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pimosworld · 7 months

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Moonshine

TLOU x Triple Frontier crossover AU

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Chapter Summary-Cain makes an appearance while you and Joel reflect on your past and future.

CW-18+, MDNI,NSFW, fluff,angst, mentions of alcohol,mentions of ptsd,brief mention of abuse(not to reader),protective Joel,protective Frankie,talk of death,illusions to smut,comfort.

WK-4.4k

Character link

A/N- Thanks for being patient with me life has been crazy. I love a flashback scene. This chapter sets up the climax for the story as we meet our beloved villain and dive deeper into Joel’s past.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Moonshine chapter V- White lightning

Joel wakes before the both of you, watching you sleep as Frankie has you wrapped up so tight. His face buried in your hair taking you all in even when he’s not conscious.

There’s a faint smile on his lips and Joel wonders what he could be dreaming about. It’s a comforting sight compared to the nightmares that used to plague him.

Something stirs deep within,a feeling he can’t quite put his finger on but he knows he shouldn’t chase it too far down a dark path. You were both here,right in front of him -safe. He had nothing to worry about and yet it felt like if he didn’t do something to protect you it would all come crashing down.

He fights those feelings threatening to eat away at the calm sounds of your sleepy humms and Frankie’s light snores.

It’s too tempting to want to wake both of you, he’s desperate these days now that he’s had you both,the intensity of your love only heightened now by Frankie’s presence. The thin sheet is draped lightly over your soft form, Frankie’s arm covering the parts of you that are exposed.

He mouths at your shoulder planting light kisses along your arm, his hands wander beneath the sheet caressing your soft stomach. Your body chases his even in sleep as you roll your hips back into his. You whimper at the feel of his hardened length pressing into the swell of your ass.

It would be so easy to slip in, you’re always so wet and ready for him first thing in the morning. You never resisted him, it was a craving to watch you wake up to the feel of him buried deep inside you, your soft moans and whimpers of his name as your first waking thought is you coming hard on his cock as he whispers sweet good mornings in your ear.

The image is so clear in his mind he almost doesn’t feel Frankies large calloused hand brush against him. Frankie grips your ass in his sleep pulling you towards him as he mumbles something incoherent. The man is greedy. He can’t blame him though.

He lets out a tuft of air as he stares up to the ceiling. It’s all so funny now knowing how worried you were just a few weeks ago about your advances not being reciprocated,and yet here he finds himself fighting with a sleeping giant for another moment with you. You did manage to get your hooks in him after all.

Like most mornings now, he can’t seem to leave the comfort of you in this bed so he slinks down further into the covers and further into the depths of whatever this is forming between the three of you.

****

You’ll never get used to the feeling of waking up with two large bodies caging you in. Frankie nestled in the crook of your neck with his arm draped across you instinctively pulling Joel flush against your back.

Joel’s head resting on the pillow above you as his left hand rests comfortably in the valley of your breast. You stir a little and you can hear Joel’s grunts of protest at breaking the morning haze. Although it does seem like Joel sleeps in later and later these days.

Instinctively you can tell when he’s actually awake, his hands dig in deeper as his chest rises and fall a little faster than before. That feeling of being watched by him is something you’ve grown to now very well. He often tried not to take his eyes off you for too long when you were near, as if he thought you might evaporate into thin air.

You can hear his thoughts churning behind you as you try to play sleep, just to hold onto this moment a little longer. He tries to quietly clear the sleep from his throat, no longer able to keep his racing thoughts at bay.

“Cains been making his way towards us.” He speaks into your hair slightly muffled.

You don’t say anything but you know what that means. He always gets nervous and possessive at any mention of him. A knot forming in your chest because you know trouble always followed that man.

You rub his arm as he plants a soft kiss to your shoulder before sliding out of bed. You miss his warm presence behind you as Frankie unconsciously pulls you further into him.

“Who’s Cain?” His sleepy voice registers barely above a whisper. He stirs slightly as you trace lines down his back leaving goosebumps in your wake.

“Go back to sleep Frankie.” He begins muttering something about you ‘humming in your sleep’ and then you can hear his soft snores and the steady rise and fall of his chest as sleep begins to claim him again.

Your mind drifting to thoughts of your first meeting with the man they call Cain.

****

It was a crisp autumn day, the weeks you’ve spent getting to know Joel and Charity working at the bar had been some of the happiest days in recent memory. She was so thrilled to teach you and also have someone to confide in for the first time in a very long time.

She reminded you so much of your sister it pained you to think about. Joel did his best trying to find out what happened to her when you got separated even though you both knew. You sensed there was some other form of determination behind helping you but you didn’t want to pry.

The grief bonded you to him while he mourned the loss of Tommy, even though you never met him you knew what an impact he must have had on Joel. He often referred to him as the level headed one, that peeked your interest because Joel was nothing(to you) if not level headed.

That day at the bar had started off like any other. It was getting busier since word got out that you could make a ‘pretty decent drink’ in Joel’s words. A few familiar faces had made their way in and a few unfamiliar ones. Joel trusted the two of you to run things when he had business to tend to around town.

Charity has been keeping busy, you could sense her nervous energy as she stole glances at a man sitting at the end of the bar. He was handsome and older. Not much older than Joel. He was polite and seemed to enjoy your drinks, seeing as this was his second round.

“Sweetheart I’ll have another.” He gestures to you with a wave of his fingers and a devilish grin on his face.

This man definitely knew what he was doing, you wondered what brought him in here or why he was constantly glancing around almost studying the place. He ordered a whiskey neat and insisted on the good stuff, you raised your brows at him but he silenced you with a simple look of ‘Im good for it’.

As you slid the drink to him he caught your hand in his, he rubs his calloused thumb across your fingers before placing a kiss to them. Bold moves from a stranger but there’s something about him that doesn’t have you shy away. From across the room Charity is frozen to the spot,seemingly forgetting whatever task she wanted to accomplish and you’re none the wiser as this handsome gentleman has some magic hold on you.

“You’re new here.” He states matter of fact as though he’s got you all figured out from one glance.

“Yes, I’ve been here a few weeks.” You hate how shy you suddenly sound under this spell he’s got you in.

“Names Cain, it’s a pleasure to meet you?” You give him your name and he repeats it back to you in his low sultry tone. “Pretty name for a pretty face.”

You try to disguise the smile as you duck your head in embarrassment. Joel had noticed your discomfort at flattery and had since made it his mission to tell you how beautiful you were everyday. It wasn’t something you often came across as you fought for your life on a day to day basis for so long. Men mostly assumed they could take what they wanted and there certainly were no compliments involved if you ever found yourself in that situation.

“Well I’ll be damned, the lady has a beautiful smile as well.” There was no hiding the flustered state he had you in at his forwardness and it was safe to assume you were in way over your head with him.

“Speaking of new, I can’t say I’ve seen you in here before.” You took a step back from the bar hoping to break yourself free from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He scrubs his stubble on his jaw as he chuckles under his breath. “Sweetheart this isn’t my first time here.” The front door swings open and your heart skips a beat. Joel’s broad frame casting a shadow on the floor as he blocks the remaining evening sun. You meet his eyes with a soft smile but he’s staring daggers at the charming,handsome man that has captivated your time for who knows how long. The other patrons long forgotten as he so easily sucked you into his web.

Joel stalks over to the bar with determination, his eyes nearly black with rage as he pulls up a seat next to Cain. You glance around the bar unsure of when Charity disappeared but you’re suddenly feeling like you’ve made some grave mistake in even entertaining this man.

“What the fuck are you doin’ in my bar?”

“It’s nice to see you too Joel.” Cain sloshes around the remaining amber liquid in his glass before taking it all down. “This drink is pretty nice too.”

“I asked you a question.” He smirks at Joel no doubt taking every opportunity to get under his skin and it’s definitely working.

“It seems you steal all the pretty girls to work at your bar.” As Joel leans in closer to him all you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears. A few people sensing the tension have left their ration cards on the bar. You want to move your feet and get as far away from this conversation as you can but you’re planted to the spot.

“What do you want Cain!” Joel’s booming voice echoed through the now empty bar as both men stand face to face.

“Just wanted to check up on my old business partner,but I can see you’re still bent out of shape about Tommy so I better go.” A mixture of pain and anger washes over Joel’s face as Cain brushes past him to exit.

“Thanks for the drink sweetheart,come visit my bar when you get sick of this old man.” The sinister look he gives him sends chills down your spine as he swings open the heavy wooden door stepping out into the night light.

Joel rounds the bar quickly pulling you into his broad frame, his grip is almost painful as he tries to calm his breathing. You know whatever he’s going through words won’t fix but you tell him it’s okay anyways as you rub your hands along his back steadily trying to ground him. He’s like a wounded animal the way he looks at you with red tear stained eyes. You don’t know what Cain did to him but it’s a look you never want to see on Joel’s face again.

“Did he touch you? Or say anything to you?” He’s looking you over as you bite your bottom lip wondering how much you should tell him. Yes this strange man was flirting with me and I wasn’t doing much to stop him, that response probably wouldn’t go over well and it seems he’s frustrated with how long it’s taking you to respond.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“He asked me for my name and he kissed my hand, he didn’t tell me anything else I swear.” You’re trembling now, unable to look into his eyes,afraid to see any disappointment in them.

“She’s telling the truth Joel.” Charity appears behind him, her face stained with fresh tears as she looks up at him like she’s done something wrong. “I’m sorry I left her alone I just couldn’t…”

“Don’t apologize, hon' it’s alright.” Joel has softened slightly at the site of her in distress. You shouldn’t be annoyed with the situation but so much has gone unsaid and you’re feeling so left out. Joel turns to you then finally calmed down and worry written all over his face because of course you have no idea what’s going on.

“Shine…he can’t be trusted, I can’t tell you everything now but just promise me you’ll never get close to him. If you see him out there or in here just know he’s evil and so are his intentions.”

All you can manage is a nod as grabs Charity's hand and pulls you both into his arms.

“You’re mine okay…and I won’t let anything happen to you…I can’t let anything happen to anyone else.”

*****

It started out like such a beautiful day, the sky was clear and the weather uncharacteristically warm. These days always make you nervous, much like the day of the outbreak. That was a beautiful day too. Beneath this idyllic facade a storm was brewing. You could feel it in your bones from the moment Joel mentioned his name.

You did your best to smile through it as you worked but Frankie knew something was off. It’s almost as if everyone was on edge. The bar felt heavy with invisible ominous clouds as you all mostly worked without speaking to each other.

Joel never left his office.

The peaceful morning was crushed by his thoughts.It was one of those moments where fear worked its way into your bones until it was all you could think about.Frankie could see the tension in your body, an all too familiar feeling for him and the others.

Some part of him still hadn’t made that last step, to put the final piece of his new life together. All he had to do was say those words, but until he did it seemed he didn’t feel worthy enough to comfort you in public. He wanted to let everyone know that you and Joel were his but something kept holding him back. He wants to shut off that nagging part of his brain that tells him he doesn’t deserve love. Maybe he should start taking his own advice and believe things that he tells Joel late at night when the lights are out and the only thing shining through is the moon.

Winding down for the night usually brought some form of excitement for him because he knew he was that much closer to being ‘home’. Tonight most certainly felt different.

With the last patron long gone he can see you and Charity leaning into the bar having a hushed conversation. You chance a glance back at him as your smile barely reaches your eyes.

The door opens wide bringing the moonlight in and a man in a crisp black suit enters.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Sir we’re closed for the night.” Benny politely offers as the man walks past him without a second glance.

“You should turn off the open sign.” Benny looks at you apologetically thinking he’s just let a regular customer in but your eyes tell a different story.

Frankie can feel the shift in the room, your conversation with Charity long forgotten as you’ve both stopped talking to stare at this man. He flashes Frankie a wide tooth smile that has his stomach churning.

He sits on the stool next to Charity and pulls her seat closer, the noise dragging along the floor sending chills down your spine. She doesn’t move, only looks to you momentarily, a sudden desperation in her eyes.

“I’ll have a-“

“I’m not serving drinks.” You cut him off as you lean back crossing your arms. A version of you long ago would’ve backed down to the man but he didn’t scare you anymore.

“A bar that doesn’t serve drinks.” The sarcasm drips from his voice as he turns around to survey the room.

“What do you want, Cain?” Your tone is stern and unwavering as you toss the bar towel you were using into the sink.

Frankie stiffens at the name, his hair on the back of his neck stands up as he notices Santi making his way over the bar, like a lion eyeing his prey. Santi and Will were all too familiar with the man in question having heard much from Joel.

“You know I always have to pay you a visit when you cause a commotion.”

“What commotion?”

“Joel's lackeys arrived in town and it’s got people buzzing!” Gesturing around the room all the men freeze in their movements.

(His)men were lackeys…these men were elite trained special ops soldiers. But he didn’t need to know any of that. Based on his comment he obviously knew nothing. You know he’s just sniffing you out trying to get information.

He licks his lips as he turns his body to Charity and brushes her hair behind her ears. “You can always come back and work for me sweetheart, I’m sure you’ve missed me.”

“Kindly fuck off Cain.” She swats his hand away and stands from her seat.

“Oohhh just as spicy as the day we met.”

Santi’s chomping at the bit but Frankie shoots him a look to back off. You’re not sure when Benny moved from the door to the opposite side of the bar but Will is slowly making his way over to potentially diffuse any situation or maybe something worse.

Cain leans against the bar with a sickening sweet smile as he props his head on his hands.

“The offer still stands for you too sweetheart.”

You don’t have to look to know Frankie’s inched closer to you, his presence is looming as he waits for him to make one wrong move.

“No thanks Cain, I'm very happy here.” His maniacal laugh sends chills down your spine.

“How would you know you’re happy unless you give some other lap a try.”

It all happens in a flash as Benny lunges for him his brother grabs at the back of his shirt, Charity manages to block Santiago but Frankie already has him face down on the bar with his hand pressed to the back of his neck.

A loud whistle from the hallway door has everyone freeze in their movements. Joel stalks toward the bar, the only sound over your beating heart is the lumbering stomp of his boots as he comes up behind him.

Frankie hasn’t let off his neck but the rest of the men have all backed off. Charities trying to get Santi to look in her eyes but he’s laser focused on the scene unfolding. Cain's evil laughter is only spurring him on as he’s still pinned to the bar.

“Frankie.” Joel’s voice is soft for his lover trying to coax him to let Cain go. His eyes are black with rage and he’s way past talking. The boys know all too well when they get like this it’s hard to snap out of it.

“Francisco.” His voice is deeper now as he places a hand on his wrist gently prying it off him.

Frankie backs away suddenly as though he’s been stung, his chest is heaving and you step in front of him rubbing your hands along his arms trying desperately to ground him.

He finally looks at you and the pain is evident in his deep brown eyes. You lean up and kiss him on the cheek to silently convey that you’re okay.

Cain straightens up and pulls roughly on his suit as he comes face to face with Joel. It seemed he had a permanent snicker on his face and it took everything for Joel not to slit his throat right now and have them help him hide the body.

He didn’t want blood shed in his bar and he definitely didn’t want people asking questions.

“So it looks like you finally learned how to share.” He tilts his chin toward you and Frankie embracing and you know if it weren’t for your deathly grip on him he would lunge for him again.

“Unless you have business with me personally, we’re closed for the night.”

“Remember we don’t do business personally anymore. I just wanted to stop by.” He holds his hand out for Joel to shake but he just crosses his arms across his broad chest.

“Sorry to hear your last run didn’t go so well.”

“Don’t know where you heard that.” Joel grits out through clenched teeth.

“Pretending to be mother Theresa won’t erase all the shit you’ve done.” He laughs and pats the bar top as he slowly walks backwards. “See you soon Moonshine.” Your blood runs cold as he winks at you before exiting the bar.

Joel looks at you with that same look in his eyes he had all those years ago when you first met Cain, but now there’s another set of eyes on you with that same look.

****

There were no more words said amongst you all as you finished up for the night. Just Joel’s hurried ‘be ready to leave in 5’ as he bounded back to his office and slammed the door shut.

You walk home in silence…even though you walk ahead, both men are on your heels. The sight of them hand in hand loosens something deep in your chest. Neither of them have to feel alone about their past and how they may have handled things. They both told you on separate occasions how they don’t like letting their temper get the best of them. Their similarities were so eerie sometimes.

The hurried atmosphere of your walk only stirs them on when you finally enter your home. You can feel the humid air in the room as you look at both men. A possessiveness in their eyes that should have you running in the other direction.

You know they need to forget,even momentarily about what happened tonight. The urgency to undress you,to claim you as you barely make it to the bedroom.

It’s euphoric the way they make you feel, you don’t have to open your eyes anymore to know who’s touching you where or who’s biting and gripping you so tight they’ll leave bruises.

They do make you open your eyes though because they ‘want to see your pretty face when you come.’ They got off on it,needing it for their own release. You’ve lost count on how many times they’ve brought you to the edge and tipped you over.

You’re mine is growled in your ear as you’re filled from both ends. It’s space you’re suspended in as you wrap your arms around and cling to whoever is shushing you telling you it’s okay. You’re ours

****

It’s quiet now

Their minds are finally at rest as they watch you sleep. Frankie doesn’t know how long they’ve been laying here in silence but sooner or later one of them has to break it.

“I’m sorry about losing my temper.”

“Don’t...don't ever apologize for protectin’ her.” He doesn’t mean it to come out as harsh as it does.

They both look down at you to make sure you’re still asleep. You burrow into the pillow as you humm softly. You’re so angelic at peace and they wonder what they did in all their fucked up lives to deserve someone like you.

Joel kisses him slow and deliberate, his passion always caught Frankie off guard. How this rugged man could make him feel so many things with just a kiss.

He pulls away momentarily, the words he’s wanted to ask all night lingering in the air. “Tell me about Cain...please.” Joel shuts his eyes as he lets out a puff of air onto his lips.

It’s brief and also painstakingly slow at the same time as he waits for him to respond. Joel leans back against the headboard with his eyes still shut. It might be easier to tell it this way, or maybe he can better see what went wrong as he replays it in his head.

“We used to be partners…when I came here with Tommy I didn’t know shit. Cain took us under his wing so to speak. We did some horrible things to get to the top.”

Frankie knows how that feels, to do and see the most unspeakable things in the name of survival. It only starts to eat away at you when you’re no longer doing it to survive.

“I knew he was with Charity, but when I saw the bruises…” He stops for a moment to collect his thoughts. “She just reminded me so much of Sarah it sort of made me snap.”

Frankie listens as he tells him how they were going to run both bars together, each on the opposite side of town. If they pooled their resources it would only seek to benefit them all.Cain got greedy and Joel wanted out of the business of hurting people.

He offered Charity an out and she accepted but he couldn’t tell Tommy what to do.

Tommy died on a run with Cain after they decided to part ways. He still doesn’t know all the details about how the clickers managed to get to him only.

“I know he killed my brother. I just can’t prove it.” The moonlight illuminates the glossy look in his eyes with so many words unspoken. “I heard he’s running out of resources so I knew it was only a matter of time before he came lurking.”

Here it is again the comfortable silence he often finds himself in nowadays. He doesn’t know what to say.

Frankie hates the word sorry. Hearing I’m sorry doesn’t heal the wounds...There’s other ways to convey how he feels.

He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in capturing his lips. Any dark thoughts brought to the surface are pushed to the back as Frankie conveys with his actions everything he can’t say out loud.

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asterrrific · 9 months

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Sunsets and Class Rings

-Mingyu x Reader

-fluff fluff fluff (and some angst?)

-warnings up for some profanity

Scenario: Y/N just "graduated" from her short term for the last academic year in the university when she went to her daily routine of going to the beach at sunset to read her book. Studying to become a teacher is hard, but for her love of literature, she applied for a short term to pick up a few electives.

Mingyu on the other hand, like y/n, is finally on his last year in the academy as a Maritime student. In a few days, he'll be boarding a ship to fulfill his duties as a cadet before graduation. He came home before leaving the ground and living on the ocean aboard a boat for a year, when he saw y/n again for the 10th time this week.

This time, he had to courage do what he should have done years ago.

Y/N's pov

It's been years since the last time I saw Mingyu. We were in our senior year then... a few weeks after graduation. We stayed at school during summer, finilazing our thesis as a class, then after that, we went our separate ways for College.

Mingyu and I aren't THAT close during senior year, but we were friendly. We knew each other since 6th grade, since we both joined radio broadcasting contests back then. I was a scriptwriter and reporter while he was a DJ.

Funny because I used to have a crush on him during those days too. Then when we met again during highschool as classmates, I thought I saw a spark between us... a "could have been something." But I guess it was just me.

Could you blame me though? He gave me chocolates and a blue teddy bear for Valentine's. OUT OF NOWHERE.

He even gave me a golden retriever pup for my 18th. "My noona was friends with your hyung back in highschool and they told me to give you one of Lana's pups for your birthday." he explained. But when I went to thank his sister, she said she and my older brother had nothing to do with it and it was all Mingyu's decision.

But WE never happened.

I mustered the courage to ask him about us... about what exactly did WE have... but he said we were just friends. I would be lying if I say it didn't hurt... it did. Because I hoped for something...

Though amidst that, I'm grateful that even if we didn't end up the way I wanted to, we still ended up being good friends. At least we still had each other in our lives.

It's been so long, but sometimes, I find myself relapsing everytime his dad and sister posts pictures of them. He wasn't loud on social media, but his family sure is. That's how I still felt connected to his life somehow even if we barely talk on the phone.

That's why I was shocked shitless when he tapped me on the shoulder, called me by my surname like he used to, and gave me a hug while I was reading by the beach a few minutes ago.

"What the- Gyu? Mingyu!" I exclaimed in realization as I tried to give him a fistbump like old times. He quickly grabbed my hand though, spinned me towards him, and draped an arm around me. Only after that, he whispered.

"Hey love, long time no see, but right now, I need you to stay calm, alright? I'm gonna be stirring you away from your reading spot. From here on out, just follow me and try to act natural."

Now I'm SCARED shitless.

But I just did what I'm told, though my conscience was screaming at me at the realization that this man just called me LOVE.

"I told you I could've just picked you up. You didn't have to take a taxi here, love." He said, obnoxiously loud, for whatever reason, I could only wonder.

"I didn't wanna bother you. You said you were busy with some stuff. Besides, I'm perfectly fine being here first." I smiled at him while the braincells in my skull wrecked havoc in my overthinking mind.

He grinned at me, his eyes and nose crinkling together as he nuzzled my hair. I flinched, though praying he wouldn't notice for whatever stage he's trying to play right now.

"Hmm. No you're not," he whispered while still awfully, physically close to me that my heart hammered on my chest. "There are a bunch of guys a few meters behind you and they're DEFINITELY interested."

I leaned away from him as I looked him in the eyes. I was about to turn to the direction he mentioned but he pulled me to the sand, pretending to help gather my chair and other stuff.

"Y/N, I'm a guy, and I know what guys look like when they're interested at someone. And those guys look like trouble. They're drunk." he explained as he finished gathering all my stuff in his arms, leaving me with just my book.

"Let's go?" he asked cheerily, shifting my load to one arm and offering me his other arm to hold on to.

I linked my arm with his and dared to look behind me. Sure enough, the guys behind me were throwing daggers at Mingyu's back. He whipped around and grinned slyly at them, pulling me even closer to him.

It's been 3 years since we graduated highschool. We're seniors in our own colleges now, and somehow, dead butterflies started to flutter inside my ribcage again as I let myself be pulled away by Kim Mingyu.

---

Mingyu's pov

I was a nutless jerk for telling her we were just friends all those years ago, even if I know within my heart that I wanted to be more than that with her, even to this day.

My heart and mind has been restless ever since we all parted ways. But when I saw her at the beach today, like the past few days, it was like my whole being came back to life.

Her hair flowed with the wind, though it's shorter now than the last time I saw her. Her skin glowed golden as the setting sun kissed her.

Damn, I still like her lots.

Maybe that's why when I noticed the bunch of guys having drinks just a few meters behind her, my protective instinct kicked in.

I mustered all my courage and recalled all the extra self defense training I learned at the academy as I tried to confidently stroll towards her like I do it everyday.

I swear, she almost hit me with her damn book when I hugged her from behind. If she ever landed it on me, I wouldn't regret it.

She beamed in recognition when we locked eyes after that, and I soared up to cloud 9 when I heard her say the nickname she called me with.

"Gyu!" she screamed. Her voice harmonizing with the element that I'll soon be calling home.

I explained the situation to her and was currently looking for a new spot to take her to as a comfortable silence sat between us.

It's a relief that I decided to go out today before I get on the ship for my internship before graduation. If I didn't, I wouldn't have seen her again.

My senses triggered again when I recalled what the guys behind her looked like. Hungry dogs ready to pounce, just looking for a chance.

I remembered back in highschool when she was stuck with something similar. We were on a bus on the way home from school, when I noticed the guys behind her were taking pictures of her and whispering nasty shit about making a move.

When a passenger got down, I called her over to sit next to me. She was shaking so bad from the experience and fear that I let myself hold her. I even let myself pass my house so I could see her go home safe that day, then I waited for the next bus to go back the other way to go home.

That was the day I knew I was really inlove, but didn't want to admit it.

"Gyu, here looks nice." she suddenly says, pulling me from my thoughts. We reached a place on the beach where there's more people on either side, but at least this one's a safer crowd.

I helped her set up her picnic mat and chair, then stood awkwardly beside her after.

"Well sit down on the mat, you silly goose." She chuckeled. I gladly obliged.

"Thanks for saving my butt there." she started after a few moments of silence. Her book was back in her bag, and I realized she didn't want to read for a while anymore, but to talk.

I followed her gaze towards the open water. Hearing the waves made me feel calm and excited but now, also nervous.

Maybe I shouldn't have met y/n today. She could be the reason why I won't be able to board the ship in three days time.

"Nah, it's nothing. I gotchu always." I teased. She nudged me.

"It's been so long. How are you? Are you about to board soon?" She sighs as she curiously looked at me.

Of course, she'll ask that question.

"In three days. I came home last week to process a few documents and my passport. I'm going back to the city the day after tomorrow." I explain, letting my eyes wander towards the waves again.

My heart ached. It was like I'm anchored to her again but I couldn't bring myself to admit it out loud.

What if I tell her about my feelings now? Would it be too sudden? I don't want anything holding me back from my internship, especially if it's y/n... I wouldn't be able to handle it.

But would I be able to handle a confrontation if I confess out of the blue? After years of not seeing each other?

"Wow. Then, I'm glad you're still able to go out to distress." She smiled. Her smile warmed me more than the setting sun did, and still, I involuntarily shivered. I hope she didn't notice.

"Well... I've been coming here these past days every sunset..." I admitted.

"...and everyday, I lingered just a few steps behind you, afraid I'll scare you away." I wanted to admit.

It's true. I've been visiting the beach everyday since I got home. And I continued to ever since I saw her here with her book every sunset.

She chuckled and the sound tickled my heart like tiny bells.

"Dummy. You'll be seeing beautiful sunsets once you board that ship. Will you be doing domestic or international?"

"Sunsets on the ship won't matter as much because I won't be seeing you with it." I wondered to myself as I looked at her.

"International." I simply answered.

"Wow, look at you big shot. Bring me souvenirs?" She requested like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like we've been doing it forever.

Since meeting her again last week, though it was from afar, even if she didn't ask me today, I would've still sent her the postcards she loved to collect, and little trinkets and magnets for the desk she loved to decorate.

"Sure baby." I answered. Like it was the most normal thing for me to say.

She went silent after that, but there's no mistaking that angry blush on her cheeks so I grabbed that chance to tease her.

"Look at you, blushing like a cherry. Do you have a crush on me?" I bravely teased.

In my head, I wanted to punch myself. Even if it was years ago, she probably still held grudges when we confronted about what WE had...

She swatted at my hands as I tried to tickle her but I was no match for her.

Until her chair collapsed and she fell on top of me, wrestling me on the mat and rolling us into the sand.

Now I was no match for HER. I'm suddenly a gradeschool kid with a crush.

"Shit- I'm sorry. You okay?" I laughed as she did too. I was relieved when she found the situation funny.

Maybe I shouldn't have just brought the topic up.

"What if I tell you that I still like you though?" she suddenly said, still laughing.

The laughter died nervously on my throat.

"What...?"

She crawled on to my other side, away from my grasp, and she sat down on the sand, facing the waves.

"I'm afraid I never "unliked" you, Kim Mingyu." she admitted. Her voice suddenly blue.

I faced her then, even though her gaze wasn't on me.

"I-"

"Nah, it's fine. I'm glad we're still buddies after all this time though." she smiled, bravely facing me as she gave me a friendly punch to the shoulder.

I held her hand there.

"What if I tell you that I want to be more than just buddies?" I finally said.

I FINALLY said.

This time, it was her turn to be silent.

I pulled her hand toward me and gently caressed lazy circles at the back of her palm.

"Y/n, I don't have any valid excuse towards being a jerk all those years ago. But I liked you. I guess, I just didn't have it in me to say it out loud." I finally admitted.

"Please don't do this, Mingyu. Not when you're boarding soon." she said. Her voice scared.

"Oh, baby, no. I'm not saying this to play with you. I'm saying this to get it off my chest and so you'd have peace of mind." I tried.

"But Gyu, how would I have peace of mind now, knowing that it wasn't one sided? Knowing that after whatever this conversation right now is, you'll be boarding soon, and I wouldn't see you again for a year or two." she sputtered, tears threatening to fall from her hazel eyes.

God, I didn't want those tears to fall.

I wasn't able to answer her immediately and she had another question to challenge me.

"Mingyu, after all these years... do you happen to still like me then?" she bravely asked. Her voice almost a whisper among the sea breeze and crawling waves.

"Yes." I answered. How idiot of me to admit it just like that when she deserved something more grand.

Someone like her deserved something more than just an explanation and a lousy yes from a scaredy-cat like me.

She pulled her hand from me and angrily wiped the tears that finally fell from her eyes. I gently stopped her and dared to caress her cheek, chasing her tears myself.

"I'm sorry y/n..."

"Don't be." she said. It scared me because I didn't know how she meant it.

I held her like a fragile pearl. I didn't want to let her go.

"You don't have to be sorry, Gyu." she said after a few beats. Her hand finding its place on top of the one I have left cupping her cheek.

She felt my class ring on that hand. I never took it off after our ceremony.

"You don't have to be sorry. I won't force you into something you don't feel like doing."

"Oh please, y/n, don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're not someone worth taking risks for." I firmly told her.

Gently, I forced myself to remove my hand on her cheek.

I removed my class ring.

The supposed symbol of loyalty to my fellow cadets, the academy, and the seven seas that I'll soon be able to see.

I played with it on my hands, tossing it and catching it.

"Y/n... we don't have to rush it. Will you give me a chance to set things right? As they should have been, three years ago?"

She looked at the ring in my palm, then at the sea.

"What are you doing, Mingyu?" she seriously asked, a hint of nervousness tinted her voice.

"Taking a fucking risk for someone who deserves the world and a man who's not a nutless jerk." I teased though my voice was hopeful.

She locked gazes with me, and after a solid minute, she gave me a tiny nod.

I felt a fire start in my chest.

"Y/n?"

"Will you let me wait for you?" she finally asked.

"Damn it y/n, someone like you doesn't deserve to wait." I nervously laughed.

She chuckled. "Well, you big dummy, apparently, our situation will require us to wait."

"Well... will you wait for me then?" I asked her, my voice obviously hopeful but I couldn't care anymore.

"I hoped for this to happen all those years ago, Gyu. And deep down, I still think of what could have happened if what I hoped for came true."

I held her hands, the ring sandwiched between our palms.

"Will you let me make it happen?" I asked.

"So suddenly?" she laughed.

I know it was stupid and true, but I nodded.

She looked down at our hands and grabbed the ring, sliding it back to where it's supposed to belong on my hand.

"Go out and explore the world, cadet. And come back to me." she finally said.

I feel like I fucking won a cruise of a lifetime.

I grinned like an idiot and removed my class ring. Then, I hastily removed the seaglass necklace I had on.

I slipped the ring on to the necklace, then showed it to her.

She smiled as if she knew what I was about to do even before I was deciding to do it.

I knelt on the sand and went behind her to secure the necklace on to her neck. I couldn't help but kiss the top of her head when she finally let down her hair after I've locked the necklace.

I sat back on the sand, facing her, as she admired the blue seaglass and the silver class ring on her neck.

Again, tears started falling from her eyes.

"Oh come on, y/n!" I teased as I pulled her towards me. She let me hug her to my chest as I rubbed her back when she finally sobbed into my shirt.

"It's so unfair though. All of this happens but we won't be seeing each other again for a year." she cries.

"I know, love. I'm sorry." I whispered in her hair.

"Again with the sorry, Gyu." she managed to laugh amidst her sniffles.

"I'm sorry I was scared. I'm sorry I was late." I whispered still, shutting my eyes as tears started to form on the corners of my own as I remembered how I regretted not doing this sooner when we could have had more time.

She must have sensed it, because tear stained as she is, she leaned away and cupped my face on her slender hands, and bravely faced me with determination all over her face.

"Don't be sorry. I already swore I'd wait for you." She said firmly. I took the necklace on my hands and caressed my class ring dangling from it, thinking about the cost of buying another one to replace it since we're not supposed to really remove it, especially since we're boarding soon.

"I'll wait for you like you waited for the time that you decided you're not scared anymore." She teased and I laughed, stray tears leaving my eyes.

Gently she wiped them away, then brought her forehead on top of mine, her nose grazing the tip of my own.

"God, I waited to be this close to you." she whispered with her eyes closed.

I closed my eyes and dared to kiss her nose.

She giggled and I took it as a good thing. My heart soared.

"I'll send you postcards at every dock we hop on." I promised her and she continued to giggle. I kissed her forehead.

"And I'll send you seven rings from the seven seas until I could finally ask you to be my girlfriend." I swore. I kissed her cheek.

"And after that, I'll come back to you. And after that, I'll court the rest of your family. Then I'll let another few years pass on another fucking ship then I'll come back and marry you here." I swore boldly, kissing her other cheek.

She slapped my chest playfully.

"Now, now, sailor. Don't get ahead of yourself." she laughed.

"Someone once told me that if you say your wishes to the sea, the waves will carry it out for you until they happen." I softly told her, as I guided her back to my chest.

"I wonder who that someone is. They sound wise." she teased, knowing it was her who said it when we were in highschool and she bought me the same seaglass necklace I had on and gave her with my ring. She got it for me during our class trip to Jeju.

"Oh, I trust that someone. I trust that her words ring true." I boasted, resting my head on hers.

She then looked up at me and smiled, and I felt like swimming into the ocean and challenging our class ship to a fucking race.

I leaned in to kiss her forehead again as if I've been doing it for years, even if I was only able to find the guts to do it a few minutes ago.

I'm glad she's letting me.

I lingered there for a bit, then rested my cheek on top of her head. I faced the sea with her, the waves calling me out of my daydream as I realized that I have to leave her after tomorrow.

I closee my eyes and forced myself to bask into this moment and memorize every second of it so I can survive at sea with memories of her.

Slowly, I felt her shift, and dumbly, I looked at her as I realized that she's taken a brave step by kissing me on the jaw.

I stared even more dumbly at her when she giggled.

"A good luck charm for the cadet. Since I can't kiss you here yet." she teased, as she tapped my lips with her finger.

God, she's a tease.

"I'll have to tattoo that on my jaw then, sweetheart." I teased her back, as she had the audacity to guffaw at my face.

With courage I never knew I had in me, I gently placed my thumb on her lips.

Then I kissed her there.

"A promise for my return. Since I can't kiss you here yet." I teased her back, as I gently swiped my thumb over her soft lips, her face cherry red from shock of what I just did.

"HOW DARE YOU." she exclaimed, swatting at my chest. This time, I guffawed in front of HER face.

Eventually, she got tired of hitting me. Eventually, she melted back into my arms and into my chest. Her body fitting comfortably snug against mine.

And then, silence enveloped us again as we watched the last of the sun sink into the horizon, knowing that tomorrow is our last day in another long while, but at the same time, a new chapter for the both of us to look forward to.

---------------------------------------------------------

A/N

Hi hiii!

Been a while since the last time I made a one-shot🥹 I was inspired by my visit to the beach today, and I saw a lot of groups enjoying the sea. Then Mingyu went live tonight too, so I thought of making him the character here.

I know it's pretty long, but if you reached this point, then thanks for staying by to finish it😭🩷🙏🏻 I enjoyed writing this so much, I hope you enjoyed reading it too!

As usual, thanks for your support!🙌🏻

Also, if you want to and if you can, please reblog this so other readers can also see my works🥹🙏🏻🩵

Thanks again, and Happy 3000 days, SEVENTEEN!

Lablab~

#svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen #svt au #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt fluff #svt oneshot #mingyu fluff #mingyu au #mingyu x y/n #mingyu oneshot #mingyu fanfic #mingyu imagines #mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu

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blu-joons · 2 years

Text

When The Boys Find You Both Cuddled Up Asleep Together ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

The sudden sound of his bedroom door opening had Jin’s eyes looking up, shooting a glare at Hobi as he burst into the room. Jin quickly buried you into his chest just as Jungkook appeared behind Hobi’s shoulder.

“We’re waiting for you,” Jungkook yelled at him, only to be shushed quickly by the both of them whilst pointing at you.

Jin’s head shook as a mumbled apology came from Jungkook, “have you never heard of knocking?”

Jungkook brought his hand over his mouth, stepping back so that Hobi could take the wrap for suddenly entering the room. “Sorry, but we were wondering if you wanted to come and play the game with us.”

“We were sleeping here.”

“I know, sorry,” Hobi noted as Jin continued to make him feel bad for barging in. “Seeing as you’re awake now though, are you guys coming to play? Or shall we just play as the six of us for the time being?”

“You can see that Y/N is asleep, can’t you?”

“Are you staying with her?” Hobi timidly asked, stepping back as Jin glared again. “I’ll take that as a skip on the game then.”

“I can’t believe you thought that I’d leave Y/N.”

Yoongi:

The smile that was on Taehyung’s face as he walked back down to the bottom of the tour bus captured the attention of the rest of the boys, quickly asking what had made him smile so widely so suddenly.

“I found Yoongi, and I found Y/N too,” Taehyung told them all as they sat back down, “snuggled in Yoongi’s bunk asleep.”

Several chuckles escaped from the boys, “why didn’t we just look in his bunk as the first place?”

Taehyung shrugged in reply to Hobi’s question, leaning across the table. “I hate to say it guys, but they looked so cute snuggled up together. I’ve never seen Yoongi look so content whilst holding onto Y/N.”

“Can we go and see too?”

“No,” Namjoon called out to Jungkook and Jin scrambled to their feet to get a peek. “You guys will just tease them if you see them laying together. Why don’t we just let them sleep if that’s what they need?”

“Why are you being so boring now Joon.”

“It’s not boring, it’s being a good friend,” he corrected, “Yoongi would kill us if we ended up disturbing their sleep.”

“We’d be quiet as we look though, promise.”

Hoseok:

Wide eyes looked at both you and Hobi cuddled up on the sofa, all looking between each other. No one knew quite what to do as suddenly most of the space in the living room was taking up by sleeping figures.

“Do we wake them?” Jungkook asked the group, “I mean I can go and get an airhorn or something to make them jump.”

A hit around his head soon came from Jin, “you might want to be that cruel, but we don’t want to.”

A slow raise of the hand came from Jimin, stood just beside Jungkook. “I want to do something, they’ve taken our space and claimed it as their own, we can’t just let them get away with this you guys.”

“So, you want revenge?”

“Exactly,” Jimin chuckled as the other boys looked at him in despair. “How many times has Hobi messed with us when we’ve done something wrong? Isn’t this a chance for us to get back at him too?”

“Y/N has never got at us though.”

“It’s her own fault for dating Hobi,” Jungkook joked, “she can blame Hobi for getting her involved in all of this.”

“We’re having nothing to do with this.”

Namjoon:

There were groans from just about all of the boys as they walked back onto the tour bus to see you and Namjoon asleep together on the sofa, a blanket draped over you both that Namjoon had grabbed from his bunk.

“What is this?” Taehyung scolded as he watched you both, shaking his head as he looked back at the boys to see if they saw too.

Yoongi looked back with a look of confusion, “what do you mean what is this? They’re asleep.”

Jin began to pull the boys back so that they could give you both some space. “Come on guys, Y/N flew in this morning, she’s probably exhausted and jetlagged, and I guess that means we should feel sorry for Joon too.”

“He doesn’t need to sleep.”

“He doesn’t, but Y/N does,” Hobi noted, moving the boys with Jin to the other end of the tour bus. “And as much as none of us want to admit it, they do look pretty sweet together tucked up fast asleep, right?”

“But we don’t tell them this though, right?”

“No way,” Hobi chuckled, “Namjoon enjoys being smug about their relationship already without knowing that too.”

“He doesn’t need any more ammunition.”

Jimin:

A smile appeared on Yoongi’s face as he walked down the stairs at the back of the arena, noticing two figures resting against each other as you and Jimin overlooked the arena that would be filled in hours.

“There you guys are,” he chimed, beginning to walk along the row that you were sat in as Jimin slowly stirred.

Tired eyes looked back across to Jimin, “how long have we been down here? Did I miss anything?”

Yoongi immediately shook his head in response to Jimin, “you’ve not missed anything, don’t worry. Were you guys asleep down here?” Yoongi couldn’t help but ask, noticing you still curled up with your eyes closed.

“I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“You still look pretty exhausted,” Yoongi couldn’t help but tease, watching as Jimin rolled his eyes at the little dig that Yoongi made. “What were you doing? Showing Y/N around where you’ll be performing tonight?”

“She wanted to see what it looked like from the back.”

“She must’ve thought it looked pretty boring,” Yoongi sniggered, “so boring in fact that it’s sent her straight to sleep.”

“She’s just tired, that’s all it is.”

Taehyung:

A roll of the eyes came from Namjoon as he walked into the dressing room, smiling in your direction as you cuddled up to Taehyung. He quickly shut the door as the boys followed, stopping them from going in.

“What are you doing?” Jin groaned as Namjoon told them all to take a step back, “why can’t we go in our dressing room?”

Namjoon’s head shook back at them all, “I’m afraid the dressing room is out of bounds for now.”

Hobi’s sharp eyes soon looked around, noticing that one of them was missing. “Taehyung and Y/N?” He asked, figuring out almost instantly what was stopping Namjoon from opening the door and disturbing you.

“They’re fast asleep in their guys.”

“It’s not even Y/N’s dressing room,” Jin reminded Namjoon, but it wasn’t enough for the door to open. “What are we supposed to do? Just hang around out here until they eventually decide to wake up.”

“They’re not going to be asleep forever there.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting this do this,” Jin grumbled in reply, “if that was any of us then you’d just wake us straight up.”

“I’m your leader, I treat you all fairly.”

Jungkook:

Everyone dug their heels into the ground as they walked into the dorm to find Jungkook’s back pressed against the back of the sofa, with you cuddled into his side, his arms keeping you from falling off.

“Now what do we do?” Jimin shrugged as he looked back at the rest of the boys behind him, “do we have to be quiet?”

Namjoon pushed gently against his arm, “of course, we have to be quiet. They’re sleeping, Jimin.”

All six of them began to take small steps around the room, carefully moving to make sure that they didn’t disturb you both. “Does he not know that he has a bedroom to be able to sleep in?” Taehyung sighed as he watched you.

“It probably just happened.”

“He’s probably doing it on purpose,” Jin suddenly announced, “I mean we all know how much he loves to rub their relationship in our faces, he probably planned this so that we’d see them and feel jealous.”

“Do you really think that he’d be so mean?”

“Absolutely,” Jin quietly scoffed in reply to Yoongi. “Do you know him? He’ll take any chance that he can get to annoy us guys.”

“I’m sure Jungkook wouldn’t even stoop that low.”

---

Masterlist

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 8 months

Note

23 for the prompts please? Yennskier or geraskefer

🌻🌸🌺🌷

Here's some fluffy modern AU Geraskefer:

23. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

There’s a cozy scene waiting for Jaskier when he steps into his apartment. Geralt stands at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smells divine, while Roach waits patiently at his feet for a morsel to be dropped and Yennefer sits at the kitchen table, chopping herbs with swift efficiency. Jaskier takes a moment to stare soppily at his lovers while they're not looking—he knows better than to be overly sentimental while Yennefer is holding a sharp knife—before he shrugs off his coat and shoes and heads over to see what's for dinner.

“Sorry I’m late. Class ran over.” He comes up behind Geralt, giving Roach a pat before looping his arms around his witcher's waist and taking a deep breath of whatever's in the pot. “What's cookin’, good lookin’?”

Geralt leans back against him. “Endrega venom sacs.”

“Sounds deli—I'm sorry, what?"

"Endrega venom sacs,” Geralt says again.

“Yes, I heard you the first time. I still have questions.” Jaskier peers over his lover’s shoulder and finds that whatever's in the pot is disturbingly clumpy. “Why the fuck are you stewing endrega venom sacs?”

“Works better than baking them.”

"Eugh. And why does it smell so good?" Jaskier whines.

All that earns him is a shrug.

A horrible thought occurs to Jaskier. “We're not having endrega venom sacs for dinner, are we?” Early in their acquaintance, Geralt and he did have a small misunderstanding where Geralt thought it ridiculous that Jaskier wouldn’t consume roadkill raw off the side of the highway. But that was over a decade ago; surely Geralt remembers Jaskier’s delicate human constitution by now.

Yennefer snorts as Geralt turns to stare at Jaskier like he's being the ridiculous one. “Of course not. I distill the venom and sell it. They use it in facials now.”

Jaskier is never getting a facial again. “Wait, are you using our brand new pot?"

“Hm.”

“You are!” Jaskier turns to Yennefer for backup, but she's just smirking at him, because she enjoys the sight of his exasperation, the horrible witch. “Geralt, I got that pot specifically so we could have separate cookware for food and potions.”

“In his defense, he’s not making a potion,” Yennefer says.

Jaskier really doesn’t know why he loves her. “Do you want a repeat of the Black Blood poisoning incident from last year?”

“You didn’t have Black Blood poisoning,” Geralt says. “If you had had Black Blood poisoning, you’d be dead.”

“So it’s a coincidence that you made soup in the same pot where you'd just brewed a batch of Black Blood and then I spent the night sick as a dog?”

“Could have been the two-week-old takeout you ate because you convinced yourself the soup tasted weird.”

“Geralt, I could have died.”

“Hm.”

“Witchers.” Jaskier doesn’t know why he bothers. He crosses the kitchen to drape himself over the back of Yennefer’s chair, reaching for the pile on her cutting board. “And what do we have here?”

“Don’t eat it.” She brushes his hand away.

He pouts. “What, will this kill me too?”

“No, but it will make you wish it had.”

Jaskier backs away hurriedly. “Are you two trying to poison me tonight?”

Yennefer doesn’t turn towards him, but he can hear her eye roll. “We can’t be blamed for the fact that you’ll put anything in your mouth.”

Jaskier leers at the back of her head. “You don’t normally complain about what I do with my mouth.”

“I do when you're eating two-week-old Nilfgaardian food and complaining about it.”

Well, that’s just rude. Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “I’m a starving artist, my love. I need to make do with what I can afford.”

Geralt snorts. “Jask, you’re a viscount.”

“Only technically.”

“Your family has two castles.”

“Three castles if you count the villa in Toussaint,” Yennefer adds.

Jaskier hates it when they gang up on him. He really hates it when they gang up on him and they’re right. A change of subject is in order. “Well, we’re not eating venom sacs for dinner and we’re not eating scary witch herbs, so what’s for dinner?”

Geralt and Yennefer both turn to look at him with identical exasperated expressions. “It’s Wednesday,” Geralt says. “It’s your turn to handle dinner.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, mentally reviews his calendar, and closes his mouth. “Ah. Right.”

Yennefer smiles at him oh-so-sweetly, like she only does when she knows she has him cornered. “So, what’s for dinner, Jaskier?”

Jaskier throws his arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “My darlings, my loves, I’ve spent all day agonizing over what meal I could possibly put in front of you that’s worthy of the two most magnificent people the Continent has ever seen.”

“Takeout again?” Geralt’s lips curl into a fond little smile.

“Takeout again,” Jaskier agrees. “But the most wonderful takeout you’ve ever feasted upon—”

“Better than your cooking,” Yennefer grumbles. “I’d rather have the endrega venom.”

“You only say that because I don’t know how to prepare the tears of the innocent.”

“Of course not. That would require boiling water, something you’ve yet to master.”

“You—”

In the end, Geralt ends up ordering the takeout while Yennefer and Jaskier debate the finer points of Jaskier’s cooking prowess. But it's okay. Jaskier will just have to handle dinner next week. Most likely.

***

Angst/fluff prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome @ladykardasi

#the witcher #geraskefer #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

Note

24 + 25 ;)))))

Thanks for requesting! Smut below, 18+ only!

“I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice”

“If we get caught I’m blaming you”

Vanessa was seven months pregnant when she and Carmen went on their babymoon. A term he’d never heard before, he dutifully packed a bag and went where he was instructed before they arrived in Cancun.

Carmen was too proud to watch Vanessa strut around the resort in her two-piece swimsuit, the black bikini showing off her baby bump. They were staying for a week, soaking in their last few months as a couple before they became a family of three.

Pregnancy was interesting to say the least. Though she got out of her first trimester relatively easily, her second trimester was more challenging. She was tired all the time, always needed two bottles of purple Gatorade within reaching distance and made Carmen shower in the guest bathroom before entering their bedroom.

Thankfully, she turned a corner a few weeks ago and they went through with their planned trip. Now, she was thrilled to be lazing in a cabana near the resort pool, a big floppy hat on her head and a virgin piña colada in her hand.

She’d splurged and reserved a private cabana for the trip – dedicated just to them while they stayed on site. Carmen shook off from the pool, his white skin tinted pink despite the layers of SPF Vanessa had been spraying across his bare chest and shoulders. He smiled, dropping his sunglasses down over his eyes before joining his wife on the queen-sized cabana lounger. She was balancing her second plate of chicken tenders on her baby bump, one arm behind her head and the other dangling a French fry over her mouth.

“Happy, babe?” Carmen asked, fluffing the pillow under her head.

“In heaven,” she moaned, not complaining as Carmen moved the plate off her belly. He leaned forward, kissing the peak of her belly button before smoothing his hand over it. “Carmy?” She asked, brushing a hand down over his curls that had become unruly with the chlorinated water.

“Yeah?” He asked, blue eyes flicking up at her, mouth pressed against her skin gently.

“I’m horny,” she said plainly. Another symptom of her late pregnancy, everything made Vanessa horny, at least, everything Carmen did. Her husband snorted, taking in her very serious expression.

“Yeah, what did it this time?” He asked, mostly unphased at this point. It was odd if he didn’t get corralled between her thighs at least once a day at this point – but apparently their rendezvous in the shower that morning wasn’t enough. Vanessa’s hormones had completely taken over.

“Same thing as always,” she replied, running her hands over his shoulders. “I’m not kidding baby, I’m dripping,” she said seriously. Carmen would do whatever it took to keep up his physique that she loved so much. He slid his hand across the underside of her pregnant belly. Even through the padded top of her bikini, he could see her nipples hardening.

“Do we need to go back to the room?” He asked, kissing her just below her belly button again.

“No, want you right here,” she said, drawing one leg up as she bent at the knee, planting her foot on the cabana lounger. Carmen looked around. The pool wasn’t too busy, but there was definitely way too many people out here.

“Ness,” he warned, “what are we gonna tell the baby when we both have an arrest on our record?”

“Pull the drapes, Carmen,” she whispered huskily. Carmen glanced up. The heavy curtains to the cabana were drawn along the back and far side. That just might work. Hauling himself off the bed, he pulled the opposite side closed before also tying off the drapes on the front of the covering that faced the pool. It was much darker and cooler inside of the cabana now – light still seeping in from where the curtains gapped between the hooks and the roof.

“You gotta be quiet,” Carmen said, not believing his own words as he returned to the cabana mattress. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice,” he murmured, leaning over her body to press a firm kiss to her lips. He could taste the neediness in the whine she let out against his mouth. “Oh, baby,” he laughed, patronizing her. Sliding his hand down her body, he tucked two fingers into her swim bottoms, not needing to travel very far to find her wetness. “Carmy,” she squirmed against him, only finding relief as his blocky fingers found her clit. “Oh,” she murmured, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He swept lower, collecting the wetness of her sex before finding her clit once again. Another satisfied sigh escaped her lips.

“Shh, baby,” he kept from laughing, “there’s a lot of people on the other side of that curtain,” he warned. “If we get caught I’m blaming you.”

“Come on, Carmy, don’t tease me,” she pleaded, her voice absolutely pitiful. She reached up, threading her fingers together behind his neck to bring him down for a kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised, settling into a comforting rhythm as he continued to circle her clit, building a delicious pressure that started at the base of her spine, the soles of her feet burning. His kisses trailed from her mouth down her jaw to her neck, sucking on her pulse point here as her hips ground down into his hand. “Come on, mama,” he encouraged.

Carmen slid his middle finger inside of her, his thumb still working away at her clit and she groaned gently.

“Shh,” he cooed gently, “gotta be quiet.”

“More,” she begged, “I’m almost there.”

Carmen could feel her orgasm approach, her legs trembling beneath him. Her thighs clamped shut around his hand, trapping him as she arched her back as much as her protruding belly would allow.

“There we go,” he murmured, cradling her head with his free hand, rubbing gently at the base of her skull. A few moments later, she went totally lax against him, eyes fluttering shut. “How was that?” He asked, gently sliding his hand from her bottoms.

“Mm, thank you, Daddy,” she said quietly. Carmen leaned down to kiss her once again before gently sliding his hand out of her swim bottoms. Vanessa watched as he popped his fingers in his mouth, making her blush deeply. “Aren’t you glad we splurged for the cabana?” She asked.

“I am,” he nodded, “but it was worth the risk.”

#carmy and v #carmy smut #carmen smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto x ofc

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starlitangels · 10 months

Text

Somewhere with an Aurora

A couple days ago I asked for Avior one-shot suggestions. This one came from @pinksparkl 1.5k words

—

“Ah crap,” I muttered, shoving the gear shift into Park. “This place used to be open a lot later than this.” I made a face, staring at the abandoned, dark coffee shop.

“Probably because it’s New Year’s Eve.” Avior’s face was still tense, partially screwed up like the emotions from that attack at the academy was still weighing on him. It probably was. He was keeping it in, but that many emotions—that much pain—he had to feel dangerously close to falling apart.

“Maybe. That’s kinda frustrating. I knew I should have checked the hours on Google Maps before we left the academy.”

“It’s alright,” he said.

“But you wanted to come here and get something warm to drink and be able to think through everything that just happened,” I protested.

“I know. But we’ll have plenty of time to come here later. Right now I don’t care where we go.”

I bit my lip. We’d been essentially living together for six months in Hell. I swallowed. “Want to come back to my place?” I offered.

Avior cocked his head to one side. “If you need some space I’ll understand, starlight. What we’ve just gone through—I can go back to Aria for the night. The Hellscape, this Inversion nonsense. It’s a lot and I don’t blame you if you’re feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.”

“I am. Both exhausted and overwhelmed. But I don’t want to be either of those things without you, Avior. I want you with me. Just your presence comforts me.” I reached across the center console of my little sedan and took his hand. “Come home with me?”

His gold gaze bored into me. “You’re sure?”

I tried to remember the state my apartment was in. Had I left anything embarrassing out when I left to head on whatever errand I’d been running? My memories had come back like I’d never lost them, and it felt like I’d last seen my apartment six months ago. Was that pair of underwear that had been draped over the radiator to dry after they missed getting placed in the dryer and ended up still damp? Had I put those away? Were there still papers all over my coffee table? Leftover from grading at the end of the semester?

“I’m sure,” I replied.

Avior knew me better than anyone. My lover. Our relationship literally forged in Hell. He would understand if my apartment was a mess.

“Okay.”

I nodded and pulled the gear shift back into gear. “My place it is then.”

—

Creak!

“I really need to oil that damn hinge,” I muttered as I shoved the front door open. “Sorry it’s not much. I don’t really entertain. I never have guests, actually.”

Avior glanced around. Tension was still coiled in his shoulders and back from the attack—that was centered on the far other side of the city now. “No. No, it’s nice. Homey.” He let go of my hand.

I fidgeted with my keyring, not meeting his eyes. “Let me get you something to drink. I don’t know about you, but months in Hell have left me pretty parched. Even if it wasn’t real. It must be worse for you.” I slipped to my kitchen, bustling around to find a two glasses for drinks. I put them under the fridge’s spout and filled them one by one before returning to the living room.

Avior was standing at my bookshelf, examining several of the knick-knacks I had sitting between two bookends. “What’re these?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. “That’s, uh… that my amiibo collection,” I admitted.

“What’s an amiibo?”

“They’re little figurines that can interact with certain video games. I… I, uh… I only have ones from The Legend of Zelda because it’s my favorite Nintendo series. I’ve been playing Zelda games since I was a kid and the first couple amiibo were gifts but after that I just started kinda collecting and… what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Avior shrugged and shook his head, grinning slightly. “It’s nothing. Just… your eyes lit up, even as your emotions also tasted embarrassed.” He set the Wolf Link and Midna amiibo back down on the shelf. “You never told me which video games you enjoyed, although I do remember you mentioning you liked to play video games if you ever had enough downtime to do so.”

“Which is rare these days,” I remarked. “But I’ll dink around in Breath of the Wild for a couple hours on a Sunday night when I don’t have any assignments to grade. Sometimes my students ask why I assign less homework than the other professors—like they can’t fathom that I don’t want to grade as much homework as the rest of my colleagues assign.”

Avior snickered. “Amateurs—asking for more homework.”

I laughed. “Well, not exactly. But for any other professor questions like that could lead to more homework. Not for me. I love teaching—I just hate grading. I especially hate busywork. So I don’t bother. And that leaves more time for me to spend doing things I actually enjoy.”

Avior lifted a brow, suppressing a smile. I chose not to press for what was humoring him. I had a guess anyway.

When I didn’t take the bait, he cleared his throat. “Anything else I don’t know about you after living with you for six months?”

I glanced around my apartment. “Well… I collect comic books. Not even particularly valuable ones. I don’t do much with them. People just give them to me because I’m a nerd and I keep them. Because I’m a nerd.”

“Do you read them?”

“I would—but they’re all random issues in the middle of random storylines and none of them make any sense out-of-context.”

Avior chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“What about you? Anything I don’t know about you, living in Hell with you for six months?”

Avior drew me closer to him, resting his chin on my head. “I want to see an aurora one day,” he said. “I could have rifted somewhere with one whenever I wanted in the past thirty-six—thirty-four—years… but I never did. I always wanted to share it with someone who meant something real to me. And… no one ever did. I never figured I’d fall in love but… even a good friend. And I… never had one.”

I smiled. “We’ll do it, then. We’ll go somewhere with an aurora. Probably Alaska. It’s closest.” I reached and cradled his face in both hands. “I’d love to see the lights with you.”

He turned his head and kissed my palm, holding my wrist in his hand. “I’d love to see the lights with you too, my starlight.” He smiled softly. “Though, I fear they will pale in comparison to you.”

I looked away, ears turning hot. “Stop it,” I mumbled.

He hooked a finger under my chin and drew my head back to face him. “Never. I mean it. You are incredible. And I consider myself so lucky to have fallen for you as deeply as I have.”

This was the Avior I remembered. Not the dry, acerbic, sarcastic bastard who welcomed me to Hell after I lost my memories. The sincerity, the gentleness, and the depth of emotion was back in full-force—and I couldn’t have been more grateful. We had each other back after we both lost one another in different ways.

“I love you, Avior,” I whispered.

“I love you too, my starlight.” He leaned close.

We shared a long, slow, tender kiss. Unhurried. Easy.

I remembered desperate kisses in Hell, scrambling to remove clothing like we wouldn’t live to share more affection. I couldn’t be more delighted that urgent feeling was gone.

He pulled back just slightly, both of our eyelids fluttering open to meet each other’s gaze.

“Something else you might not know about me,” he said quietly. “You’re the first person I ever slept with—both literally and euphemistically.”

I choked on trying to suppress a laugh. “Really?”

“Truly.”

“Thirty-four years since you coalesced and you never—”

“Like I said, I never knew anyone well enough to want to try anything like that. And demons obviously have no physical form in Aria so anything that intimate is purely emotional. And I never had that either.”

“Given how smoothly you charm me, I find that a bit hard to believe.”

He kissed me again. “It just came naturally with you.”

I kissed him back.

We stood in my living room, kissing in front of my bookshelf, for quite a while.

Until Avior pulled away again. “So. My people’s ancient gods exist and have a mission for us to save the world. Where do you reckon we’re supposed to start?”

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Avior #Redacted Starlight #Starlit Fic #Redacted Audio

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sodamnradd · 2 years

Text

“I was thinking,” says Hermione, setting her quill down to shake her sore fingers, “that Potions Mastery admits three new students a year. If we worked on our applications together, maybe we’d both get in.”

Draco looks up from his textbook. “I won’t be in England.”

“Oh… where will you be?”

“France, I think,” says Draco. “Mother wants us to move after graduation.”

“Right. Well, it was just a thought.”

“You’d want to…” Draco looks away, pink blooming at the height of his cheekbones. “You’d want to continue education with me?”

Hermione looks pointedly at their desk, the notes scattered between them, two sets of handwriting squeezed in the margins, shared quills – his Eagle and her Raven – only one of each textbook to ease the load from their school bags.

“No, I rather hate it.”

He rolls his eyes and kicks her under the table. She grins and picks up her quill – his quill, actually – resuming her work on Ancient Runes. Draco pauses to observe. Her hair is half-up and out of her eyes, the rest draped down her back and shoulders. Three shirt buttons undone; the skin beneath soft-looking, a delicate golden necklace just visible.

She looks up at him through her lashes. They both flush, caught staring. Hermione lowers her gaze at once, but there’s a twitch at the corners of her lips, not a happy one, and Draco wonders if he’s to blame.

As time does, graduation is suddenly upon them and Draco’s heart is on the brink of rupture. A letter arrived by Owl just this morning and the first thing he does is seek Hermione in her dorm.

She’s all smiles in a one-shouldered dress that sweeps low enough to see her gold necklace in its entirety – her name in cursive letters. Her legs are bare. Little straps clasped around her ankles. “You’re not dressed.”

No, Draco is in rolled-up sleeves and black slacks, hair unkempt and jaw unshaved. He hands her the envelope.

She inspects the sender address, then opens the ripped edge and reads the letter. “But I thought you were moving?”

“Apparently, I can’t stay away from you.” He grins, but it’s shy and doesn’t reach his eyes. “Did you get in?”

“I did.” She steps closer.

“I’ve never known anyone like you, and the thought of losing this…” He raises his hand slowly, stroking her cheek. She leans into his touch, growing warmer as he lingers. “I’ll follow you anywhere if you’ll have me.”

Hermione’s lips twitch at the corners, in a happy way, she presses a kiss on his palm – one of many to come, he hopes – he knows – when she says, “I’ll have you.”

(445 words, cross-posted from twitter, prompt: i can't stay away)

#dramione #dramione drabble #dhr #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #draco malfoy x hermione granger #sodamnrad #dramione ficlet #dramione fanfic #drabble #hermione and draco #sodamnraddrabbles

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outpost51 · 6 months

Text

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter 24: Let’s Disappoint Each Other

Once more, with feeling.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter WC: 8,034

Warning(s): references to self-harm/suicidal ideation, substance abuse

Preview below the cut.

{READ HERE ON AO3}

Day after day, I watched Tessa degrade — there had definitely been something going on between her and Kri, or maybe she just blamed herself for the whole situation, I wasn’t sure, but I did know one thing: I was never, ever letting somebody else fuck me up like that. After seeing Dad, then Tessa dissolve into hollow shells and crumble in on themselves, I was good with never falling in love.

Quinn draped her arms over my shoulders from behind as I tried to apply eyeliner with shaky hands. I was too busy watching her smile in the toothpaste-splattered mirror and one of my lines went astray. With a swear and a resigned sigh, I handed her the pencil, holding still while she fixed my work as best she could. Staring up at the ceiling was a better distraction from how fucked up she had me already.

We’d started going out regularly with Rask, and we’d dance and talk tech and most importantly, they were keeping my nose dust-free and Mazzi’s pizza kept the sand shakes more or less at bay. It gave Tessa the space she needed, too. It had been less than a week, after all. We always extended the invitation to her, obviously, but she’d yet to take it. She hadn’t gone back to Mazzi’s since our memorial night, not with us anyway. I wasn’t sure what she got up to when she went out on the nights we stayed in. Maybe she just didn’t want to leave our kip unattended.

Towards the end of that first week, we ran into a familiar face — sans his friends. Blackjack meshed right in with our group like he belonged there, even if all the tech talk went over his head. He smiled more. I smiled more. It was okay. We were okay.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Caught in the Crossfire Taglist: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @teamdilf @tabswrites @writernopal @starknstarwars @sparrow-orion-writes @captain-kraken @cljordan-imperium

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

#between a rock and a hard place #my fic #mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #oc fanfiction

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promptsinpanem · 2 years

Text

Every Part of You

Summary: Peeta, as his life falls apart and gets pieced back together

Prompt: Round 1, Day 4 - The Victory Tour

__________________________

The spread of food before us is sumptuous, the tables piled high with glistening meats, frothy soups and delectable looking cakes. Purple banners drape elegantly from the ceiling, trimmed in gold and shining with the twinkling lights that have been threaded around them. The room is filled with lively music, and the constant chatter of conversation. All anyone wants to do is talk to us, while I want to do anything but. I’m not in the mood for conversation right now, and Katniss never is.

But of course, we’re here to put on a show. And right now, it’s more important than ever.

We smile, and talk, and weave our way through the crowded room with our arms tightly linked. I see Effie, her mouth stretched in a clownish smile as she speaks to the Mayor, likely conveying her displeasure in her earlier treatment. I spy Haymitch snatching a small, clear bottle from the beverage table, pocketing it for later. Both mine and Katniss’ prep teams are chatting away gaily, clearly loving being the centre of attention, even if it is just from little old District Eleven.

“How are you?” I mutter under my breath when we finally get a moment alone, and I see Katniss shrug out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders are bare, her dress pale pink and strapless, her hair a tumble of ringlets cascading down her back. The expanse of exposed skin makes me want to trace my fingers along her delicate collarbone, even though I’m still angry at her, at Haymitch. Keeping me in the dark for so long, treating me like a child. Excluding me, from everything.

“As good as I can be, I suppose,” she eventually replies, turning to face me. “You?”

“I can’t really say I’m in the best of moods,” I reply honestly. “Hasn’t been a great day.”

She has the decency to grimace, then quickly replaces it with a false smile for those around us. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I realise now we should have-”

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “No more apologies, Katniss. Just remember to keep me in the loop next time, please. Then I won’t inadvertently risk someone else’s life.”

Katniss bites her lip. “You did the right thing out there today, Peeta. I…it was perfect, what you said. You have to know that.”

“Was it perfect, though? Really?” My tone is filled with disbelief. I remember when the thought first came to me, in the middle of writing my speech. Wondering how I could show the Capitol that I wasn’t just a piece in their Games, how I could use their Games to my own advantage, even in the smallest way possible. How I could repay the two people who had helped to keep Katniss alive in the Arena when I couldn’t. How I’d thought it was the perfect solution. “The outcome might not be great for Thresh’s sister, Rue’s parents. Wasn’t great for that old man.”

“Oh Peeta,” she murmurs. “Don’t blame yourself for him. That was - that was me. All me. That’s my fault.”

I go to correct her, to remind her that I was the one who started to go off script. But I can see the grief on her face and acknowledge that we’re both carrying our own worries from this afternoon. I might be hurting, but so is she. “Let’s not talk about this now,” I reply instead, reaching out and tucking an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. I feel her briefly lean into my hand as I do so, watch as her eyes flutter closed for a moment before I drop my hand away. “There’s nothing we can change about any of that. All we can do is make sure we get through tonight, and the next, and the next, and prove to President Snow that we’re madly in love. Right?” The words stick in my throat, because, really, what do I need to prove? There’s nothing I need to pretend about there.

“Right,” Katniss agrees softly. “But-” She pauses, glances towards Effie across the room, the poor Mayor still bailed up with her. “But we need to make sure your promise is kept.”

“We will. I’ll speak to Effie, she’ll know what to do.”

“Is it even legal, do you think?”

I look at her wryly. “You’re worried about doing things by the right side of the law now?” Katniss flushes, knowing as well as I do she’s been on the wrong side of following the Capitol’s rules for a long time. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. If I know Effie, she’ll tell me something like You’re a Victor, and if a Victor can’t get what they want, who can?” I mimic Effie’s Capitol accent in the hope that I can tease a smile onto Katniss’s face, and it works. “Of course I’ll have to make sure she’s well over the Peacekeeper incident from earlier before I bring it up. Wouldn’t want to stress her out even more.”

Katniss purses her lips then, and we fall into silence. We watch the room revolve around us, the reality once again sinking in that everything we do, everything we say, impacts every single person in our lives. I grimly wonder what chain of events we've kicked off with what's happened today.

“Let’s dance,” I say suddenly, wanting to be rid of the conversation - and my thoughts - for the night, and draw her onto the small dance floor. Others immediately follow, as though they’ve simply been waiting for our lead, and soon the room is filled with couples twirling and spinning. We don’t twirl or spin though, instead dutifully following the steps Effie has so painstakingly drilled into us, Katniss’ hand on my shoulder, mine resting upon her waist. But the more we dance, the closer we draw into each other, until my entire arm is around her slim waist, and her head is upon my chest. Breathing in together, breathing out together. Comfort, in the only place we can find it in this room. Maybe in the only place we can find anywhere.

I close my eyes, and surrender to the fact that no matter what Katniss Everdeen does or doesn’t do, whatever she says or doesn’t say, I’ll never be able to let her go.

__________________________

We sit on the roof, lazily sipping on tart orange juice and munching on long, sugary twists of dough that Katniss keeps dipping in liquid chocolate. We stare up at the sky, and she points out a cloud that she insists looks just like the plant that is her namesake. I show her one that I say reminds me of Buttercup, but she vehemently disagrees. The cloud is far too pretty to look like that bag of bones, she tells me, and I laugh.

We’ve spent our day doing nothing of importance, possibly for the first time in our lives. No food to hunt, no bread to bake, no Arena to fight in. Zero responsibilities. Instead we’ve spent the hours playing silly games, weaving nets that we pretend to wear like Finnick, stuffing our faces with sweet Capitol treats that both of us know we’ll never get the chance to have again. It’s like our last stand, the last moments we’ll ever have before the end begins.

I regret all the time that I’ve wasted, moments like these that I could have had with Katniss but will never get. The time I wasted by not speaking to her before we were reaped. The time I wasted by being so bitter after the Games, just because she did whatever she needed to do to live. The nights I wasted not wrapping her in my arms on the train because I was too angry, then upset, then miserable, about everything that happened in Eleven. The sessions where I pushed her to the edge while we were training for these Games, instead of trying to enjoy what little time we had left.

But there’s nothing I can do about any of that. I can only appreciate the time I have right now.

I twist my fingers in her hair, the strands silky and shiny and free from their usual braid. I attempt a lover’s knot with one of the long locks, then give up knowing I would have never lasted a day on a fishing boat in Four. Katniss weaves together flowers she plucked from the beds around us that are in full bloom, petals in shades of lilac and peach and vermillion. The sun is warm and the breeze is surprisingly gentle considering how high up we are. The windchimes dance, and block out the cacophony of the Capitol below us. Birds flying overhead call out musically, and I bet if they landed on the roof and Katniss sang to them, they’d stop to listen too. I pop a strawberry into my mouth, bite into its sweetness, and smile.

With a start, I realise that tomorrow we head into the deadliest place in the country, and yet I’ve never felt more sated, more at peace, more alive. Because no matter what tomorrow brings, today has been, quite literally, the most perfect day of my life.

My fingers still as that knowledge sinks in.

“What?”

I know Katniss isn’t going to like what I want to say, but I have to say it anyway. This type of opportunity will never come to me again - there will never be another moment where Katniss is lying in my arms, bathed in the afternoon sun, her face relaxed and unworried. It’s how she should always be; she should never have to worry, should be able to live her life without the fear of the Games. But for her to be able to have that, it means I cannot. Which reiterates the absolute necessity of what I need to say next, and I hope against hope that she’s okay with it.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” I murmur, my heart thundering in my chest, and I wait for her to push away, to put up the wall I’m so used to her putting up whenever I say anything that makes her feel uncomfortable. But she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even stiffen. She doesn’t look at me, just continues to twist the flowers together, creating herself a crown. And then she simply says

"Okay."

__________________________

My hand shakes slightly as I carefully lower the silver backed card onto its final resting place, covering a hole the size of my thumb. A jittery finger, the slightest shudder of breath; anything could tumble the house of cards in front of me, laying waste to what is possibly hours of work.

Hours? Maybe even days. Who knows?

After a few nervous heartbeats, it’s clear that the structure is going to hold, and I slide back in my seat with relief, settling into its plush cushioning. The tension in my body - held there while I'd painstakingly modelled my prison with pack upon pack of silver and gold playing cards - slowly releases, and I feel my shoulders slump, feel the ache flood into my arms from the constant building, placing, constructing that I've been focusing on. With the strain finally gone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me and I close my eyes for relief, but I immediately wish I hadn't. Because against the dark I see the sky explode, see Katniss thrown to the ground, see the world around me crumble.

I've lost count how many days it's been since everything happened, can't even tell if it's morning or night with the windowless quarters I'm being kept in. I sleep when I'm tired, I build another house when I'm not. The meals I'm delivered - the Avox who silently delivers it the only soul I've seen since my interview with Caesar - provides no discernable mealtime association. No warmed grains for breakfast, no sandwich for lunch. Just Katniss's favourite lamb stew over and over and over again. If Snow's intention is to slowly drive me insane by making my days a never ending cycle of sameness, he's well on his way to succeeding.

I’d expected torture, I’d expected a bullet to the head. Instead, I got a full body polish and a life of monotony. I have nothing but time on my hands, nothing but hours to build and try not to constantly worry, to not let my brain go where it always wants to go.

Katniss.

It's the longest I've ever gone without seeing her, and it feels strange, like something is missing, like part of me is gone. Even when we didn't talk between Games I still saw her every day - in the square, in her garden with Prim, reluctantly tending to Haymitch's liquor needs, sneaking away to the Meadow. It feels like my days and years have been measured by Katniss, and without her, I'm at a loss.

I worry about how she is, where she is, who she’s with. They tell me she's in Thirteen, but I still can't comprehend that it even exists anymore, let alone that she's there. They tell me they extracted her, and Finnick, and a handful of others. Rebels inside the Capitol, they say, rebels in the Districts - Haymitch being one of them.

I still can't correlate my drunken mentor with a rebel planning to overthrow the country, but everything they're telling me and showing to me points to it as being the truth. Except for Katniss. I can't believe for a second that she'd be a part of any rebel plot, not if it meant endangering Prim in any way. Being thousands of miles away from her sister while plans to overthrow the country were rolled out into play?

No, not in a million years. I stand by every single rebuttal I shouted at Caesar.

The knock on the door pulls me out of my reverie; I open my eyes and don't even have the chance to give a cursory 'come in' before the two Peacekeepers are already barging through the heavy doors. One roughly gestures to me to stand, his mouth curling with a snarl.

"On your feet, Mr Mellark," he demands. "It's time to go."

I look down at my nails, bitten to the quick over my nervous house building. "To see the Prep Team? I'll probably need it if I'm meeting with Caesar again." I hold up my hand to show the damage, hoping for a bit of levity, but neither crack a smile.

"It's not another interview, Mr Mellark," the second Peacekeeper replies. "You're not seeing Mr Flickerman today."

His tone makes my stomach drop, and I swallow heavily, lowering my hand back to my lap. "President Snow, then?" I still haven't seen him, and realise I've been anticipating this from the moment I was brought from the Arena.

"No more questions," the first says curtly, then steps forward and bats my knee with his gun. Not gently either; if it was still flesh and bone, I’d probably end up with a bruise tomorrow. "We're going to your new quarters."

New quarters? I look around the sparsely furnished room, likely the least opulent room in the mansion. No windows. A simple bed that my mother would clip me over the ear for not being made. A single table and chair. Something tells me it's not going to be an upgrade.

It's now that the fear starts to spread through me, but I try not to let it show as I rise and fall in line between them. I've felt plenty of fear over the last few years - telling the entire country on national television that I was in love with Katniss, being dumped into two Arenas knowing there was little chance I was coming out, the realisation that I might have caused more harm than good with my promise to Rue and Thresh's families. It's nothing new. But this is different.

The blindfold slips over my eyes, and I dutifully go wherever they're leading me. The walk feels endless. Hallway upon hallway, a twisting maze of corners until we stop, and I hear the faint swish of electronic doors sliding open and closed. The ground beneath me begins to drop, and I wonder how far down this elevator goes. It's deep; all I know is that my ears have long popped by the time we stop.

The doors open again and the Peacekeepers push me through them, ripping off the blindfold as I stumble forward. I blink to adjust to the bright lights, and I wish I had the blindfold back on.

White walls. White floors. White bars. All white, everywhere white.

Except for the people.

They stand out in stark contrast to their surroundings, some I know, some I don’t. My eyes are drawn to them involuntarily as the Peacekeepers march me down the aisle between the row of cells, my heart dropping the further we go along. A man in a long jacket that would be the height of fashion in the Capitol were it not for the smears of harsh red and sickly yellow that can only be blood and bile. A Victor from long ago whose name escapes me, but their broken limb doesn’t. The red-headed Avoxes who were assigned to us during our stay in the training centre, the girl whose name I still don’t know and Darius, whose bruised face reminds me of the risk he took to save Gale. Annie, the mad girl from Four who Finnick loves huddled in a corner, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes vacant. Johanna, her head shaven to an uneven stubble, her shoulder oozing blood from a nasty wound. Her eyes meet mine, and while they're full of disgust, they're also tinged with fear. Fear, from a woman who had the guts to shout out against Snow in front of the entire country.

“In here,” Peacekeeper One suddenly tells me, gesturing to the open cell door beside Johanna’s. I step inside the empty room, hear the clank of metal as the door slides closed behind me. I don’t turn around to watch them go.

It’s quiet, quiet enough for me to hear the stomp of their boots as they walk away, the sound of the elevator doors opening and sliding shut again. It’s only once they’ve left that I hear the occasional shuffle, a slight moan, the cry of someone obviously in pain. My throat constricts as my new reality sinks in, and I know that my days of building card houses are over. The only thing that I’m grateful for right now is that Katniss isn’t in one of these cells. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if I'd seen her broken body in one of them as I’d passed.

“Figured you were dead.”

The words filter through to my cell, and even though I can’t see their owner, I’d recognise Johanna’s blunt tone anywhere. I go over to the wall that separates us, slide down so I’m sitting with my back against it and draw my knees up to my chest.

“Not yet.”

Johanna snorts. “Might be better if you were.” She coughs, and it’s chesty and full of phlegm. "Where's Katniss?"

"You don't know?"

"They're not very forthcoming on details down here," she replies wryly. "A fair bit of taking, not a lot of giving."

I reach out a finger, draw patterns on the floor like I drew on the morphling before she died. "Apparently she's in Thirteen."

"Huh." She's quiet for another moment. "Is Finnick with her?"

Her response makes me realise that while she may not have known where Katniss was, she still knows more than me. The mention of Thirteen hadn't shocked her one bit. "Yes. And Beetee, apparently."

She snorts. "Good old Volts gets picked up, but I get left behind. Figures."

"You knew about it," I say, and try not to let my feelings cloud my tone, especially after seeing what they've done to her. But I can't help it. There's a bit of anger in there, a dash of betrayal, a side of accusation. How long is the list of those who knew?

"Some," she admits, and I wait for her to finish, but she clearly doesn’t want to tell me any more. That, or she knows someone else is listening. Probably the latter.

Our silence is loaded with questions that will never be asked, never be answered, and it's another few minutes before Johanna speaks again. “Well I hope you enjoyed whatever stay of execution you had prior to joining us, Peeta, because welcome to your new Arena.” She cackles maniacally, until it gradually peters out into a sob. “You’re gonna hate it.”

_____________________________

The lights beating down on me are hot, and sweat pops out on my lower lip, along my hairline. I feel sticky and sweaty in my suit, and the bruises underneath ache from the stiffness of the material pressing against them. My foot taps an erratic and unsteady beat along the footrest of my stool. A Capitol attendant carefully blots at my face again, their face blank but their eyes saying more than I need to know.

I’m definitely not camera ready.

The days have not been kind to me. My cell mates have grown fewer, my ‘sessions’, as they so kindly call them, have increased. Some I remember, some I don’t. Some I come out of feeling like I’ve been sent to hell and back, others I feel nothing but emptiness. Sometimes, when they’re over, a darkness slowly creeps over me, and I beat my clenched fists against a wall that will never beat me back. Johanna tries to talk to me, but most times all I ever do is hear her scream.

I don’t even know if Annie is alive anymore.

The attendant gives my cheek a final sweep of blush and steps away, leaving me alone under the studio lights. There are people out behind the lights where it’s dark, but I can’t see them, can only hear the hurried instructions called out in their affected accents. The only person I can see is President Snow as he crosses the room towards me, confident and steady, his signature white rose adorning his lapel.

“Mr Mellark, how lovely to see you,” he greets, as though we’re old friends. I suppose we are; we’ve seen a lot of each other recently. Much more than we ever had when Katniss was around.

“President Snow,” I reply stiffly. There’s really no other way for me to speak. Every breath is an effort, every word feels like it could be my undoing. The pain in my body, in my mind, makes everything feel like it’s too much to handle.

Snow tuts disapprovingly, his hands held in front of him as if in supplication. “Oh Mr Mellark, I do hope you’ll be able to perform better than that for our little broadcast. I would hate to have to…expand on our sessions.”

I swallow heavily and think of everything I’ve witnessed, everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve felt. What more can they do to me? I’m not sure I want to find out. “Of course,” I reply, forcing myself to sit up straighter. I’d put a smile on my face, but I don’t think it’s going to help.

“Good. And you understand the assignment?”

I nod. “I just have to read from the teleprompter. No ad-libbing. Just the script.”

“Correct. I wouldn’t want you to say anything that hasn’t already been prepared for you. It didn’t end so well on a previous occasion,” he says, and walks away without another word. I swallow heavily, remembering the last time when I added my own inclusion to a speech. What happened afterwards.

I grip my hands together to steady them as I watch a technician deftly mic up President Snow. It’s a smooth operation, something they’ve all clearly done a thousand times before. A countdown starts, the Capitol anthem plays, and then President Snow greets the country, a condescending smile on his puffy lips. I’m not really listening to what he says, but eventually I hear him mention my name, suggesting to the audience that I have something to share.

So I do.

I read the words streaming across the prompter, my tone agitated and frustrated as I narrate the acts of war playing out across the country. I don’t know if this is the performance that Snow is looking for, but it’s all he’s going to get from me right now. I gesture to the images that flash across the map of Panem projected beside me, the words seeming to grow with importance and clarity the more I read them aloud. The rebels…the rebels…the rebels…

And then suddenly I can no longer see myself on the monitor.

It’s Katniss. In front of the bakery.

My bakery.

A shell, nothing but the misshapen remains of our oven left behind.

Where is the bakery? Where is my family?!

Katniss?

The monitor flickers, and I'm back again; I can see the confusion on my own face. Did I imagine that? Was it real? I look around blindly, but I can’t even see President Snow anymore, just white dots dancing in front of my eyes.

And Katniss. Katniss.

I don’t know what else to do, so I keep speaking, picking up the speech where I left off. I’m tumbling over my words, not eloquent in the slightest, but I stop mid-sentence when the District Thirteen symbol flashes up on the screen, and then suddenly there’s Finnick, talking about Rue. He looks broken, nothing like the confident man who strutted around the Capitol in an outfit made of nothing but rope and -

BAM!

I’m back again. And then I’m not, and then I am, and I simply give up on speaking, watching dumbfounded as the Capitol technicians fight to control whatever is happening to their broadcast. Katniss, Finnick, Rue. The bakery. Thirteen is doing something. I don’t know what, I don’t know how. But I do know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Katniss is with them.

And I am not.

Whatever the technicians do finally manages to stop the broadcast fighting, and the Capitol seal is displayed on the monitor while demands continue to be yelled from the control booth. The screen flickers, and suddenly our set appears again. I can see my wild eyes staring back at me, Snow attempting to speak over the chaos as he informs the Capitol that we will resume when we have security under control. And then he asks me, after the demonstration that I just witnessed from the unrepentant rebels, if I have anything to say to Katniss Everdeen.

I feel my chest constrict, feel my mouth twist in frustration. Without the teleprompter, I don’t know what Snow wants me to say. I don’t even know what I want to say. Is she with me? Is she against me? Is she my friend? Is she my enemy?

I don’t know.

Eventually, the words burst forth, spewing out in a rush. “Katniss…how do you think this will end?” I barely understand what I'm saying, only that I have to get the words out before my head explodes. It’s pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, and I struggle to breathe. My thoughts whirl and battle with each other, snapping and snarling like the mutts from the first Arena. I only have one that's coherent, a conversation I’d heard when the Peacekeepers were done after a session, and they’d assumed I was unconscious. I push through, knowing that this is my last chance, my only chance, to say it. "And you…in Thirteen…” Do it, Peeta, do it! “Dead by morning!"

It's chaos. Snow rises to his feet, his face the very picture of fury. People are running, barking orders. Cameras tumble to the ground while I rise to my feet and continue to yell. Scream. Can anybody hear me?!

I feel the crack against my head and I cry out, tumbling forwards onto the ground. My prosthetic leg twists up awkwardly beneath me, and the pain it causes in my thigh fights with the burning in my skull. My fingers slip wetly on the red streaked tiles and I realise with horror that it’s my own blood.

The whistling sound of a Peacekeepers baton swings through the air, closer and closer until -

_____________________________

“Good luck, Soldier Mellark. Make me proud.”

The words echo in my ears long after I’ve left Thirteen, over and over again. Make me proud. Make me proud. Make me proud. I know only one thing that will make her proud.

Kill Katniss Everdeen.

Oh, President Coin will never admit it, but I know that’s what she wants. I know, because like recognizes like. I know, because I know how much I want to. How much I need to. To feel the warmth leech from her skin as my fingers tighten, tighten, tighten around her throat. The delicate, olive skin of her throat…of her shoulders…of her hands…encased in mine. Gripped together. Holding on for dear life. Her lips on mine, her tongue tangled with mine. My heart beating wildly with the love that it’s filled with, for her.

Love?

I close my eyes and clench my fists tightly, press against the metal encircling my wrists until it breaks the skin. Focus on the sound of the train as it runs along the tracks, the steady bom-bom-bom-bom of the turning wheels. Trying to pull myself to where I need to be, not to this stupid place the head doctors in Thirteen insist on attempting to get me back to. The place where Katniss is my friend. The person I love.

Hate.

They keep trying to tell me she isn’t evil, she isn’t my enemy, but nothing they ever tell me makes sense. Delly tells me things that don’t match the images in my head. Footage is replayed over and over again, and jars with my memories. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. The words jumble in my head until nothing seems straight and I have to fight my way back to where I want to be, to where I feel triumphant, free.

Standing over her dead mutt body.

I stare out the small window and feel the rage flood through me again; I welcome it like one would an old lover. I watch as the crops of Eleven come into view, the orchards in the far distance. Remember the last time I travelled through here, a lifetime ago, when we all got people killed just because we lived. Because of what we said, what we did, who we trusted.

We won’t all live any more. No, not when I finally get to Two, and join Plutarch’s precious Star Squad.

I’m not going to kill her because it will make President Coin proud; I couldn’t care less about her. I’m going to do it because I want to. Because I have to. Because I need to.

I need you.

_____________________________

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

I lift my head and look into her grey eyes in the dim light. My fingers rub along my wrists, unused to feeling them unshackled.

“No,” I tell her when it’s clear she needs an answer. “It’s last resort stuff. Completely.”

Katniss pauses, then leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know what to do at first, the feeling of her wrapped around me tied up in a million different complicated emotions. But then I reciprocate and bring my own around her waist, the familiarity to our embrace almost welcoming. I close my eyes and breathe her in, finding that the brutal urges I’ve become accustomed to have made way for something else. Something I used to know. Something sweeter, hungrier.

“All right, then,” she finally says, and pulls away. I feel cold and hot all at the same time at the loss of her, and there’s something on the tip of my tongue that I want to say, but I don’t know what it is. Instead, I remain mute and simply watch as she steals out the door, Gale at her heels.

A few minutes later Tigris sends me on my way with a gentle pat on the cheek, as though she feels sorry for me.

At first I’m cautious not to get too close to Katniss and Gale as we make our way down the alley and onto the avenue with the Capitol refugees, but it’s almost impossible to keep track of them around the fighting breaking out, the pods activating, the people dying. Hysteria is rife, eyes are looking around wildly in fear, and I secure my scarf back over my nose and mouth as tight as I can. Every so often I see a flash of Katniss’ red cloak and it helps me to reset, to remind myself of what I’m doing, where I’m going. What I’ve promised to do if it looks like they’re going to get caught.

But it’s chaotic, and it’s obvious that any plan we may have had is pointless now. Shopfronts around me shatter and people fall to the ground, I have to crawl my way across pavements slick with blood. Screams drown out every other sound as a new pod detonates. I look into eyes that are staring, lifeless, and feel the pressure inside me building and building and building, and I bite my lip until my mouth fills with copper and salt. The pain brings me back.

When the road ahead of me cracks open, swallowing people into its depths, I stare in horror and wonder if Katniss has gone down with them. I press myself against the wall of a perfumery, its sweet scents warring with the putrid stench wafting from the street, and scan ahead, frantically trying to see her. Instead I see Gale, barely clinging to some decorative ironwork, his feet kicking out into space. And then - and then I see her. Katniss, dragging herself up over the far edge of the abyss. Alive. But far away and completely inaccessible to me.

I have no choice but to double back to an alleyway I’d noticed earlier; it connects to a cross street where I’m able to blend into yet another crowd. Whether it’s luck or simple Capitol snobbery, no one pays any attention to the limping stranger swaddled in a purple fedora and pale gray coat.

The screams go on and gunfire pops as the rebels continue to break through. Every shot I hear takes me back to that day in Eleven, and the bullet in the old man’s head. Would we still have ended up here if I hadn't made that pledge in honour of Rue and Thresh, when I helped to fan flames I didn’t even know were being tended?

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me. There’s no point in wondering.

Eventually, I stumble into the City Circle behind a family huddled together, their lime green coats the same stricken shade as their terrified faces. It’s a mass of bodies, bracketed by President Snow's mansion on the right and the avenue's grand dame edifices to my left. Giant barricades before the mansion are a dam holding a lake of children.

The ultimate in defence, I think in disgust.

I suddenly catch sight of Katniss hoisting herself up a flagpole ahead of me, the hood of her cloak falling back across her shoulders. She surveys everything around her, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she looks up in surprise, and I follow her line of sight.

It’s a hovercraft.

Everything about it looks as it should; the gleaming paint, the Capitol seal, the shiny silver parachutes that start to fall from its belly. But it doesn’t feel right, nothing about it feels right. My gut is warning me, telling me that something is wrong. President Snow is evil. He is sadistic. He uses his own Capitol children as a shield. But this…this does not feel right. If he had a hovercraft at his disposal, he’d have already been on it, away to whatever secret bunker he would have built for himself long ago. He wouldn’t be offering gifts to his citizens with no strings attached.

I sprint forward, leap over a raised flower bed, ram a fist into the face of a Peacekeeper who shows a hint of recognition when he sees me. I have one focus, and one focus only, and that’s to get Katniss away from whatever this is. I keep running, and I’m almost there when everything explodes.

I stumble back, and in my head I see the Arena raining down upon me. In reality, it’s blood and gore and bone, and I have to stop myself from throwing up. I need to get to Katniss.

People have pushed towards the barricaded area, making my path to Katniss all the easier. I’m so intent on her that it takes me a moment to realise who else I see, the other braid that streaks past me right into the horrors.

Prim.

Her hand clutches a medical kit, her medic jacket still slightly too big for her petite frame. I open my mouth to call out to her, but I’m too winded from running, and she’s too far away now for her to hear me. She’s just gone past Katniss anyway, is kneeling down to help someone, and Katniss will call out to her and-

She doesn’t.

Even from here, I can see small, shivering hands still clutching onto the precious parachutes that didn't explode before. Can practically see the moment they light up, shattering into a million fiery pieces.

Taking Prim with them.

My heart stops, my brain shuts down. Flames steal across my forehead, but I barely feel them. Prim is dead.

Prim is dead.

Finnick is dead. Mitchell is dead. Boggs is dead. Mags is dead. Rue is dead. My family is dead. Everybody is dead.

No. Katniss isn’t.

I run towards the flagpole, shoving others out of my path in my haste to get to her. She’s waving her arms around wildly in an attempt to put out the flames that billow around her, but it does nothing but enrage them. I don’t even think when I finally reach her side - I push her to the ground, roll her over the snow until the flames engulfing her back finally dissipate. The coat she wears feels like a furnace, and I try to pull it off her, tearing the black lining. The delicate fabric burns my fingers and palms even more, but I keep going, tugging and tugging until she’s free of it, and I toss it aside. I draw in a deep breath, but immediately start to cough; the smoke and flames around us are too strong, too out of control, and we can’t stay here.

Prim is gone. I don’t know where Gale is, or Cressida, or Pollux. It’s only me and Katniss. And the only thing I’ve ever wanted is for her to live.

It’s the surest thing I’ve ever known.

I position my arms underneath her back to lift her up, my prosthetic buckling as I straighten. I look around, no idea where to go other than as far away from the mansion and the City Circle as possible. So I move, and keep moving, further and further away, around the sobs, cries, moans, screams. I chance a look down at Katniss’ face - it’s contorted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth twisted in a grimace. The only word that crosses her lips is Prim, and each time she says it, it’s accompanied by a guttural moan.

The exposed skin I can see on her is a mess, and she emanates a heat that is painful where she rests against my own injured arms. I don’t even want to imagine what her back looks like, what damage has been done to her. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on literal fire.

I finally reach a point where I can’t take it anymore, and slump to the ground beside a building with a brightly coloured sign that proudly proclaims that it’s Winter Sale Time! I cradle Katniss against me, staring dumbly at the damage I can still see in the City Circle, even from here. Broken bodies, scarlet covered snow, wailing parents. Rebels wandering around in shock, Peacekeepers not knowing what the hell to do.

All the fighting to overthrow the Capitol. All the battles in the Arena. All the appearances to appease a President who was never going to be appeased. After all of that, this is what it’s come down to. Even more innocent children lost because of a Game that should never have been played.

I look down at Katniss again, feel the warring in my head begin. I don’t have the pain of cuffs around my wrist to tether me to, so I say the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I whisper to her that she needs to stay with me.

_____________________________

The air wafting through the open bedroom window is sweet and carries the promise of a warm day ahead. I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent; spring is here, and there’s something about this season that’s always made it a favourite of mine. I know it’s Katniss’ as well - she told me once with a melancholy smile on her face, though she never explained why.

I rise from the bed, twitch the curtain slightly to look across at her house. The windows are closed, but the chimney is smoking, meaning Sae has already beaten me there. My stomach grumbles at the thought of bacon, and I hope I haven’t missed breakfast. It’s become part of our routine since I finally returned from the Capitol - sharing breakfast in the morning, spending time tending the overgrown gardens of all the Village houses, working on the memory book that Katniss has started. There are days where Katniss goes into the woods alone, or I take long walks around the edge of town furthest from the bakery when I know I need to be on my own, but for the most part we spend our days together.

If anyone had told me this when I first arrived in Thirteen, I would have laughed. Then tried to kill them.

I’ve come a long way.

I grab the pants I flung across the foot of the bed the night before and slip them on, snag a soft blue t-shirt from the bureau drawer. I jog downstairs, grab the freshest loaf of bread from the bread bin and jam my feet into shoes that I know were hand-picked by Portia, acknowledging the pang the thought of her brings. There really isn’t much in my life that doesn’t remind me of someone or something I’ve lost; it’s something I’m still learning to live with. But Dr Aurelius tells me I can’t ignore it, or things will never get better. And I really, really want things to get better.

I head outside and cross the expanse between our homes, letting myself in without knocking. I follow the scent of food through to the kitchen, pleased to see the high pile of bacon beside a platter of eggs on the table.

“Morning,” I greet, sending a small smile to Sae and her granddaughter Sadie, before glancing across to Katniss in the rocking chair. It’s still her preferred spot, and she’s sitting in it silently, biting into a piece of bacon. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s nothing out of the norm.

“You’re late,” Sae admonishes, but it’s said with no heat, more playful than serious.

“I slept well,” I say simply, and she just nods, knowing as well as I do that those nights are rare. I drop the loaf on an empty plate, picking up the knife I know was left there for me for this very purpose. Another piece of evidence for my progress - a knife, in the same room as Katniss, with not a single inclination to kill.

No, the feeling of wanting to kill Katniss is long gone.

The bread is sliced thickly, shared out between the four of us as we pile our plates high with food. Sae offers a little conversation, Sadie sings a tune that I vaguely remember from my childhood. Buttercup hisses and whines until someone slips him some bacon. Katniss remains silent, and I wonder if today is going to be one of the days she leaves me for the woods.

Eventually, the front door shuts behind Sae and Sadie, and I turn to Katniss questioningly.

“You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods.

“Yeah,” she finally says. “I had a dream last night.”

“Oh.” This, I understand.

“No, it was a good dream,” she tells me. She shifts uncomfortably in the chair, and I suddenly realise her feet are bare but for a thin pair of socks. No boots. No boots means no woods. This is good. “I…I dreamt of Prim, and Rue. And it was…it was nice.”

Nice dreams are a rarity for me, almost unknown for Katniss. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Katniss licks her lips, glances down at the hands folded in her lap. “I don’t think so. But I think…I think I’d like to draw Rue today. Is that okay?”

I stand and cross to her, then crouch in front of her chair and wait until she catches my eye before I speak. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you want.”

We set up in the front parlour, where the light is best in the mornings. The low slung coffee table is our work space, side by side with our legs crossed. I sketch on loose pieces of paper, Katniss ruminates on what she wants to write. It’s not our first entry about Rue, and it likely won’t be our last.

We settle on Katniss’ memory of Rue sharing her love of singing. I begin to draw her sitting in the Arena woods, light dappling across her face and a slight smile on her lips, and I think of the siblings she left behind, the ones who stared at us so solemnly on the Victory Tour. The ones who’ll never get to hear Rue sing again. I test out a dozen different shades of green before I land on the right ones for the leaves, and take far too long trying to get a curl of her hair the way I want it to fall. It’s when I’m halfway through that another memory jags at me, and I drop my pencil like it's on fire. I can feel the panic rising in my chest and fight to steady my breathing, fight to tamp down the multitude of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. My head pounds, behind my eyes, behind my ears, at the base of my neck. I push away from the table, my fingers digging frantically into the loomed wool of the rug beneath me.

“Peeta? Are you alright?” I can vaguely hear Katniss over the roaring in my ears, and I stare at her blankly, willing it all to go away, go away, go away, GO AWAY. Then her hand rests tentatively on mine, and slowly everything recedes, until I’m hollow, spent, and all I can feel is her touch.

“Sorry,” I mutter when I finally feel settled. I pull myself to my feet and drag my hands over my eyes. "I'm alright. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" I nod and place my hands on my hips, drawing in a deep breath. "What was it?"

It takes me a few minutes to muster up the courage to speak. "They just…in the Capitol. When they used the venom…” I trail off, trying to align my thoughts. “They used it while showing me footage of you and Rue. When she died. The memories are shiny. And they’re, um…they’re not very favourable to you.”

“Oh.” Katniss' eyebrows draw together in concern, and I can see the worry at what they might have shown me. What conversations we might have to have later. “We don’t have to draw her, Peeta, not if it’s going to affect you like this.”

I wonder why this has never surfaced before now, even though we've talked about Rue plenty of times. Why this twisted ‘memory’ has decided to claw its way free today, when the morning has been such a good one. Why my brain works the way it does these days, flipping between normal and madness at the flick of an invisible switch.

"It's okay. I just…I just don't like being around you when I'm like this. You shouldn't have to see me like this. I should go."

Katniss shakes her head and rises to her feet, reaches out to touch my hand again. I allow it, and our fingers tangle together tightly. It took us a long time to feel comfortable with each other’s touch again, before a hand would reach out and be welcomed, an embrace easily returned. Now Katniss is the only person who can make me feel anchored when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. The only one who can reach me, who can help me to hang on, who can help to bring me back.

"Peeta, you know you don't need to hide from me."

I look down at her sadly. "What if I hurt you? You don’t know what these other…parts of me are capable of."

"You won't hurt me," she says firmly. "And I know you, all of you. Every part of you is Peeta. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Her words undo me, and I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers. Our eyes bore into each other, unblinking. Every day I wish… I hope…I wonder. If she feels the way I do, the way I always have, the way Snow could never take away from me. And after what she’s just said…right now I have to do more than just wish and hope and wonder. I need to know.

I reach up, gently brush the back of my fingers across her cheek. I can hear her breath hitch, feel my own heart thud. But it doesn’t thud like it did only moments ago; it thuds in a good way, and the feeling spreads out into my stomach, out to my limbs, to the tips of my toes. I turn my hand over and cup her cheek with my palm, then dip my head slightly as I feel her hand gently rest on my chest.

The thud turns into a frantic drumbeat, and I don’t waste another second. My lips find hers, and hers find mine, and it feels so good, so damn good, that I never want it to end. It’s gentle and searching, and it’s a promise of things to come.

Eventually, we pull away, and we smile at each other shyly, as though we’ve never kissed before. We both look down at the unfinished entry on the coffee table, and with unspoken agreement, lower back to our positions, cross-legged, side by side. I finish my sketch, Katniss closes out the accompanying text. And when we’re finally done, she closes the book and turns to me.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks hesitantly. I watch as her gaze flits, ever so briefly, to my lips, and my heart soars. “It won’t be much, probably just some leftover venison, some greens-”

“I’d love to,” I tell her. “I can bake us some cheese buns to go with it.”

The delight is clear in her eyes. “Deal.”

And with that, we have a new addition to our daily routine.

__________________________

Today our kisses are lazy and sweet, our movements slow and languid. Sometimes we’re frantic in our need for each other, limbs tangled, hands gripping forcefully, with no time for finesse. Other times we’re as gentle as a whisper, as though we’re worried that if we go too hard we’ll break before we reach our peak. But this is our middle ground, where we’re almost playful, where a laugh could just as easily be followed by a moan as it could a whimper. Where we’re not afraid to try something new, exploring each other in all the ways I never dreamed we’d get to.

After, Katniss lies in my arms, her naked skin bathed in the afternoon sun. A strand of her hair tickles my cheek, but I don’t move to brush it aside. In all honesty, I could lie here forever - the woods are my favourite place to make love to Katniss, any inhibitions that she might still have disappearing beneath the broad limbs, the rustling leaves and the gentle lap of the lake nearby the only sounds other than the ones we make ourselves. But the sun will set soon, and making my way through the woods back home in the dark with my leg is not ideal.

We dress slowly and leave the lake, our feet crunching over the golden leaves of fall. We walk back through the centre of town, our hands linked, and say hello to Thom and Delly outside their store, wave to Dalton as he passes us on his way home to his farm on the outskirts of town. We reach the edge of Victor’s Village, and laugh as we settle in on the steps of our front porch, watch as Haymitch runs after a goose that’s gotten loose from his garden.

“Laugh all you want,” he grunts loudly once he has the goose back in his arms, before none too gently dumping it on the other side of his front fence. “I’ll laugh at the two of you when you’re chasing your own two legged thing around a yard.” He comes over to us, jerks his head towards Katniss’ gently swelling belly. Katniss blushes, the faintest flush creeping across her cheeks.

“I’m sure you will, Grandpa,” I reply with a smirk, and he grimaces. I know it’s all for show; for all his crotchety and rude ways, I know he’s just as amazed and excited and terrified as Katniss and I are for the change that’s coming our way.

“You heard the news?” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the disgusting beef jerky he’s taken to munching on as an alternative to drinking 24/7. Katniss and I look at each other, shake our heads. “Eleven has a new District representative to the President.”

“Oh?” Katniss’ response is wary, and her fingers tighten around mine.

Haymitch’s voice is soft when he responds, as gentle as his gravelly tone will ever allow. “Rue’s sister,” he tells us, and pauses a moment to gauge our reaction before continuing. “Heard her interview on the radio. Said she’d been inspired to represent their District because of the courage of her big sister. That she’d been given a gift, long ago, and had been able to get a better education because of it. Wanted to use it so she could keep making their District a better place to live. She’s young, but young blood can be a positive thing.” He reaches over and touches Katniss briefly on the shoulder, gives me an approving nod. “You kids always remember you did good, okay?” He clears his throat of all the sentimentality, then walks back to his house. He turns at his front door, tossing a final comment out over his shoulder before going inside. “Oh, and I’ll be back for dinner. Make sure it’s none of that meatloaf shit.”

We’re quiet for a few moments before Katniss tips her head to rest on my shoulder. “Things are good, aren’t they?” she finally says, and I smile gently, even though I know she can’t see my face. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her even closer. We both know that it’s not always going to be like this, that not every day is going to be easy. But she’s right - right now, things are good. We are free to live as we want. We’re growing our own family. And a young woman from a poor fruit farming family is representing a District to a beloved President, something that would have been laughable 15 years ago.

I realise with perfect clarity that the impacts of our actions - mine, Katniss’, Haymitch’s, Rue’s, countless others - will be endless. But so, too, will the opportunities.

And that indeed makes everything good.

#promptsinpanem #specialchallenges #fivetenfifteen #submission #sponsormusings

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ladycatofwinterfell · 2 years

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@jeyne-stark suggested sleepy post-sex cuddles, so here’s a little drabble. Enjoy!

“Don’t fall asleep” Ned whispered.

He was not making it easy for her. Gently running a hand through her hair and pressing kisses to her forehead.

“It’s your fault if I do” Catelyn mumbled.

She kept her eyes closed, wanted nothing more than to doze off. Both her body and her mind were tired and she believed she had never been more comfortable. Ned’s arms around her, the light tapping of rain against the windows, the soft pillows and blankets around them. No children were crying, no dishes had to be done, no laundry had to be folded. They were in a hotel room at a conference and no one would bother them.

“My fault? You initiated this.”

“Maege told me I should try to stress less, so I’m practicing stress relief.”

When Ned laughed she more felt than heard it.

“Through sex?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, if we don’t get up now we’ll have to stress soon.”

A long sigh escaped Catelyn. They had to attend the dinner, that was why they were there in the first place. Well, the dinner itself wasn’t important, the conference earlier that day had been the important thing. Though if they did not attend the dinner people would most likely think something about it.

Catelyn forced herself to open her eyes. She rolled away from her husband to take her phone from the nightstand. Such a simple movement and yet it was the hardest thing she had ever done. It wasn’t made easier by that Ned kept a hand on her hip even as she moved away from him.

“Ten minutes, then we’ll get up” she said after having checked the time. “Because you cannot tell me you’re not tired, as well.”

She once more settled against Ned, rested her head on his shoulder. He was so warm and she was getting cold. She draped a leg and an arm over him to get as close as possible, nuzzled her face into his neck.

“Your nose is so cold, it’s insane” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

Catelyn had closed her eyes and was barely awake. Ten minutes, she could sleep for ten minutes. Maybe she would feel better afterwards.

Slowly she became aware of her surroundings again. There was a sound she couldn’t remember having been there before, what was that?

“Cat, that’s your phone” Ned muttered, poking her in the side.

He had fallen asleep, she could tell by his voice. And when she looked at him he seemed a little groggy.

“Stop poking me, I’ll answer” she told him when he poked her again.

Catelyn reached for her phone, found that it was Lyanna calling her.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

Not even a greeting back.

“What do you mean? We’re in our room, as we said we’d be.”

They had told her that they were going back to their room before dinner to rest for a bit.

“Alright, will you be ready to come down soon? Because the rest of us have already sat down to eat.”

Catelyn lowered the phone, afraid of what she would see. She took a deep breath before looking at the screen and confirming her fear. They had been sleeping for much longer than ten minutes. They should have been down in the hotel restaurant ten minutes earlier.

“Ah shit, we’ll be down as soon as we can” she told Lyanna.

Her sister-in-law just laughed at her.

“Do you want me to tell them we should wait for you?”

“No, start eating, we’ll hurry.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Ned had got the message even if he hadn’t heard Lyanna and was already out of the bed. It was a shame that they had to get dressed and leave the room, it really was, Catelyn thought as she watched him cross the room to get clothes.

“First time we’re both going on a work trip since we had Bran and we’ve managed to oversleep because you insisted on napping, we should just resign” he said.

“We have four kids between the ages of one and eight, no one will blame us for being tired” she responded as she sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to get her underwear. “We don’t need to tell them we fell asleep because I wanted sex as we finally had a moment to ourselves.”

It wasn’t always easy to find time for intimacy with four children and both of them working full time. There was always something or someone that required their attention.

“I wasn’t planning on telling them that, were you?”

“Definitely not.”

#catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat #my drabble

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lostglassguitars · 2 years

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“Like I said, nobody has ever beaten “Life Is Yours To Choose”!”

Is that because of us, Mark? Or is it because you never gave us a choice? After all, we’re really just wrapped up in your story. So of course we’ve never beaten it. You’ve never given us the opportunity to.

#my posts #am i clinging onto that one line way too hard? maybe.#but something about it kind of just hits me #nobody has ever beaten life is yours to choose #that's because we don't have a choice #we're just getting dragged through show after show #story after story #it never ends. we can't escape.#the blame is draped on our shoulders when we never wanted this in the first place #is it really our fault? after all... we are trying #right?#markiplier #markiplier lore #iswm #in space with markiplier #life is yours to choose #i'm gonna tag all stuff related to this lore stuff today as that btw

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scuttling · 3 years

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And this I promise from the heart

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,428 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Fluff, Hot tub foreplay, Hiking, Hotch is into plants, Rough sex, Hickies, Biting, Mirror sex Summary: Includes a scene Inspired by @ssahotchie and this ask. Collection: Just The Way You Are Series, Part 2 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Coming Soon!) Part 4 Link to A03 or read below! “Sunny. Sunny,” Aaron calls in his deep, even voice, and the six-month-old Golden Retriever at your feet wags her tail, looks up in your direction.

“Daddy’s home, Sunny girl. Do you want to get daddy?” She rises to her feet, looks out the door, down the hall, then back at you, tail thumping against your desk chair. “Go get daddy.” She takes off running, and you smile, turn back to your work. You can hear the jingle of her tags as Aaron scratches her neck—she’s probably two seconds from flopping onto her back for a belly rub, which, you know, you completely get—and his voice as he asks her if she’s had a good day.

If anyone doesn’t believe Aaron is a soft, gooey marshmallow of a man beneath the buttoned-up federal agent exterior, you welcome them to witness one exchange between him and his dog.

A few minutes later, he walks into your office, Sunny at his heels, and you look up, raise your eyebrows. “Oh, is it my turn to be greeted now?” you tease, and you stand, meet him for a kiss.

“Not jealous, are you?”

“Only a little, but I’ll let you make it up to me.” He wraps an arm around your waist, smooths a hand up your back, kisses you again, but this time it’s slower, warmer, and you’re a little breathless when he pulls back.

“Planning on making it up to you tonight—or, all weekend, actually. Derek offered to watch Sunny, and I pulled some strings and was able to rent us a cabin near the national park. I thought maybe we could get away, get some fresh air, hike the trails? I know it’s not the beach, but on short notice I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask with a grin, holding onto his arms. This is totally unexpected, so thoughtful it makes your chest ache. You lean up to kiss him repeatedly, soft and sweet. “Thank you, baby, really. I can’t tell you how excited I am.”

“You’re welcome. I should have thought of something like this sooner; I’m sorry I’ve been a little oblivious.” He frowns, and you move your hands to his face, guide him down for a deeper kiss.

“I know you have a lot on your plate, and I love our life exactly as is—going away with you is just a bonus.”

“Well it’s a bonus you deserve,” he says, pulling you closer. “I want to be more attentive; I don’t want to fall back into my old habits.”

“You’re very attentive; I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with my thoughts, so I can’t blame you for not reading my mind. Let’s promise to talk more about things that matter,” you suggest; he agrees, and you kiss again before heading to your bedroom to pack your bags. After getting the car packed for the trip, you head to Derek's to drop off Sunny and her things—with lots of pets and kisses for Sunny, and a tight, appreciative hug for Derek—and then stop for dinner on your way to the cabin.

Aaron is so light and happy, you almost wish you’d gotten drunk and asked for a vacation sooner, even if it is only a weekend away.

The cabin is beautiful, all deep cherry wood and high ceilings, a stone fireplace; there is a swimming pool, a hot tub, and a finished wraparound deck that overlooks the forest. It promises peace, quiet, solitude—a perfect place for you and Aaron to reconnect and spend some one-on-one time together.

You unpack your clothes and toiletries, and Aaron unpacks the kitchen things: coffee, water, and wine, breakfast ingredients, snacks. You meet him downstairs when you’re finished, and he is sitting out on the patio with two glasses of wine on the table in front of him. You feel a little like you’ve died and gone to heaven.

“You’re so good to me,” you tell him when you step out onto the deck. You intend to sit down in the chair across from him, but he reaches out, curls a hand around your forearm and guides you to sit in his lap instead. You wrap an arm around his neck, loosely drape the other over his chest, look up at his gentle face. “So very good to me.”

“All I want is to be good to you; I just want to make you happy,” he murmurs, and he leans in to kiss you—it’s a very specific type of kiss, slow and passionate, one that makes you crave his touch on your bare body, and you make a soft, needy sound against his mouth, pull back with a smile.

“What do you have planned for me in that beautiful, brilliant brain?” Aaron ducks his head, smiles a bit bashfully; you love that your compliments still affect him after all this time, quite partial to the shy, serious man who stole your heart in the first place.

“Well, I was thinking wine, clearly… maybe a soak in the hot tub? I turned it on, brought out some towels—did you happen to pack a swimsuit?” He smooths a hand over your hip, your ass, and you cling to him a bit more tightly.

“I didn’t, but that won’t stop from getting in that hot tub with you.” He looks confused, and you raise your eyebrows, give him a moment to let it sink in.

“Skinny dipping?” he says, looking simultaneously surprised and turned on by the prospect. You laugh softly.

“Yes. It’s private back here, no neighbors close by, and I think it would be a lot of fun. I won’t try to force you to join me, you know I won’t, but if I could convince you somehow, please let me know.” You brush your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, lean in for an unhurried kiss, slowly dragging your tongue along the length of his, and it’s clear he’s quickly convinced. He grips your thigh with a firm hand, moves the other to the back of your head to keep you close, keep you kissing.

He’s not always forceful, not always rough, but there’s no denying what it does to you when he grabs you a little harder, kisses a little deeper; you want to give yourself to him even more than you usually do, want him to do what he wants, take what he wants. You want to give him everything.

When he breaks the kiss, you press two more against his lips, then pull back and tug your sweater over your head. He runs a hand over your breast, squeezes through the fabric of your bra, then slides it up to wrap lightly around your throat. It’s tender but possessive, something else that never fails to drive you crazy; the first time he did it during sex you had an orgasm almost instantly, and there’s just something about having his broad palm and thick fingers there that makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck,” you groan, though it’s more like a whisper, and he moves his other hand to your pants, slips the button free, hovers. “Please, Aaron.” He flicks his eyes up, stares into yours, pulls you toward him for another kiss, and you moan against his lips. The moment he releases you, you shift up, out of his lap, and you push down your pants and panties, unhook your bra.

You’re both breathing heavily, especially when Aaron looks over your body like he hasn’t seen it a million and one times already, his gaze hot and lingering; you reach for him, and he stands, lets you get him out of his clothes too. It’s clearly a little uncomfortable for him to feel so exposed, even though you are in a private space, so you run your hands over him gently, press your lips against his body, whisper soothing words of encouragement and remind him that you can go inside whenever he likes.

The hot tub is in-ground, square, made of stone, and you both sink into the blissfully hot water with matching sighs; the night is warm, with a cool breeze, and you sit down next to him, let him pull you into his lap again. You smile, tug the hair tie off of your wrist and sweep your hair up into a high bun, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Not so bad,” you murmur, smoothing your hand over his chest, “is it?” He holds you close with a hand on your lower back, drags the other up your stomach, over your breasts. Your mouth falls open in a soft gasp, and he does it again, his rough palm catching your nipple, rubbing against it.

“Not bad at all.” You run your tongue over your lips, grind in his lap—he’s already hard, and you can’t blame him, feel like you’re halfway to a climax as is. This is extremely hot, and not just because you’re still surprised he even agreed to it. “I want to kiss you—just kiss you for a little bit. You’re not too turned on for that, are you?” You close your eyes briefly, sigh, because he clearly plans to torture you, drag out the foreplay; eventually, you shake your head.

“I’m not too turned on for that.” He hums, pleased, and then brings a hand to your throat again, pulls you in for a long, wet kiss. You roll your hips against his, slowly and sensually, and he moves his hands over your body, squeezes your ass hard with both of them. “Mmm. Want you.” He squeezes again and you grip his shoulders firmly, whimper. “Aaron.”

“Should I let you up? Or should I make you come right here in my lap?” he asks, and then he decides on his own, moves a hand between your legs and slides it over your pussy. You moan softly, looking down at him in a way you hope conveys your desire, your desperation; he seems to understand, holds your ass and pushes two fingers inside you, presses deeply. “Kiss me, baby,” he breathes, and you do, gasping against his mouth as he pumps his hand.

Your kisses are graceless, eager, and you ride his hand, weave your fingers into his hair to keep him close, to stay connected. Eventually you just breathe against his lips, unable to focus on even a messy kiss; he adds a third finger, watches your face like you’re mesmerizing as you get close, as if he hasn’t seen this look a million and one times too.

“I want you to come hard, I want to hear it. I want the neighbors we don’t have to hear it.” He smiles, just a little, and so do you, and then you kiss him with renewed fervor, slam down against his hand, water sloshing around you; you come moaning, gripping his shoulders hard, and he brings his wet hand up to hold tightly to the back of your neck, so you’ll make eye contact as you ride out the final wave of pleasure, clench around his fingers. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groans, and you wet your lips, panting, lean in for another kiss.

“I want to blow you,” you speak over his mouth, earning a soft sound of desire, and he kisses you deeply once more before guiding you off of his lap. He moves up a step, so just his legs are in the water, and you climb between them, run your hands over his thighs. “Gorgeous too.” You look up at him, and he puts both hands on your face, pulls you in for a kiss; you grope at his chest, slip your fingers over the wet hair that trails down his stomach, then bite him there softly when he lets you go, leans back on his arms.

You wrap a hand easily around his straining cock, press the other against his thigh; his sharp intake of breath when you cover him with your mouth is enough to get you wet again, and you shift a bit uncomfortably—the stone is hard beneath your knees, the ache between your legs back in full force, but you would stay in this position for hours if that’s what Aaron wanted.

Now, though, he just looks like he wants to come, so you suck—tight, shallow, wet, strokes—and hum, working your hand with each dip of your head. “Oh, yes. So good,” he rasps, and he curls forward so he can run his hands down your back. It brings his body closer, his scrunched stomach brushing against your nose as you tilt your head up, and you whine, lift off of him, press open mouthed kisses to his stomach and chest, everywhere you can reach. “Fuck. Are you wet again, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh, kissing him, touching him with your free hand—the other is still pumping his cock even though your mouth has abandoned it. “Touch me, please touch me.” He leans in a bit further, puts one hand on the back of your neck and one over your clit, rubs quickly and pulls you in for another hot, hard kiss. “Yes, touch me, Aaron, touch me.” You’re so eager for more—more pleasure, more of his pleasure—that you literally can’t stop talking, so you slide your mouth over him again just to occupy it, just so you don’t sound as needy as you feel.

“You’ll come for me again,” he murmurs, cupping your head with his broad palm—no pressure, just a reverent touch. “You’ll swallow for me, come for me; you’d do anything for me.” You would, you have no doubts, and you just hum your agreement, keep sucking until he groans, guides you off of him, to his lips. “Inside,” he mumbles through a kiss, and you take his face in your hands, deepening it, clinging to each other.

“You want to go inside?” you ask, breathless.

“I want to go inside… come inside you.” He puts his hands on your waist, urges you to stand, and you step out of the hot tub, take a few dripping steps over to the chair with the towels laid across it. You wrap one around Aaron, rub it roughly over his body; it starts as something sexy, but then it must tickle, and he laughs. You can’t help laughing when he does, and when he dries you off, you dissolve into giggles, wrap your arms around his neck and let him lift you, carry you into the cabin and toward the bedroom, pausing to grab the half-full glasses of wine before you go.

You set them down on the dresser, and he sets you down on the bed, hovers over you with a grin. He pushes your legs apart, wide on either side of his hips, and you surge forward for a kiss; he wraps his fingers in the sheets and pushes inside you, earning a short, high moan. You sink back against the bed, tilt your hips up, and he thrusts quickly, roughly, makes you sigh.

“Yeah, fuck, Aaron.” You curl a hand around the back of his neck, grip his forearm with the other, and grind up against him, watch his face as it shifts from determined to desperate for release.

“Won’t last,” he pants, and you shake your head, pull him down to your lips.

“Don’t have to. Just come, baby.” He groans, wraps his hand around the wooden headboard and uses it for leverage, slams hard into you; you fuck yourself against him, even harder when he comes, so eager to catch up, to meet him there. He leans in, face against your throat, fingers tight on your shoulder, and thrusts so deeply and roughly that your entire body tenses when your orgasm follows, and then you shake in his embrace while you catch your breath.

He brushes his mouth over your throat, your jaw, and you just lay together a moment, chests heaving, before he climbs off of the bed and grabs the wine. You both drink it down in one long sip, then laugh breathlessly once more, kiss again.

You get cleaned up, pull on pajamas, and Aaron builds a fire; you cuddle up on the sofa in front of it, drink enough wine to get a little tipsy, and talk and laugh, make out just to do it, with no end goal in mind. Time passes by slowly, and here, that’s perfect; you’d stop time if you could, spend the rest of your life warmed from the inside out with Aaron’s voice in your ear. The next morning, you wake up at a decent hour, make coffee while Aaron starts breakfast. It’s a bit chillier than the day before, so you wrap a blanket around your shoulders and take your coffee outside, look out at the forest and its silent stillness. Between Aaron’s work and yours, and now Sunny, life is rarely so peaceful, so quiet, and you just stand there and drink it in for a moment before Aaron comes out, clinking plates and silverware, disturbing your solitude in the most perfect of ways. You turn back, and he smiles, sets down your food, and you cross the deck, press a warm kiss to his lips, and sit down for breakfast.

The two of you get showered, dressed, and you drive to the national park to hike before it gets too warm; the trails range from easy to difficult, and you stick with something moderate, since you’re not very familiar with the park. The path you take is mostly dry, but lush and green, surrounded by thick trees and lots of plant life. Aaron, as it turns out, is quite the amatuer botanist, points out random flowers when he notices them, tells you their scientific names like a nerdy boy scout; it’s really very adorable.

“Baptisia australis—Blue Wild Indigo,” he says, pointing to a plant with small, light purple buds. “It’s a member of the pea family.”

“The pea family,” you repeat, taking care to step over a fallen log. He hums.

“I’m sure you know Indigo plants are used for dye, but indigenous people also use them in medicinal teas.” He takes another two dozen steps, kneels down to pick up a pretty golden-yellow flower that has fallen off of its plant. “Oenothera fruticosa—Southern Sundrops. Hummingbirds love them.” He turns to you, offers the flower, then a slow, tender kiss.

He moves on, tells you about at least ten other flowers along the path; you spend so much time smiling at his exuberance that your face is more sore than any other part of you by the time the hike is over.

You are ready for lunch, and a dip in the pool, and maybe a foot massage that leads to something more, but almost the second you walk in the door, Aaron’s phone rings. He looks down at it, then you, and you shoot him a soft smile.

Some things are just too good to be true.

He sighs, answers and brings it to his ear. You pass him, pat him on the back, and head to the kitchen to make some coffee to go.

“Hotchner. Yes, the family annihilator. Me specifically, JJ?” He looks over at you fondly as you pull a travel mug down from the cupboard, almost like part of him is surprised that you accepted his fate so easily, where the other part is very unsurprised. “We’re not far, but… No, it’s okay. I’ll be at the precinct in an hour. Thank you.”

“Family annihilator doesn’t sound good,” you say after he’s ended the call, stepped into the kitchen with you. “Do you have to travel?”

“It’s local, just an interrogation. We could be back here together by dinnertime.” He comes up behind you, runs his hands down your arms, leans in to brush his nose over your throat. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He sounds resigned, a bit sad, and though it’s inconvenient, it’s not something he should be beating himself up over. You knew what you were getting into when he had to leave in the middle of your third date to fly out for a case, and you’ve accepted that his work is unpredictable, and urgent, and important, would never make him choose between you or the job—because it’s not the right thing to do, but also because you’re fairly certain he would not be able to choose you.

“I know you will; you always do.” Your tone is not sarcastic or biting, but soft, and you turn your head, tilt it back to receive a warm kiss on the mouth. “You’d better get changed. Can I come along for the ride? You can stash me away in a corner at the precinct,” you say, following him upstairs; he’d packed a spare suit just in case something like this happened, and you know he wishes he could shower first, but there isn’t time.

He agrees easily, and you change your own clothes, slipping into dark jeans and a clingy black sweater, a pair of low-heeled boots. He gathers up his badge and gun, looks every bit the super special FBI agent you know and love—but he still smells like the forest, and a very large part of you is uncomfortably aroused by that fact.

You focus on that, and the thought of how he’ll make this up to you, for the entirety of the drive; Aaron is quiet, shifting gears into his calm, composed authoritative mode, but you can tell he’s aware of what you’re thinking, feeling, that it’s running through the back of his mind as well. When you arrive at the precinct, JJ is there, and you stand by quietly while she brings Aaron up to speed. Apparently a man has killed his estranged wife, children, and mother-in-law, and there is evidence, but a confession would speed things up considerably, and the district attorney has called in a favor to ensure that Aaron is the one to interrogate the man. He leaves you with a kiss on the cheek, and you and JJ make small talk before it dissolves into silence.

“Do you want to watch the interrogation? Two-way glass,” she says with a smile, and you are intrigued by the prospect. You’ve never seen Aaron in action at work before, or at least not in a way that’s any more exciting than filling out forms. She takes you to the large window, where you can see Aaron and the suspect engaged in tense conversation.

He opens up a file, spreads out photographs of what must be the man’s family; you can’t make them out, but they appear to be gruesome, if the concentration of crimson that covers the pages is any indication. The man doesn’t flinch the way you would expect, but Aaron seems to know where to proceed with that knowledge; he continues questioning him, and at one point he gets in the man’s face, shouts, and slams his hand on the table.

You can’t help it, you jump, and JJ reaches out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“You okay? I know it can be intense,” she says, and you compose yourself, nod.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just… he’s never raised his voice to me. Not once in almost six years,” you muse; you’ve never thought much of it, because a man shouldn’t be yelling at his girlfriend, right? This isn’t extraordinary, just normal behavior, but it makes you feel something deep and moving anyway. You excuse yourself, head to the bathroom and splash a little cold water on your cheeks; by the time you return, Aaron is already out of interrogation, and he and JJ are smiling.

“That was fast,” you say when you approach, and JJ pats Aaron on the arm.

“Now you know why the DA pulled all those strings to get him here. He makes the BAU look superhuman.” He shakes his head, never one to take a compliment without putting up a fight, and they chat a little more before Aaron puts a hand on your back to signal that it’s time to go.

You look at your phone when you get into the car. Thirty-six minutes have passed since you turned it off on your way into the building.

You always kind of figured, but for the first time you can see for yourself: Aaron is kind of badass. You stop to have dinner on the way back to the cabin again, but this time there is less laughter and more lingering looks, soft, eager touches. The atmosphere between you is the same as it was in the car on the way to the precinct, the familiar tension between two people who want each other but can’t, or won’t, or are waiting to say it.

It makes you feel pretty good, that the two of you have this kind of chemistry after all this time.

When you get back to the cabin, you both undress, and Aaron suggests showering together in the master bathroom’s large glass shower. You agree, eager to put your hands on him, your mouth on him; the way you touch is exploratory, as if you haven’t done this countless times over the course of your relationship, as if you weren’t in a very similar position just last night. You wash each other, slow and sensual, but tender, and then dry off, and kiss, walk backward toward the turned-down bed.

“I want to take our time tonight,” Aaron murmurs as he hovers over you. You nod, lost in the haze of his hands on you, the smell of his soap, toothpaste, the feel of cool sheets beneath your back—these are sensations, scents, you are intimately familiar with, but they never fail to make your heart pound, your breath quicken in anticipation.

No one has ever made you feel quite so much, and even after almost six years, Aaron is capable of reducing you to your basic needs and emotions with just one sentence breathed into the space between you. He smooths his hands up your sides, over your stomach, and you’d swear time stops so the two of you can just be, so you can indulge in each other in a way that feels like going back to the beginning.

His hands move to your breasts and he squeezes them, watches your face as you react to the roughness, the pleasure, before leaning in for a hot, breathy kiss. “Mmm. Yeah,” you sigh, and he presses his lips to your throat, drags them slowly down your chest, encircles a nipple and sucks hard enough that your head falls back instantly and you moan his name.

“God, I love your body,” he tells you before moving to the other nipple. “So perfect for me.” Again, he sucks, then moves his mouth just a little to the left, bites down on your breast where you’re soft and sensitive; he sucks harder, so hard it hurts and you know you will be sore where he’s claimed you for days to come. It’s been a while since he’s done this, bruised you, covered you in bites, and he knows what it does to you, seems unsurprised when you wrap your hands around his arms for leverage and try to grind against him where he’s sprawled on top of you.

“Please, Aaron.” He groans against your skin, moves a hand to cover your pussy, lets you rub against it while he continues to lick and suck and bite until both breasts are covered in the aching, tender remnants of his kiss. You’re so close to a climax from just his mouth and your own desperate movements against the heel of his hand; when he brings his lips to yours, soft and wet, you run your hands over his shoulders and head, hips working, revel in the way your own pleasure is reflected in his face when you come.

“Fuck, baby; so good for me.” You stare up at him, panting as you try to come down, and he brushes fingers over your lips, down your throat. “Turn over?” You moan softly at his request, turn onto your stomach when he leans up over you; you spread your legs wide and he tucks his knees in behind yours, guides you back onto his cock with both hands on your ass.

You fist your hands into your pillow, work your body back against his thrusts; it’s not fast, or hard, but he knows exactly where to put his hands to drive you crazy, how to help you move. You moan together, both out of breath and quickly approaching orgasm when he pulls out, leans back against his heels.

“Mmm, come here, sweetheart.” He slides his hands under you, covers your breasts again, guides you to your knees, then shifts so you both turn, face the side of the bed, not the headboard. He presses his nose against your cheek, hooks one arm around your shoulder to tightly grip your breast in his hand, and you grab onto his arm, lean your head back against him. “I want you to watch, baby. I want you to see how gorgeous you look when you come on me.”

You lick your lips, and it’s only then that you realize he’s positioned you right in front of the full-length mirror by your side of the bed. Your eyes roll back in your head a little when you process the request—is he trying to wreck you?—and he huffs a laugh against your throat.

“Do you like that? Do you want to watch me move inside you?” You nod lazily, lean your back against his chest, and he presses his cock into you, thrusts smoothly but quickly. Your mouth falls open in a soft moan, and you rock against him, digging your fingertips into his arm.

It’s so erotic, watching the movements of your bodies—Aaron’s deep pumps of hips against your ass as he disappears inside you, your thighs flexing to keep up. He squeezes your breast, which still aches from the hickies he covered you with, and then that hand slides up to your throat and you can see the bruises in all of their rich, vivid glory. “Oh, fuck, Aaron.”

“It’s been a while since I got to take you apart like this; you’re so perfect for me, so beautiful. Covered in me, full of me.” He squeezes your throat softly, just enough pressure to draw your attention there, and you sigh.

“Yes, yes. Harder,” you breathe, and he pounds against you; you watch his face in the mirror, can see that he’s breathless, close, and you bounce roughly back against him, moan and come when he’s pressed exactly where you need him. He thrusts a few more times, right there, and you don’t stop coming, just clench around him and ride it out, watch both of your expressions shift when he loses it inside you. “Oh, god, yes.”

“Yes, baby, just like that. Just like that.” He snaps his hips hard, mouths at your shoulder, and you’re reduced to whimpers until he removes his hand from your throat, pulls your hair back away from your face, tilts your chin toward him for a kiss. “So good: did so good, felt so good,” he mutters against your lips, and you both kiss a little messy, soft. This one has left you both a little come-dumb, and you press back against him, spent.

“Mmm. I fucking love you,” you sigh, and you focus on him—and maybe a little on the mirror—when he rumbles a reply and slips you his tongue. You pick Sunny up from Derek’s the next day—she runs to Aaron first, no big deal, so you talk with Derek, thank him again for watching her on such short notice.

“I’m happy to take her any time, she’s a real sweetheart. Did you enjoy your getaway?” You nod, smile, sigh a little wistfully.

“Yeah, it was really nice. He promised me a beach vacation for our honeymoon, though, and I plan to sunbathe on an island so remote his cell phone is rendered useless.” You look up at him, slap him lightly on his bicep. “So get better at your job, will you? When he’s my husband I’m going to be much less lenient if my date night gets interrupted.”

Aaron looks up from his position on the floor, where he’s giving Sunny the belly rub of her life.

“When I’m your husband,” he says with a smile, and you roll your eyes, thank Derek again, and wrangle your family out the door.

Taglist 🤍 @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @uchihasteph @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921 @hxtchncr

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #prompt #dad bod hotch

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anon-e-miss · 2 years

Text

Inquisitor's Wet Nurse - 4 Contract

Punch was not at all like Prowl’s own originator. He was no meek or obedient omega but a helm strong, commanding matriarch. It was impossible for Prowl not to marvel at him and his creations. Ricochet had paid a tidy sum to liberate Prowl from the workhouse for the sake of his nephews, for the sake of his brother. Jazz was besotted with his newlings and would so clearly give his life for them. Both the Alphas only looked Prowl in the optics when they spoke with him, even when his wells were hanging out. These were Alphas like no Alphas Prowl had ever met, so decent and good. His Springer would be like them; Prowl would raise his bitlet well.

“We’ll have Hotwire come in to take yer measurements,” Punch explained as they walked to the nursery. “Somethin’ that fits ya proper. Somethin’ for Springer too.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said. “You are being very generous.”

“Hardly,” Punch replied. He turned to Prowl and cupped his face as the elder omega looked into his optics. “You, Dearspark deserve a Prime’s ransom for what yer doin’ for my grandbitties.”

“Oh,” Prowl murmured as his cheekplates flushed. “I am not doing anything so remarkable.”

“Y’re a miracle,” Punch said. “So far as ‘m concerned.”

“Prowl,” Jazz greeted him as he and Punch entered the nursery. In his arms was a shawl, knit in a beautiful pattern. “I thought ya might wanna wear this. It’s one o’ Ori’s works. So ya don’t feel so exposed.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said.

He marvelled again had what rare Alpha he was. No one would have blamed him for enjoying the sight of Prowl’s bare protoform. Another Alpha might even suggest they keep Prowl from armour with the excuse his wells should always be available to the bitlets. It would be a farcical suggestion but Prowl imagined, his brother had not worn armour since he had become a brood carrier. It would not seem obscene to many, even most Alphas. Punch smiled at his creation and took the shawl and draped it over Prowl’s shoulders. The fibre was so soft it did not make Prowl’s doorwings itch at all.

“Also, I got this for Springer,” Jazz said and he presented Prowl’s bitlet with a sweet plushie in the shape of an ursanokor. Springer took the yellow ursanokor and rubbed his face against it.

“Oh thank you,” Prowl gushed as he arranged the shawl so it covered his wells as he cuddled Springer. “He has never had a proper toy.”

“He’ll want for nothin’ now,” Jazz promised. “I’ll get lunch, then we’ll go over the contract.”

“He really means it,” Prowl murmured as he stroked his mechling’s helm.

“He does,” Punch confirmed. He carried his chair over to Prowl and sat next to him. “Love, ya won’t either. Do ya know the designation o’ the wretches that bought yer brother?”

“Yes,” Prowl replied. “Phobos and Desecrus.”

“‘M gonna send Rico to track’em down,” Punch explained. “If they still have yer brother, he’s gonna buy ‘m. If they don’t, he’s gonna find the buyer. Either way, he’s gonna buy yer brother ‘n bring’m home to ya.”

“Oh,” Prowl brought a servo to his optics as he started to tear. “Barricade. I... have not idea where he might be.”

“My Rico’ll find ‘m,” Punch promised. “It’s only fair, Prowl. Y’re savin’ our kin. Least we can do is save yers.”

“Told’m yer plan?” Jazz asked as he returned and saw Prowl’s tears. “Rico’s a good tracker. He’ll find yer brother. Doubt it’ll taken ‘m that long at all.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said. “I have always felt so awful. That we did not run together. That I got away and he is in the Pit.”

“‘M sure he’s glad ya got away,” Jazz replied.

They ate savoury and sweet squares and spirals. Even when Prowl thought he should stop, lest he look like a glutton, Punch urged him to eat a little more. Springer stole a citrine tart from his plate and took a messy bite. Prowl covered his mouth to keep himself from laughing loud enough to wake the triplets. He was not worried about Springer eating solid fuel, he was old enough to start. Though tarts were not likely what a medic would recommend for a bitlet’s first fuel, Prowl could not be upset when Springer grinned at him, with crumbs on his chin. It was far better than the workhouse gruel, Prowl had not been willing to let Springer take any of that wretched fuel.

“If he’s ready for solids, I can get fresh ore ‘n crystals for’m,” Punch offered.

“He is,” Prowl replied. “He has been for a little while but I did not want to give him any of that gruel.”

“That’s the smartest thing ya coulda done,” Punch told him. “You have a fantastic fuel filter, consider how hale ‘n hardy ya are but he’s just a wee bitty. That scrap would probably make a mess o’ his fuel tank.”

“I worried about that,” Prowl said.

Though Springer had definitely enjoyed his stolen tart, he soon wriggled in Prowl’s lap and his originator knew just what he wanted. He turned his bitlet around. There was no need to guide Springer to his well, Springer dove right in. As he suckled, he held on to the plushie Jazz had bought for him and Prowl could not explain why it made him feel so warm and fuzzy. Punch took out a tablet with the contract he had helped Jazz right. They wanted Prowl to make amendments, to make requests but they had already given him so much. They were already doing so much and Prowl could not imagine asking for more.

“In the event ya enter a heat, Jazz is responsible for ya,” Punch read a line in the contract. “‘N any bitlet that might result.”

“Oh,” Prowl exclaimed. “I had not considered that.”

“There’s no way in Pit, ‘m gonna leave ya at the mercy o’ some grabby aft,” Jazz said and Prowl felt himself flush. He adjusted his shawl and then his hold on Springer.

“Thank you,” Prowl replied and he meant it, gratitude very literally made his spark swell. “It most likely will not be a concern. I have only had one heat.”

“Just one?” Punch asked.

“I had thought perhaps I was a neuter,” Prowl exclaimed. “Then one mega-cycle I went into heat and... well...”

“Everyone’s cycles run different,” Punch said. “Some Omegas have heats as younglings, ‘n some are long grown before they have their first. Y’re gonna be taken care o’ if ya have one so long as y’re takin’ care o’ the triplets.”

#inquisitor's wet nurse #anon-e-miss writes #valveplug #maccadams #transformers #tf jazz #tf punch #wet nurse #mechpreg #if you don't see where this is going you must be new here

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Always With The Scissors

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader / Dean Winchester x Reader / Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: sloppy seconds, voyeurism, angst, objectification of women, slut shaming, dirty talk, cum play, pining!Dean Word Count: 2.9k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Objectification | @negans-lucille-tblr - Man Crush Monday: Sam and Dean / Two for Tuesdays: Smangst / Sinful Sunday: Sloppy Seconds A/N: Super big congratulations of 7,000 followers!! You deserve every single one and many many more ❤️

Dean has a very specific kink. He knows it makes him sound a little creepy... okay, a lot creepy – okay, he is actually a full-on creep – but he never cums harder than he does when he's inside a girl his little brother's just fucked. And it’s not that his brother has awesome taste in girls and Dean is just jealous and wants in on the fun too. It’s not even that he has a big kink for sloppy seconds. It had never appealed to him before they started playing this sick sort of game they’ve been playing since Sam decided he was over Jess enough to start sleeping around again (he knew Sam was nowhere near ready for another relationship).

Dean remembers eyeing up a petite little thing at the bar once and then noticing Sam checking her out not too long after. Ever the gracious big brother, and not creepily concerned with Sam’s sex life, Dean figured he’d bow out and let Sam take the swing at this one — but then Sam caught Dean looking at her too, and tried to back down to let Dean have at it. Dean couldn’t have that. So he suggested the ploy that got them where they are now, they play Rock Paper Scissors for the chance to shoot their shot; Dean always loses Rock Paper Scissors.

The part of the night they hadn’t anticipated was the girl they’d been ogling spotting them playing a game for the chance to fuck her, and suggesting that they don’t need to choose, they can just take turns. That had been the game changer.

Listening to Sam fuck her stupid through the wall of the motel room is seriously hot, and Dean has to fight to keep his hand out of his pants the whole time he sits waiting, hearing Sam grunt out filth that he never imagined he’d hear from his little brother’s mouth. And when Sam lopes back through the adjoining door between their rooms with sex ruffled hair and a smirk, with a quick aside of ‘She’s all yours’ before he ducks into the bathroom for a shower, Dean swears he feels his knees go weak.

Quick as he can, he makes his way into the ‘sex room’ as he decided to call it in his head, and found the girl laying in the centre of the bed, legs draped open, playing with the cum leaking out of her pussy. Dean has to grab himself through his jeans, scared he’ll come on the spot if he doesn’t cut himself off.

“You gonna fuck me or what, big boy?” The girl leers at him, and Dean strips down like he’s being timed and slots himself between her thighs and pushes home in one go. He finishes embarrassingly quickly, with Sam’s cum sloshing around his dick and leaking into his mouth where the girl had painted it on like lip gloss. He devours every drop.

Dean catches Sam’s eye from across the bar and nods towards the girl he’s picked out as a target. It’s a college bar, so Sam does the approach, seeing as he's the one who looks like he could still fit in here. Dean drops himself in a chair and watches Sam work, proudly — he’s the one who taught the kind everything he knows after all. He watches as Sam charms her easily, gets her a drink, asks if she wants to come sit down and motions to the table Dean’s sitting at.

“Dean, this is Y/N,” Sam introduces her, smoothly pulling out a chair for her and pushing it back to the table — a true gentleman. “Y/N, this is my brother, Dean.”

“Hey there,” Y/N smiles at him easily, and Dean can tell they’ve picked someone up for a good time.

“Hey yourself, sweetheart,” Dean gives her a wink and leans in closer. “So, Sammy tell you how we’re hoping this night’s gonna go?”

“He did,” Y/N nods and shoots a smirk at Sam, who reciprocates, and Dean feels his guts churning. “Said the back seat of your car was real comfy too,” she grins mischievously.

“Sam even puts a blanket down most of the time, real class act,” Dean laughs, gulping down more of his drink.

“Wow,” Y/N is sarcastically amazed, “you fellas know how to treat a lady right,” she sounds bitter but Dean can tell she’s joking. She wouldn’t have followed Sam over here in the first place if she wasn’t.

“We try our best,” Sam grins at her charmingly, and Dean can see Y/N melt a little looking at his baby bro’s eyes — he can’t blame her.

Several drinks later, Y/N starts getting handsy with both of them, and Sam suggests they think about moving their little party of three outside. They show Y/N out to the car, Dean opens the back door with a flourish and she slides gracefully inside, glancing back out with a hungry look in her eyes. “So, who’s joining me?” she flutters her lashes seductively, like we need any convincing, Dean thinks to himself.

“Sammy,” Dean grunts, making a ‘come here’ motion with his hands and then holding one out flat and the other on top in a fist in preparation. Sam sidles over to Dean, gait smug, like he already knows he’s gonna win and get first crack at Y/N — which of course he is, because that’s how Dean likes it. He holds up his hands in a mirror of Dean’s, and eyes not leaving each others’ they both beat their fists against their palms. 1, 2, 3.

“Ooh,” Sam hisses in mock sympathy when they look down and see Sam’s ‘rock’ beats Dean’s ‘scissors’. “Always with the scissors, Dean,” Sam gives him a condescending pat on the shoulder, like he doesn’t know what Dean’s doing, and maybe he doesn’t, Dean thinks. Maybe Sam truly doesn’t realise how fucked up I am.

Dean turns to head back into the bar as Sam slides himself into the backseat next to Y/N, but he stops in his tracks when she calls out the window — “Sure you don’t wanna watch, handsome?” Dean freezes, the possibility of actually getting to see Sam fuck this girl, not just imagine it, is more intoxicating than the drinks he’s downed tonight. To actually see Sam, stripped and vulnerable, losing himself inside some cunt… Dean had never even considered that as a possibility before, but now that the thought is in his mind he needs it, craves it. He spins on his heel, looking back at Sam, inwardly praying that his little brother will be gracious enough to grant him this one thing.

“I don’t mind,” Sam smirks, eyes darting back to Y/N and raking down her body. “If she wants you to watch her get used like a little fucktoy, she can have that.” Dean is back by the car in a heartbeat. Sam pulls the back door shut as Y/N climbs on his lap and starts kissing him, while Dean checks around furtively and slides into the front.

Y/N moans start to fill the small space of the car’s interior as she grinds enthusiastically down onto Sam. Dean watches Sam run his hands down her back and up under the hem of her skirt. He wishes Sam would take her skirt off so he could see Sam’s hands on her ass, see his fingers tearing into the lace panties that Dean had gotten a glimpse of when she slid into the backseat earlier on. They pull apart and Y/N pushes Sam’s shirt up and over his head, messing up his hair, before she runs her fingers through it and holds on tight, earning a pleased groan from Sam. Dean catalogues that knowledge for later use – not that he thinks he’ll be in a position to test it out on Sam, but it will be a nice detail to add to his tragic imaginary Sam, the one that knows how sick he is and doesn’t care.

Sam’s hands sneak up the back of Y/N’s top and Dean watches as he removes her bra with practiced ease, and he nods to himself – respect. Sam must be feeling her up now because his arms have disappeared to her front and she’s letting out some pretty little whimpers and arching into his chest. Y/N pulls her top off, then reaches for Sam’s jeans, undoing the belt, button and zip quick as she can. Sam pushes her off him and she sprawls to the side, facing Dean now, and her eyes seek him out.

Her chest is heaving, her breasts shuddering with each rise and fall of her chest, and Dean spends a moment taking in her body, appreciating the curves, before he notices her hands have snuck beneath her skirt and she’s clearly touching herself while she watches him. Dean flushes, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. “Enjoying the show?” she winks at him, and Dean nods wordlessly.

“Get back over here, and let’s give him a real show,” Sam grabs Y/N and drags her back onto his lap, still facing Dean. She straddles him and rubs herself over his crotch. Sam snakes his arms around her waist and pulls up the front of her skirt, so Dean can see Sam’s cock thrusting between her thighs, against the glistening satin and lace panties she’s wearing. Dean feels his dick leap in his jeans, and he reaches down to adjust himself again before he decides to just give in and let down his zip, pushing his hand inside his boxers to fist himself out of the material. “Wanna see me fuck her?” Sam grunts, eyes flicking up to catch Dean staring at their grinding hips.

Dean feels his cock leak across his fingers at Sam’s words. “Fuck yes,” he groans, stroking himself harder. “Fucking give it to ‘er Sammy.”

“Want me to give it to you sweetheart?” Sam breathes against Y/N’s neck, tucking her hair tenderly behind her ear and nipping at her earlobe. She squeezes her eyes shut and whimpers, Sam’s way with words clearly affecting her. “Gonna be a good little slut and take my cock? Let me use you up and then hand you over to my brother to finish you off?”

“Fuck, Sam please, please, just use me,” she pulls her panties to the side and tries to get Sam to slip inside her but she can’t quite find the angle, and she whines, desperate and frustrated.

“Wow, for someone who just wants to be a set of holes you sure are needy,” Sam growls and gets his cock in the right place and pulls her down his shaft slowly. “Thought you told me inside you’d let me do whatever I want to you, and you wouldn’t put up a fuss?”

“Just fucking fuck me already, please Sam,” Y/N is begging, grinding down onto Sam’s cock like a whore.

Sam finally stops teasing her and follows through on his promise to use her. One of his hands comes up to wrap around her throat while he uses his other arm to keep her body pressed close against his, and he punches his hips into her hard, without abandon. Dean nearly chokes every time he catches a glimpse of Sam’s cock, bare and shiny with her slick, before he pushes back into her. It’s better than he could have imagined, watching Sam actually rail into a pussy instead of just hearing it through some flimsy drywall. It’s much easier to picture what Sam would look like fucking into him now that he’s seeing this.

“She feel good Sammy?” Dean is horrified to hear how strained his voice is when he speaks. He sounds like a goddamn girl with how fucking breathy he is.

“Uh huh,” Sam fucks into her quicker, like Dean’s question has spurred him on. “So wet, can feel her soaking into my thighs,” he moans. Dean refuses to let out the whimper that’s trying to escape his throat. “Gonna be even wetter for you,” Sam continues, leering up at Dean through his lashes, chin looped over Y/N’s shoulder. “She’s gonna be all messy when I’m done with her. But you like ‘em like that dontcha? Like ‘em strung out and used up?”

“Fuck,” Dean does almost whimper.

“Oh god,” Y/N whines, dropping her hips down in earnest against every one of Sam’s thrusts, and she snakes a hand down her front to start rubbing over her clit.

“Oh you wanna cum, do you? Think you earned that yet?” Sam bites against Y/N’s neck and bats her hand away from her core. “I think you’re gonna have to do a bit more before you get to cum. Gotta let me cum in you first, huh? Then you’re gonna be a good little cocksleeve for my big brother to get off in, and then, maybe, if you’ve been a good girl, we’ll make you cum.”

“Fucking hell,” she moans heavily, dropping her head back onto Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon then fuck me, want your cum inside me, please,” she whines, voice piercing in the small space.

“Yeah, that’s what Dean wants too,” Sam smirks, but he’s not looking at Dean now, he’s got his eyes closed tight and his head buried against Y/N’s shoulder. Dean thanks fuck for that, because when he heard Sam say that he knows Dean wants him to cum inside Y/N, Dean thought he was going to die of embarrasment. Obviously he wanted that, and in the back of his mind he knew Sam must know that he likes fucking the girls second, but they’d never talked about it. What did Sam think about the fact that Dean got off on fucking his little brother’s cum back into whatever warm body they’d picked out that day? He must be okay with it because they keep doing it.

Dean’s existential crisis is cut short when he hears the tell tale gasp and cut off whine that means Sam is cumming, and he looks up just in time to catch the pure fucking bliss on his little brother’s face. His eyes flick down to where Sam and Y/N are joined and he watches, mesmerised, as Sam pulls out, his cock laced with the white of his release.

“Open your mouth, bitch,” Sam grunts, and shoves Y/N off his lap and onto her hands and knees so she can suck the cum back off his cock. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, desperately hoping she doesn’t swallow.

When she pulls off of Sam with a wet sound her mouth stays open and Dean can see the cum slipping from her lips. He reaches over the seat impulsively and grabs her hair, yanking her towards him and slamming their mouths together. Dean sucks her tongue into his mouth like he wants to bite it off, and he can’t keep in the moan that bubbles up from his chest when he tastes the bitter edge of Sam’s spunk on his tongue.

“C’mere,” Dean grunts against Y/N’s lips, dragging her over the top of the seat. It’s not graceful, it’s not attractive or sexy, it’s born of the intense desperation Dean has to feel something hot and wet around his dick, and when he pushes into Y/N’s cunt he knows he’s not going to win any records for stamina tonight. She’s tight, but it’s an easy fuck because she’s so so wet. Dean can feel Sam’s cum squeezing out of her every time he fucks in, pushing the creamy liquid out around his dick and grinding it into his jeans. They’re going to be ruined but he doesn’t give a fuck because this feeling is always worth it.

Y/N’s head is buried in the crook of his neck and Dean’s forehead is smashed into her shoulder as they cling to each other. Dean jumps when he feels hands on his shoulders, because the fingers are facing the wrong way for them to be hers – they’re Sam’s. He leans across Dean to kiss Y/N roughly, then yanks her head back by her hair, holding her out in front of Dean so they can watch her tits bounce while Dean fucks into her mercilessly.

“What d’ya think Dean, do we let her cum?” Y/N whines at the words and Dean can hear Sam smirking. “You’re gonna cum anyways aren’t you, you fucking slut. Gonna squeeze his cock real good for me? That’ll make you a real fuckin’ whore won’t it, going home with two guys’ loads in that pussy, huh?”

Sam’s taunts are cruel and mocking and fucking hot and Dean has never had to listen to Sam’s dirty talk while he was actually fucking something and he can’t handle it. He stills inside Y/N, gasping as he pumps his release inside her, mixes it up with Sam’s. Y/N is shaking around him and Dean thinks she must have cum too but honestly he’s so far gone he can’t even tell.

When Y/N climbs back over the seat to find her clothes, Dean stays put, still trying to catch his breath. He hears Sam open the door and walk her out, back to the bar. He shakes himself from his reverie and rushes to tuck himself back into his boxers. His jeans feel sticky, and they probably are ruined but he still doesn’t care. It was absolutely worth it.

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