He said, eyeing you to make sure that you remembered the topic.
“Oh, yes...” You smiled at everyone around the conference table and started discussing the said project.
Wednesday. Today is the day. Calum was anxious to see you. And as were you to see him. It had been a build-up of emotions the whole month you had been away, and now just hours away, you felt like a giddy secondary school girl who was going on her first date.
He sat in his office, working away on editing some drafts that you had sent him while in New York when Jess called him.
“What!?” He yelled into the speaker.
“T-the car i-is here s-sir.” Jess stuttered as always, startled by his yelling.
“I told Y/N I wasn't going to pick her up. What is there a car for here?”
“I thought you were going to go pick her up. Y-you asked me to have Fred come get you before going for her.”
“I’m not going. Tell him to go get her now, she should be landing soon.” He answered, his full attention on the floor plan in front of him.
“O-Okay.”
The phone cut off and Calum returned to his work, only to be interrupted by thoughts of having you bent over his desk like he had done before you had left. He groaned as he slouched on his chair and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows that were in his office, imagining you with your bare back pressed against the glass as he fucked you, making you scream his name. As the dirty thoughts continued, he smirked and an idea came to mind to punish you for your ‘teasing’ of the day before.
Calum was already getting dressed when you walked into the bedroom, he was wearing a black suit with a white button up. The shirt had the top button undone, leaving some of his chest exposed.
“Hi.” You said with a smile, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. He turned around in a quick motion and wrapped you up in a hug, lifting your feet off the floor.
“Princess.” Was all he said, putting you down and attaching his lips to yours. After a minute or two of kissing, he pulled away and moved to the closet to get something.
“I have something for you.” He came back with a box from Agent Provocateur. Your eyes went wide as he opened it, letting you pull out the contents. It was a white lingerie set. The bra had lace all around the cups and through the straps, and the bottoms were all lace, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Cal, this is beautiful.” You kissed his lips as he smirked.
“Go on pretty girl, put it on.” He said, walking out of the bedroom. If he stayed, there was no way you two would make it to Luke’s party.
After a quick shower, you put on the undergarments and stood there, admiring the way they fit so perfectly when Calum walked in with a small box in his hands.
“So beautiful and perfect as always, angel.” You could see his smirk from the mirror, making you wonder what he was up to.
“What’s in the box?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you as you turned around to face him.
“Well you see pet, you have done some things that require punishing, and we haven't brought these out in a while.” He pulled out two shiny metal balls that were attached to each other with a plastic holder.
“Not tonight, please.” You gulped as he set the box down on the dresser, moving closer to you “We know that it's not going to end well.”
“You think I am going to be able to keep my hands off of you all night? If I have to suffer a dinner with a boner the whole time, then I might as well have some fun.” He smirked and trapped you with his body, making your back hit the cold wall.
You two had used the luna beads on two separate occasions, and both of those had resulted in you using the safeword and Calum feeling bad because the safeword was rarely used in your sexual encounters.
He took his time by kissing and caressing your body before inserting the balls, making you gasp and moan at the cold and odd feeling. After getting dressed and fully ready, the two of you made your way to the car and drove to Luke’s house.
“This house is new, isnt it?” You asked, admiring the way it fit perfectly in the forest, the wood and glass that it was built with complementing the greens of the trees surrounding it.
“No, this is his first house. I designed and built this one for him with Ash. The one he has in the city is just for show.”
“It’s beautiful, Cal. You four really are the true dream team.” You said, smiling at him. He turned you around and placed his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the exposed skin. It raised goosebumps all over your body, the feeling of it aroused you more, a moan escaping your lips.
“I see the beads are working their magic.” The smirk never leaving his lips. He squeezed again, and slid one of his hands to your ass, smacking it lightly. That was more than enough to make you have a orgasm right in the middle of Luke’s front yard, but you stopped yourself and continued walking with Calum on tow.
“Asshole.” Was the only thing you could muster up, turning back to glare at him as he chuckled.
“I still don’t understand why you decided to wear this thing.” He groaned and pulled at the material of your white jumpsuit as you waited for the door to be opened.
“It was either this or that stupid dress you bought for me.”
“But the dress would’ve been hotter.” He pouted, making puppy eyes at you.
“It wasn’t even a full dress, I don’t understand why you even bought it.” You rang the doorbell again, anxious to be away from him for a little while. He kept his hands on your body, whether on your hips or arms, but every touch set your skin on fire
“We’ll find use for it someday.” He mused as he stood behind you, his hands back on your hips and tracing circles. He pressed himself harder against you, making you feel how hard he was. Luke was taking forever to open the door, so Calum took the opportunity to nibble on the skin of your neck, a low moan falling from your lips.
“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now, right here.” His hot breath hit your neck and that was enough to make you want to go back to the car and have him right there and then.
As you were about to fall back and support yourself on his chest, a beaming Liz opened the door.
“Calum, Y/N! You made it, come on in!”
You groaned as Cal moved to your side and grabbed your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. He laughed lightly and led you through the foyer and into the living space.
The house was as beautiful inside as it was outside. You stood with Calum’s hand in yours as he let you admire his, Ashton’s and Michael’s work. It had beautifully designed high ceilings. The log cabin look mixed with contemporary glass and open concept gave it a homey yet fancy look and feel.
“Cal, this is amazing. How long ago did you guys build this?” You asked, smiling at your boyfriend who had a smug smile on his face.
“About 8 years ago. We had just graduated and gotten our licenses, Luke and his dad wanted to see if it was worth investing in helping us start up.”
“Even though those three are so annoying and rude sometimes, I’m very glad they’re your best friends.” You smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, your heels helping you with the height difference. He hugged you and took the opportunity that no one was watching to smack your ass again, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You felt all the blood rush to your core and your cheeks turned a deep red. He let go of you to get a drink and you took the opportunity to walk away from him. But walking wasn’t helping. The beads weren’t uncomfortable, but it also wasn’t something that you were used to. Every movement you made or even sitting down made you whimper. You made it to were Crystal and Laura were talking to Nora.
“Hey Y/N, I don’t think you’ve met Nora yet, have you?” Crystal asked after she and Laura gave you a hug and said hi.
“No, Luke mentioned you a couple times but Cal and I hadn’t met you officially.” You smiled and offered your hand for a handshake with a smile. She returned the smile and all four of you started a conversation about wedding details and whatnot.
After mingling for what seemed like hours, Liz finally said that dinner was ready and everyone made their way towards the backyard. You couldn’t stop admiring how beautiful the place was, and Cal made a mental note to ask you about redecorating and remodeling your own home. But he never stopped thinking about you with no clothes on, your legs spread out under him writhing in pleasure. He knew that the longer this was prolonged, he wouldn’t last long, so that was one of the reasons for the beads.
Dinner had been served and everyone stayed in their seats as Nora and Luke both spoke, telling everyone that they were in love and had been engaged for a while before telling anyone. Calum kept his hand on your thigh, tracing patterns or just resting, a squeeze here and there. You were a mess at this point, the beads had been inside for far too long, and you needed release but if Calum found out you came without watching he’d be more upset.
The food was picked up and everyone gathered around to mingle some more, cups of alcohol in everyone’s hand. After a couple drinks and a sudden wave of confidence, you made your way to were Calum stood with Ashton, Michael and Luke. They were talking to other men in suits, and you assumed it was about business, but you needed him to fuck you right there and then, you couldn’t take it anymore.
“...actually Y/N just came back from New York. Jordan will be taking care of that firm while Luke and I go to Italy to finish the resort.” Calum spoke as he stood by the men, a beer in hand. They way he stood with such confidence and a smug smile made you more turned on than you already were.
“Speaking of which, here she is.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you towards him. You smiled and shook hands with all the men and explained everything that went on while on the trip. Meanwhile Calum’s hand rested on the small of your back. The coldness of his rings could be felt through the thin material of your jumpsuit.
Ashton began talking about a project he had gotten in the last month, and you took the opportunity to get Cal’s attention.
“I need you to take these out. Now. I need you to fuck me before I come just from these beads and your hands on my back.” You whispered in his ear and he squeezed your hips again, the pressure increasing between your legs. He cursed under his breath and excused himself from the conversation, dragging you with him. The both of you rushed back inside the house and up the stairs into a bathroom.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groaned as he shut the door and locked it.
“What?”
“Do any of you know what privacy is or how it works?” You pointed towards the camera in the corner of the bathroom and the glass wall. It looked out into the forest, the moon and the fairy lights lighting the bathroom.
“I’ll tell him to delete the security footage before he watches it.” Cal was already behind you, trailing kisses down your shoulders and on the back of your neck as his hands worked in unzipping your attire.
“If they look up, they can see us.” You moaned as he pulled the top of the jumpsuit down, his hands on your stomach and his rings digging into your skin.
“But I thought this was your favorite thing, angel. I thought you liked being watched.” His lips sucked on the crook of your neck, leaving a mark you were sure wasn’t gonna be covered by the straps.
When he slipped the jumpsuit passed your waist and down your legs, you forgot that there was people downstairs and that maybe, just maybe, Luke wouldn’t delete the recording and you’d be screwed. But the moment Calum’s hand reached between your legs to spread them apart, everything but him was truly forgotten. He turned you around so your back was pressed against the glass and you were facing him. He knelt down and pulled the white thong down, revealing the string that would help the beads come out. His hands found themselves on your thighs as he trailed kisses from your knees to your thighs.
“You need to stay still or I’m leaving those in there.” He chuckled as you huffed and leaned your head against the glass, staying as still as possible while he continued his trail of kisses to your core. His tongue found your clit and you let out a loud moan, not caring about who heard.
“What did I say?” He looked up at you again, his eyes full of lust and desire. You noticed that his pants had been on too tight all night long, and couldn’t wait to have him inside of you.
“You said to stay still, not quiet.” You smirked.
“Smartass. Now shut up and stay still.” He brought his lips back to your clit and you made the best effort to muffle your moans as your hands buried themselves in his hair. Without warning, your first orgasm hit you. You clenched around the beads and pulled on his hair as you cursed and whispered his name multiple times.
He got up from his spot and gave you a few minutes to recover. His belt hit the floor and you pulled him towards you after he pulled the beads out and jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist, being careful with the jacket of his suit and his shirt.
“I missed you.” He said as he thrusted slow and deep, his hands on the glass while your back was pressed to it and your arms and legs around his body held you up. After a few minutes, you felt the pleasure built in the pit of your stomach again, and clenched around him.
“‘S okay, baby. Come for daddy.” His words were enough to bring you to your high a second time.
He kept his movements fast and rough after that. You whimpered and whined, the overstimulation hitting all at once, and when he brought his hand to your clit, you wondered if he was close.
“You know you can tell me if it’s too much, right babe?” He asked between groans.
“Keep going, I want you to come inside of me.” He moved his fingers faster on your clit and his thrusts became sloppy, so when you felt that you couldn’t hold it anymore, the third orgasm hit you hard and you felt calum come inside of you at the same time.
Your arms and legs went limp as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, making sure that your makeup wouldn’t stain his black suit. He pulled out of you and you whimpered. He held you up and sat you down on the chair in front of the vanity as he cleaned himself up quickly and pulled his pants back up.
He grabbed a towel from the closet and sat beside you, wiping his cum from between your legs. You smiled sheepishly as he handed you your underwear and helped you put it on. The whole time you both got dressed it was silent. He smiled and he looked content as he zipped your jumpsuit back on, kissing your bare shoulder.
“Sorry, baby.” He said as he pointed at the mark on your shoulder. You were standing in front of the mirror as he stood behind you.
“‘S okay.” You answered and turned around to face him. He grabbed your face in his hands and kissed your cheek before you both went back down to the party. Some people had already left, and there was only close friends and family left, so it seemed fitting that you stayed a little longer. The guys were sitting in the fire pit with their significant others. You joined them and sat next to Luke, Calum whispering to him about the tapes. He looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows while smirking.
“He’s gonna delete them. But he’s never gonna forget that we fucked in his house.” Calum said while his cheeks turned a bright red and his friends laughed about something else, but he knew that somehow Luke has suspected you both were up there and said something. It didn’t phase you though, as it had been all you wanted as a welcome home.
I hope you all like this. CEO!Cal is my baby and I wnjoyed writting this so much. PLease let me kno if you liked it. or didnt.
#5sos#5sos imagines#5sos imagine#5sos blurb#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer imagines#5seconds of summer imagine#calum hood#calum hood blurb#calum hood imagine#calum imagime#calum blurb#micheal cliffor#luke hemmings#ashton irwin#michel clifford imagine#luke hemmings imagine#ahston irwin imagine
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Timestamp 9:45 PM
“Are you done with that dress yet?” You said entering the room where Jion was. He was currently mending the hem of your dress before your date. Sitting at his desk with the dress in the sewing machine, you watched as he slowly pulled the pins out of the material as he work putting them into his mouth. The fabric tape measure rested over his shoulders. He looked like a cute old grandma. Jion stopped to look up at you pulling the pins out of his mouth. He sighed. “No of course I’m not done yet. What’s the rush y/n you have like three hours before your date. Why don’t you take a shower you smell like the chicken alfredo from last night.” He said chuckling before getting back to work.
“You’re such a bitch.” You said with no heat before walking away. Just outside his doorway heard Jion’s voice with a little bit of heat. “Oh yeah, I’m the bitch for helping you fix this damn dress since your spoiled brat ass couldn’t bother to buy one that fit. Fuck off.” You halted there in the hallway. Normally when you two joked around like this is was playful. You turned around heading back into Jion’s room. He was back to working on your dress but something wasn’t right. “Jion..it was a joke. You know we joke.” You slowly approached his desk taking his body language into account. Something was bothering him. “Jion, is there something I said..what’s wrong?” You jumped when Jion stood up real fast. His brows were set to angry and he placed both his hands on the desk leaning over it. Jion was a tall man, despite his petite shoulders his height and body language was large.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” He raised his voice. You had never seen him like this and it was shocking and a little scary. For him to snap while you too did your back and forth’s was new to you. “What’s wrong hmm let’s see,” Jion stops up and walked around to the front of his desk before leaning back against it crossing his arms. “What’s wrong is that first of all you are so damn selfish. I mean for fucks same y/n here I am fixing this dress for you that you were to dumb to read the size just so you can go on another one of your stupid dates and repeat the same shit all over again.” Jion pressed his fingers to his temples. “I mean god y/n you know how many times you go out to date the same breed of man? The same loser the same asshole? 137.”
Jion was going off and you had no idea whether to cut him off or run. You were frozen in your spot. “Every date you have consists of the same breed different asshole who takes you to a cheap ass restaurant, buys you fake ass flowers or whatever fucking old woman’s garden he plucked them from on the way and then you sit and listen to him brag about god know what. You’re lucky if you even get the dinner before he gets tired of talking. On the rare occasion you get a total jerk who thinks it’s a fun idea to either ghost you at the restaurant or bring another girl with him to your date.” Jion stood up to pave around the room. You just stood an listened to him. “My favorite guy that you’ve gone out with was the one that lies to you about where the date was, ended up taking you to a bar on the far south of town get shit face drunk and you brought the loser home to sleep on my damn couch. A drunk loser on my motherfuckin couch. I mean god, the icing on the cake was when he woke up in the morning cause his sick hoe was here to pick him up.” Jion walked back around to sit in his chair to try and do more sewing but he already lit the fuse and was hot on his own tail. “All the times you called me sobbing barely being able to speak because your date who sounded ‘oh so promising’ left you at the restaurant and you needed me to come pick you up. So I do because I’m the only one who actually cares about your well being? Remember that y/n? That happened a good number of times, I believe it was about 20.” Jion again attempted to go back to sewing but he was on fire and there was no stopping the flames. “You know I don’t make all these things for you and do your hair and makeup and cook you good food and take care of you when you’re not feeling well just because we’re friends. I don’t sit and listen to you cry in my arms after a date goes bad just because I’m a nice person. I don’t fucking pick up the pieces of your broken heart over and over and over again just for fun y/n.
“What are you saying Jion?” You spoke up softly. Jion leaned back in his chair running his hand through his hair. “What am I saying? Seriously y/n? Why are you so fucking dumb and clueless to everything around you? Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Jion why are you being like this?” You asked raising your voice a bit. You really had no idea what had gotten into him. “Why? Y/n you wanna know how many nights I stand on the other side of your door listening to you once again cry your little heart out over some loser you thought loved you. You know how many times I’ve wanted to punch the men that you’ve dated after they broke up with you because they only wanted you for your body and you didn’t feel the same? Do you understand how far I go to take care of you and build you back up after you continue to date jerks you throw in in the trash emotionally?”
Jion signed before standing up. He slowly walked towards you stopping just inches away from you. He slowly raised his hand to tuck a lose strand of hair behind your ear. “How could you be so dumb and oblivious? Everything I do for you is because I love you. For fucks sake here I am spelling it out for you cause you just don’t get it. I love you and I have been in love with you for years now.”
You stood there in even more shock but everything he was saying made perfect sense. You just could see it because you were a brat and selfish and completely clueless. Not only was he doing all this stuff for you because he loved you and actually cared about you but you constantly hurt yourself and him whenever you dated an asshole. You couldn’t believe you were actually so dumb to miss all the clues Jion had thrown at you over the years. Everything he did was because he truly loved and cared about you, you were just too blind to see it.
“Jion I..god you’re right about everything. I’m so sorry about everything I’ve put you through that’s so unfair. I’m gonna fix it. Come on, get dressed we’ve got a date to go to.” You smiled tugging Jion towards his closet.
“Y/n, I know we are each other’s ride of die and I am fully aware that I am your wing man but this wing man don’t do that third wheel shit. I ain’t going to your stupid date with loser man number 138.” Jion said while you fished through his closet. You laughed.
“Who said anything about that date. No I’m ghosting his ass. This date is for you and me. I’m taking you out as an apology. And as your official girlfriend.”
“I- my- y/n?” Jion questioned starting to blush like crazy. He looks down at you who had the biggest smile across your face. “Here and you thought I was the clueless one. Let me spell it out for you Jion. Me and you are going on our first official date as boyfriend and girlfriend.” You felt the pink color of embarrassment spread across your face. Maybe you had hidden these feeling for Jion all these years cause you were afraid what he would think but now that you know he feels the same way you are willing to take this step.
Without any warning you reached up on your tip toes grabbing Jion’s shirt and smashing your lips into his in an excitedly messy kiss. When you pulled away Jion was red as a tomato. He was so damn cute it made you laugh. “Find an outfit, finish that dress and let’s go on that date yeah?”
Hahahahaha is this timestamp too long? What classifies as a timestamp haha well anyway I was originally thinking Hongjoong’s because he seems the type to be your best friend who’s so stupidly in love with you but while watching Jion do Jinseo and Seunghoo’s hair and makeup last night plus the fact that I miss Jion so much and have never written for him I thought this was perfect. Now I’ve written for but Sangwook and Jion haha. Anyway I think it’s pretty good but it’s just too long to be a timestamp I think but whatever.
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Biggest Fan - Chapter 2
Way back in February, @peetabreadgirl had a birthday and her gift was Biggest Fan -- Canadian!Peeta and Texan!Katniss meet in the Marvel fandom and then have a real-life meet-up in Québec City. You can find the first chapter of this story on this blog. We've decided to stretch her birthday fun for five months and offer you this latest chapter. Enjoy!! Banner by @xerxia31
When the morning sun finally begins to glow behind his eyelids, Peeta is contentedly floating on a cloud of sheer comfort. The bed feels exactly right beneath him, his pillow cradles his head perfectly and Katniss is snuggled firmly against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.
Never has a bed been so inviting.
He’s not sure when she migrated from her side of the bed to his, but he can’t say he’s sorry to start the day with her in his arms, her soft, steady exhales painting a warm trail on his pectoral muscles under his t-shirt. His senses are full of her; the sweet fragrance of her hair, the weight of her arm across his belly, her feet tangled in his. He leans down just enough to place a kiss on the crown of her head and is rewarded with a sigh from Katniss.
She stretches like a cat against him as her body comes to life. “Time is it?” she mutters.
“I’m not sure, about eight? Practically mid-day for a baker.”
The sound of his voice seems to bring her back to herself more quickly. Her grey eyes widen and a pretty flush paints her smooth cheeks as she notices the way they’re practically wrapped around each other, and the fact that they’re both nestled on his side of the bed.
“Sorry,” she squeaks, and in her haste to push away from him, she discovers just how awake Peeta is. He emits an involuntary hiss.
“Oh God,” she drops to her back and slaps a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry again.”
Peeta can’t help it. He laughs. “It’s not like you hurt me, Katniss.” He rolls to his side, hoping it will provide some slack in his pyjama pants. She parts her fingers and peeks out at him. “Morning wood’s a pretty ordinary thing for a healthy guy, especially if he’s been curled up with a pretty girl all night.”
She snorts and her hand drops from her face in exasperation. “I may beta smut instead of writing it, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t teach you a few things, Cap.”
That line sends his mind careening in all sorts of different directions. His cock throbs for relief.
Her puzzled voice forces his train of thought off its rather sordid track. “Wait a minute. You think I’m pretty?”
He’s forced to shake his head in amazement. “Kat, I thought your Google Docs avatar was pretty. In real life, you’re so much more than that. Beautiful, yes, but there’s just something about you. It’s….” He stares at the ceiling searching for the right word. “Magnetic.” When he chances a look over at Katniss, her face is pale, her front teeth pillowed in her bottom lip.
“I’ve got to take a shower,” she whispers. Then she bolts for the bathroom, snapping the lock behind her.
Peeta lies in bed, bewildered by the turn of events. Wondering if he’d gone too far calling her beautiful. After their nice evening together, and especially after waking up with her in his arms, he’d thought they were on the same page. Now he’s left trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not.
He can hear the water running behind the bathroom door. A mental image of Katniss standing under the spray, her long black hair wet and cascading over smooth olive flesh flashes through his head, and he groans softly. Knowing she’s naked just a few feet away isn’t doing anything to help rein in his dirty thoughts. It’s taking every speck of his restraint not to take himself in hand. It wouldn’t take long. He’s so hard from being this close to her, she’d only have to breathe on it and he’d come.
Fuck, did he really just think about her lips near his cock? With a decisive kick, Peeta knocks the bedcovers aside and shoves his pants down his hips. He exhales in relief when he wraps his hand around the hot flesh, twitching in anticipation. It's not the first time he's stroked himself to thoughts of Katniss Everdeen.
But it’s the first time since he’d held her in his arms, learned her scent and the exact shade of her pink pouty lips. His hand circles his cock, his thumb sweeping over the weeping head to gather the moisture and ease the movement of his fist, slipping slowly downward from tip to root. He imagines those perfect lips enveloping him, slick and wet, taking him deep into her mouth. A quiver of excitement passes through his body and his breath quickens as he envisions Katniss’s grey eyes, dark and cloudy with desire, staring up at him from his lap. A moan rumbles from low in his throat and his strokes quicken, his hips flexing in time with the movement of his hand.
In his mind’s eye, Katniss’s perfect breasts bounce with every pass. She’s riding him now, his cock buried deep within her, the walls of her pussy tightening around him like a silken prison he has no wish to escape. The pleasure builds higher and higher, bringing him closer to what he craves. Every muscle in Peeta’s body tightens and strains as the pleasure mounts within him. He can see her, head thrown back in abandon, needing this, needing him the way he burns for her touch. He bites down on his lip when the familiar tingle begin in the base of his spine, sending bliss sparking throughout his body. And in the moment when his mind flies free and his body follows, he releases onto his belly, her name a whisper on his lips.
It’s only when he’s wiped himself clean with his t-shirt and thrown it to the floor, that he can focus on Katniss’s reaction and what, if anything, he ought to do about it.
He pulls up his bottoms and climbs out of bed, tossing his dirty shirt into his duffle bag. Effie had said something yesterday about breakfast being delivered to their room in a petit panier. Sure enough, he discovers a picnic basket just outside the door. An array of fresh baked pastries, fruit, cheese, yogurt, and juice are tucked inside.
He’s just closing the door behind him when Katniss emerges from the bathroom, still in her tank and sleep shorts, her hair wrapped in a towel. He must have taken her by surprise because she gapes at him.
“Breakfast,” he smiles, holding up the basket and crossing to a small table beneath the window. “It looks amazing. I can’t wait to try these croissants and see how they compare to mine.”
Peeta fishes out a little card that states Gracieuseté de l’Hôtel du Vieux Québec. “A beautiful day is desired to you," he reads aloud. “It’s signed by the manager. Huh. I’ll forgive her English if she tolerates my high school French I suppose. It was nice of her to personalize it, don't you think, Katniss?”
“Katniss?” He turns to find Katniss still standing near the bathroom door, staring at him intently. “Would you like some breakfast?”
Her tongue darts out over her lips and she gives her head a shake. “Uh, yeah, sure. Just let me get dressed real quick. I, uh, forgot my bag earlier. I just need to, um, grab a few things.”
He nods and turns back to the basket. But reflected in the window, he can see Katniss still staring. A slow grin spreads across his face as comprehension dawns. Katniss Everdeen is checking him out.
He can't resist showing off a little. Though there's nothing wrong with the basket’s position, he hefts it into his arms, knowing it'll make the muscles in his back - toned and sculpted from years of lifting hundred-pound flour sacks - ripple and flex.
“OK Kat, you go ahead and get dressed. I’ll take good care of this breakfast basket.”
In the window, he watches her eyes snap off his back to shoot arrows at the back of his head. “Oh,” she sneers, “I don’t think so, Cap.”
He snatches a croissant from the basket and, turning to face her, tears into it with his teeth. His mouth is full of its flaky, buttery goodness when he smirks at her. He swallows. “That’s delicious.”
“Fine,” she harrumphs. “I’ll eat.”
They settle down at the tiny table, the morning light streaming through the window, enjoying the contents of their basket. The fruit is juicy and perfect. They sample ripe melon and strawberries, bits of pineapple and delicious raspberries. Katniss sinks her teeth into what appears to be an apple danish and sighs contentedly.
Peeta fishes an apple out of the basket, breathes on it slightly and is about to shine it on his shirt when he remembers that it’s sticky and buried in the bottom of his bag. Feeling Katniss’s eyes upon him, he shrugs playfully and mimics shining the apple against his chest instead. Katniss’s eyes follow the action, her rosy lips slightly parted. “See something you want?” he asks.
Her eyes round and return to his face. “What?”
“Just wondered if you wanted my apple,” he replies innocently, the rosy flesh of the apple now masking his grin. Katniss flushes and declines. With a shrug, Peeta brings the apple the remaining distance to his lips, the apple providing a satisfying snap as his teeth dig into its tart flesh.
It’s possible, he concludes as he chews, that the attraction he is feeling for his writing buddy is mutual. It’s just too bad that he’s fallen for a girl who’s every bit as shy as she is stubborn. If he approaches her directly, she’ll be on the first plane bound for Texas.
He’ll just have to convince her it’s all her idea.
→ thg ←
By mid-morning they’re both dressed and ready to face the crowds of Carnaval. Hôtel du vieux Québec faces out on the busiest street in the downtown core. The crowds have already begun to gather as people wander in and out of the quaint shops along the narrow streets in the historic city.
Peeta watches in amusement as Katniss takes in her surroundings, eyes wide, head snapping this way and that. The narrow stone buildings, the ancient churches, the snow-encrusted trees -- he sees all of them with fresh eyes as he observes Katniss’s awe. Several times, as they walk towards Carnaval, she’s distracted enough to nearly bump into someone in the thickening crowd.
It’s one of those quintessential Canadian winter days, brilliant sunshine streams across the frozen landscape, setting the snow ablaze in diamond-bright sparkles. But the sun’s intensity belies the breathtaking cold. And while Peeta is accustomed to the weather, Katniss, bundled up in her borrowed down coat and the boots and the snow pants Peeta brought in from the car that morning, has already started shivering.
Peeta tugs her close and gives her upper arms a brisk rub. “Cold already?” At her frantic nod, he tugs the firm trimmed hood of her coat over her bare head. “What have you got on for gloves?”
“These.” Katniss holds up her hands and Peeta clucks his tongue at the thin leather that covers them.
“We’ll have to do better than that,” he decides, and points to a little shop a bit further down Rue Saint-Jean. “They’ll probably have something in there,” he tells her. “Here, tuck your right hand into your pocket and I’ll hold your left in mine. It’ll help you stay warmer.”
The two of them weave their way through the jolly crowd meandering along the sidewalk, their breath freezing in puffy clouds before them as they make their way to the store. The warmth of the little shop is a welcome relief from the crisp winter cold and Katniss immediately lets go of Peeta’s hand to blow heat onto her own. “So cold!” she gasps as she stomps her feet and covers her ears with her hands.
Peeta can’t help but laugh at her reaction. “You’re no winter soldier, KatsEye.”
She scowls at him. “Shut up, Cap. It was 82 degrees in Texas on Thursday. I had lunch on a patio in my flip flops.”
“And now you’re a Katsicle.” Her silver eyes roll skyward and he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “Come on,” he urges, changing the subject. “What better Canadian souvenir than a pair of mittens?”
The kitschy little souvenir shop is plugged with shelves of stuffed moose and beavers in Mountie uniforms. Peeta spots bottles of genuine Quebec maple syrup lined up on a shelf near the cash and a whole display of magnets shaped like maple leaves and fleur de lis. Near the back of the store, they finally find a thick pair of navy mittens with “Québec” embroidered upon them in white stitches. They snatch them up and are soon back out into the cold, making their way towards the Plaines d’Abraham where Carnaval is held each year.
Katniss’s newly mittened hand is clasped in Peeta’s once again when he spots l’Escalier Casse-Cou. The steep concrete staircase descends between historic buildings and patios to the lower part of town.
“Why don’t we go this way,” he suggests as they stand at the top, admiring the view over the snow-topped roofs of the centuries-old buildings below. It reminds him of a medieval village. “This is the oldest part of the city, founded in the 1600s by an explorer called Samuel de Champlain. There are some fantastic galleries down there.”
“Are you sure? We could break our necks walking down these steps.”
“Well, they call it the Breakneck Staircase, but I’ve never heard of anyone actually breaking their neck. I’ve never been down it in winter before, though.”
“Maybe we should get a selfie before we fall to our deaths,” says Katniss, pulling her phone out of her coat pocket, but her mittens are so thick she can’t swipe the screen to unlock it. She curses in frustration and pulls off the right one before sliding her finger across the screen. “The ice was just starting to thaw from my fingertips,” she mutters.
“It’s a Canadian hazard. Come here and stop complaining,” laughs Peeta, and holds out his arm. Katniss snuggles underneath it, her arm around his waist, but she can’t angle her camera high enough to get both their heads in the shot. “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” Peeta teases as he seizes the phone from her. They’re still laughing when he takes the picture. It’s a good one. They’re wrapped in each other; rosy cheeked and smiling brightly with the Quartier Champlain in the shot far below them. “Send me that, will you?” Peeta asks, and she nods, making a few quick swipes on the screen before slipping it back in her pocket.
“Together?” Her navy mitten reaches for his gloved hand.
“Together.”
The trip down the stairs is surprisingly uneventful. The wrought iron handrail is every bit as sturdy as it is decorative and before long, they’ve stepped farther back in time, wandering the narrow cobblestone streets and peeking into the mottled glass windows of the historic buildings. The wooden signs that swing by the doors of the various storefronts boast of artists and artisans of every kind. Peeta points out the textile artists and the painters. Music and delicious smells waft through the doors of the various pubs and restaurants as their heavy wooden doors swing open and closed.
He’s telling her a story about the founding of the city more than four hundred years ago when she stops suddenly, nearly yanking his arm from its socket. “Wait,” she says, leaning towards a window display, her mittened hand hovering over the glass.
It's the kind of combination gallery and souvenir shop that's ubiquitous in Quebec, so he's not sure what's caught her eye. She tugs him closer, silver eyes alight. "My sister," she says, and Peeta nods. If there's anything Katniss talks about more than Bucky Barnes, it's her little sister, Prim. "She's studying marine biology. She'd love that." Peeta squints through the glass and finally understands. In the middle of the handmade mukluks and miniature inukshuks is a soapstone seal, its glossy green surface glinting in the spotlights. “Can we go in?”
Like he could ever say no.
His hand delicately resting on her lower back, Peeta guides Katniss under a garland of greenery, festooned with tin cups and snowshoes, and into the warmth of the shop. It’s small, even smaller than it appears from outside, and jam-packed with Aboriginal art. Katniss heads straight for the window display, but Peeta is distracted by the framed prints that fill every inch of wall space. Until, that is, he realizes the shopkeeper - an older man with greasy hair and bloodshot eyes - is speaking at Katniss in rapid-fire French while she stares, wide-eyed and silently pleading for him to intervene.
“Monsieur,” Peeta says, pulling the man’s attention from his horror-struck companion. “Est-ce que vous pourriez nous aider?”
“Aie, mon homme, viens ici une seconde.” Peeta struggles to keep up with both the speed of the shopkeeper’s speech and his strong accent that suggests he’s from the Outaouais region of Quebec. “J'veux te montrer un p'ti truc qui va sûrement te rendre chanceux avec ta blonde ce soir,” the shopkeeper continues, grinning, and Peeta can feel the heat flooding his cheeks. He’s exceedingly grateful that Katniss doesn’t speak French. He can’t imagine she’d be thrilled to know that a greasy huckster thinks buying this piece of Inuit art is likely to improve his chances of scoring with his beautiful friend. “Check ça mon gars, une super beau phoque.” He gestures to the seal sculpture in Katniss’s hand, and she jumps back, eyes widening further. “J'te dit, c'est un vieux eskimo qui a sculpté ce phoque - il a soixante-quinze ans!” Peeta snickers at that, carved by a seventy-five year old Eskimo. Yeah, that’ll increase the price for sure. He glances back at Katniss, and his amusement recedes. She’s full-on scowling. The shopkeeper clearly doesn’t notice, because he wraps an arm around Katniss’s shoulder and continues. “Tu trouve pas que ta blonde aimeras ça? T'sais déjà comment elle adore ce phoque!”
Peeta slips between Katniss and the older man before she has an opportunity to eviscerate him. Bright red splotches stand out on her cheeks and her jaw is tense, he can practically hear her teeth grinding. Peeta didn’t think she understood French, but he knows she speaks Spanish, so maybe she’s catching more of the shopkeeper’s lewd suggestions than he’d hoped.
“J'te laisse pour cinquante pièces. C'est bon? Tu va me remercier, c'est sûr,” the clerk says, waving toward the small sculpture and winking at Katniss. And while fifty dollars is highway robbery, Peeta is anxious enough to get out of the store that he’ll pay pretty much anything.
“Oui, nous allons le prendre, s'il vous plaît,” he says, sliding the sculpture from Katniss’s clenched fist and pulling out his wallet while Katniss huffs beside him.
By the time they emerge from the shop and back out onto rue Petit Champlain, Katniss is absolutely seething. “Hey,” Peeta says, reaching for her as she attempts to stomp away in the wrong direction. She shrugs him off, spinning to glare at him. Her anger is a lot scarier when it’s aimed in his direction.
“What the hell was that?” she spits, and Peeta struggles to guess which part of the entire strange transaction she’s referring to. “How could you let that guy talk about us like that?”
Peeta stammers. “Katniss, I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out of there. I didn’t know how much of the conversation you understood.”
"Understood?” Katniss throws her hands in the air, her eyes afire. “What was there to understand? That guy dropped more f-bombs than IronMutt in a smut scene!”
“F-bombs?” Between the colloquial French, and the tension in the shop, Peeta is certain he missed a few words, but he doesn’t remember any f-bombs - French or English - in the shopkeeper’s pitch. He’s just about to argue with Katniss that the salesman - while incredibly lewd - hadn’t actually cursed, when the realization hits him. Phoque sounds a whole lot like fuck to the untrained ear. It was a source of endless joking back in middle school, but Peeta hasn’t thought about it in years.
He snickers like the middle school boy he once was, and Katniss growls. “It’s not funny, Cap,” she says, her voice only slightly below a yell. She’s so pissed that she looks ready to explode, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to tame the giggles. “I thought you Canadians were supposed to be polite?”
She tries to storm away again, and it sobers him. ”Kat- Katniss, no, wait,” he begs, grabbing her arm to halt her escape. He can see her body stiffen, but she doesn’t pull away, turning to face him with fire in her silver eyes. Peeta is struck by the thought that she looks good in flames. Very good. He pulls back, rubbing a mittened hand over the back of his neck, attempting to derail the lustful train of thought his mind is trying to take. “I’m sorry,” he says, a bit breathlessly, and her expression softens a little. “Phoque,” he says, drawing out the vowel sound slightly, “is the French word for seal.”
“It… wait, what?” Katniss scrunches her nose up in confusion, and Peeta bites his cheek again because he wants to tell her that she’s adorable, and he doubts she’d consider it a compliment. Not right now anyway. “Really?”
“Really. The conversation would have sounded a lot different if you’d picked a polar bear instead.” Well, it would have to her, anyway, Peeta thinks. The greasy clerk would probably have been just as convinced of the seductive powers of an ours blanc if it meant freeing another fifty from their wallets.
“Oh,” Katniss says softly, watching him with that cute wrinkle between her brows, as if she’s not completely sure whether to believe him. Peeta wants so badly to kiss that little line. He shakes his head slightly to clear away the image. She has no idea, the effect she has on him. But if he’s learned anything in his eighteen or so hours with Katniss Everdeen, it’s that he has to be patient.
“Yeah, oh,” Peeta smiles, unable to resist teasing her just a bit. He winks to soften the sting. “Let’s continue,” he says, tugging her elbow gently. “There’s so much more to see and daylight’s wasting.”
She huffs, but relents, and they fall into step again, walking the snowy cobbles in silence.
“Ah, there it is,” says Peeta, and points to the end of the street, where the word “Funiculaire” is posted in huge letters on an old house.
“There what is,” asks Katniss, her voice still showing traces of temper.
“The Funiculaire. Our way back up,” Peeta explains. They halt in front of the doors of the house and Katniss cranes her head to watch the little white car slowly climbing the track up the cliff.
“Oh lordy,” she mutters. “Just what, exactly, is a Fun-ic-yoo-layer?”
“Huh.” Peeta purses his lips and screws up his face as he thinks it over. “Well, if an elevator had sex with a ski lift, the Funiculaire would be their love child.”
Katniss looks at him incredulously and then bursts out laughing and squeezes his hand. “You’ve written some crazy analogies over the last year, Peeta, but that one takes the cake.”
Peeta grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Hey, cake is never bad.” He thinks he hears her snort, but is too busy thinking about how natural it seemed for her to take his hand to be sure.
“Come on, let’s go before I change my mind,” she orders, tugging him down the street. “You’re paying for the ride in this death trap, beeteedubs.”
A few minutes and six Canadian dollars later, they are slowly riding up the cliff. Katniss snaps a few shots of the city from the air as they slide towards the summit. When they get to the top and exit the green gazebo-like terminal, they find themselves at the foot of Quebec City’s largest, and possibly most famous, landmark; the Château Frontenac, its turrets pointing to the sky and each one of the pristine windows in the brick towers glinting in the icy glare of the winter sun.
“That is literally the biggest castle I’ve ever seen,” Katniss murmurs. “Not that I’ve ever seen one before.”
“It’s actually a hotel,” Peeta explains. “The oldest in Canada. I would guess that royalty has probably stayed there, but it’s never been an actual castle. I think it has something like 700 rooms.”
“Have you ever stayed there?” She wanders the path in front of the Funiculaire exit and snaps a few pictures with her phone.
Peeta wonders if he should have tried to get them a room there. “No. My parents have, a few times, I think. It’s very swanky.”
“It’s a beautiful building, that’s for sure, but I bet they don’t serve breakfast in a basket.”
Peeta watches her pocket her phone and wonders whether she could be any more perfect for him. Her grey eyes are dancing when she links her arm with his and they start to stroll along the boulevard beside the hotel. “How much farther to the Car-na-val?” She lingers over each vowel sound, attempting the French pronunciation. It’s so adorable he can hardly stand it.
Instead, he points to the noisy park just a stone’s throw away. “We’re almost there. Can you see the ice castle? That’s where Bonhomme lives.”
“Who’s Bonhomme?”
“The King of Winter,” Peeta explains. “Come on. We’ll get our effigies and we’ll go find him.”
“Effigies? What kind of carnival is this?”
Peeta laughs. “Relax. It’s like an ornament. Of Bonhomme. It’ll get us in and out of the carnaval.”
When they get to the gates, Peeta requests, “deux passeports de Carnaval, s’il vous plaît.”
“Quatre-vingt-dix pièces, monsieur.”
Peeta reaches for his wallet to pay for their ultimate passes, but Katniss stills his hand. “No way,” she insists. “You paid for the hotel room. You paid for dinner last night. You bought the phoque.” Her upper lip curls when that word slips past her lips. “You’re not paying for this too.”
He sighs, knowing there’s no point in arguing with Katniss when a line is forming behind them. “Fine. I asked her for two Carnaval passports. It’s $90.”
Katniss pulls her wallet from her pocket. “Lemme get my Monopoly money out. So, I need a pink one and two green ones, or one brown one, right?”
He can’t help it. He snorts, but gets out of her way while she pays the ticket seller. The look on her face when a plastic bag filled with goodies is shoved back through the window is so priceless, he laughs aloud. They make their way through the gate and Peeta pulls her aside, whipping the fleece-lined souvenir toque from the bag, and tugging it down over her ears before flicking her nose with one of the bright red pom-poms that swing from a braided tassel.
“I look ridiculous,” she huffs.
“We’ve got a second set for me, so we’ll look like tourists together. Now shut up and put on your scarf.” He pulls the brightly woven scarf from the bag and ties it snugly around her neck. He pins her effigy to her coat and stands back to admire his work.
“Canadian is a good look on you,” he decides. “Plus, now you won’t be cold.”
He pulls off his own toque and replaces it with the official carnaval hat, then ties his scarf around his neck and pins on the little plastic snowman. There are six tickets in the bottom of the bag that he passes to Katniss, asking her to tuck them in her wallet. He stuffs his old hat and scarf in the bag, tosses in the infamous phoque sculpture and takes her hand back in his own before tugging her towards the giant ice castle.
“C’mon. I want a picture of us at the castle,” he insists, “all dressed up in our matching gear.”
Peeta drags her past vendors and activities. She points to snow rafting, an ice slide and a petting zoo and begs to stop, but he keeps going until they are standing in the shadows of l’Assemblée Nationale du Québec where an enormous castle made of ice glistens in the afternoon sun. “
You people sure like your castles,” she drawls.
“This is Bonhomme’s house,” he explains. “It’s our best chance to see him, but first I want that picture. Peeta pulls his phone from his pocket and positions himself behind Katniss with his arm around her waist. He waits for her to pull away and can’t help but feel a surge of pleasure at the way she relaxes against him instead. He whips off his mitten and aims the camera for the perfect selfie. “Now smile,” he orders.
When he lowers the camera, he can’t help but smirk at how couple-y they look in their matching gear, wide grins and cozy pose. The tips of their noses glow and their eyes sparkle in the sun.
Katniss pulls out her phone and waves it at him. “Send me that,” she orders, and he obliges. She flicks her finger across the screen and a satisfied smile spreads across her lips. “It’s a good one.” She flicks and taps the screen a few more times to save the image and then tucks the phone back in her pocket. “So, are we going to meet this snowman or not?”
Hand-in-hand, they join the queue for Bonhomme’s home, shuffling as it snakes slowly forward and stamping their feet to keep their toes from freezing. When Katniss starts to shiver, Peeta wraps his arms around her.
“Bonhomme, Bonhomme sais-tu jouer ? Bonhomme, Bonhomme sais-tu jouer ?” Peeta’s song is more than little off-key but she laughs as he bounces her back and forth in his arms, so he keeps going. “Sais-tu jouer de ce violon-là ? Sais-tu jouer de ce violon-là ?”
“Peeta, what on Earth are you singing?”
“The Bonhomme, Bonhomme song,” he chortles. “The Ontario education system tortures us all with it. Bonhomme, Bonhomme, tu n’es pas maître dans ta maison quand nous y sommes!”
By the time they make it to Bonhomme’s front door, Peeta has challenged Bonhomme to play the violin, the flute and the drums and Katniss is begging for relief. But she’s not shivering, so he counts that as a win.
Just inside the door, an eight-foot tall snowman awaits them.
“Holy frick, what is that?” Katniss breathes, her head tilted upwards to take in the giant’s red toque and maniacally grinning face. Her head leans against Peeta’s chest, the pom pom of her Carnaval hat tickling his jaw and he almost sighs with how good it feels.
“That,” Peeta says, unable to resist the urge to pull her a little closer, “is who we’re here to see. Meet Bonhomme Carnaval, the king of winter.”
“Hello! Bonjour!” calls Bonhomme to the crowd. The voice booms through the ice castle, but Peeta finds the whole effect to be a bit strange since the snowman’s mouth can’t move in his plastic face. “Bienvenue! Welcome to my home. Do you want to see my kick?” The giant kicks his leg high into the air.
As the snowman carries on with his antics, someone taps Peeta on the shoulder. He turns to find one of the festival workers grinning broadly at him. “Veux-tu que je prenne un photo de toi et ta blonde avec Bonhomme?”
“Absolument,” Peeta replies. “Merci.” He tugs Katniss’s hand. “They’re going to take our picture with Bonhomme.”
“Peeta, he’s creepy,” she hisses as they approach the front of the line.
He agrees, but can’t resist teasing her. “Who were you expecting, Frosty the Snowman?” When she sputters in outrage, he gives her hand a tight squeeze while handing his phone off to the attendant. When he’s sure no one is listening, he leans over to whispers in her ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the weird cultural icon.”
Just then, Bonhomme steps between them and throws his arms around their shoulders. “So, you want a photo with Bonhomme? Bon! Un joli sourire pour le caméra. Un, deux, trois!”
The flash on Peeta’s phone goes off and they are hustled away to make room for the next group. The attendant meets them with a grin and passes the phone back to Peeta. “Je crois que ta blonde n’est pas une fan de Bonhomme,” he says gleefully.
No, Peeta thinks, gazing down at their latest picture. Katniss, her face twisted into a suspicious grimace, certainly isn’t a Bonhomme fan. “Elle est Américaine,” he confides, causing the Carnaval staffer to burst into laughter. The other man nods knowingly as though Katniss’s nationality explains everything. “Joyeux Carnaval!” he calls out, slapping Peeta on the shoulder before they make their way out of the castle.
Once outside, Peeta realizes the day is slipping away. “How about a hot chocolate?”
Katniss looks at him in relief. “No more weird snowmen?”
“Not today,” he chuckles. “We’ll sip hot chocolate, check out the snow sculptures and then go back to the hotel. Sound good?”
Before long, they have traded two of the tickets in Katniss’s wallet for steaming cups of hot chocolate. Katniss hums happily as she takes her first sip and the warmth Peeta feels around his chest has as much to do with the smile on her face as the chocolate in his belly. Arm in arm, they stroll around the Plaines d’Abraham, admiring the sculptures that are strategically positioned between the other attractions.
“The snow sculpture contest attracts artists from all over the world,” Peeta explains as they gaze at a mythical horse rising out of the snow, it’s mane unfurled around it. “It’s one of the biggest snow sculpture competitions in the world.” Their next stop is a giant lizard, his long tongue stretching across the snow, seemingly ready to lick unsuspecting passersby. A man of snow lies on the ground, fighting off a pack of wolves. Each design is more fanciful than the one before and Peeta and Katniss find themselves weaving elaborate stories about them.
“What do you think about this one?” Peeta asks, as they admire a sculpture of a woman, gowned in an elaborate dress, her hands outstretched in a frozen plea. Her wings tower high above them. “An angel?”
Katniss shakes her head vigorously. “No way. She’s a warrior. Check out the arrows on her back.”
Sure enough, Peeta spots the strap of her quiver carved into her dress and the fletchings peeking out over her shoulder. “I guess she’s an avenging angel, kind of like you.”
Katniss peers at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”
“C’mon Katniss. You know you love the underdog the best. You’re not afraid to fight for what you believe in. You even shoot. And I think she looks a little bit like you.” His companion scoffs. “No, really. Look. Long hair, pointed chin, big eyes that are impossible to resist. She’s stunning. Like you.”
Katniss gazes at him silently over the rim of her cup for a few seconds, then downs the rest of her hot chocolate. “You about finished?”
Peeta nods slowly, swallowing the now-cold dregs of his cocoa and watching her carefully. He’s observed - and catalogued - a wide variety of different Katniss expressions over the past twenty-four hours, but he’s not sure he’s seen this one before. “Sure,” he says. “Shall we head back to the hotel?” He knows she’s cold. He is too, and a little tired.
“How about we get some food?” There’s something about her soft smile that makes Peeta think she’s not talking about maple taffy, or frites from one of the food vendors around Carnaval. “There’s, uhm. There’s a little restaurant at the hotel. I peeked at it this morning,” Katniss says shyly, and Peeta can’t help grinning. They don’t have reservations, but he’s prepared to grovel, or maybe bribe the maitre d’, if it means seeing Katniss’s shy smile again.
They toss their paper cups in a bin, then Katniss’s mittened hand curls around Peeta's again.
The sun sets early in Quebec City in the winter, so when they pass Bonhomme’s house once more, the towering ice castle glows an almost otherworldly blue in the fading light. “It’s beautiful,” Katniss breathes, and as Peeta looks at her lovely face bathed in the ice-diffused spotlights he can’t help but agree.
A comfortable silence stretches between them as they stroll in the twilight, until they’re only about a block away from the hotel. “Hey,” Katniss says, her nose wrinkling in that way that Peeta can’t resist. “How are we here already? Where’s the foo-nic-yoo-lair?”
Peeta laughs, a silver-mist cloud of delight. “We took the scenic route this morning. I figured you’d want to get back to warmth a little faster tonight.” Katniss shrugs, but her hand squeezes his more tightly, he thinks maybe in gratitude.
Once they reach the hotel, Katniss heads directly to their room while Peeta pops into the restaurant to see about a table. It turns out he doesn’t have to beg or even take out his wallet; once he gives his name to the host the man smiles and tells him to come back in an hour. Peeta can’t help marvelling at his luck that Bistro Tournebroche can fit them in, even though it’s Carnaval time and the city is crazy busy.
He bounds up the stairs two at a time, anxious to tell Katniss the good news.
Katniss is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the gas flames in the small fireplace. She’s taken off her winter gear, reddened fingers and stocking-clad feet stretched out towards the warmth. And for a few moments, all Peeta can think is how perfect a picture she makes, how much he would love to see her similarly perched in front of the fireplace in his Toronto condo. But he shakes away the mental image. Too soon, he chides himself.
When Peeta clears his throat, Katniss turns from her contemplation of the blue flames, and lifts an eyebrow. “They can fit us in at six-thirty,” he says. “Just enough time for a hot shower, if you want?” Peeta wouldn’t mind one himself; despite the breathtaking cold, all of the day’s walking has left him sweaty and with an epic case of hat-hair.
“Perfect,” Katniss says, standing gingerly. “Maybe that’ll thaw out my toes.”
They manoeuvre around each other in the small room like two people perfectly in sync, taking turns in the washroom, sharing the lone mirror. When Peeta emerges from the bathroom refreshed and fastening the cuffs of the deep blue button down shirt his father talked him into packing, Katniss is waiting. He freezes, jaw dropping. “What, too casual?” she asks.
“God no,” he breathes. She’s wearing the same slim jeans she wore yesterday, the ones Peeta already knows cling to her curves in the most incredible way, but she’s paired them with a slinky silvery top that hugs her perfect breasts. “Wow,” is all he can manage.
Katniss snorts, and the sound shakes away the fog, forces him to lift his eyes to the cascade of black hair, unbound and framing her face. To her lush lip, trapped between white teeth as gazes at him with trepidation, waiting.
“You are absolutely beautiful,” Peeta says sincerely. Her silver eyes briefly light up in pleasure, but she shrugs off the compliment.
“Right, okay, let’s go before I starve to death.” She tries to push past him, but Peeta reaches for her hand, tucking it firmly into the crook of his elbow.
The restaurant, like the hotel interior, is modern and cozy. They’re seated by one of the large windows, the perfect place to watch the flock of tourists who still stream by, lit by the street lamps. “Bonsoir madame, monsieur,” a young man in a waiter’s uniform greets them. “Puis-je vous apporter quelque chose à boire?” he asks, gesturing to the expansive wine list on the table.
“What do you think,” Peeta asks, skimming the list. “Would you like wine, or there’s a nice selection of local microbrews?”
The waiter, it turns out, speaks English, like many in the tourism industry in Quebec do. When he returns with their drinks - red wine for Katniss, beer for Peeta - he seems quite happy to translate the menu for Katniss and answer her questions. Peeta sips a very pleasant bier de blé while listening to him explain to Katniss the various organic offerings on the menu, the farms they’ve partnered with, the garden and beehives on the hotel’s rooftop. As Peeta watches her animatedly discuss ethical farming, he marvels at how perfect she is for him, how easily her interests align with his own.
And he knows-- she’s it for him. He’s completely head-over-heels in love with her.
It's the best date Peeta's ever been on, and he's not even sure it's a date. He's utterly captivated by the way the candlelight plays in Katniss’s ebony hair, crowning her in fire. He's lost in her silver eyes, imprisoned by her musical laughter. She's the most attractive person he's ever seen, the most appealing, the most dynamic. But beyond that, she's still his KatsEye, his best friend in the world. She still makes him laugh and think; still amazes him, only now the thoughts that enthrall him aren't lines of text in a chat, but actual words murmured in her husky voice, accompanied by a wrinkled nose or a bemused smirk.
They linger over coffee and crème brûlée, never once running out of things to say. Only when Katniss stifles a yawn does Peeta become aware of just how long they've been huddled together in the dim restaurant. “I guess we should call it a night?” Peeta’s reluctance is clear in his voice. But Katniss only nods.
Hand in hand, they ascend the stairs to their room. When they pause at the door, Peeta is struck by how much it feels like walking a girl to her door after a date. Except this isn’t just any girl, this is Katniss Everdeen. And he won’t be leaving her at the door.
He closes the door behind them, then turns to find Katniss stopped just inside, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her steely eyes. “I had a really great time today,” she says, just barely loud enough for him to hear. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” Peeta smiles. He knows this day will live forever in his memory as one of the best of his life. Then Katniss reaches up, fingering the collar of his dress shirt, and he swallows hard. He wants to kiss her so bad, the impulse nearly consumes him, but he reins it in; even as her thumb brushes against his jaw, catches the day’s stubble, making him erupt in goosebumps. His hands find her tiny waist seemingly of their own volition, but even then he holds back. Peeta knows how skittish she is, knows that if he pushes things she’ll run, and he just won’t risk that.
But then Katniss smiles, beautiful and blinding, and before Peeta even realizes it, he’s leaning down. And she’s standing on tiptoe, her fingers winding in the curls at the nape of his neck. Time seems to stop at they stare, unblinking, lips only a breath apart. Fuck it, he thinks. She flew all the way here, she’s already been bold. Now he has to be too. And with that thought, his eyes drift closed and he places a gentle kiss on those lips that are just as soft as he imagined.
He pulls back a little, but she chases him, then they’re kissing like they really mean it, a delicious exploration. Home, Peeta thinks as Katniss nips his bottom lip, then soothes the sting with a swipe of her tongue. He’s home, and he never wants to leave.
Each slide of her lips against his fuels his hunger, each soft sigh a lightning bolt straight to his gut. As many times as he’s fantasized about kissing Katniss, the reality is so much better. Her shuddering breaths against his cheek. The heat of her skin where her top has pulled up just an inch, smooth under his twitching fingers.
They’re both breathing heavily when Katniss pulls back, eyes still closed and licking her lips as if she wants to savour every last taste of him. Peeta drops his forehead to hers, their noses just brushing. “Wow,” she whispers, and he puffs out a soft laugh.
“Wow,” he echoes
→ thg ←
While yesterday there was a sweet awkwardness in climbing into bed with Katniss, today there’s a crackling tension. Yesterday, the tank and tiny shorts she sleeps in were adorable, today they’re excruciating.
Peeta managed, barely, to get himself under control while Katniss was changing in their shared bathroom. But as she clicks off the light and slides under the comforter, her bare legs grazing his flannels, it’s all he can do to keep his dick in check. She’s gorgeous, she’s six inches away, and he now knows what her perfect peach pout tastes like. It’s the most delectable torture. But her post-kiss escape to the bathroom convinced him that they needed to slow down. For now.
He lies on his back, watching bits of light from a crack in the curtains play across the ceiling and listening to Katniss squirm as she tries to get comfortable. The distance between them feels intolerable, he wants to touch her, just to remind himself that she’s here, that she’s real. So he reaches out, tugging her closer. She stiffens, just a bit at first, but then she sighs and rests her head on his chest, right above his heart. And Peeta’s world realigns itself.
“Peeta?” It’s been quiet for so long he thought she was asleep. His fingers still where they’ve been doodling designs on the soft skin of her bare shoulder.
“Mmm?”
"What does tablon mean?”
“Tablon?” He searches for what she could be asking, coming up blank.
“I heard it a lot today. The crazy seal guy said it. The guy with the scary snowman. Even the waiter tonight. And maybe I’m wrong, but I think they were calling me tablon?”
Peeta’s breath catches. She means ta blonde, and yes, those men were definitely referring to her when they said it. “Ah,” he says, uncertain how she’s going to react. “Ta blonde, it, uh. It means ‘your girlfriend’.” He holds his breath, waiting for her to yell, or slap him.
“Oh,” she murmurs. “Ta blonde.” Her lilting accent makes the endearment sound like music. Then she nestles more snugly into his chest and he swears he can feel her smiling.
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2019
... aka the one where my blog is still broken. Don’t fret, not all is lost, but due to technical difficulties I had to re-import my blog content and 70 posts just fail to show any photos. I will eventually fix all of them but have decided to completely revamp my blog at another point, especially since I will be busy writing my Master’s thesis during the coming semester. So until then, we still have Tumblr. Anyway, I decided to continue the yearly tradition of reflecting on the past 12 months and setting new resolutions (how original!).
In my New Year’s post of 2018 I described a challenging year and was firmly set on improving my self-care in 2019, fully committing to mental health recovery. 2019 was the year where I would start DBT, hopefully the turning point in my mental health journey after feeling stuck in a continuous downwards spiral. I went into 2019 feeling hopeful and expecting change. Spoiler alert: I am in a much better place now. However, getting there has been the most difficult challenge I have ever encountered.
When I set off into the New Year feeling positive and hopeful, I did not foresee that a) this would last for about a week and b) that the turning point I needed lay elsewhere. The packed days leading up to Christmas behind me, the events from the last year started to catch up with me. Re-traumatised by experiences in the mental health system I felt more misunderstood and lonely than I had in a long time and it felt like like the carefully assembled house of cards was finally collapsing, destroying whatever it could in its wake. Although DBT was giving me skills I desperately needed, I found myself at a point where I was unable to listen, so caught up in the over-powering emotional intensity that comes with BPD, so caught up in the downward spiral, so caught up in feeling undeserving of help. The nexts months were chaos. Somewhere amidst the storm, I managed to celebrate my friend’s birthday and then my own 23rd, which was the biggest emotional roller-coaster of all. My mum and me went to Sketch and saw Les Mis, the latter meaning a dream coming true. But blowing out my candles at midnight, all I could think of was how on earth I would make it to 24.
It wasn’t DBT that presented the turning point in my life. Neither was reaching rock bottom or my turbulent birthday or seeing crisis services. No, the turning point happened only when I decided on it. The truth is that BPD (and probably most mental illnesses) will always convince you that you aren’t sick enough. That others have it worse. That xy needs to happen before things change. That you haven’t quite reached rock bottom yet. All in all, I was waiting for a turning point that would never come. That could only created by myself, by deciding that enough was enough. By deciding that I deserved better. By committing to recovery despite my emotional/impulsive side definitely not wanting recovery but quite the opposite. And this was when things finally started to shift. No, it hasn’t been easy and I can’t say that there haven’t been any setbacks. But that’s okay because recovery is 5 steps forwards and 3 steps back. I have now been doing DBT for almost a year and the sessions and skills I have learned have been life-changing (along with medication). Although BPD is still my daily companion, we can co-exist now. I am no longer thrown around between my emotions, no longer in so much distress that pain is the only way I know to cope, no longer feeling unworthy in a group of people. BPD is not me, I am so much more. To spread awareness, I continued to be vocal about my struggles on social media and shared my experiences in blog posts that many others related to. And it was the realisation how commonly people with BPD suffered in the MH system, ranging from re-traumatisation to being left acutely unwell with no support, that made me start my own petition - Lives on the (Border)line. (Eternally grateful if you signed it!).
In non-mental health related news, 2019 was the year I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology. Although my graduation day was one of the hottest of the year, I got to celebrate if with my family and best friend, drinking cocktails above the roofs of London - it was wonderful and almost let me forget the stressful months of revision leading up to this moment. But despite the stress, studying Psychology has been of the best decisions of my life, allowing me to grow so much academically and personally. Plus I will miss my class a lot, they taught me what kindness and looking out for each other mean. I have now started my Master’s in Clinical Forensic Psychology which includes a placement in a medium secure unit and so far, I have been enjoying it and can see myself working in that field – or another field of clinical psychology – in the future. I can’t believe that I am about to begin my last semester and that by the end of 2020, I will be looking for my first graduate job. I am proud of myself for coming this far and I am so grateful for the opportunity to help others recover.
2019 came with so much more than mental health recovery and a degree. As so often, it is the small things that made the biggest difference. Study sessions that ended in Thai food and wine on the balcony, picnics in Hyde Park, movies, musicals, birthday celebrations, Christmas carols at the Royal Albert Hall, falafel wraps (if you know you know), amazing books and adopting new plants (that are still somewhat alive). I read more classics than ever, partly due to the fact that I struggled with physical illness this year. Following sinus surgery a couple of weeks ago (this one had been coming for years really), I am no longer feeling ill every day and I am excited to be able to well, breathe. Despite illness, I had an incredible summer during which some of my closest friends and my sister came to stay – think mostly really good vegan food with the occasional play at the Globe Theatre (that makes me sound a lot more fancy than I am) and walks along the river. Last but definitely not least, my brother and me spent a week in Crete – think more excellent vegan food, paired with blue lagoons, beaches and cats. Generally, 2019 was a year of friendship for me, both online and offline and then there are those friendships that start online but turn out to be one of the best offline as well and feel like you have known each other for 8 years rather than 8 months. The kind of friendships that become your rock during difficult times (and make you get doughnut deliveries).
Again, I didn’t do too badly on my new year’s resolutions from 2018. I have said that 2019 would be the year of healing and talking openly about mental health and it has been, although I still have a long way to go. My second resolution last year had been to take care of my body and I have, even though being ill forced me to go at a different pace than thought. Lastly, I have managed to meditate more and at least I got further than ‘Necessito un sombrero’ on Duolingo this year. So far so good. So what about 2020? The new decade? (sorry I had to). This year, I not only want to focus on recovery but also on self-acceptance and improving potentially the most important relationship in my life, the one with myself. I want to slow down, take things ad they come and practice gratitude. At the same time, I will continue to raise awareness for mental illness – and mostly BPD – online and share my petition to hopefully get our voices heard. I do believe that together we can make a difference – even if the process is slow, each step will get us there and break the stigma. As said last year, I want to nourish my body and take care of it and I can’t wait to pick up swimming again (and please make me cook something different than pasta every single day, I need ideas (although pasta is pretty darn amazing)). I am also planning to continue my zero-waste journey and start buying my clothes second-hand, something I have wanted to do for a very long time. Last but not least,I want to improve my Spanish, especially since I am planning to visit one of my closest friends in South America this year and talking about hats won’t really sustain a conversation with her family. But until then: hasta la vista.
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