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mimiwrites2000 · 3 years

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What Does White Mean?

Chapter one / TWO

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

(side pairings: Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun x Hitch Dreyse, Mikasa Ackreman x someone new)

Words count: 7645

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

They usually walked to Mr. Leonhart’s house and, well, this time was no different, however, not a single word was said since the morning.

After Armin finished his piece, and was finally satisfied with the results, a piece he could look at and say perfect— he slithered in bed beside Annie, expecting she might turn around and face him, but he was welcomed with her soft, slow breathing.

Armin convinced himself that it was so late when he went to bed, of course he wouldn’t have expected her to be wide eyed waiting for him.

He turned on his side of the bed, ignoring the bang of pain in his chest.

He would’ve talked to her, really, but she didn’t give him a chance. He woke up, only to find her side of the bed empty and cold. He looked for her around the house, but she was nowhere to be seen, she must’ve gone out for a walk or something.

He thought of having breakfast, but the thought of food made him queasy. The thought of going out and looking for her, calling her name, giving her the piece he made, and kissing her until his lungs burst— flipped in his mind, again and again. However, if she wanted some time alone, then he should leave her be.

But he couldn’t ignore how their steps fell unsynced as they walked side by side, their rhythm off.

Annie didn’t look at him, not even a glance.

It was hard enough to not look at her when she was in a red dress. A dress that started from her knee up, flowing until it reached her waist, fitting around it like petals of a rose, while the fabric hugged her chest and went up until it ended in a short, draped sleeve.

He wanted to stomp his feet, scream and shout, do anything, but please Annie look at me!

He shoved it down, the feeling clogging in his stomach, as he forced himself to keep walking.

Soon enough, they were knocking on Mr. Leonhart’s door.

A moment right before the door clicked open, Annie hooked her arm in Armin’s, he didn’t have time to react or question it.

Instead of being greeted by Mr. Leonhart, Pieck poked her head out the door.

“Oh hey you guys! We’ve been waiting for you!” Pieck said, stepping aside, making way for the couple to enter.

Usually, Armin is the one to speak, but he was too stunned to utter a word.

“Pieck,” Annie said, and the usual talk, as if nothing happened, made Armin fight against his widening eyes. “I’m glad to see you here.”

“Likewise,” Pieck replied, her smile wider than usual. Armin stepped in the house, Annie by his side.

Annie had told Armin the day prior, before their fight, that her father was holding a dinner, but he didn’t expect that many people to be there.

He couldn’t see the wall from across the room because of the numerous guests, some were his friends, some he acquainted, and some people he never saw before.

Her father’s house was a nice place. A one-story house with a garden. Humble furniture. Simple. But it was small to occupy that number of guests.

He spotted Reiner leaning against a wall, talking to a lady, in a flowery dress, and shiny hair, when he got a closer look, he gaped; it was Hitch.

She looked at him, and he didn’t realize that he called her name out loud.

She basically ran to them, flinging one arm over Armin, the other over Annie, squealing and perhaps saying something.

When her squeals calmed down, Armin finally understood what she was saying, “It’s been so long oh my God I missed you so much when was the last I even saw you Armin why are you no longer writing for me Annie you finally used that hair clip it looks gorgeous on you!”

“Yeah”, Armin answered.

Annie touched the hair clip in her hair, shaped like a red rose that went along with her dress. She seemed to get over what Hitch just vomited, or maybe she was too used to her former roommate, “Hitch I’m so glad we could meet, to be honest I didn’t expect to see you here, how are you?”

“I’m good! You two moved in together, right?” Hitch asked, too enthusiastic.

Annie looked at Armin, a small smile on her lips, giving him his turn to answer.

“Uh yeah, a few months ago, a cabin not too far from here,” he answered, half of his mind in his words, the other half thinking of Annie’s change in demeanor, “we’d like to have you there someday, it’s a nice place.”

“I’d love that! And-”

Before she could vomit another bucket of words, Mr. Leonhart appeared from behind Armin, clasping his hand on his shoulder.

“Oh there you are! I’ve been waiting for you! What took you so long?”

In a second, Annie was in her father’s arms, kissing him on both cheeks, engulfing him with a second hug, “The walk to here took a bit longer than usual,” she said, “right, Armin?”

He understood.

She didn’t want her father to know they had a fight.

“Oh yeah, I guess we were a bit slower than usual,” Armin answered, shaking hands with Mr. Leonhart. The man’s grip was as tight as ever, shaking Armin’s hand as if he’s giving him his will, or trusting him with something.

“You know, you both can always move here with me, I have an extra room, besides, it’s closer to town-”

“Father,” Annie interrupted him softly, with a smile, “we know, thank you.”

He smiled back, before he motioned around the room, telling them to enjoy themselves as dinner would be served soon.

Each time they met him, he offered the extra room he had, and asked them if they would like to move in. Armin understood, it must’ve been hard to let go of his daughter.

Armin wondered if he would experience the feeling one day, the protection over your daughter…

He shivered, glancing at Annie, their hands still linked.

At that moment, Armin spotted Connie and Jean, he tugged his arm to get Annie’s attention, but before she even did, Hitch had already snatched her from him, putting an arm over Annie’s shoulder, and walking away.

Armin couldn’t help the smile growing on his face, Annie’s friendship with Hitch was something else.

“Armin!” Connie called.

The smile on Armin’s face grew even wider.

Connie and Jean looked like they always did, Connie flashing goofy smiles, and Jean slicking back his hair that he so obviously spent hours on, putting every single hair in its desirable place. But Jean looked… different, something about his fidgety feet, and his hands that he couldn’t keep in one place for more than three seconds.

Armin wanted to ask him if everything was alright, but Connie had already swept him in a talk about an idea of a business he’s trying to establish.

As Connie rambled on and on about far too many details, Armin’s eyes wandered around.

He saw Pieck’s family, Gabi and Falco with their families as well. Reiner and Connie’s mothers. Levi on his wheelchair. And other people whom he had no idea who they were.

There were too many guests for a simple dinner.

His eyes wandered farther, until he finally saw her.

Mikasa, sitting on a chair by herself, sipping from a cup, looking around, before her gaze focused on the cup.

Armin patted Connie on his shoulder, apologizing and telling him he would be back in a second to hear all about his business, before he made his way to her.

He sat down on the couch beside her, she didn’t recognize his presence until he called out her name.

“Armin,” she said, her voice tendering like it always did when she called his name. “I was waiting for you, how are you?”

“I’m fine, what about you?”

“I’m ok,” she replied.

She wasn’t.

Her eyelids drooped low on her eyes, the black bags underneath her eyes stark against her pale skin. Her shoulders slumped in, caged on herself.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

She looked at him, and pivoted, “No, you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Huh?” he raised his eyebrows, baffled.

“What happened between you and Annie?”

Of course she’d notice.

"Nothing, really," he answered, avoiding her eyes.

"Tell me."

He knew Mikasa so well that she wouldn't back off easily. When Armin was hurt, she was ready to strike. But the fatigue covering her features worried him as well.

"How about you tell me first?" He said, crossing his legs.

"No," was her immediate, concise answer.

"Come on, Mikasa, I know something is wrong."

Hesitance, he sensed the hesitance prior to a confession.

He uncrossed his legs, leaning with his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping to a little bit higher than a whisper.

"You can tell me, what's wrong?"

Mikasa pressed her lips, her eyes darting around the room, settling on her hands resting on her lap, before she shifted closer to Armin.

She whispered so low that Armin had to strain his neck forward to hear her right.

"There's… someone... a guy that I've met, and..." She looked up, meeting his eyes. A smile appeared on her face as fast as it faded, before tilting her head down again, "And I just, you know, I don't know, I just, I don't think I should get myself into anything right now, but… I also-"

"Mikasa," Armin called, she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. He reached for her, resting his hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze, "I'm happy for you," he said, a smile seeping into his voice, "I'm really happy for you."

Mikasa blinked, "You are?"

"Of course!" He said, leaning back in his chair, "of course I am! That's great Mikasa! When can I meet him?"

Mikasa's lips parted, mouthing the question Armin asked, once, twice, before she said, “I think it's still a bit early for that… but maybe… soon?"

“I can't wait," he answered, smiling, genuinely smiling, his smile contagious, making its way to Mikasa's lips, her face lit up with relief.

He wanted to let her know that it was alright to find someone, it was alright to think of yourself, it was alright to just move on.

"Alright," she said, her shoulders visibly relaxing, the contours between her eyebrows unwrinkling, "now, what's up?" she nudged her head to where Annie stood.

"Just a dumbass fight, you know?" He answered, shrugging.

"Is it something serious?" She asked, concern evident in her voice.

"No, I promise," he said, looking at Annie from across the room, Hitch beside her, just talking and talking, Annie listening with a small smile on her lips.

"Besides," he said, "I will make everything right tonight." He didn't think of it before, but he knew it, and was adamant to fix everything. He touched his pocket, feeling a circle of metal.

Mikasa knew Armin long enough to decipher each glance, look, or touch, and when she watched his scrutinizing eyes on Annie, she knew that everything between them would be fine.

But, his eyes.

Those eyes

When they looked at Annie, Mikasa could swear they would shine, almost twinkling.

The way he looked at her differentiated from any other way he looked at anyone else.

She wondered what went inside his head, besides the countless questions she itched to ask, when did he fall for Annie? And what did he do when he realized his emotions for her?

She smiled.

Their story should be engraved in stone, Mikasa thought, a story for generations to come, a story of patience, understanding, and pain.

A story of tears, betrayal, hurt, but also trust, and love.

A story everyone should learn from.

As well as Mikasa herself.

Across the room, Annie could feel his eyes on her, and she wanted to stride across the room, hold his face in her hands, and kiss him, in front of everyone, she couldn't care less.

But stubbornness came in the way.

She knew this rift would be over as fast as it started, they would laugh about it, and they would get stronger than before.

For now, she gave Hitch half of her attention, nodding at almost everything she said, her mind whirling in her skull. That was until Hitch said something that couldn't get past Annie's ears.

"Hmmm?" Annie asked.

"That dude, the bulky huge one," Hitch said, nudging her head. Annie followed her motion and-

"Oh, yeah the one you were talking to when we arrived, that's Reiner." She answered, looking back at Hitch.

Hitch gasped, “The same dude who wrote to you when we were roommates?”

Annie nodded.

"And?" Hitch inquired, her neck craning forward in anticipation.

"And what?" Annie asked, genuinely confused.

Hitch groaned, throwing back her head. She loudly whispered, "And what what? Him, I'm asking about him, do you not get it?"

"Hitch, I don't speak codes."

Hitch facepalmed, she memorized Annie's helplessness when it came to guys since their Military Police days, but this? Nah, this was far out of Hitch's league.

"I shouldn't be surprised, it took you long enough to even recognize Armin's feelings for you."

Annie swallowed. She needed to change the topic.

"The food is good here," she said, except that, well, they didn't have any food yet.

Hitch raised a confused eyebrow.

"Is your dad the cook?" Hitch inquired.

"Uh, no, of course not, unless you guys wanna have military food."

Hitch laughed, and Annie was grateful that her slip up went unnoticed.

"Uh, may I get your attention please."

Annie, with everyone else, looked at the center of the room, Jean stood there, fidgeting, alternating his weight from one feet to the other.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have, uh, an announcement," he continued.

Annie looked around the room, and by the look on everyone's faces, no one knew about this. Even Armin, when she glanced at him, he looked just as surprised as everyone else.

Until her eyes landed on her father, who smiled knowingly at Jean.

"I… uh, I'm sorry, we're sorry, we didn't… tell you about this before… but, uh, this is... Alright so this is not actually a dinner, I mean, no wait, technically it is a dinner," he stopped, his words not making sense to his own ears, he pinched the edge of his nose, breathing deeply.

"Basically," another voice joined, everyone swiveled their heads— Pieck.

With floating steps, she started towards Jean, and even though her words spoken to everyone, her eyes only held his.

"Basically," she repeated, "this is an engagement party."

A few what's and huh's erupted from the group, which only made Pieck chuckle.

She made her way beside Jean, intertwining their hands together, before she leaned on his shoulder, and said, "This is Jean and I's engagement party!"

For a few seconds, the room turned dead-silent, a few people, including Armin, involuntarily stood up, gaping at the newly engaged couple. Then a few oh my God's and a couple of louder what's echoed in the room, before someone started clapping, someone else shouted yes!!

Then everyone attacked them with hugs and kisses. Pieck's father cried, and Jean's mother comforted him as she dabbed at her own tears

Annie blinked a few times, before she looked at Hitch, a big toothy grin on her face, and Annie couldn’t help but return that smile.

Soon enough, they made their way to Pieck. Annie hugged her, taken aback by Pieck’s tight embrace, which Annie tried to turn back. Annie never saw Pieck smiling as wide as she did, the tips of her mouth stretched up, her cheeks pink, and her eyes wide and shining.

Jean’s happiness was more subtle. His excitement equaled Pieck’s, but he was more fidgety, shy and blushy.

Annie stepped out of the bundle of hugs. She walked to an empty corner, looking for Hitch, but then she saw her by Reiner’s side, playing with her hair, swaying her hips. Annie sighed, now she knew what Hitch meant.

Annie scrutinized Reiner’s expression… he didn’t seem bothered by Hitch, in fact, he listened intently. Annie made a note in her mind to tease him about it later.

She looked around the room, saw her father talking to Jean's mom and Pieck’s father, she wondered how it came that he is the one holding this party for them. She shook her head, wondering how he kept it from her as well.

Then her eyes met his.

Armin.

He was already watching her, a small smile on his face.

She looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and why does my face feel hot all of a sudden?

Of course she wasn’t marrying anytime soon.

Of course not.

Annie swallowed, walked around the room, trying to find anyone to talk to.

She bumped into Mikasa.

“Annie,” Mikasa said, “can you believe this?” she asked, pointing a finger over her shoulder, where Jean and Pieck were still receiving congratulations and hugs.

“It was a surprise, I didn’t see it coming,” Annie said honestly, before she leaned forward and whispered, “they’ve been dating for… what? Two years?”

“A year and a half,” Mikasa corrected, “but, it’s not about dating for a year or ten, if you find them, you’ll know, deep down you’ll know.”

Annie didn’t know how to respond, so she awkwardly swiped her feet on the carpeted floor.

“Besides,” Mikasa continued, a small smile pulling at her lips, “you never know who's next,” then she winked and turned.

A layer of cold sweat suddenly coated Annie’s hands, she wiped them on her dress, before she blew air, fanning her hands in front of her face, feeling suddenly hot.

A few feet away, Mikasa’s smile only grew wider.

~~~~

The party stretched into the late evening hours. The newly engaged couple in the spotlight, talking about marriage, and answering a few awkward questions about kids.

Annie held her grounds and didn't talk to Armin yet, she tried to not glance at him, only stealing glimpses of him every now and then, whipping her head away if she accidentally met his eyes.

He would look away and bite off a smile.

If they were in their cabin, she would've probably hugged him from behind, kissed the spot between his shoulder blades, then rubbed her forehead against his back, until he turned around and kissed her lips.

She would show him the words she wished she could speak.

But at that moment, they were surrounded by dozens of people, and that tied their hands behind their backs.

It didn't help that Annie looked spectacularly beautiful. And that hair clip that Hitch gave her… it suited her too well, as if it was made specifically for her.

His eyes followed her when she turned her back, watching every move of her hands, fingers.

Suddenly, at the center of the room, Jean was pushed by Connie, whistles erupting from the crowd, as Jean knelt on one knee, pulling a red velvety box.

Pieck threw her head back and laughed. He already proposed before, but he wanted to make it official with everyone as a witness.

Connie shushed the guests, and everyone held their breaths.

“Uh,” Jean started, and Pieck giggled. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and started again, “Pieck-”

“Yes!” Pieck squealed, crouching down to him, pulling him from his collar into a kiss.

He was taken aback, almost falling. Laughter emitted from around the room with a couple of awww’s and aah’s.

Soon enough, Pieck and Jean were on their feet, sliding rings around each other’s fingers.

Armin watched and smiled, his hand dabbed on his pocket, tracing the ridges of a small circular metal.

He sighed, closed his eyes for a second.

When he reopened his eyes, Annie vanished from his sight.

As if earth split and swallowed her whole.

At first, his eyebrows frowned, searching for her, but then, he stood up, walked around the living room where the small party was held.

He ignored his worries for a minute, but then they could no longer be ignored.

He spotted Mikasa on a couch, he leaned closer to her and asked her if she saw Annie.

She pointed with her thumb at a door.

Armin had been to Mr. Leonhart's house many times before, and he knew where that door led, to a small corridor with multiple doors on each side of it.

And there he stood, after he closed the corridor's door behind him, trying to choose which door to open.

The door right in front was Mr. Leonhart's bedroom, of that he was sure, and the door to the left was the guests' bathroom, but there were two doors to the right.

Maybe one room was the storage room, the other… the guests' bedroom? He couldn't remember.

So, he walked to it, then stilled.

He raised his fist to knock on the door, when it was suddenly opened-

He was dragged inside by his shirt, inciting a loud yelp from him. He almost tripped on his feet, but in a second, the door behind him was slammed shut, and he was pushed against the wall.

"What-"

But his words were swallowed as lips fell upon his, moving against him frantically.

He didn't have to open his eyes to know who that was, he memorized her lips as if they were his own.

So, without holding back, pushing questions to the back of his mind, his hands landed on her hips, caressing her back up and down, as he kissed her with equal passion.

He wanted to pull back, take a breather, and know what the hell was going on, this sudden change, but he was too lost in her taste. Her scent intoxicated his senses, as she pressed her frame into his, until there was not a hair-thin space between them.

"Annie," he moaned against her lips, his hands around her body firm, decided. The heat in his body inched closer to a risky line, a line that if he crossed, there won't be going back.

She panted, her breath coming in short huffs, she murmured against his lips, "Took you," a gasp, "long enough to notice that," a pause, "I was gone."

He squeezed her back, earning a sigh from her, "I can't guess, with your game."

"You're in trouble."

"Am I?"

She dipped her head under his chin, and kissed his neck, sucked and licked.

He arched his body into her, holding her tighter. Her nips were getting harsher, certainly a mark to leave for later.

She did this for him many times, stroked his weak spots, made him crumble on his spot. And she knew it, she just knew the effects she had on him.

He gave all of himself to her.

She made a humming sound from her throat that was far from quiet, and that was the last trigger for him.

In one swift motion, he switched their positions, locking her between himself and the wall, but she didn't mind, perhaps she didn't even notice, for she lurched forward, searching for his lips again.

He gently separated them, pushing her shoulders into the wall, her eyes forced open in question.

Her eyelid hooded over her eyes, lips glistened, and her cheeks dusted with rose pink, and he was this close to capture her lips again. Let everyone outside listen, let them hear, he didn't give a damn.

But the logical apprehensive person he was, he stopped himself.

"You're too loud," he whispered, panting.

"I'm not," she retorted.

To prove his point, he pressed his knee against her. She moaned, loud.

He raised an eyebrow at her, she turned her head, her face glowing red. But she wasn't to be stopped there, she wasn't done with him.

She knew him too well, learnt his weaknesses by heart.

She gently pushed him away, sighing in a way that meant ok whatever you win.

And so he turned away, headed to the door, but then he heard a zipper, followed by the quiet, unimpressive thud of clothes falling to the ground.

He closed his eyes, and sighed.

He was too scared to turn around, he knew exactly the sight he'd find if he turned around.

If only she didn't know him that well.

She watched his back, the crisp white shirt snug around his shoulders, his trousers fitting him perfectly, she could almost feel his short hair on her fingers.

He clenched his fists, unclenched it, clenched it again.

One

Two

Three-

He turned around. Her smirk grew wider.

He found exactly what he imagined in his mind, his eyes falling to the red dress crumpled on the floor, up her legs, her thighs, her stomach-

And he didn't hold back, he marched the few steps separating them as he flung his arms around her, sparks going up his spine when his hands made contact with her bare skin, his lips moving against hers.

His hands went over the skin he was so familiar with, already knowing every ridge of her. Her skin turned a bright red in his fingers' trace, igniting a path of heat and desire.

She gave it back to him, running her fingers through his hair, sighing against his lips, massaging his shoulders.

He wondered how far they could go. The party was still going on, and the king-sized bed in the room tempted him enough.

His hands went down, squeezing her hips, caressing her thighs-

Annie's breath hitched in her throat, Armin pulled back.

They heard footsteps.

"You locked the door," Annie whispered, hopeful.

He shook his head.

Her eyes widened.

The footsteps grew louder, and louder, until the door was flung open and-

"Oh, Annie."

"Hi Mikasa."

A beat of silence.

Mikasa scrutinized Annie, sitting on the bed, bare foot, her legs crossed.

"Um, is everything ok?" Mikasa asked, taking a step inside the room.

Annie nodded, "Perfectly fine, just needed to take a rest," Annie fanned her face with an open palm.

"Oh… um, we're having the cake, so, uh, I thought… have you seen Armin?"

"Hmmm?" Annie asked, her eyes briefly glanced at the spot concealed by the opened door. "Nope."

"Oh, ok," Mikasa took a step backwards, "well, um, if you wanna join-"

"Sure I'll be there in a minute," Annie answered.

"Ok," Mikasa turned away, closing the door, but before it was completely shut, she reopened it again, "oh and Annie?"

"Yes?"

"Um, just make sure to, uh, your dress, ok?" Mikasa tugged at her collar, before she went out, and closed the door.

Annie looked down at her dress-

Inside out.

She wore it inside-out.

She heard his muffled laughs, and when she looked at him, he had his hand on his mouth, as he crumbled to the ground.

She took the pillow from the bed and threw it at him, to which he captured easily.

He walked to her, still in a fit of giggles, as he helped her out of her dress, leaving faint kisses on her skin.

She put it on again, making sure it was right, then Armin closed up the zipper, placed one single kiss at her neck.

~~~~

They made sure to leave the room separately, embarrassed enough that Mikasa almost caught them red handed. They didn't interact much nor did they get close to each other throughout the rest of the party, they knew that proximity would make them misbehave again.

Two hours went as slow as a snail.

They didn't want to be the first to leave, so they waited, and finally, Gabi and Falco's families called it a night.

They followed suit.

At the door, when Mr. Leonhart saw them out, he shook Armin's hand exceptionally firm, looked into his eyes as if he wanted to nonverbally communicate words to Armin.

Armin imagined tears in Mr. Leonhart's eyes. He probably got emotional after Pieck and Jean's engagement announcement, and perhaps, he imagined Annie in Pieck's shoes…

Armin swallowed.

It wasn't like he didn't think of the idea before, his hand briefly touching his pocket...

They left together, hand in hand, feet falling in sync as they made their way to their home.

Their steps got faster, in a hurry, as they remembered why they wanted to leave in the first place.

Once the door closed behind them, they didn't wait to get to the bedroom. Hands frantically taking off each other's clothes, gripping at the fabric. Soon enough, their living room was adorned with a red dress and a white shirt.

But they made it to the bedroom, the springs of the mattress bouncing as they landed on it, gripping on each other, touching each other frantically.

Skin on skin. Armin ran his mouth all over her body, kissing, nipping, and sucking, tasting her, savoring the delightful taste of her. She moaned and squirmed, but his hands fixed her in her place.

Her hands failed to touch him, each time she tried to reach for him he would push her hands away, focusing on his work, and soon enough she gave up, letting him take her to places and show her sights she couldn't imagine seeing without his touch, without his tongue.

Pleasure took over her senses, her tongue knotted, only moans and groans leaving her mouth as she tried to not bounce on him and fix him in his place.

But he had his own pleasure while pleasuring her, like an honor. To touch Annie Leonhart, to be this intimate and close to her. He'd never waste a chance. His hand taking care of himself, trying to relieve some of the tension in his abdomen, while focusing on her.

The hand between his legs didn't go unnoticed by Annie. Watching him trying to pleasure himself while he took care of her…

She flailed her hands at him, and squirmed against his touches, and he gave up, letting her touch him like she wished.

And they were lost in a bundle of pleasure, moans, and gasps, setting their bodies to the rhythm of their hearts.

They gasped each other's names as they moved together, their movements getting sloppier and messier as they tiptoed towards the edge, which wasn't far off.

Tipping each other over the edge was like a challenge that both were determined to win. They tossed and turned, grinding, working themselves on each other.

Annie didn't hold back, her moans loud and almost embarrassing, but the louder she got the more enthusiasm Armin put in his act. It was a give and take of an intimate moment they only shared with each other.

When their motion got even more hectic, they knew they were close. And not long after, they were gripping on each other, groaning and whimpering, as they reached the end line. Pleasure inundated their senses as they rode down their high, lost in an ecstasy of bursting spasms all over their bodies and minds.

When their heartbeats calmed down, Armin was about to roll off her, but in one swift motion, she turned him around, clasping him between her thighs, not giving him a break, their night only starting.

She told him the things she wanted to do to him, loud and clear, as she tied her hair up in a bun, her hips dipping low enough to tease him but not enough to satisfy him. He listened, tried to contain himself, but then he broke.

He arched his back and tried to touch her, but her fast reflexes caught his hands and pinned them above his head.

And so he couldn't do anything but curl his toes as she bewitched him with her touches, stroking him and skimming over his velvety skin. She made him shudder, and he crumbled underneath her and shivered when her touches became intense and ready to bring them to their second wave of ecstasy.

They were vulgar when it came to this, not shy in the slightest to express what they wanted and how they wanted it, and when Armin told her exactly what he desired, where he wished to be, she stilled, watching him apprehensively.

His blue eyes mended with the dark room around them, a dark ocean wave fueled with lust and desire, a look she didn't discover until she had him.

She wasn't aware that her eyes matched his, dark and deep, with an addition to her chest turning pink.

She wanted what he wanted.

So she sat it in motion, intense and rough, fiery, and vigorous. She fixed him down when he tried to switch them, only to get more intense and wilder, and he submitted to her will, reaching his peak with increasing speed.

She bounced on his lap, and he laid there, bewitched with her body, skin, and the power she had on him. One touch and he would be on his knees, one command and he would beg for more.

The best part of it was that her bouncing only got more intense as she noticed his eyes scaling her body up and down. Usually he would kiss every part of her as praises fell off his tongue. She looked down at him, the only sounds leaving his mouth were lustful moans and groans. She had him beneath her, and they had plenty of time to go slow and be romantic, but the fire between her legs needed to be extinguished, and the solution was him.

She gasped, tumbling on Armin, dragging themselves into another explosion of pleasure, muscles contracting as their moans lingered, too sensitive.

She rested her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Their breathing calmed down to match a harmony of chests rising and falling, as they listened to each other's heartbeats.

Annie left a soft kiss on his chest before she rolled off him, landing beside him, resting her hand on his chest where she kissed him.

He closed his eyes, and Annie watched his face. She thought he was falling asleep and that they were done for the night. Well, her body was sore and eyelids heavy, and it was already past midnight.

Her eyelids started closing, when he suddenly opened his eyes. He looked at her, sleep drooping over her eyes, he smiled. He kissed her to wake her up a little.

"Annie," he called her name.

"I want to sleep," she said, nuzzling her head in his chest.

He chuckled, kissing her forehead, "I need to ask you something."

At that, Annie woke up.

Sleep departed her eyes in a second, and she swallowed.

Could he ask…

No, no way, stop imagining stuff, there's no way he would-

"Are you sure this is the right time?" The question left her mouth before she pondered over it. After all, if he really wanted to ask that question, being in bed, naked, wouldn't be how she imagined it.

Maybe on a picnic by the beach, or under a tree, to get on one knee and-

"Are we… fine?" He asked.

Annie blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… you know, are we fine?"

Annie understood his question from the very first time, it was just that… she expected something else.

"I… you don't think so?" She answered his question with a question, a part from her cursing herself for these far off imaginations.

"I just… want to make sure..."

"Armin, I'm here."

"I know-"

"Naked, literally, right beside you, and you think we're not?" She said, then she huffed, tugging the blanket closer to her chin.

"I know, I just..." He sighed.

"I'm… it was all so stupid," she said, "I shouldn't have… I don't think…" Annie tried to explain, but she couldn't finish one single sentence.

Armin knew Annie enough to know that expressing herself wasn't her best skill, so he said, "I understand, but I want to show you something."

With that, he swung his legs off the bed and started looking for his trousers.

He cursed when he remembered that they were in a hurry and in fact, his trousers were in the living room. And so he left the bedroom, when he came back, with the trousers in his hand, he found Annie laughing.

"What is it?" He asked, a smile on his face as he heard Annie's contagious laugh.

"It's just funny that you're running around the cabin like that," she said, laughing again, as she pointed at him.

He didn't have to look down to know what she meant, he had nothing to cover his lack of modesty, and he couldn't help but laugh at Annie's childish joke.

The mattress dipped where he sat next to Annie, who propped herself on one elbow, watching him searching in one of his trousers' pockets. His eyes lit up when he touched something.

He turned to Annie and smiled, "Close your eyes."

She raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled, "Close your eyes, come on."

Annie sighed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart.

She felt him get closer, his scent all around her. Warm fingers circled around her neck, and she found herself pressed against his chest. His fingers worked on something behind her neck, and after a moment, he leaned back, leaving something cold dangling on her skin.

She waited for him to tell her to open her eyes, but he was way too lost in her, mesmerized by her. She laid on her side, propped on her elbow, blanket covering up to her waist. The blue moonlight soothing her face, caressing the blonde strands, framing her face like a painting in a museum, delicate and careful. Her eyes closed, pink lips and cheeks dusted with a lighter shade of pink.

His eyes traveled down to her neck, where it glistened with dried sweat, and he could almost taste her, the softness of her neck's velvety skin conserved on his tongue.

The draping of the thin blanket on her body emphasized her curves, the dip in her hip, the curves of her thighs, adding a layer of soft edges to her, like a fluffy cloud in the sky.

He could gaze at her for the rest of his life.

With an addition to the necklace around her neck.

Armin held his breath and whispered, “Open your eyes.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, blinking, before she touched around her neck.

Her fingers trailed upon a hair-thin chain, delicate, she looked down and-

A white, not bigger than a thumb nail seashell, dangled from the necklace. A simple seashell, really, white, shiny, but it took Annie’s breath away.

Her lips parted, she flipped the seashell in her hand, only to notice a writing inside it.

She glanced at Armin, who inspected her with an expecting look.

Her eyes squinted as she read the small writing.

"AA," she murmured, she repeated it a few times, then looked up at Armin, only to see a red blush on his cheeks, as he fumbled with the rim of the blanket.

"You know," he said, "our initials, AA."

"Annie and Armin," she said, and she didn't know what else to say.

Annie's scrutinizing eyes worried Armin, maybe she thought of it as stupid, or she thought that he's just trying so hard for forgiveness.

"What does white mean?" She asked, looking into his eyes.

"Hmm?"

"The seashell is white, why did you choose a white one?" She elaborated, the tips of her fingers still around the seashell.

"Oh..." He was taken aback by her question, but then he smiled, inching closer to her. He placed one hand on her waist as he laid beside her, his face an inch away from hers.

He leaned closer, his lips beside her ear and whispered, "Safe." He kissed the tip of her ear, "Annie," he kissed her cheek, "safe," he kissed her nose, "you're my safe place, Annie."

The ocean rummaged in Annie's eyes, the waves mighty and mercilessly destructive, but when they met his, the vast ocean calmed.

She tilted her head up, capturing his lips.

She tasted his smile as their jaws rolled together, lips connecting over and over again.

If she could, she would never leave his side, stay under the blanket with him, for he spread life into her veins, made her human again.

Her hands caressed over every inch of his skin she could reach, and she got closer, pressing her frame into his.

They fit perfectly together, pieces falling into place. They made each other whole, filling into the hollows of each other, soothing and healing.

His fingers traced her figure, caring, and he found it amusing, really, the capacity to have these emotions trapped in his heart, for he felt like exploding, and he wanted to let Annie know about these feelings, but he also knew Annie wasn't a woman of words.

His hands kneaded her back gently in question, and the heat that ignited in her body was the answer.

Their heat joined together, skin on skin, the blanket pushed to the edge of the bed, as their frantic moves started again, hands touching and caressing.

But that wasn't how she wanted it to go.

So she switched them, sitting on top, earning a gasp from him, then she gently pushed herself off him,

"Are you ok?" He asked, his cheeks red, and his heaving chest marked with her red fingers prints.

She hummed, before she leaned over him again, gently nipping at his neck, her hands on him light like a feather.

And he understood what she wanted, he smiled.

His hands mildly caressed her back, up and down, as she kissed his neck.

Their breathing calmed down, their thoughts easier to connect and comprehend, lust not interfering.

Not long after, Annie pulled away, rolling off him, onto her back. On his turn, he hovered over her.

When they went slow, he knew that she liked him over her, he knew that she liked it when his warmth inundated her, his body pressed into her.

He knew her.

He started with kissing her forehead, cheeks, nose, then ending with her lips, gentle, slow. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sighed as his fingers trailed down her body.

Their touches soft and mild.

Just like their first time, on the boat, three years prior. When misery pushed tears out of their eyes, when they held each other for the first time, thinking it would be their last.

Their first time was soft, clumsy, but all the same, intense. They pleasured themselves through pain, confessed with regret lacing their voices.

They never talk about their first time, for it brings tragic memories with it, but at those moments, when he was above her, surrounding her with warmth, they both remembered, but they never spoke of it.

They gasped as they moved, setting a rhythm to the harmony of the dark night, an unbreakable symphony of serenity.

He locked eyes with her, the necklace shiny as it shifted against the velvety skin of her neck. He moved and watched her face, contouring with bless. She tried to avert her eyes from him. The way he watched her made her abdomen clench and her face hot.

But he wanted to look into her eyes.

And so he placed his elbows on each side of her head, trapping her beneath him. She sighed and looked into his eyes, the blush on her face only increasing.

But soon enough, she was too lost in his eyes to care about anything else. Giving him all of herself made her vulnerable, but with him, it was safe.

She trusted him with her life, and she trusted him with her heart.

He tiptoed them towards their pleasure, but it was different than earlier that night, slow and gentle. They took their time, their bodies too sensitive, eyes locked through it all.

They reached the edge together, Annie moaned, throwing her head against the pillow, but Armin captured her lips, swallowing down her delighted sounds.

It wasn't an explosion, something that went off inside of them within frantic hands and touches, it was more like a knot that was leisurely untied, threads loosening between soft fingers.

He bonelessly rested his weight on her, sweaty chests pressed against each other, and Annie was too tired to tell him to move.

"Another?" He joked and chuckled.

"I wish," she answered, her legs sprawled underneath him, then she nudged his shoulder.

"But I'm comfortable," He answered her nudge.

She rolled her eyes.

"I am, really," He continued, a smile in his voice, "it's warm and soft and-"

He accidentally moved, they both winced.

"Alright alright," he murmured, before he kissed her, slowly pulling out. She winced in his mouth, her thighs twitching, and he kissed her again reassuringly.

He rolled to the side, scooping her in his arms. She nuzzled her head in his chest.

A moment of silence passed while they listened to their heart beats.

"Thank you," she murmured, and when Armin looked at her, her eyes were barely open. He answered with a kiss on her eyebrow.

He watched her fall asleep in his arms, her breathing slowing. He rubbed a circle with his thumb on her skin, wondering how in the world he got to have Annie Leonhart.

His mind wandered to the trouser on the ground, inside it’s pocket sat a circular metal— a ring, adorned with one single shiny pearl. Tonight, he was supposed to get on one knee and ask her the question, but hesitance crawled in the last second and he maneuvered his way to his workshop, choosing to give her that white seashell necklace instead.

Tomorrow

He thought, as he hugged her closer, and drifted to sleep.

I’m so sorry for taking this long to post here, on tumblr

I just feel like the fandom is pretty much dead here....? I’m really not sure anymore

anyway, here’s the second chapter, I hope you enjoyed! feedback is much appreciated!!

#aruani #armin arlert #Annie Leonhardt #jeanpiku #Reihitch #reiner braun #hitch dreyse #jean kirschtien #pieck finger #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #fanfiction

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thebloggerbloggerfun · 4 years

Text

Watched

AO3

Dean was being watched.

That was impossible, of course, because Sam and Eileen were out for the night on a date, Castiel was on his weekly therapeutic grocery shopping trip, and Dean was by himself in the bunker’s laundry room.

And yet -

He paused after tossing a ball of wadded up flannel into the washer and looked over his shoulder into the empty space around him.

Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head.

He was just getting paranoid.

It was two in the morning and Dean was humming to himself in his boxers and robe as he cooked a spontaneous omelette that his stomach had demanded - he was but a servant to its nightly whims.

And then he felt it again.

Something was watching him.

Dean froze when the sensation washed over him, familiar in a foreign way but not familiar enough to bring him any kind of comfort.

In one smooth motion that years of hunting had ingrained in him, Dean grabbed a knife from his fancy knife block that he’d splurged on during a different late night and whipped around, only catching a glimpse of a tan trench coat as it left the door frame.

Letting out a relieved breath, Dean poked his head out the door and frowned when the only thing that greeted him was a dark hallway.

“Cas?” He called, lowering his knife.

The hallway didn’t answer.

“So, are you doing like a voyeurism thing now, or what?”

Castiel looked up from the fantasy novel he’d been reading, glanced both to his left and right like there was a possibility that Dean could possibly be talking to someone else in the middle of the bunker’s library where only the two of them had been for the past couple of hours.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Dean gestured towards him with a book in one hand, “It’s fucking creepy, dude. You have my full permission to stare longingly at this mug whenever you want but you’re gonna get another knife in the chest if you keep up trying to be sneaky about it. I’ve got hunter instincts, man.”

Castiel blinked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said after a moment’s pause.

“I’ve seen you.” Dean said with an eye-roll. “The jig is up.”

“Dean, I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to.” Castiel said with a frown. “I’ve never spied on you.”

Castiel seemed to take a moment to reevaluate something.

“In recent years.” He amended.

“Ha!”

“Dean -”

“Alright, well, if it’s not you, who is it?”

Castiel shrugged his shoulders once.

“I haven’t detected anyone entering the bunker that isn’t supposed to be here.” Castiel said, his eyes flicking back down to his reading. “Maybe you have a ghost.”

Dean squinted at Castiel, looking for any sign that he was being messed with, and sat back down in his chair.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

The cashiers in the liquor store nearest to the bunker knew Dean by name - in fact they’d picked it up easily in the first month he and Sam had moved in.

Dean gestured towards the empty row of booze that held his favorite whiskey as he groaned loudly and dramatically.

“Nathalie! Who cleaned you out?”

His favorite of the cashiers leaned over from the next aisle and raised an eyebrow.

“You did, Dean. Like four days ago. We only restock once a week.”

Dean made another loud groaning sound.

“I’m my own worst enemy.”

Nathalie began to blow a large bubble with gum the same bright color of her hair and stared at him as it popped.

“Aren’t we all.”

She ducked back down into the aisle.

Dean grumbled some more as he grabbed some of his less-than-favorable second choices of whiskey and set the last bottle into his cart just as the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

Again.

He didn’t move, just stared down at the final bottle as he tried to focus on the corners of his vision.

Tan coat, dark hair, blue tie.

Dean let out a breath and turned to confront him, but the figure had ducked back out of view.

Shopping cart abandoned, Dean strode forward quickly, looking down the aisle, ready to catch him red-handed, but only saw Nathalie taking stock.

“Hey, did you see - uh -”

“That guy you’re with sometimes?” Nathalie, jerked a thumb behind herself. “Yeah, he went -”

She frowned as she glanced in the direction she’d pointed out.

“Well he was there.”

And now there was nothing.

“Dean, I am telling you. I don’t know what it is you’re seeing but it’s not me.” Castiel set the bags down on the kitchen table as he began putting the food he’d just purchased into the fridge.

“Look, if you’re trying to get me back for beating you at Uno this is a really fucking weird way -”

“It’s not me. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

Dean threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Then what’s fucking happening? Am I going nuts in my old age?”

“You’re in your forties.”

“In hunter-years I’m decrepit.”

Castiel set the milk on the table with a little bit more force than Dean thought was necessary.

“Dean. Listen to me. I have no need to spy on you. I get to look at you all I want, whenever I want, and I also gain the benefit of having you look back.” For a moment, Castiel almost looked fond. “I’m very lucky to have that in life, and it’s something I don’t take for granted. So, whatever is happening to you, it’s not -”

Castiel stopped mid-sentence and Dean felt Castiel’s gaze go slack, like he was no longer staring at him, but somehow staring through him.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Uh,” Castiel shook his head, coming back to himself, “Nothing. I just… had a thought.”

Dean waited.

“Care to share with the class?”

“You should. . . try talking. . . to whatever it is.” Castiel said finally, turning to place the milk in the fridge. “You never know.”

“Talking to it.”

Castiel nodded.

“I swear to god, if this some sort of prank -”

Castiel turned around, and Dean shut up.

That wasn’t a look he saw on Castiel often.

“Come on. Help me put everything else away.”

The feeling came again at night.

Dean rubbed at his eyes as he walked down the hallway, his bladder now blissfully emptier than it had been when he’d been woken up by it.

The hair on his neck began to prickle as he shuffled past doorways and connecting halls in his slippers and robe, and out of the corner of one eye he saw the figure.

Standing in the hallway to his right.

Dean stopped.

“Don’t go.” He said, not daring to turn his head yet.

The figure shifted ever so slightly, but didn’t completely disappear.

“I know you’ve been watching me.” Dean’s voice was just above a whisper. “You’ve been doing it a lot. What do you want?”

The figure didn’t move.

Dean took a risk, turned his head, and there, in the middle of the hallway, was Castiel.

“You said -” Dean started, then stopped himself as he looked at the figure in front of him.

It wasn’t Castiel.

Not really.

He had the same clothes, the same vessel, the same everything - but this was not a Castiel that Dean was familiar with. He held himself like he was either being weighed down by the weight of the sky or was slowly being coaxed towards whatever lay beneath the surface of the earth. Maybe both.

His eyes were the most off-putting.

They were sunken and dark, staring back at him with equal parts joy and misery all tied up together in a neat little bow of fear.

It was Castiel, but it wasn’t Castiel.

It reminded him of a Castiel he’d seen only once before.

“Dean.”

The voice cracked - like a dam that was on the verge of collapse.

“Cas -” Dean swallowed, trying to put this all together in his head.

The Castiel in front of him sagged visibly, and half a sob caught in his throat as he took a step backward.

“I’m sorry -” Castiel stammered, “I shouldn’t have come -”

“Wait.” Dean took a step forward to make up what he’d lost. “Cas.”

Castiel stood miserably still.

“. . . When are you from?”

Castiel said nothing for a long few moments, just stood silently and stared down at the floor.

When he looked up again, he’d managed to regain a small semblance of composure.

“Two thousand and ninety four.” He said softly.

Dean let out a breath that was half out of disbelief.

“Wow.” He scratched at the back of his head. “And uh... how is it?”

More silence.

“I miss you.” Castiel whispered, and whatever composure he’d managed to regain was lost again as the dam finally broke. “I miss you so much, Dean. I can’t - I’m sorry, I can’t do this -”

“Hey, hey,” Dean stepped forward when Castiel started to hyperventilate - something he hadn’t been aware could even happen to an angel - “Cas. Hey, I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are.” Castiel managed, and Dean’s suspicions were confirmed.

Of course they were - he’d probably been long dead.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know I promised, but I miss you. I had to - I had to see you again -”

“Cas. . .” Dean said, his heart wrenching at the sight of him like this. “Look, don’t - don’t fucking do this to yourself. Please. Time jumps take so much out of you and you’ve been doing this a lot. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I know.” Castiel reached a hand out slowly, eyes on Dean’s own hand. “I know.”

It took everything Dean had to pull back.

“What’s dead should stay dead.” Dean said, trying to sound firm. “You know that.”

Castiel turned his gaze back up to Dean - and for the first time - he looked soft.

“You and I were always an exception to the rule.”

Dean couldn’t argue that, instead, he ignored the alarms blaring in his head as he stepped forward and pulled Castiel into a hug, and Castiel clung to him like a lifeline, breathing into his neck and gripping at his robe.

“I love you,” Dean said, and felt Castiel’s grip tighten, “But you’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself. If Sam and I. . . if we aren’t around, then humanity needs you, man. You’ve gotta be there for them.”

He felt Castiel nod into his neck and his grip began to weaken.

He let go.

“Alright.” Castiel said, voice lower and huskier than usual. “Thank you... Dean. For indulging my selfishness.”

“S’not selfish.” Dean swallowed. “And I’m - I’m so sorry. For what it’s worth I - he - never wanted to leave you. Never in a million years.”

Castiel’s hand lingered in Dean’s, and then it fell away.

“I know. I know all of this. I didn’t see anything that I didn’t already know I just -” Castiel swallowed. “I just missed you.”

Castiel took a breath and wiped at his eyes, like he was already distancing himself from the Dean in front of him.

“I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Cas -”

Castiel looked up.

“. . . Get a cat.” Dean said with a shrug. “Smelly, dirty, bitey, knocks things over - it’ll be basically the same thing. And you’ll have a cat.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

“Hold him tight for me.” Castiel said.

And the hallway was empty again.

Dean stepped back into the bedroom and climbed into bed, curling himself around Castiel and pressed his forehead against his neck.

“A long bathroom break.” Castiel murmured, entwining his fingers with Dean’s. “Everything alright?”

Dean only hummed in affirmation, and inhaled deeply.

“You know. . . maybe we should get a cat.”

Castiel shifted to crane his neck at Dean.

“A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been quite a visit to the bathroom.”

“Yeah.”

Dean held him tight.

#spn #destiel #destiel fic #angst #canon!verse #sometimes I write #took longer than I thought and I'm still not happy with it but oh well #ANYWAY AAAANGST #as promised

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badwolfwrites-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Perfection

After a world meeting, Germany and Italy go on a fluffy date.

The morning sun peaked through Germany's pale gray curtains, gently caressing his sleeping face no longer than two seconds before said nation woke up. His alarm clock, sitting by his bed, read 7:00, just 3 hours before a meeting at his place. Yet another global warming discussion.

Like every other time, he didn't expect much from the meeting, but something was pushing Germany to leave his comfortable bed and get ready for the day. Yes, today he had a date with his Italy. Was it the only reason Germany was so excited for the day? Yes, it was.

At first, he didn't expect his relationship with Italy to keep going this well for nearly 20 years, seeing as it was quite unusual for countries. However, Italy was his everything and he would be lying if he said that he didn't fall for him all over again every day. No matter how odd Italy is.

Germany sighed, the burning hot water intensifying the racing of his heart. If this was a musical, he would be singing loud enough for the whole world to hear. Unfortunately, it wasn't and his brother was sound asleep in his basement room. Also, singing in the shower isn't very convenient.

By the time Germany was finished with his breakfast, it was 8:30, leaving him with just enough time to get to the meeting half an hour early. That is if he woke Prussia up in time.

Prussia, barely in a mood for living, dragged himself to the kitchen just as Germany was about to go and wake him up. "Morn'ng." He simply said, taking some bread and butter to make himself a sandwich for breakfast, all while still being half asleep.

"Good morning. Your lunch is in the fridge so heat it up when you want to eat. I will be going now." Germany greeted back, grabbing his jacket.

"Tell Ita I said hi." Prussia answered back.

"I will." With that, Germany left his house and drove off to the meeting.

Not many people were outside when he got there, just the usual bunch and a few who liked to come outside for a smoke. Germany didn't mind smoking, it wasn't his place to tell them how to live their lives, but he detested those who would leave their cigarette butts all over the place. There were bins outside for that purpose.

As he was parking his car, he spotted Japan talking to America at their usual spot, anywhere hidden from everyone else. That was unusual for the American, but he cared a lot about Japan who wasn't all that comfortable around many people. They must have looked like a couple to everyone else and, frankly, Germany thought they were kind of cute together.

He greeted the two of them, America jumping at the chance for strangling Germany with his bare hands. Unlike Italy's, America's hugs were almost always over the top. Once he let go, Germany patted Japan's shoulder, with the latter returning the favor. That was their own kind of hug.

"Ita-chan is not here yet, Germany. Would you like to join us?" Japan asked, moving closer to America to make some space for Germany.

"If you two don't mind." Germany answered.

"We don't, Japan and I've been talking about the latest video games. Ever played Animal Crossing, Germy?" America asked, seemingly excited to talk about just about anything.

Germany shook his head. "Can't say I have, but I heard good things about it."

"Germy, my boy, my man, it's the best thing ever. You have to play it." America took his hands, eyes filled with all 50 stars from the American flag.

"Ame-chan, that is not the way to convince people to play games." Japan laughed at his friend's attempts. "You do it like this..." He then stood up, before kneeling on the floor and bowed all the way till his nose touched the floor. "Germany-san, please do us a favor and purchase the game. It would be my house's greatest honor."

Germany stared dumbfounded at his friend. America, on the other hand, wasn't fazed in the slightest and proceeded to join Japan in his request. Only he hit his head attempting to bow properly. Germany smiled at their dedication. "Alright, I shall buy and play the game for you two."

Just as he said that, a black car parked nearby, bearing a Spanish licence plate. Out of the car stepped out Spain, Romano and a very impatient Italy. He looked around, trying to spot his tall and buff boyfriend. Germany smiled and waved to him.

Italy speed up to Germany like he was attached to a jet plane, jumping into his arms. Confronted by the force of his cute lover, Germany spun him around a bit. "Ciao, Amore." Italy smiled.

"Guten tag, Liebe." Germany returned the gesture before the Italian in his arms pecked away the smile on his lips. Germany pouted as he realized that was all he was going to get since the meeting would be starting soon.

Japan and Italy exchanged their greetings, with America nearly crushing both of them in a tight hug. It couldn't be helped, America just loved tight hugs. The four of them then walked towards the meeting room.

As Germany predicted, the meeting was yet another failure. The problems were stated, but no conclusion was made on how to solve them and pretty soon, everyone parted ways with each other. America and Japan went with England for some tea and coffee time, France, Russia and China went to get lunch, Romano and Spain drove off to Spain's house and the rest of the nations just suddenly vanished until Germany and Italy were the only ones left.

"You ready?" Italy asked, grabbing Germany's arm.

Germany smiled, brushing Italy's cheek with his free hand. "Ready."

The two left the meeting room, making their way towards the nearest park for a short walk.

"So I told Seborga that it just wasn't going to work that way, but, naturally, he didn't listen and then guess what happened?" Italy ranted off his feelings to Germany as they walked around the park for the third time.

"It went off in the air?" Germany responded.

"Exactly. At least now he knows to listen to me." Italy finished his story. "Do you think I'm too soft on him?"

"Well, he is your brother, not your child. I would say that you are a bit strict on him, even if he is a grown man."

"That makes me feel a bit better." They barely left the park when Italy spotted an empty children's playground, tapping Germany's arm. "Germany, can we go on the slide? Pleaseee."

There was something about Italy's begging that always sent Germany's mind into the void. No matter what the Italian asked, he was sure to get it if he begged Germany for it. Germany just nodded and tagged along.

Italy climbed up the slide at the speed of sound, but a problem came up once he couldn't go down the slide. "Germany."

Germany watched him on the side, humming his answer.

"I think I need a bit of a push..." Italy's ears turned red. "I think my butt is stuck."

Germany resisted the urge to laugh, knowing that if he did, he would hurt the poor Italy's already low self esteem. He did as he was told and pushed Italy until he could slide down properly. "I don't think this slide was made for bigger kids."

Italy stared at him, still sitting at the bottom of the slide. "Are you saying I'm fat?" He turned back around, arms crossed and pouting. Germany realized he said too much.

He knelt down in front of Italy. "I am saying that you are a grown up kid and this slide was obviously not made for grown up kids." Italy cracked a smile. "Love me back again?" Germany did his best impression of a puppy that his face let him. It was enough for Italy to jump right back into his arms.

"Of course I do, my little potato." Italy kissed Germany's nose. "I could be fat and you can be a potato. We make an excellent team."

"I am not sure how, but it doesn't matter." Germany stood up, lifting Italy as well. "Should we go get some lunch?"

Italy nodded, already making requests for the finest dish in the town.

It was dark by the time they returned to Germany's house. What a day they had. First, they had a nice lunch and went for a walk again. Then they stopped by the cinema to watch a movie Italy wanted to see and Germany almost dropped all the popcorn at the sudden scream. Afterwards, they went for a small "dinner" at the local McDonald's before, finally, going to Germany's place where Italy would spend the night.

"You're back alr- Italy!!!" Prussia happily raced from the couch to greet his third favorite person in the world, after himself and Canada.

"Prussia!" Italy greeted equally excited, while Germany just wished they would let him pass through the hallway. He was out of luck as his three, although beloved, dogs also rushed to greet Italy.

Quite a while later, Prussia retreated to his room. Italy and Germany were both sprawled on the couch, Germany reading a book and Italy watching the most boring film on the television. At least he was comfortable, wearing nothing but his boxers and his legs creating a bridge over Germany's for Germany to put his chin on a read.

Just as Italy began dozing off, Germany put his book away and stared at his lover. He had to admit, these were the moments Italy absolutely shone with beauty and Germany couldn't believe that he was one of the few who got to see him like that. Everything from his messed up hair, to his soft stomach, to his curvy thighs was perfect. And Germany wanted nothing more than be able to look at him and caress him like this forever.

He kissed Italy's knees, enough for the Italian to break away from the chains of sleep and smile at his lover. Germany smiled back, moving up to kiss Italy's thighs, earning giggles in response, but Germany couldn't be stopped. He kissed at Italy's stomach, Italy's chest, Italy's neck and jaw and finally looked into those big brown eyes.

Italy's eyes are always smiling, Germany learned after spending hours upon hours upon hours studying them. What he didn't know was that Italy's eyes smiled the most when Germany was looking at them with his own curious blue ones. God knows, Italy would do anything for those two blue lakes positioned so perfectly on Germany's face.

Germany closed the gap between the two of them, brushing his lips against Italy's slowly at first before connecting them together like two pieces of a puzzle. Italy hummed into the kiss, telling Germany that he was content with the perfection of this moment. Germany broke the kiss for air, licking his lips, a deed he knew would make Italy want some more. And more was he ready to give him.

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dezembergirl · 6 years

Text

Hangover

the last part of the Paradise Series (prior part)

I really want to continue writing, especially now that I have more free time, so if you have a prompt, idea or wish for something you’d like me to write drop by in my Asks and I’ll make sure to write more stories!

Also, this is not limited to the Norwegian Skam, I’d love to write something for Charles/Manon, Incantava or any of the other!

as always dedicated to @nonibanoni‘s idea <3

Fandom: Skam

Pairing: Noorhelm

Summary: the morning after William’s night out ended on Noora’s dorstep; featured Noora, Pancakes and a hell of a hangover

originaly posted to AO3

Sunday came with clear skies and a headache the size of five rounds of shots paid for by Chris. He rolled onto his stomach and padded the nightstand for his phone. In the darkened room the brightness of the display felt like a stab to his skull and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

The pounding in his head kept at a steady pace and pulling one of the pillows over his ears only intensified the sensation. His mouth tasted like a badly mixed cocktail of vodka, gin and the lingering stench of cigarets. In conclusion, he felt like a piece of shit and the thought of doing school work, which he had delayed until the last weekend, made him want to curl up in bed and stay there for at least another 12 hours.

He let his heart rate calm down before he attempted sitting up and risking another glimpse at his phone to look at the time - ten past eleven. He ran his hands through his hair, getting rid of the worst of the tangles and deciding that he was in dire need of a mirror and a toothbrush. And he must have really been out of it because it was only when he pressed his head against the pillow in one last attempt of blocking out his hangover that he finally noticed the familiar note of lavender. Dumbstruck, he inspected the other side of his bed and although it was subtle, there was a slight indentation in the mattress. It made sense now, she must have closed the blinds and been the one to plug in his now fully charged phone either last night or after she woke up.

On that thought, he jumped out of bed - if you could call stumbling onto one’s feet jumping - and the sudden flight of panic carried him down the corridor and toward the main living room. His mind was already flashing back to the first time she had slept over at his apartment and fled without so much as a note the next morning. The fact that he was not entirely sure how she had ended up in his bed in the first place did nothing to calm the rising sensation of dread in his stomach. He might have done or said something incredibly stupid.

Thankfully, that particular train of thought did not continue because when he stepped into the kitchen there she was, bent over the opposite counter scooping flour into a measuring cup. She had twisted her wet hair into a bun and he recognized the t-shirt that clung to her hips as one of his. He slumped against the door frame and traced her movements while she mixed the flour and milk. Now that the pounding in his head had receded he was left with a sensation of numbness that gave this whole experience a surrealistic touch. Noora was actually here, preparing pancakes in his kitchen and humming a tune he could not place at that moment. He would have most likely remained like that for longer, had Noora not turned around with the mixing bowl in her hands, ready to start pouring the batter into the pan.

Her eyes widening slightly and she stopped mid-motion, almost as if she had forgotten she was not alone. And for a moment, William felt the panic reignite before her open mouth curved upwards and she crooked her head to side.

"Good morning,“ Noora tugged at her bottom lip and he felt his head spin.

"You’re still here.“

"Yes,“ she said matter of factly and moved to set the bowl down next to the stove top.

Deciding not to push his luck with whatever stupid thing he would come up with next he pushed off of the door frame and joined her at the counter. Noora turned to face him and obliged a little peck before pressing a firm palm to his chest.

"You definitely need a toothbrush,“ she tapped the glass and packet of Aspirin next to her on the counter. "And this.“

He dissolved the Aspirin in as little water as he could manage and drowned the whole thing in one go. His face must have shown his disgust before he could fill the glass with more water to wash away the vile taste because Noora giggled and gave his cheek a pinch. He chuckled and despite her protests pulled her into an embrace to kiss both her temples. "Thank you for this.“

"Well, you still had flour and one carton of unexpired milk. So yeah, I had to take advantage of that, especially since Eskild hasn’t gotten groceries since Wednesday and the shops are closed until tomorrow. So not that selfless, really.“

"Still, this is really nice.“

"But,“ she angled her head away from him. „You'll only get some if you go take care of this,“ her fingers pushed along his jawline and into his hair „situation first.“

He leaned his forehead against her collarbone with a muffled groan. Defying his expectations she did not smell like her usual lavender body mist but the much darker sent of his own body wash. He liked that smell on her, he decided. But when he nuzzled his nose deeper Noora squealed and pushed him away before he could attempt to put another kiss on her exposed neck. "I said toothbrush.“

The tiles in the bathroom were coated with water drops and the humid air clung to every surface and his skin. Noora could not have been up for long as the mirror was misted over and he grabbed a towel to get a better look at his reflection. He supposed it could be worse, his skin creased around his eyes but the dark circles should be reversible with some moisturizer and hydration. In his haste to get to bed yesterday he had not bothered to brush through his hair before showering and now the longer strands had tangled into a sizable knot in the front. He grabbed his toothbrush from next to where the one, he had given Noora to use a week ago, lay and went to work.

Now that his mouth tasted more like peppermint than cigarets and his hair had conformed to an acceptable shape he threw on a fresh hoodie and checked his phone. There were no unread messages and only two new emails with his Uber receipts. He pushed it into his hoodie’s front pocket and joined Noora in the kitchen. She had turned up the radio to the morning program and flipped the last pancake over in the pan.

"Feeling better?“ she added the thin piece to the stack of already cooked pancakes and flicked off the stove.

"After a kiss, I will,“ she raised her eyebrows but allowed him to press her up against the counter. His hands found her waist through the t-shirt and he moved to kiss her.

"Did you brush?“ she tilted her head to the side.

"Of course,“ William took a deep breath in and breathed the resulting air into her face.

"Oh my god,“ her mouth dropped open and then quickly closed as she pushed away from him with a flash of laughter. "You’re disgusting.“

He took the plate of pancakes and the only jar of jam in his cupboard - strawberry - and joined her at the table. She had already set out the plates and a glass of orange juice for each of them.

They ate in relative silence except for her protests when he would reach to squeeze her thigh and she would swat him away with a playful smile. William was by no standard a slow eater but he had barely finished his first pancake when Noora was already spreading the jam and folding up her third one. She had strawberry marks in both corners of her mouth that strangely enough reminded him of her red lipsticks.

"Are you in a rush?“

"Huh,“ she looked up and darted her tongue out to clean the jam off her lips. "I just have to write the article that’s due tomorrow. And I didn’t even finish the introduction yesterday. So yeah, kinda.“

His expression dropped and he swallowed the piece of pancake to cover of his disappointment. "You didn’t have to stay you know.“

"Well, you were so disappointed last time,“ he bit his lip.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you into staying or anything,“ he said.

"It’s not like that,“ she dropped her fork and gave him a smile. “I just didn’t think it would have been smart to leave you alone last night.“

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad. I can remember most of it.“

Now her smile had turned into a full-blown smirk. “So you do remember drooling onto your pillow?“

“I did not do that,“ he felt the heat turning the tips of his ears red and rearranged his hair accordingly. Most of last night had come back to him, but there were blurry spots left. He just had not expected to hear something like this.

“I mean, it was kind of cute,“ she was tugging at her lip again and twisting the sleeve around her wrist. “But I’m guessing, this not how you usually get girls into bed?“

He groaned and rubbed at his temples. „What else did I do?“

The crumbs and bits of jam left on his plate suddenly became very interesting. He knew Noora was enjoying this and he supposed he deserved that. He remembered driving home with her and getting into bed but god knows what else happened before and in between that.

“Well, for starters you drunk texted me,“ he scoffed and Noora only laughed and ticked each event off on her fingers. “Then I found you half passed out on my porch at like 2 am and you called an Uber. You showered and we went to bed.“

“That’s all? We didn’t like, you know …,“ he trailed off not sure how to properly mold his concern into a question. He would not be able to forgive himself if he had fucked it all up after weeks of being so careful. She did not want to take whatever this was between them any further than making out in his bed and though he admittedly desired more of course, he would always respect her wishes. He loved cuddling with her, kissing her senseless and making her laugh. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.

“Oh umm, not really. You were out in seconds and yeah you drooled but I already told you that.“ Noora had pushed the sleeve of his shirt all the way up around her elbow and her complexion had turned from pale to light pink.

His chest deflated with relief and he pushed the last piece of folded pancake into his mouth. Noora took the plates and put them in the dishwasher together with the mixing bowl and measuring cups. Despite the Aspirin he still lagged behind in speed as he helped her clean up the kitchen and start the dishwasher. After making sure the surfaces were spotless Noora got her bag from the sofa and made to lace up her shoes.

“You’re leaving?“

“The essay thing, remember. I sadly wasn’t joking about that,“ she fiddled with her hair ties and pulled the knot on her head apart to let her still damp waves fall down past her chin.

“I mean I did offer to help you with it yesterday. I wasn’t joking about that either.“

“I’m serious William I need to finish this today.“

“I am too. You can write it here, I have some work to do as well. So as long as you don’t distract me I won’t keep you from your work either.“

“I didn’t even bring my laptop or anything,“ her backpack already swung over one shoulder, Noora stared at him with that familiar look in eyes that could pass for annoyance. She was seriously debating his offer.

“You can use mine, for now, I won’t need it until later. And then mail it yourself when you’re done.“

Noora stayed quiet and pushed her bottom lip in and out of her mouth.

“What’s your assignment?“

“Heart rhythms.“

“Okay, so my brother went through a couple of months was he was dead set on studying medicine. Because you know it’s very prestigious to be a doctor and whatnot. Anyways, he bought a couple of books he never opened and they're still around here somewhere.“

Noora considered him with narrowed eyes for a moment, probably deciding that this was way too elaborate to be a lie and finally lowered her backpack back down.

“Okay,“ she drew the word out and William wasn’t sure if she was annoyed with him, herself or the situation in general.

“Great,“ he reached for his laptop on the coffee table and put it down next to her.

True to his own word, his brother kept a small collection of medical books in one of the half-empty storage cupboards. He surveyed the titles and picked out a 2014 edition human physiology textbook.

Noora had settled down on one end of the couch, encircled in an impressive amount of paper and markers she must have produced from her bag in the two minutes he had been gone. She was bent over a black and white copy of different EKGs and a heart diagram.

“So, you are staying then?“ William dropped onto the couch next to her.

“I guess so. But you’ll have to make me hot cocoa later,“ she looked up from her notes and he was relieved to find any traces of her prior annoyance wiped from her features.

“Of course.“

He cupped her jaw and pushed his fingers into her loose hair before dipping down for a kiss. It made his chest swell with heat and his skin prickled with the excitement of having her all to himself for the rest of the day. Noora hummed against his lips and laced her hands around his neck to pull her body closer to his. In the end, she was only inches away from fully straddling his lap and the kiss had turned from innocent to something completely different in a matter of seconds.

One of his hands rested on her hips and the other had pushed his shirt halfway up her stomach before he pulled away with a painful groan. His own body protested when he gently disentangled himself from her and she came to rest on the couch next to him with an exasperated sigh.

„Why did you stop?“ Noora combed through the mess he had made of her hair and wiped over her pink and slightly swollen lips.

„Because,“ he reached over for his laptop and typed in his password before handing it back to her. „We agreed on no distractions, and you,“ he gave her one last peck „are extremely distracting.“

„Ass,“ she made a show of swatting away his hand, but ultimately did not protest when he pulled her legs across his lap and started to trace patterns against her bare skin.

He had never thought it possible that a Sunday filled with school work into the late evening hours could be this enjoyable.

#skam #noorhelm #skam fanfic #william x noora #noora x william #noora sætre #william magnusson #noorhelm fic #skam fic #the last one I can't believe I actually finished this series

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 858

After Tokyo

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Hey, man. She’s still sleeping.”

“It’s like 2 in the afternoon there.”

“She didn’t get here until late, and she talked for like three hours before she could go to bed. And jetlag.”

“Can you tell her to call me when she wakes up?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t even know why she’s there.”

“You’re away.”

“I’ll be home tonight!”

“I’m not getting in the middle.”

“You are the definition of in the middle.”

“I’ll tell her to call.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

André and Juan didn’t talk on the phone often, but when they did it was almost always about Christina, and it almost always frustrated the German and seemed not to bother the Spaniard. Nothing changed on that front when Christina opted to fly to London when her participation in the Olympics came to an end instead of going home to Dortmund. Her stated reason for the decision was that André wasn’t even going to be home. He was with his team for an away match. Juan played while she was in the air. She wanted to go home to someone, to have someone to receive her and her massive emotional baggage. She could go home and be with Lukas and her barn family, but that wouldn’t be the same as having one of the only two men she’d ever considered essential components of her heart to hear the come-down. The build-up was so dramatic and lengthy, and she felt as if she were still standing on the climax, unable to begin the descent back to normal until she had one of the right receptacles for her energy. To her the question was, “Why go home and be alone for 24 hours when I could go to London and not be alone?” André understood the logic. He just didn’t like it.

What he missed out on was her first retelling of her Olympic story, from start to finish but surely with a lot of jumping around and confusing side stories, and he knew there was a sentimental difference between the first time she would share all of that and every subsequent one. The first one was going to be the best and most significant, and the most raw and instinctive. He’d been waiting nearly two weeks for it. Christina talked to him every day while she was in Tokyo, and he knew everything that happened there, and most of what she thought about it. But he was waiting for that experience when she’d come home and tell the story.

The story after an event was a staple of their relationship. From early on, they were often most close when they recounted to one another the most private and personal of feelings from their matches and horse shows. Other people didn’t get to hear that stuff, and wouldn’t understand it the same anyway. For a long time, there was no one else who even could hear the story. Neither of them was comfortable enough to give the same insight to someone else. That was how they knew their connection was real and significant in the beginning. They could tell each other everything. But the rider developed a relationship with Juan with a similar level of security and trust. André felt ripped off by that many times, but never more than when he thought about the Spaniard getting that first Olympic debrief- that experience he’d been looking forward to the whole time Christina was away, that he thought would make him smile uncontrollably, feel immensely proud, laugh, feel awe, get inspired, and enjoy all the benefits of immense love.

In addition to feeling jipped, the player was annoyed that she wasn’t coming the next night, when he’d get home too. She would fly back first thing the following morning, mostly because she had media commitments. He thought it might be time for a test balloon to find out how she’d feel if he wanted her to stop giving Juan so much of herself. The Olympics were over and there was nothing on the horizon that was so important as to require that no one rock the rider’s boat.

Christina woke up in the Chelsea man’s deep and cozy bed in the middle of a rainy London afternoon, and almost decided to pretend she’d never woken up at all and just go back to sleep. Tokyo was exhausting. She got at least 7 hours of sleep each night, but never felt well rested. Tom kept telling her she could sleep for a week when they got home, and as she stretched, curled up, stretched again, and then re-burrowed in Juan’s Merlot colored linens, she felt like even a week’s worth of rest wouldn’t be enough. Eventually she ventured out of the featherbed and duvet sandwich with just one hand, seeking her iPhone. Juan removed it from his nightstand hours earlier because it was vibrating nonstop. André was far from the only one trying to reach her, but he was the only one whose call Juan picked up. Their girl did a fairly thorough search in the bed and only got out of it when she was sure the phone had to be elsewhere. The main reason she wanted it was to check in with Tom, who welcomed Dirk home that morning.

“Are you awake, or are you sleep walking?” her host questioned from the chaise lounge in the corner of his living room- the one she put there as part of his “reading nook”- scaring her to death because she assumed the couch being unoccupied meant the rest of the room was too, like the empty kitchen beyond it.

“I think I’m awake,” she mumbled, scratching at her head. “Do you know where my phone is?”

“Right here. You should plug it in again. It’s so busy it’s killing the battery.” The player picked up the device from the square leather footstool that served as a side table in his reading nook. There was a magazine on it, two other phones, a book, his reading glasses, and a glass of iced green tea- a drink he developed a penchant for as a result of Christina having it available in her refrigerator throughout the summer when Lukas was born and he was at her house all the time. She set her butt down on the small bit of empty chase next to his hip, and then rotated to her right to lean her elbow on his waist and look at the many notifications on her phone.

“Dirk is home and out playing with Calvin. Why are you listening to The Centurians?” Her eyes lifted from the screen to the Chelsea man, and her brows furrowed together. His blues lifted from the computer in the middle of his stomach to acknowledge her with as much skepticism.

“Why do you even know that it’s The Centurians?”

“I know everything.”

“It’s the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, on the record player.” He nodded at the turntable and speakers atop the cabinet under some bookshelves. Christina never understood the appeal of listening to records, even on high quality record players. Juan had a growing vinyl collection, and her brother’s was enormous. She thought they were both weird. She also thought it was weird that she initially decided he wasn’t around even though she heard the music. Waking up was hard. “Did you sleep enough? You look like a zombie.”

“I might get back in bed after I call some people back. You should bring whatever you’re doing on the laptop in there so I can sleep on you. What time did you get up?”

“9:30.”

“You should take a nap.”

“André called many times. I answered. He wants you to call him back.”

“K.”

“A gorgeous zombie,” the Spaniard smiled after he closed the computer without ever looking back at the screen again. Guess whatever he was doing isn’t that important, his visitor decided, yawning. He reached over the Apple logo to try to stick his finger in her gaping mouth since she didn’t bother to cover it. When she snapped at it with her teeth like an angry turtle, he dropped his hand down in front of her. “Are you going to wear this for the rest of your life?” he questioned with all five of his fingers on the medal hanging from her neck.

“Yes. I’ll switch it with the other one when it needs polishing.”

“I was thinking we could go to Ferrari, unless you really want to go back to bed...”

“You know what’s really cute?” she asked with a knowing smirk that lacked its usual mischievous appeal because her face was still “sleepy”- she could feel that the squishy areas under her eyes weren’t ready to firm up and disappear yet, and her skin was kind of dry.

“What?”

“You fell in love with me the first time we went to Ferrari.” And he even let me talk him into getting a completely different car, the gold and silver medal winner laughed inside, her eyes on Juan’s, which were comically shifted up and to the left as he pretended to consider her statement. They both knew it was accurate. He’d told her so before.

“And that’s cute?” he questioned skeptically.

“Yes. I don’t know. Maybe “cute” wasn’t the word. It’s something though. Six and a half years ago you asked Schü if you could borrow me to shop for cars. Not only did I not think then that I might ever compete in the Olympics or own a Ferrari, I didn’t even have those things as dreams or goals or anything, and it never would have occurred to me that you and I would be to each other what you and I are. Life is crazy.” Christina tilted her head so that she could scratch at her scalp again with her right hand, and she shrugged and smiled too. Forty-eight and a bit hours were not enough to move past the “deep reflections” stage of winning Olympic medals. “I didn’t think I’d ever even get to ride Dirk again that day.”

“How lucky I am that he still lets me borrow you.” The Spaniard rolled his sparkly blues at her and sat forward to tousle her hair, which already looked like a bird’s nest. The colors in his eyes mattered much more than what he did with them. They exploded into the full spectrum of blue shades, with metallics mixed in, and told her he was every bit as happy that afternoon as she was, even without any Olympic medals on his neck. “You should take a shower or the people at Ferrari won’t take you seriously.”

“I don’t want to go to Ferrari. I want to go back to be-“ The rider was drowned out by her stomach groaning as it tried to digest food that wasn’t in it. “Bed,” she frowned. I’m tired still and Schü and I already have an appointment at Ferrari in Düsseldorf. He wants to go with me, and I want to do it with him too.

“Would you like a sandwich now, and a nice dinner out later?”

“Can we go to your place? So I can have the whole menu? And not be limited to a “reasonable” number of plates?”

“Yes.”

“Yay!” Christina sat up and clapped her hands together like an excited seal. She was excited for the summer menu, and for regular food. Ten days of eating exclusively at the equestrian venue and in the hotel had her ravenous for just about anything else. Their competition venue was too far from the Olympic Village to making staying there with the others realistic, and that was disappointing on many experience levels but none more important than dining. The hotel where all of the jumping, eventing, and dressage riders stayed had one restaurant and only three “continental” dishes- a hamburger, steak frites, and chicken marsala. Everything else was very, very Japanese in the German girl’s eyes, and thus highly suspect. Fish products could be lurking anywhere. There was more to eat where the horses were staying, but nothing there was very tasty or interesting.

“I have roast turkey and 7-grain bread.”

“K. Do you want a sandwich too?”

“No thank you.”

“K.” Christina sat up and fixed her gold medal so that it hung evenly from her neck again, and she crawled on her knees to give her host a kiss. He was able to slide his laptop out of the way just before the heavy prize would have banged into it. “Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t wear this for the rest of my life,” she chuckled. “It’ll probably turn me into a hunchback anyway.”

“You will always know you won it. It doesn’t have to be on your neck,” Juan pointed out levelly. She pushed her lips into his for a few seconds, his nose pushing into her cheek because she lost her balance and tipped forward. Her body was still as asleep as her face.

“You’re really handsome when you’re really delighted for me.” It was necessary to explain her compulsion to kiss him, but she didn’t really know why. There was a strand of thought in her crowded head about the idea that she wasn’t supposed to treat him like a boyfriend, or partner. They weren’t supposed to kiss each time one of them got up and left the room. Usually she didn’t even think to do that, or feel like doing it. Amidst all the other important and significant things on her mind in Tokyo, Christina kept pondering her relationship situations. It kept happening because she kept struggling with whom to text first when she wanted to share something. It was the Olympics, and nearly everything she did and everything that happened to or around her was worth immediately notifying her person. The problem was that she had two people.

It felt weird to text them both the same thing. It felt unfair to text Juan first, or exclusively. It felt incomplete to only tell André. Deciding in which order to call them after the results of the team competition were final was so hard that it actually detracted from the spectacle of the thing. She’d just secured a gold medal for her country and for her teammates and she had to stop freaking out about it to freak out about which love of her life she wanted to share it with first.

Circumstances allowed her to compensate for the decision to call her husband first. Her best friend got the first call when she knew she was going home with a silver medal too. And it was fortuitous that it worked out that way, because it was hard for her to figure out exactly how she felt about that second-place prize. The Spaniard helped her process her disappointment, pride, regret, and acceptance. She wasn’t expecting to be so conflicted. Christina wanted that individual gold for Dirk, but the anger and dejection she expected to feel when the winner bested her jump-off time didn’t show up as scheduled. Instead, immense pride in her horse filled her heart. He was the only equine athlete to jump 5 rounds and a jump-off without a single knockdown. The winner had 8 faults in the second round, as part of the team competition, but second and third round penalties were wiped clean for the fourth. Her Holsteiner was perfect. And he was tired. He gave her everything he had left in the jump-off, in a faraway place, in front of tens of thousands, after a relentless, packed program of monster fences and the most technical courses. It broke her heart that that wasn’t enough for double gold. Christina wanted that for him more than anything. The hurt of missing out just didn’t come right away. Once it did arrive, it came and went in ebbs and flows. Juan helped her deal with the confusing mix of emotions and the sporadic way she experienced them. André’s refrain was more simplistic. He told her to just be happy and content in the knowledge that she and their stallion were perfect and no one else was- that it didn’t matter that the color of her medal didn’t reflect that, because everyone knew it.

“I’m going back to Comfyland,” Christina declared after consuming three slices of turkey, two slices of bread, and one light smear of mayonnaise. She caught up with André while assembling her very, very late breakfast. “Come with?” The Chelsea man resumed work on his weekly blog while she ate. He looked over at her where she lingered near the hall, and she tried to make her face compelling. Hours upon hours in bed was pretty great, but extra hours with him would undoubtedly be even better. The whole point of going there was to not be alone, as she’d just reiterated to her husband on the phone when he accidentally got whiny.

Juan put his laptop aside again and followed her back to his bedroom. Her team luggage was spread out on the bench at the foot of his bed and on the floor in front of that too. Her black adidas garment bag was hanging on the frame of the full-length mirror near the closet. The bed looked like four people had been living in it for four days. There was a silver medal on the nightstand, arranged nicely where there had been an accumulation of teacups and drinking glasses the night before from the lengthy Tokyo debrief. Christina made its regular occupant help her fluff up the featherbed and pillows, and then ordered him to get into bed first so that she could make herself at home on and around him. Wearing an Olympic medal around one’s neck was actually not that convenient in terms of snuggling and being comfortable in bed. The gold medal joined the silver one on the table, after its winner kissed it lovingly. She claimed territory on and alongside Juan’s left side, moving his arm for him so that she could be exactly where she wanted, and settled in with her phone to continue catching up. He put the last Sunday fixture on the TV across the room.

“Hey, look at this. I didn’t know this!” She tilted her phone so he could see a Tweet.

“I didn’t learn to read German since I last saw you,” Juan tutted sarcastically about the German equestrian federation’s post.

“It says I’m the first rider to ever own three Olympic gold medal winning horses at one time. Rio has a team gold from Rio, Nick has an individual gold from Rio, and Dirk has team gold, obvs. Wow. That’s so neat! I only own a tiny bit of Rio though. It’s kind of ridiculous that of the three of them, Dirk is the one without the individual gold.”

“You’re going to harp on that for the next four years, eh? Until you can fix that problem.”

“No. I can’t. He’ll be too old in four years.” This was it. This was our chance. Now we have to try for the WEG or something or he ends his career without any individual gold medals of any kind. Bleh.

“Can we just enjoy that you did win a gold medal a few days ago for at least a few days more before you start obsessing over the next thing?” The other Olympian- the less successful one- poked the small of her back intrusively with his pointer to emphasize his words. “Those of us who have to live with you need a break, cariña. Give us this grace period before it all starts again.” He was teasing her. Inside, she knew he had every right to be serious. Her support team was put through hell as part of her quest to get those tokens on the nightstand. She made her appreciation for that very clear the night before.

“I suppose we can. Can you tell everyone in the restaurant about it and have someone bring me cake while the whole place claps?”

“I have news for you: everyone there already knows,” Juan chuckled, perhaps amused at her obliviousness. It was strangely easy for her to diminish her role in his life as perceived by others. It never occurred to her that everyone close to him knew about what was going on with her because she was such a huge part of his life and he thus talked about her all the time. His whole family and several of his closest friends watched the team final with him during lunch service at the restaurant, in the private party room, on a TV brought in just for the occasion. He told her that, but it went in one ear and right out the other. There was way too much happening that day for Christina to hang onto any faraway information.

“But if you want me to tell all the customers too, I can. I can make a big embarrassing announcement. I’ll stand on a chair. “Attention, everyone! My girlfriend over there at that table in the corner just returned from the Tokyo Olympics, and she won gold and silver medals, and she has a very big, obnoxious ego, so you all need to clap for her and tell her how great she is!” Is that what you want?”

“I’m not comfortable with the very big ego part, or the girlfriend label,” the sleepy girl laughed back. “I really do want a cake though. Do you need to call someone in advance?”

“For real, baby girl, how long are you going to be this annoying?”

“I won medals! I can’t brag and get special treatment for at least as long as we’re enjoying them instead of obsessing about the next Olympics? Come on, dude. That’s not fair! Let me be special for a night!”

“I always give you special treatment!” The Spanish footballer argued back with the same good humor with which he teased her. And he leaned down to kiss her head while he patted her backside affectionately. “I offer to lick your asshole all the time. How is that not special?”

“Ewww can you not? Don’t even talk about that. Part of my special Olympic Medal Winner’s Privileges is the freedom from having to hear you talk about putting things in my butt.”

“Fine.”

“Did you give me a shout out in the blog?”

“I gave you the whole blog. It’s all about you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Can I read it?”

“Tomorrow, with everyone else.”

“Lame. And why are we watching this? Who cares about Crystal Palace and West Brom? Can we watch my course again?” So what if we watched it already last night and I watched it like four times already before that? It’s different because those times were from the German and US broadcasts, and the local coverage. I want to see the UK version again, Christina rationalized. The medal podium rested entirely on her and Dirk’s shoulders when she rode into the competition arena in the third round, the team final. They had to go clear to win, and they were last to go, so they went in knowing that the result would be confirmed as soon as they crossed the timers. Germany’s anchor was so enamored with that high-pressure ride that she couldn’t get enough of it. It was masterful on her part and heroic on the horse’s. She viewed it with her team before the medal ceremony, and then again in her room on the phone with André, another time on the phone with Juan, and then again by herself on the plane to Heathrow. She and the Spaniard replayed it from his DVR while she told the whole story from the pillow next to him on Saturday night. There was no doubt she’d see it again on Monday when she got home, with André and Lukas. One viewing on Sunday couldn’t hurt.

“I thought you were going back to sleep?”

“I thought you loved me. If you loved me, you’d put me on the TV.”

“This really is unbearable,” the Blues midfielder smiled down at her imploring face. “You used to be a lovely, humble girl.”

“You bitches have been fluffing my ego for years and telling me I’d win gold medals and now you’re gonna try to tell me to be humble? Now? All I’ve heard is how I have to believe in myself more, and be more confident, and know that I’d be great, and blah blah blah. Stop moving the goal posts!”

“I love you like this,” he grinned. “It’s funny, and special. I finally see you happy and carefree again like...I don’t know. Whenever. Doesn’t matter. I love it.”

“Yeah, sure, until you really do find it annoying,” Christina droned dismissively at the elated, fuzzy-faced man drinking in her inflated, spiky, sassy, confident, and even contrite personality. There was so much happening in her head and in her heart that it all came out as a jumbled mess, moving her mood in and out of every possible category, and exaggerating each one to almost comic-caricature levels. And she totally didn’t care. Entitled Winner was a great role to play. It was like when having a birthday when she was a kid meant getting her way for a whole weekend, and having everyone bend over backward to make her happy. She made Daniel carry all of her luggage at the airport. “I just won a gold medal for you, so can you do this thing for me” worked really well, on everyone. It took less than three minutes to break André after he initially shunned her Ferrari.

“I’ll give you tonight, at minimum,” her friend vowed with a touch more sincerity. He rubbed her back gently too.

“Thank god. Now put my round on and order my cake. Oh, and thank you.” She fought her lazy body to sit up enough to offer a little kiss of thanks, but Juan wanted something less fleeting than that. He wrapped his palm to her cheek, and under her ear, and slid his fingertips into her hair at the same time he slid his other hand some ways up under the back of her white tee. Every part of his body worked together to make sure their lips remained like stripes- his, hers, his, hers. He didn’t want to let go of her top lip but he didn’t want to hold it hostage either. He did what he could to compel her to keep it there for him, and she felt that, and she did. His body communicated with hers as well as his mind always had, and that was a developing connection. It still had room to grow. It was the main reason Christina kept doing things like giving him thank you kisses and I’m-going-to-the-kitchen-be-right-back kisses, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t realize she was so perpetually hungry for human connection that she was feeding a growing one to make it stronger.

The sedate but significant kiss lasted a while, but didn’t evolve into anything more. The rider broke it off first, and kissed the player on the nose to sort of punctuate that the other kiss was done. Then she demanded he put the jumping coverage on again so that she could once again talk through every single thought she could remember having while on course, and then they put André’s match on. He wasn’t starting. His girl still wanted to watch though, and not just because it was still her team and she still loved nearly everyone on it. It was important to her to watch how they played and have an understanding of everything so that she could talk with him about it in real and honest terms, and not just blow smoke up his behind to make him feel better. The new manager was not her favorite. It was hard to tell if it was his fault that his team played at glacial pace. Regardless of who was to blame, it put Christina to sleep.

She napped on the guy who played for her other team- the more exciting though thus far no more successful team- until he woke her up to talk to Natasha, who texted and even called. He said he thought that was someone worth waking her for, in case she wanted to invite her friend to dinner. That was a small thing that meant a lot to her. Juan mentioned it the night before too. They talked about how she was going to spend her one day there in London, and he suggested inviting Natasha and the kids to lunch, or even going to Box Hill to give the boys a lesson so that they could brag to everyone in the barn that a gold and silver medalist flew straight there from the Olympics to teach them. And he wasn’t even kidding. He had very little time with her, no scheduled next visit, and was willing to share it with her best girlfriend. Natasha couldn’t do dinner, but she begged for breakfast. They were going to hit one of their old favorite spots on the King’s Road, and then Natasha would take her to the airport. It wouldn’t cost her any time with Juan.

Under penalty of tickling, Christina eventually vacated the bed and took a shower and got dressed. Most of the clothes in her various bags and suitcase were team gear- polos, pullovers, track jackets- or riding clothes, so that meant her favorite skinny jeans with the knee holes and the only clean top she could find- a classic straight-cut white crewneck tee with the big adidas logo in dark red. She blew her hair out and used her trusty travel curling iron to put some messy waves in, put enough makeup on to hide the fact that she was still suffering jetlag and travel-related dehydration, and carried her trusty black slip-on sneakers out to find her dinner date.

“K, I’m ready,” she announced to him. Juan was sitting on the couch with his phone. He got up right away, because he was ready to go before she even got to her foundation.

“Do you want to bring a sweater? It’s cold in the restaurant sometimes,” he reminded her while double-checking that he had everything he wanted to take with him, including a cardigan.

“I don’t have any warm-ish layers that are clean. Everything has horse on it,” Christina frowned.

“Go pick something from my closet, then. Get a sweatshirt.”

“Mmkay.”

“Quickly. Don’t take forever trying things on!” the Spaniard called after her once she’d made an about face. “And bring your medals.”

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