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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door.

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background.

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide.

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box.

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said.

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said.

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

458 notes · View notes

rosesandtoshi · 3 years

Text

Winter Lumberland ❅ Iwaizumi Hajime

❅ Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x F!Reader

❅ Warnings: lumberjack au. Established relationship. Smut, fingering, biting, dacryphilia, mild degrading, creampie, and anything else I missed.

❅ Word Count: 2026

❅ A/N: Lumberjack!Iwa idea came from @meiansmistress and @kurinoot. Some of this was self indulgent. My dream is to have sex in front of the fireplace in your room while the snow falls outside. Mmm. So this was perfect to add this in. As always, minors dni. Also thank you Keri and Tina for beta reading and for the banner Tina!! I love you guys 🥺🥺

Taglist: @meiansmistress @kurinoot @hogwarts--imagines @ssrated1volleyballplayer

❅❅❅

She knew living in the mountains wasn’t going to be easy. She especially knew that her husband worked really hard for them to have a wonderful life. Everyday, he drove up to the cabin he was working on for the two of them to live. He’d leave early in the morning and come home really late at night. ‘It’ll all be worth it in the end.’ She always thought as she worked around their tiny apartment in the city.

Iwaizumi recently got a job at a lumberyard in the mountains and the drive was too far from him to make daily, so he proposed an idea to his wife about building a cabin closer to his work.

“You know where you go, I go, right, Haji?” She asked him one night after he had come home from work.

So day after day, Iwaizumi worked diligently for her while she managed everything at home. Since she was a freelancer, it would be easy for her to move. They started saving all their money to make this happen. She was the one who drew the layout for the cabin and managed the decorations. She sat at her little desk in the living room when Iwaizumi came home one day with a smile on his face from ear to ear.

“Baby, guess what?” He asked, coming to her side.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m almost done. In a month or so, we’ll finally have our home!” He said excitedly, pulling her up into a hug. He wouldn’t let her go with him to help or anything. He wanted her to be surprised. “Do you have the decorations ready?”

“I do,” she said, leaving his grasp and getting the paperwork for him. “You can at least let me shop for you.”

“No, no. I want you to be completely surprised.” Iwaizumi smiled at her. She rolled her eyes a bit and smiled back at him.

“Fine fine. Whatever you say.” She playfully hit his chest. “You’re too good to me, Hajime.”

“I only want the best for us baby.” He said, grabbing her hand and placing a soft kiss on it.

“Baby. You know you’re all I need, right?” She said looking up at him. He smiled softly at her and leaned in for a kiss.

“I think I’m the lucky one here.” He kissed her again.

“Let’s go to bed. You need to rest.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, earning a giggle from her.

“Not without you baby.” He said, smacking her ass and going to their bedroom.

❅❅

The time had come for them to finally move. She packed their apartment while Iwaizumi finished up the final touches on the cabin. Everything was moved and she stood in front of the cabin, blindfolded and her hand in his.

“Is this necessary?” She whined out to him.

“Yes. I want you completely surprised.” Iwaizumi said, squeezing her hand.

“Okay. You ready?” She nodded her head furiously.

“So impatient.” He removed her blindfold and she gasped at the cabin in front of her. It was perfect.

“Baby.” She turned to look at him, her eyes welling up with tears before she threw her arms around him. “Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s perfect! You’re perfect! I love you so much!”

“You like it? Are you sure?” He asked, a bit unsure of himself.

“Haji, I love it so much! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for. You built this for us and I couldn’t ask for anything more.” She said, smiling at him. “Now come on. I can’t wait to see it!”

She grabbed his hand again and pulled him to the front door. She opened it and gasped again at the inside. All the decorations she had written down were bought, and everything was set up just like how she laid it out on the blueprint for him. She excitedly walked around the living area first, gazing at the beautiful fireplace in the middle of the wall adorned with beautiful furniture.

She then went to the kitchen and dining area. The kitchen sink had a window above it so she could see the front yard into the woods. She then went upstairs and looked around at the four bedrooms, as she went to the master bedroom first and stared in awe at it. It was everything she wanted and more. The windows went from top to bottom and overlooked the mountains just like how she wanted it. And last but not least, the fireplace in the wall across the bed, her only request. She smiled and looked out the windows at the beautiful scenery. She was thankful their neighbors were far away so no one would be able to look in and snoop. Iwaizumi leaned on the door frame, with arms crossed and watching his little wife in awe at their cabin.

“Hajime.” She called to him, her hand extended. He walked over to her and grabbed it, pulling her to him. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you as well.”

“Why are you thanking me?” She quirked up at him.

“For staying by my side through it all.”

“You know where you go, I go, right, Haji?” She asked, saying what she said before. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I love you.” He said, pressing his lips to hers.

“I love you, too.” She said, kissing him back.

❅❅

A month went by and they were fully settled in their new house. Winter had come, so Iwaizumi was outside chopping for firewood as snow started to fall. She stood at the kitchen sink, humming and washing some dishes as she watched Iwaizumi chop for their firewood supply. She wouldn’t deny that he looked absolutely hot chopping away, with the way his arms tensed as he brought the axe down, and the way his sweat dripped down his forehead while he wiped it away with his flannel.

She couldn’t help but rub her thighs together as she continued to watch her husband chop all the wood. One particular swing made him growl out at the wood and the glass slipped out of her hand, breaking it into pieces. The water splashed her apron and on the floor. She felt her cheeks heating up when she looked back out the window and saw Iwaizumi smirking back at her. She quickly grabbed the towel and cleaned up the water on the floor when she heard the door open and the sound of wood being dropped in the bin by the fireplace. Footsteps came behind her as she stood up.

“Spill some water there, babe?” Iwaizumi asked her, smirking down at her.

“Yeah. Silly me. I’m going to go change. Be right back.” She shuffled away from him and ran up stairs. The room was warm from the lit fireplace. She quickly took the apron off and took off her shirt when she felt hands go around her waist and lips on her neck. She gasped when Iwaizumi sucked on her sweet spot.

“I saw you watching me the whole time I was chopping wood.” He whispered into her ear, making her shudder. “Is my slutty girl that needy?” His lips attached to her neck again while his hands roamed the front on her body. His hands slipped under her bra and groped her breasts, prompting a moan to escape her lips as she pushed further back into him. “Ahh, someone is needy, I see. Why don’t I take care of that?”

He turned her around and crashed his lips to hers. Her hands went up to the buttons on his flannel and she started unbuttoning it, pulling it down his back and running her hands up and down his chest. She raked her nails softly across his chest, causing him to groan. His hand unclasped her bra and he tossed it to the side, his hands moving to grab them. He pushed her back gently as she laid down on the bed, breaking the kiss as he grabbed the top of her skirt and pulled it down. He shrugged his jeans off and climbed back on top of her.

“Did my little slut enjoy seeing me chopping wood?” He asked as lips lowered down to one of her nipples. She arched her back and let out a loud moan as his mouth connected to it. His other hand moved rather slowly to her clothed pussy as he sucked and drew circles around her bud. He bit a little harder, making her gasp.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes Haji, I enjoyed watching you chop wood.” She moaned out as his hand started to rub small circles on her clit. He moved lower and could feel the wetness in her panties.

“Already so wet baby. All from me chopping wood.” He chuckled out and pushed her panties to the side, dragging his finger slowly up and down her slit. A whine left her mouth as he continued to tease her. Her hand went to his hair and she pulled a bit.

“Stop teasing me. Please!” She let out a loud gasp when she felt him plunge two fingers into her.

“Is this what you wanted? For me to fill you up?” He inserted another finger only to pull them all out, making her whine loudly. “Beg for me, slut.”

“Please Haji, I need you. Need you to fill me up.” He smirked before sticking his fingers back into your pussy. She moaned loudly when his mouth went back to her nipple, this time biting it. His fingers continued to pump in and out of her as she pulled tighter and tighter on his hair. She yelped when his thumb came up and started rubbing circles on her aching clit. She felt the knot in her stomach as she started to buck her hips up. Iwaizumi smacked her thigh, making her still.

“Please, let me cum. I’ve been a good girl, Haji. Let me cum!” She moaned out to him.

“You have been a good girl but I don’t want you to cum just yet.” He pulled his fingers out again. She felt tears start to well in her eyes at the loss of his fingers. He stood up and pulled her panties completely off as well as discarding his underwear. He pumped his cock a few times before going back on top of her. He grabbed her legs and pushed them up to her chest before lining his cock up with her pussy. He teased her by just putting his head in, the tears flowing down her face.

“I won't tease my little slut anymore. She’s had enough.” He said before snapping his hips into hers, bottoming out inside of her. She gasped at the sudden fullness that turned into a moan as he started to thrust his hips in and out of her. Iwaizumi clenched his eyes at the feel of her pussy squeezing his cock.

“God baby, after all the fucking we do, you’d think you wouldn’t be so tight.” He groaned out making her moan.

“S’full Haji.” She managed out, the tears still falling down her face as Hajime fucked her. His pelvic bone rubbed up against her clit and she felt the knot returning.

“I can feel it baby. Your pussy is tightening on me. Do you want to cum now?” She moaned out a yes, and Hajime let go of her legs and wrapped them around his waist. She clung to him as he started to pound into her, her nails scratching his back. She felt the knot getting bigger before it snapped.

“I’m cumming, I'm cumming! Oh god—Hajime!” She cried out as her orgasm crashed down on her. He picked up his pace to chase his own high as her pussy milked his cock. He grunted out her name as he spilled his load into her. After a few small thrusts, he pulled out of her, picking her up and taking her to the bathroom.

Once they cleaned up, she snuggled into his chest while the fire roared and the snow fell outside the window. She sighed happily as he kissed her hair.

“I love you, Hajime.” She whispered, her eyes closing slowly.

“I love you too.”

#iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu!!#smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines

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lahyene · 4 years

Text

Midnight Drive.

Pairing: stepdad!ransom x reader (18 y/o)

Summary: Your household changes when your mother is forced to marry Ransom Drysdale as a part of a business deal. Even though he’s technically your stepdad now, it’s sure hard to see him that way when you’ve already developed a bit of a crush on him.

Themes: infidelity, smut, car sex, choking, daddy kink

Word count: 1632

He rubs his temples in utter annoyance as his wife, your mother, goes on and on, lecturing him about how he shouldn’t spend such late nights at the country club with his friends now that he’s a married man. He’s tired, irritated, and ready to snap any second. Both families are well aware this marriage is simply a business transaction. Your mother’s grandparents are well known in the publishing world, as is Ransom’s grandfather. The two combining efforts brings wealth beyond belief, if everyone cooperates. However, the thirty-six year old man had no idea that his new wife would nag so damn much.

He had also been a bit wary of the idea of having an eighteen year old stepdaughter. Your forty year old mom had you quite young, and so having a “father” figure who was just a few years younger than her did not feel too different.

Except for the fact that he was really nothing like a father to you whatsoever. At first, the two of you somewhat ignored each other. It was when he discovered you knew how to hold your alcohol that he became intrigued, and the two of you would start drinking together and actually getting to know each other. He’s blunt, sarcastic, crude, and sometimes even a little mean to you, but oddly enough, you like it. After being a part of such a rich and stuffy family, his straightforwardness often feels refreshing.

You walk into the room, feeling a bit sympathetic that he’s currently facing your mother’s wrath. Not to mention angry. You’re the only one who knows that your mom has been cheating on Ransom; an arranged marriage would never hold someone as feisty as her down. You feel a strange sense of protectiveness towards this man, and you have no idea why. Perhaps because you’ve developed a bit of a crush on him.

You know it’s wrong. But so is everything about this twisted marriage, and so you figure your crush wouldn’t harm anyone. Your mom doesn’t even care about him.

“Mom. Can you please stop yelling? The entire neighborhood can hear you.” You look at her in annoyance, coming over to sit on the armrest of Ransom’s chair. “You hang out with your friends all the time, why can’t he?”

Ransom blinks but looks up at you in slight amusement, the corner of his lips barely tugging upwards. He seems to have missed your subtle emphasis on the word “friends”, but your mom sure didn’t.

“Y/N,” she immediately scolds, eyes narrowing slightly. “Stay out of this. Just go back to your room and get to bed, you have class tomorrow morning.”

Ransom arches an eyebrow, placing a hand on your back. “She’s eighteen and in college now, for God’s sake- don’t tell her to go to her room.” He suddenly stands up, gesturing for you to stand as well. “I’m taking her on a drive. You need to fuckin’ calm down or something, I’m not listening to you scream your goddamn brains out at me anymore.”

“In the Beemer?” you immediately ask hopefully, eyes lighting up as you ignore your mother’s incredulous expression. Ransom chuckles lowly, nodding his head.

“The Beemer. Let’s go.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“God. What a shit show.” Ransom lifts a cigarette to his lips to light it, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he takes a drag. The car is parked on some mountainous hiking trail, nothing before you but the nature under a starry night sky. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful; this certainly beats being at home with your angry mother.

“Can I have one?” you ask him hopefully as you eye the box, and he scoffs in response, glancing to you briefly before closing his eyes again.

“Hell, no. What are you trying to ruin your lungs for? Besides, your mom will be able to smell it on ya in a heartbeat.” He opens his eyes, taking another drag as his blue hues study the scenery. “She always been like that?”

“Wow, look at you, stepping up as a father.” You drawl sarcastically, but lean back in your seat, looking ahead too. “No. Guess she’s just stressed lately.”

“God, do not call me that.” He rolls his eyes, even shuddering slightly. “Aren’t we all? She doesn’t have to be such a--”

“Careful, Ransom, she’s still my mom.” You warn him playfully, arching a brow. “What, you don’t want to be a father?”

“A father, no. A daddy? Sure.” He replies with a smirk, turning his head to look at you. “So if you’re looking for one of those, I can definitely help you out.”

You can’t help but blush, not having expected him to flirt with you so openly. “What if I said I was?” you ask somewhat boldly, keeping your eyes on him to see his reaction.

He blinks, looking at you for a few moments as he takes another drag, then suddenly puts out the cigarette altogether and tosses it outside. He then sits up straighter, shifting himself to face you, leaning in close so his eyes can lock onto yours.

“Then I’d accuse you of bluffing.”

Your breath hitches slightly as you stare into those ocean eyes, a little intimidated. You’re considering pulling back, telling him that it’s getting late and you should be getting to bed soon- but you realize you’ll only end up being disappointed with yourself if you go down that route. You have to at least try.

And so you lean in too, connecting your lips with his, kissing him as fiercely as you possibly can. Fuck it, you’re going to give it your all.

You know it’s working when he grabs the back of your neck with one massive hand, his kiss far more rough and dominant than you could ever be. You gasp when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring as his fingers pull your hair- his other hand goes to your thigh, squeezing hard. You’re already overwhelmed, but in the best way possible.

“Well, what do you know,” he mutters huskily between kisses, just barely pulling back to offer you his devious smirk, eyes alight with mischief. “I guess I was wrong.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull him back in for another passionate kiss, murmuring playfully, “Wow, have you ever said that before?”

It isn’t long before the two of you are fumbling with your clothes, him hastily removing his belt in order to lower his jeans as you wiggle out of your shorts and move your panties to the side, situating yourself on his lap as smoothly as possible. He leans over to grab a condom from the dash- you give him a look and he simply smirks, shrugging nonchalantly. “You never know, right?” He suddenly pauses, looking up at you suspiciously. “Wait. Have you done this before?”

“Did you think I was a good, innocent little virgin, Ransom?” you whisper teasingly, plucking the condom from his hand and opening the package, sliding it over his thick length. You see him look annoyed, clearly from being protective, and you can’t help but laugh. “Relax. I’ve only slept with one guy before.” You raise a brow, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But I bet you’ll know what you’re doing way more than he did.”

“Oh, you got that right.” He mutters, suddenly grabbing your hips and lifting you up. “He was probably your age, huh? I’m going to be the first man you fuck, baby doll, get ready.”

You gasp as he sinks you down onto his length, your sultry moan escaping your lips almost instantaneously as you hold onto his slicked back hair. “O-oh... Ransom!”

“Don’t you mean Daddy?” he hisses with a smirk, moving one hand to slap your ass roughly. “Let’s try that again.”

He bucks his hips upwards roughly, making you whimper loudly in pleasure. “Daddy!” You’re quick to correct yourself, tilting your head back as you start bouncing on his huge cock, pulling on his hair. “Oh, my God, you’re so... fucking big...!”

“Yeah? You like Daddy’s big cock deep inside that little tummy, baby girl?” he growls, groping your ass with one hand practically using his hold to move you up and down with ease. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Shit you feel good. You’re such a good girl for Daddy, huh?”

“Unn... yes, yes! That feels... so good!” you cry out in delight, bouncing up and down on his dick, riding him harder and faster as you move your hands to dig your nails into the fabric of his expensive shirt. His hands move all over your body, groping your breasts, playing with your nipples, squeezing your waist, even choking you at one point as he continues thrusting upwards into you, occasionally smacking at your ass so hard you’re sure there’ll be marks by the morning. You’re in absolute heaven from all the sensations, your eyes nearly rolling back as you moan louder and louder.

You’re completely breathless as you find your release, panting and shuddering just from hearing the low and husky timbre of his groan when he comes. You slowly lift yourself up, getting back in your seat somewhat haphazardly as you fix your panties and shorts. He removes the condom and tosses that into the bushes without a care in the world, adjusting his belt and jeans.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you breathe out, running your fingers through your hair as you lean back, staring ahead with wide eyes.

“Yeah? Because that was only the first of many, my dear.” Ransom looks to you with a breathless smirk before reaching for another cigarette, leaning back rather heavily as he lifts it to his lips to light it.

#ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x reader #writing

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delu-jean · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐔𝐩 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

(Jea x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 4.2k

XII > XIV

You and Reiner picked some flowers. They lay in one of the baskets you brought. They sat beautifully, making you reminisce the night Jean had given you that violet. Though these flowers were a lot larger, and the hue was more vibrant, the meaning behind that violet shone brighter than those characteristics combined. You grinned at such a thought, while Reiner kept on climbing the tree.

You felt bad since you weren’t helping him gather the apples. Someone needed to hold the basket, making sure they didn’t touch the ground. Since the tree was becoming more barren as the years passed, the less fruit it would bear. So, you had to make sure no apples went to waste. Still, watching him do all of that hard work made you feel guilty. He reassured you (before), saying that it was better for him to actually do something right (since he trampled a lot of plants when picking flowers). So you let him be. Watching as each fruit fell.

“It’s been a while...do you remember this place, Y/n?”

“Of course I do…” you then gazed at the scenery in front of you. Being reminded of that one moment, that last moment you had felt such peace in Marely. The moment where Bertholdt had scurried to get you, the moment where you never thought that things would take such a turn.

You looked at Reiner to see the guilt which struck him. Not only that, but the guilt then crept onto you. That peace was one which could never come back, along with Bertholdt himself. You felt burdened to say the least. Knowing how his best friend had died, yet not being allowed to tell him (since Jean’s cover would blow). It saddened you knowing how much weight was on his shoulders. Never knowing what had truly happened, but instead, escaping with survivor’s guilt.

“Ah, two coming!”

“Got it!” you caught them in your basket. Time passed as more apples stacked. He then decided to break the silence once again.

“Do you ever wish that we could be kids again?”

“Of course I do,” he nods in agreement.

“If I could change one thing...just one of the many things in our childhood...it would be the fate we held in the military. Wishing things could have been different, and that you all could’ve been here,” you noticed how he didn’t say “we,” but instead said “you.” That meant he had wished you were all here, but not necessarily himself. You were going to question him, until he spoke yet again.

“For Bertholdt to see such a sight. To see how grown the both of us have become, and...to see his family...just once more. Maybe even confess to Annie if he had the guts to,” you saw the pained expression he had which made you feel the same.

“Bertholdt would be happy for us, especially since we’ve grown so much with the time given.”

---

“Yeah...I guess so,” he then picked the last of the apples and came down. In the process, one of the better apples fell, cracking with the contact of the ground. Funny enough, it reminded you of Bertholdt. Since he unfortunately was one, if not, the sweetest apple. One who just had to fall far from the tree above.

You both stepped into your house. Feeling tired as your arms limped, along with Reiner’s. You started to look around, wanting to see if Jean was at home. Lurking through the bedroom, and even checking your closet. Unfortunately (for you) he wasn’t. It’s almost as if he was gone with the wind. You felt a little bummed as Reiner stepped into the kitchen. Placing the baskets down, and washing his hands (readying himself for the session yet to come). He then asked you in a loud tone, hoping you would hear.

“What are you doing Y/n?”

“Oh, I’m looking for a pot!” you shouted back.

“In your bedroom?”

“Haha, yeah,” you were still feeling upset...but then remembered that you were the person who told him to leave (secretly regretting it qwq).

You then walked over to Reiner, ready to help him make the pie. You both washed the apples, peeled, and chopped them. Reiner was a little klutzy with the knife, handling it like a weapon in battle. You found it quite funny, and guided his hands. Hoping he wouldn’t cut himself. To your surprise he didn’t, and ended up seasoning the fruit with different spices, sugars, and ingredients. When that was done, you put him in charge of kneading the crust. You (of course) mixed and measured the ingredients, and after doing so, told him to be gentle with the dough. Hoping his rough hands would maintain, and not ruin such a delicacy.

You started to heat the filling as you monitored him from afar. He really was a quick learner, yet still needed to work on some of his skills. You wondered how Jean would’ve made the pie. If he would’ve added his own flare, or crust designs. Just thinking about it made you excited, hoping you both could someday. Reiner then started to roll, and place the crust. You both then finished your tasks. Thrilled with the results of your hard work.

“Phew, thanks for your help Reiner.”

“No problem. That was...a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Mhm...oh yeah! I left some filling here for you. I tasted it and thought it wasn’t sweet enough, but I kept it that way since you know...Bertholdt preferred ‘natural’ sugars,” you smirked as Reiner tried a spoonful.

“Haha, yup. Reminds me of Bertholdt. Also it's really tasty.”

“That’s good! Okay, let’s put it away now,” you put both the filling, and crust away. Letting both rest separately so you could bake them tomorrow (before meeting the families).

“I’ll pop it in the oven before leaving.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me help...or contribute at least. Sorry if I was a nuisance.”

“Haha no, thanks for helping in general. Two pairs of hands are better than one, and you gave loads of help,” he then smiled, slipping his coat and shoes on.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“No, I insist. I’ll come instead. You’ve been walking me home a LOT as of recently. Let me come get ya instead,” he seemed hesitant when you answered. Not sure as to why, you tried asking hoping you could hear his reasons. But instead he pestered you, insisting on grabbing you instead. Now you could understand Jean (in some way). Not being able to understand him directly...was making you feel frustrated. Not only that, but you weren’t able to understand why he was acting like that.

Regardless, you eventually gave it. Though you found it suspicious, you decided to say no more. Not wanting to add tension, and instead, respecting his choice.

“Okay fine. Get me near ten-ish?”

---

“Alright, sounds good.”

You got up, did your morning routine, got dressed, and had a filling meal. Each year, you and Reiner didn’t wear anything formal. Rather, you both stuck with a simple semi-formal outfit (didn’t want to be too formal, nor too casual). You never wore the same clothing, but rather, switched it up while trying to stay coordinated. This year, you decided to match in white, and beige. You wore a dress shirt, your sleeves puffed, filled with lace, two ribbons (on each side), a beige skirt which reached your legs, and a straw hat. While Reiner wore a beige cardigan, beige slacks, a dress shirt, along with a fleece vest. Though it was a semi-hot day, it was hotter than cold. So he decided to hold his cardigan for the majority of the time. He also brought a black leather watch, and a brown fedora (type of hat). You decided not to go all out since you wanted your interactions to seem civil. Nothing up top to make the families feel comfortable.

You first went to the Galliard’s. Porco was home and didn’t seem happy with Reiner being there. Though there was some awkward tension, Reiner did his best to ignore any dirty glances. Trying to remember this visit wasn’t about Porco, but instead, Marcel.

“You know, Marcel was a boy with less aspirations for himself, but instead for the people around him,” Mr. Galliard stated.

Last night, Jean didn’t make his way back. You were a tad sad. Not being able to sleep with him there...felt unnatural. You really didn’t feel at ease in your own home. Constantly wondering where he was, if he was okay, or if he really had business. You honestly weren’t sure, but regardless, tried sleeping since today was important.

“I never saw my son as a child, rather, the embodiment of an adult. One with the thoughts, and responsibility of a grown man. I felt, and still do feel guilty though...he never got the chance to be one. To experience the childhood he should have.”

“Mhm,” you nodded after he said that.

“I truly regret not making him live the life of a child, and it pains me that he was instead forced to be an adult,” his wife then put a hand on her husband’s. Giving him a stare out of grief, yet relief as she then eyed the both of you.

“If my son had seen where you both are, he would be proud. He would be amazed with the work you both put in, and know that we are as well. We’ve seen the work Reiner puts in with Porco, doing his best to serve Marley with their titans. Along with you, Y/n. As you encourage and guide the Eldians to be the best they can. Both in the battlefield, and themselves personally. We truly are indebted, and hope you two will continue in the work you do for as long as possible.”

“Ah I see, I’m glad our efforts have paid off. I have to agree though, Marcel truly was a great person-”

“Tch,” Porco snarled as his mother then elbowed him. Reiner then continued to talk. Telling the three about the gift chosen, how you both thought it would suit Marcel, and who he was. Not just a comrade, but a dear friend as well. The pendant shone beautifully, and had a glint just like Marcel’s. The framing around the jewel caved around like it was a crown. Smooth, and precise edges, along with a clean finishing. The back also had an engraving of his name, along with leather straps which could detach. Framed in the box it came with and accompanied by two letters.

“You can read them whenever you would like. Although, I do recommend doing so when alone,” you told them, and then made your way to the door. Porco decided to escort you out. Though both you, and Reiner expected a cold gesture, he instead gave you an unexpected one.

“Thanks...for the gift. It means a lot.”

---

“Yes of course, no need to thank us,” Reiner responded for the door to then shut.

You both went to Annie’s house, hoping her father would be home. To your dismay...he wasn’t there...like always (on that day specifically). You tried knocking the door yet again, but to your “shock,” there’s no response. You see...on this day specifically, he refused to see either of you. He knew that your gestures were filled with good intent, but just...couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would always see you both whenever else, knowing that the topic wouldn’t arise.

“Let’s get going...Mrs. Hoover is expecting us.”

---

“Got it...Y/n.”

Still, it saddened you to say the least. The poor man was so hurt, and he couldn’t bring up the topic. Though you wanted to console him, even with the time given, it seemed like it wasn’t going to happen. You placed the box on his doorstep, leaving a note telling him of the gift, and why you chose it. Hoping he would keep it with him, and store it safely.

“Ah Y/n, Reiner! I haven’t seen you both in a while! Come, come inside!” Bertholdt’s mother said, for the both of you to enter their house. Pulling out chairs while her husband did the same. His father then started to brew tea, while the three of you (Reiner, you, and Mrs. Hoover) sat down.

“How have you been?”

“And I as well,” Mr. Hoover then placed the tea. The two lovers smiled at each other, and then sat beside one another. You were glad they weren’t in tears, nor upset. His parents (surprisingly) seemed to have taken his death unexpectedly. Not as something light hearted, nor sympathetic, but rather...very “well” in your opinion. They mourned when you had returned with no trail of Bertholdt, but got themselves together. Making good of his passing instead of sulking.

Reiner then pulled out the basket of apples, handing it to them. While you showed the bouquet full of flowers. You also held the pie in your hands while his mother went to grab a vase.

“It looks lovely Y/n, I’m assuming you used the apples?”

“Oh, I’ve been well,” you responded.

“Yes ma'am. Bertholdt’s favourite.”

“Speaking of my dear son, my one and only child… Oh how he loved such delicacies. I wish I made him more when he was with us. Not only that, but he was one himself, and I wished we would’ve handled him with more care. Being more fragile with such a thing….”

You see, his parents were really invested into the whole “Honorary Marleyin,” and “warrior candidate” events. They just wanted their son to exceed, and to know that he could go above and beyond. But in said process, instead of doing that...it gave the opposite effect. Making him feel less if anything. He knew they loved him, but their encouragement...seemed more discouraging to Bertholdt if anything. Disregarding his feelings, and thoughts to the opposition, convincing him that he was strong enough and could do it.

Never considering his doubts, nor fears. Instead, brushing them off and telling him he could excel. There was no comfort whatsoever, instead, expectations and tension which were burdened to him...and him alone.

“That was probably why he was so timid...because of how we treated him…. I truly do regret such a thing, but I was relieved to hear how he was a great and loving person to the both of you. Even if we didn’t get what “we wanted” from him, he received the things that he wanted for himself. Pushing himself to his limits, and persevering...without us.”

“Yes, he truly was an amazing person. The closest friend I’ve ever had,” Reiner said with a sincere tone. The father then stepped in, saying:

“Bertholdt would’ve loved to see how you both had grown to be so mature, understanding, and great in general.”

“Since he loved you both so dearly, he also would’ve been glad at the decision you two are making, about becoming one. Also, congratulations on that. I hope you both have the happiest of times while you can. Though, I won’t lie, I wished Y/n were the one to marry Bertholdt (she said jokingly). But even so, I’m happy for both of you. Reiner, you’ve got yourself one lucky lady, and Y/n, you a lucky man.”

“Yeah...I guess so,” Reiner responded.

---

You then thought to yourself. Would Bertholdt actually be content with the engagement? Though his mother had thought “yes,” you had thought “no.” He probably would’ve opposed, saying that the marriage would’ve been pointless, and unsettling. That being the case, his opinion gave you yet another reason for your opposition.

You both were done for the day, and were relieved for that. You were glad that two out of the three were there, liked the gifts given, and that you were able to show respect towards your comrades. So being that, you both were now walking. Yes, your destination would be home, but you weren’t sure as to what detours would be made. Both you and Reiner actually. One thing you were sure about, was that the man beside you seemed frustrated. Even though he should've relaxed since your tasks had just finished.

“Y/n, I don’t want to assume...but…were you the person who might’ve leaked things?”

“Oh...no. It wouldn’t make sense for me to, in all honesty…”

But then at the same time, she might’ve assumed so because of how long you were taking. Thinking you must’ve made a decision (by now) and just didn’t want to be vocal about it. Of course, that wasn’t the case and you made it clear to Reiner. He then decided to switch up the conversation, trying to avert from the unwanted thought.

“I forgot to ask, but were you able to get home safely that night?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“That means...oh gosh,” that’s when you both realized that the only person who could’ve, and would’ve done so...was his mother. You also remembered what Alexandra said, about his mother being ecstatic about the engagement. That point secured your thoughts. She was probably very excited, and had no malicious intent involved. She just wanted the best for her son, and you as well (thinking Reiner was the best for you). Regardless, it kind of annoyed you. Especially since you hadn’t made the decision, and she inferred you had instead of asking/confirming.

“That’s good.”

“And you?”

“Yeah, I did. I walked Gabi home first, then made my way.”

“Ahh I see,” yout both walked further for him to ask:

“Where were you the morning after? I thought you’d be at HQ, like you always are.”

“Ah well…” you couldn’t tell him about Jean, so instead, told him about Alexandra.

“Well, a friend of mine came over. We caught up and….” you couldn’t say that you were talking about him (his looks to be more specific), so instead, brought up the first few things which came to mind.

“She um, congratulated me.”

“Oh really?” he seemed glad and you went on.

“Not only that, but that most of the town knows…and that your mother seems ecstatic.”

“Oh no…” You then saw a burdensome look on his face.

“Haha yeah. She also asked if I had a wedding dress, or ring. Which I found kind of funny-” He immediately cut in.

“So what was your response?”

“That I have neither.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm?...the real question is, what do you mean Reiner?” you then stared at the gentleman, awaiting for his answer.

“Oh...it’s just that...you do have one.”

“What?..”

“Not a dress of course, but a ring.”

He then Proceeded to tell you that he did have one ready. He felt guilty knowing that you had told her “no.” He thought that maybe you had felt bad, being that your answer was “no,” even though he did have one prepared. After all, ladies did take marriage as a big deal. And even though it was one out of friendship, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. Being considerate of such a big event.

Though you could’ve (and most likely would’ve) married someone after Reiner, it still was your first wedding. And your first anything should always be taken seriously.

“If I knew you were going to be bombarded with the other ladies bothering you...I would’ve given it sooner,” he fished a box out of his pocket, and handed it to you.

You then opened it to see a fairly modest design. It was a simple gold band. One with a centered jewel in an oval shape. There were also two other smaller stones which accompanied the ring, and the band sat in a black, velvet box. It was a very beautiful ring, and Reiner could tell you liked it (based on how you sat in awe). He was glad he got such a ring, knowing how simple you could be, and that it seemed to suit your personality.

“I’m sorry for not being able to get you better, but I hope that it’ll be enough for you to show other ladies. And hopefully...you don’t feel the need to humble yourself when with others,” you could feel the sincerity coming from him, and were thankful. But...you ultimately just...couldn’t accept such a gesture.

“I’m sorry Reiner...but I can’t accept this.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“I just...can’t,” he then took the hint, and instead asked:

“Is it because you aren’t sure yet?” you then nodded, not giving him anymore context. He also did the same. Nodding and letting you be.

“But I insist...you should keep it.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Well haha, my mother will pester me less. But of course, only if you want. If not, I can take it back. I understand your decisions, and will respect them for when you’re ready.”

---

“You know what...sure, why not,” you didn’t want to be rude, and you also wanted to be less of a burden.

After receiving the box, Reiner does what he thinks is best. He shields you from others on your walk through town. Although they found his gestures quite adorable, he thought the opposite, but was glad there was no attention regarding the ring. Covering the box made you tense less, and his efforts were greatly appreciated. He understood the townspeople's intentions, but didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

“Hey reiner...when it comes to deciding, how much time do you think I have?”

“According to what my mother said...maybe a couple months. That is...if you want to have a um...child of course. If not, really whenever. As long as I don’t die,” he chuckled and you nod, laughing yourself.

“I see, well...I’ll be sure to relay my decision whenever.”

You took notice of how tired Reiner was. His eyes drowsy, posture limp, and in general, was very out of energy. You decided to halt, stopping in front of him. Making his pace lessen as you stood still.

“Why do you look so tired? I know it’s not because of any drills,” you laughed as he looked to the side.

“Don’t worry too much about it...it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Come on Reiner...tell me! I feel like I play a part in it…. I’m not sure as to what, but yeah,” he then looked back at you. Though he contemplated his thoughts, he decided to be honest.

“Okay fine. As of recently, I've been pushed around by my mother, a couple elders, along with the civilians, and troops in general. Meeting whenever my mother arranged things, taking the time to accept gifts, being congratulated, and having conversations even when I don’t have the time. Though it should be fun, it’s really not. Especially when the warriors are on my ass for being late, and then I show up to meetings with a bunch of gifts. At first they were okay with everything, but as time progressed, they were uh...pissed with my appearances.”

You felt bad. Your delay was really taking a toll on Reiner, yet you felt like you couldn’t give him your answer. The pressure was immense, you would be letting people down, and the Braun’s would be in an awkward (gossip-ish) position after your rejection. But then again, you didn’t want to marry him anymore. You had Jean now, plus, Reiner was only doing his best since he wanted to make things right. Being your friend, trying to help build a future that might satisfy you when he’s gone. Imagining you living alone without benefits he could’ve provided, made him feel guilty. He already put you through so much, and although this wasn’t a huge step to redemption, it was one skid closer.

But honestly, you cared less (for the marriage, not his efforts). If you said no, the entire thing would be off his plate. Yet...you felt bad seeing how much effort he put in. You saying no would mean all of that effort being drawn to waste. You then decided to ask him what he would do with both responses. Towards both rejection, and the acceptance of his proposal.

“Reiner...what would you do if I said yes?”

“To my proposal?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I would marry you,” he smirked at such an obvious question. Not making fun of you, rather, just pointing out the obvious.

“Oh...yeah haha. Anything else though?”

“Maybe have a child...I mean of course, like I said...it’s up to you” seemed embarrassed to bring up the subject, which made you laugh.

“Okay...then what would you do if I said no?”

“Honestly I’m not sure, but, if that’s what will make you happy, so be it. If you want to love someone else, I won't stop you. If you want to love yourself, and you alone, I will support you. No matter what you do...I just want to be a good friend is all. Make up for all I’ve done.”

Just through that, you saw how serious Reiner was when taking this path to redemption. Though, not in the way you would have both envisioned, he was truly trying his best. Being a good friend, and doing his best to get you what, and where you needed to go. You were very touched by his sincerity, and words in general. Reiner was truly a great friend. Though questionable at times, and it would take time for you to wholeheartedly trust him, he was getting there. And would probably at one point.

“Thanks Reiner.”

“No need to. I’m content either way, so it’s really up to you.”

XII > XIV

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giogiohcs · 3 years

Text

Just a Dream

Valentine’s Day Special: Incubus!Negan x Reader

TW: Manipulation, N*FW, implied impregnation, slight dubious consent(?)

Tag list: @negan-the-cat @buttercandy16 @negan-morningstar

A/N: I’m very proud that it only took me 2 days to write this 2.3k word imagine!

Another night alone, on Valentine’s Day, worst of all. The TV’s screen illuminated your bedroom, you were under your favorite blanket, your favorite movies had played all day and heart shaped candies were littered around you. The candies were the only thing saving this god-forsaken holiday. You paused the movie you were watching, Pretty Woman, a woman going from prostitute to being a rich man’s wife. As childish as it sounded, you envied her, not necessarily the becoming a wife of a rich man but the thought of someone sweeping you off your feet and treating you like royalty. You sighed, the only one to treat you kindly today was... You glanced at your vibrator, which stood at attention on your night stand. At least one of your oldest friends will be there for you, you almost reached for it but you stopped yourself at the last second, you felt like you need a couple hours of sleep instead. You turned off the TV and buried yourself in your blanket, quickly, you felt as if you haven’t slept in years. Your eyelids got heavier and heavier and heavier, until....

You opened your eyes, and immediately covered them as the sunset hit your unprepared eyes. As your eyes got used to the sunlight, you looked around you.

“Woah...” You gasped out, you were on a boat of some kind, you quickly went to the edge of the ship’s railing, the waves crashed against the boast’s side. You really were on a ship, a yacht maybe? Then, you looked down at yourself, you were in a tight black cocktail dress that hugged you in all the right ways, it looked like the one Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman... Your thoughts were interrupted by a cough. You spun around and saw a burly man in a suit, he was leaned against a door. He wore his hair in a slicked back style and somehow he was familiar? You couldn’t put your finger on it, he continued smirking at you as his eyes scanned your body. You swore that if he wore a sign that said ‘I’M CHECKING YOU OUT’ in bold neon, it would be less obvious than how he is now.

“Can I help you?” You asked, you couldn’t help but be a little nervous, you’re were going to sleep and now you’re here—

“Am I dreaming?” You suddenly asked out loud, he chuckled.

“Well if the yacht, dress and the goddamn gorgeous scenery wasn’t going to make that obvious, I suppose it’s only natural that the man of your wet dreams would make you realize.” Despite his vulgar language, he seemed very charming and playful. As you soaked in the fact that you were in dreamland, he joined you at the side of the yacht and enjoyed the view off the ship. The sun was setting and it changed the sky to a beautiful orange-red hue. ‘Golden Hour’ isn’t what they called it? Where everyone appeared 10x hotter than they were in mid-day? You could see that Golden Hour was really working it’s effects on this mysterious man.

“So I am dreaming then? I guess that makes sense but how can I be really sure?” You asked him as the two of you leaned on the ship’s railing. He hummed and stroked his chin.

“You’re asking me to prove it?” He asked still wearing that smirk. You felt oddly comfortable with him. You smirked back.

“Maybe.” You challenged. He held out his hand and you placed yours in his, he guided you away from the railing and into the door he came out from. You suddenly went from a yacht to a high class restaurant, it must’ve been a dream because no way could a restaurant that huge could fit in that yacht. It seemed the entire restaurant was covered in gold and light, it was beautiful, the restaurant was empty besides all the staff that seemed to wait on you hand and foot. The man pulled your chair out for you and you and him sat at the only table.

“What a gentleman.” You giggled, he chuckled along with.

“What exactly do I call this gentleman, the-oh-so-man-of-my-wet-dreams?” You teased, he smirked and held your hand from across the table, his thumb brushed against your fingers.

“Well you can call me anything you want, but if you want a name, Negan. That’s the name you’ll be moaning.” You felt your face heat up. Geez, you were never the prudish type but a man has never came onto you that strongly before.

“I like that name.” You commented, a waiter in gold came to the table. He filled your glasses with water and then handed Negan a bottle of wine. He then proceeded to pop the cork with his bare hands.

“Woah!” You clapped at the cork fell to the ground, he grabbed your glass and filled it a third of the way and then filled his. The same waiter placed a menu in front of you.

“I’ll be here when you need me.” He stated before leaving. Negan grabbed his glass and you grabbed yours.

“Cheers!” He exclaimed and you two clinked your glasses together.

“What are we cheering to?” You asked, you had an idea of what he was going to say already.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m celebrating the fact that I get to enjoy an evening with a hot ass lady.” He said, you two raised your glasses again.

“And I’m celebrating having one of the best dreams of my life. May reality start reflecting my dreams more.” You hoped,

“May reality start reflecting dreams.” He repeated, your glasses clinked again. You finally opened your menu, it was blank?

“Anything you fucking want, remember?” Negan smirked, you hummed.

“I want... a solid bar of gold that tastes like my favorite flavor of ice cream and buffet of sushi.” You wanted to test this dream out. Negan smiled.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” He exclaimed. Three waiters came out with, two with large golden trays, they lifted the lids off to show hundreds of sushi, from California rolls to octopus sashimi. The last waiter lifted his smaller tray to reveal a gold bar that read ‘999.9 Fine Gold’ on the bottom of the bar. You squealed in excitement. The waiters placed the sushi and the gold bar onto your plates and left again.

You and Negan were enjoying your food and chattering away all night when you felt a foot brush against your leg. You almost jumped out of your seat.

“Feel free to slap me if you feel like I’m going too fast but I think it should be a crime for such a hot ass woman to be alone on Valentines’ Day. You know if I were real, I’d fuck you everyday until my dick fell off.” He commented, your face was red as a beet now. His foot made it up your calf. You felt yourself flush with liquid courage.

“Yeah it would be nice if you weren’t just a dream, I mean I hadn’t had someone... *with* me for a little while. And you’re just a dream and last time I checked people don’t count wet dreams as ‘getting lucky’.” You laughed, he chuckled alongside you. But then his face grew serious and leaned on the table.

“But I’m different, when you’re with me, no one can compare.” He suddenly sat up and walked through the table, you gasped but you shouldn’t be surprised? It was a dream after all. He leaned over your and placed his hand on the back of your chair. His warm breath hit your face, a shiver ran up your spine, your heart wanted to race out of your chest. Was it in fear? Or in excitement? At this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him.

“What’s it gonna be doll—“ Before he could finish his sentence, you quickly kissed his lips, you ran one hand down his chest and another in his hair. He grabbed you by the waist and swung one of your legs over his hips. You could feel his hardness in his jeans. God this really was a dream but even in your dreams, you didn’t feel comfortable fucking in the middle of a restaurant.

“Wait—“ You gasped out, Negan pulled his face away from yours but kept his hips grinding into you.

“Yes?” He asked, you buried your face into his chest.

“Not here...” You panted, you continued to grind you hips in sync with his.

“You know the staff are apart of the dream? You know non of this shit is real right?” He mockingly asked, you smacked his arm. He sighed.

“Alright alright... you win, no peep show for the dream waiters.” He smiled before lifting you as if you weighed nothing and slamming you onto the table. You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, you expected pain but when you opened your eyes. You were laying on a plush heart-shaped bed decorated with scattered rose petals. You lifted your eyes to Negan, who was now in a white bathrobe, he had a glass of champagne in his hand and handed it to you. You blinked away the shock, Negan was wild but... in a good way. You took the drink from his hand and sipped it, one of the best drinks you’ve had. You looked down and realized you were naked underneath your bathrobe. He crawled over you, he leaned his face to your ear.

“You want this?” He slipped his fingers into your robe, and began to circle his fingers around your already wet folds.

“Oh, Yes-ah.” You said between pants, Negan began to suck on your neck. You glanced to the mirrored ceiling. This was a dream right? How could a dream feel so good and real? You gasped when just one of his thick fingers slithered inside of you. Then another finger. You grasped his hand as he pumped and curled his fingers in and out of you. After he felt like it was a good time, he pulled out his fingers.

“Wetter than the damn ocean...” Negan chuckled as he admired all the slick he had gathered from you. He pulled out his

“Little Negan is getting thirsty, he definitely needs a fucking drink.” He smirked and began to spread your slick over his cock.

“Mighty damn thirsty and nothing quenches the thirst like lady cum, oh don’t I know that.” He whispered to himself, seemingly distracted, you lifted yourself up and took off the bathrobe you wore. Negan laid you down then bent you knees to your chest to admire the view. Normally, you’d feel embarrassed and uncomfortable but maybe it was the glimmer in Negan’s eyes that made him look like a man who hasn’t eaten in forever that made you feel less self conscious. He gathered more slick from you and tasted it, he popped his fingers out of his mouth like he just tasted a meal to rival the one you both had. He pumped his cock between your folds, you moaned when the head of his cock kept brushing against your clit. Waves of pleasure started to build in you then they multiplied in strength when Negan finally thrusted his cock into you. You grabbed onto him and held him tightly against you. God, how could this be a dream? No it had to be a dream.

“Fuck— Negan! F-faster!” You panted out as he went at a brutally slow but deep pace.

“What’s the magic word?” Negan teased but you could tell he didn’t want to wait long either, sweat was gathered at his brow and his breathing was heavier.

“Fuck me harder, you asshole.” This was your dream, he’ll do what you want, he’s just a figment of your mind after all.

“Aye aye ma’am!” He winked at you before pinning you to the bed with all of his weight and slamming his hips into yours. You gasped and clawed at his back, he was good, too good. The waves of pleasure were hitting you like 50 foot waves at this point. Your legs started to shake as you did your best to keep them secured around him. You were panting and moaning so loudly but somehow you could still hear his whisper in your ear.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” You both came together and you continued to hold on to him until the waves subsided. When you finally released him, he laid beside you before pulling you onto his chest. Your body was tired and felt like jelly, your eyes kept flickering shut, you tried your best to stay awake, to stay in this dream and to never go back. Negan’s deep voice interrupted you.

“Just rest, doll face, you’ll be back soon. You always come back. Especially since you have a piece of me in you now.” You felt his steady heartbeats, right then, it was the most effective lullaby. You closed your eyes again.

“So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” You woke to the voices of Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.

You opened your eyes to your TV brightly playing the rest of Pretty Woman. You felt your hand was in your panties, you flushed in embarrassment. If anyone saw you masturbating while you slept, you’d leave town and never come back. You paused the movie again, you sighed, that dream you had, you tried to remember the details of it but you couldn’t. It was a good dream, no, a wet dream, with... that man. You couldn’t remember that man’s name but you couldn’t shake the feeling like you’ve met him before. You finally took your hand out of your panties, you cringed at the feeling of it, it was covered in your slick. You sighed before something caught your eye, you turned on your lamp, your fingers weren’t only covered in your slick but also a white substance that came out of you...

It was a dream... right?

#my post #tsas speaks #twd #the walking dead #negan fanfic #negan fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan imagine #negan #negan x reader #negan smut #twd imagine #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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creativekat · 3 years

Text

PTC : part ii

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader

[ gif by @pascalsky ]

Word Count: 1,563

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: unintentional body piercing play

A/N: The response to the first part of this story was so overwhelming and we can’t thank you enough! @the-purity-pen and I are having so much fun writing this! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged on the next one! THANK YOU! Also, you can read Part One here!

It was Friday afternoon and you found yourself at the local grocery store. Often you went daily to pick up the few things you needed each night for dinner, but on Fridays you liked to shop for the whole weekend. That way you had time for any home projects and grading that you had to do. The problem was you weren’t quite sure what you were in the mood for which led to you wandering the aisles, picking things up here and there.

You had just turned into the aisle with canned fruits and vegetables and were considering getting some canned peaches to make a cobbler when you heard a familiar voice call your last name, “Hello, how are you?”

You turned to see Marcus Moreno walking toward you. You couldn’t help but smile, seeing him wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, “Did you play hooky from work today? Your secret’s safe with me, if you did.” Then tentatively you added, “And, if I’m supposed to call you Marcus, you should call me by my first name.” You gave him your name and a slight smile. You couldn’t help but notice how well his jeans fit him, not to mention how the t-shirt lovingly clung to his upper body. You suddenly became very interested in the label on a can of pineapple.

Marcus repeated your name softly as if committing it to memory. The way it rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat but you were busy occupying yourself with the can of pineapple. “No, no hooky today,” he laughed and the sound was so pleasant. It was different from the nervous man that had sat across from you to discuss his daughter.

Maybe it was the change of scenery or the fact that neither of you needed to be “on” while grocery shopping. “Missy is having a sleepover this weekend so I gotta stock up on some junk food,” he told you and shook his head. Somewhere deep in his mind he was mentally cursing himself for allowing a sleepover of five preteen girls to happen in his house. That definitely would have been better territory for his wife.

But Missy was making friends and that’s what mattered to him. He knew she felt left out of so many things whether it was because she didn’t have her own powers or because of being the leader of the Heroics’ kid. So her having friends that wanted to sleep over was a big deal. You were glad to hear that Missy was having a sleepover. You remembered going to a few when you were her age. You never hosted, but not because you didn’t want to, but because your parents wouldn’t allow it. Looking back their reasoning made sense, but at the time it had just felt like another punishment for being different.

You looked up from the pineapple label and smiled sympathetically, “You have my sympathies. What do you have planned for activities?” Keeping a group of pre-teen kids from getting bored, even in each others’ company would be important. When they got bored, they got creative. And that was when bad things happened. “I can give you some ideas if you want. I was a pre-teen girl once.” You bit your lip and looked away, slightly embarrassed at the fairly obvious statement.

His eyes scanned the aisle a bit, feeling like the conversation was going a bit stale. “Fruit in a can or fresh fruit? What’s your preference?” he asked as he leaned forward to grab a can of apple pie filling that was right next to you. As he leaned over, his voice was soft and velvety in your ear.

You glanced at the can in his hand, “For pie? Depends. Have you made pie before?” You didn’t want to make any assumptions. Just because he was a man didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled in the kitchen. You pictured him standing at the counter, mixing up some delicious concoction, biceps moving as he stirred, and your mouth watered at the image. Your cheeks burned instantly.

“Yeah but,” he paused to read over the can, trying to ignore his desire to look you over. “It’s been a few years. I’m not much of a cook,” he mumbled with a nervous chuckle before turning to put the can in his cart. He turned back and moved closer to you and you felt a spark of desire run down your spine. You swallowed hard as he reached around you again, quietly apologizing for the intrusion.

But his eyes on you made him miss which can he was aiming for. His hand swept at the empty spot on the shelf and ended up knocking off three other cans in rapid succession. “Shit!” he cursed under his breath as his hand reached out, his powers manifesting to stop the metallic can from falling.

You sucked your lip between your teeth fighting the urge to gasp or making any sounds revealing the pleasure his power had just elicited in you. Not only had his magnetic ability affected the cans on the shelf but it had pulled at the nipple piercings concealed beneath your shirt as well as the silver barbell that decorated your clitoris. Your nostrils flared with the effort to suppress the moan that nearly escaped your lips.

Marcus looked at you questioningly at your obvious stress, but you merely smiled in return, your eyes blazing with unanticipated need. When you finally found your voice, it was higher than normal, “Something tells me you know your way around. A kitchen, I mean.” Your face bloomed with heat and you finally had to turn completely away. You leaned into your cart, faking the need to rearrange the items in your cart.

Holding the caught can in his hand, he watched as you turned around towards your cart. He took a moment to straighten up at your words. “Uh, yeah a bit,” he said as he turned and put the can he had caught but not really wanted back onto the shelf. “My wife she, uh, she did most of the cooking and I know Missy misses it so I thought maybe a little cooking activity for the sleepover could be fun,” he rambled. When you didn’t turn around right away, he furrowed his brows and moved closer to you. “You okay?”

Your breast and clit still tingled from the stimulation they’d just received. But, of course, you couldn’t tell Marcus Moreno that. Taking a moment, you breathed in slowly through your nose then exhaled through your mouth. Finally you turned to face him, a smile on your face, “Oh yes, I’m fine.” After a moment of thought, your eyes brightened, “You could have them make their own personal pizzas!” Now that you were face to face again, you were reminded of just how handsome he was.

Marcus was eyeing you, trying to figure out what had you so flustered. He cleared his throat and nodded at your admission of being fine. He figured he’d have to take it for what it was. But the way you brightened actually took him by surprise. You were standing a lot closer than he realized and for a moment his breath was taken away.

His brain fog finally cleared and he nodded slowly. “Personal pizzas? You think they’d like that?” he questioned and you were more than happy to give a strong nod of an answer, trying anything to quelch the burning deep in the pit of your stomach.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking, again, about the brief moment of pleasure he’d given you. Your mind ran with the thoughts of what other things he might be able to do. Distractedly, you grabbed a couple cans from the shelf and placed them in your cart causing Marcus to smile. You glanced down at what you’ve just dropped in there and cringe “I bet you thought people only used mincemeat at the Holidays."

You looked at him, feeling like he could see right through you. After all, you were acting bizarre. He gave a small forced smile, trying to hide how confused he was at this interaction but laughed off your comment anyways. “It’s delicious,” he commented as he watched you. “Do you, uh,” his hand came to rub furiously at the back of his neck.

“Do you have any free time this afternoon? To, uh, I don’t know, help me find a recipe that would be easy for them?” his head dropped down as he asked but he pulled his hand from his neck and looked up at you with earnest puppy dog eyes. He figured since you were a teacher, you’d know what would be easy for their age group to follow as far as instructions.

Your eyes widened momentarily in surprise, but then you smiled, “Uhhh … I think so … I mean, yeah, I can clear my schedule.” You didn’t want to seem too eager to spend time with him. He was still Missy’s father. But, he was asking for help. There wasn’t any need to read too much into it. You arranged a time to show up at his place and tried not to stare as he walked away. Once he was clear of the aisle, you reached into the cart and put the disgusting can of fruit back on its shelf.

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katedrakeohd · 3 years

Text

Once Upon a Merry Birthday

[Masterlist]

A 12 days of Fictmas story

Pairing: Drake Walker x (MC) Kate Walker

Books: TRR - TRH

Warnings: Swearing, Adult Themes, mentions Post Pardem Depression/Anxiety

Word count: 7000 +

Writer tags: : @texaskitten30 @emichelle @leelee10898 @zaffrenotes @alj4890 @burnsoslow @kat-tia801 @darley1101 @msjr0119 @annekebbphotography @god-save-the-keen @plumeriavibes

@ofpixelsandscribbles @camillemontespan @ao719 @cocomaxley @cordoniansgonewild @twinkleallnight @the-soot-sprite @cordoniantrash @axwalker @innerpostmentality @lucy-268 @janezillow

Reader tags:: @mom2000aggie @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @debramcg1106 @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @fluffyfirewhiskey @jovialyouthmusic

Twas the week before Christmas, and throughout the manor at Duchy Valtoria, decorating was in full swing. Everyone was in high festive spirits, since the weather had brought a fresh blanket of white sparkly snow to the ground, and a crisp chill to the air. Well almost everyone was feeling festive. The Duchess was the exception. Over the course of the preceding months she had been too preoccupied with the care of her baby girl, Brooklyn, to even think about holidays. Apart from the occasional official statement to the press regarding how the new Mother and the Princess Royal Heir were doing, they had pretty much kept away from the public eye.

Kate felt so proud of her husband Drake for stepping up and shouldering the extra responsibility while she needed to take a step back. He had insisted it wasn't any trouble, since he’d had Hana, King Liam, and occasionally Bertrand to offer him advice or guidance. But Kate couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when she would find him sound asleep at his desk after a long day of Zoom meetings and diplomacy. She knew he was forcing himself outside of his common man comfort zone for her sake, and for the good of the Duchy. He'd even changed his work wardrobe to include dress shirts instead of his usual denim, at least from the waist up anyway.

Even after all of that, Drake was determined to do something special for Kate's Birthday. Being born a week before Christmas shouldn't mean your day couldn't be just as grand.

After putting Brooklyn down for a nap, they’re in their bedroom packing for a short trip away. Kate doesn't know what to pack, since Drake was being secretive as to their destination. She was already feeling the beginnings of anxiety over leaving Brooklyn behind. Sitting in the middle of the bed in her comfy oversized sweater and sweatpants, she has the speaker of the baby monitor resting in her lap. She’s only half engaged in paying attention to Drake, her ears keenly listening for the slightest sound from the nursery.

Drake packs a pair of bluejeans into his suitcase, hiding the dress slacks and socks he had already packed. Kate hadn't even noticed him picking out formal wear and putting it into a garment bag. Her own suitcase only contained an old t-shirt that she wore with a pair of shorts as sleepwear. Drake cringed at the thought of seeing her wear that again. Her wardrobe over the past seven months had consisted mostly of his baggy old sweats and t-shirts, or just an old t-shirt and boxer shorts under a robe. Although she showered periodically, and changed into clean things, her sloppy look was proof she wasn't making herself a priority. Drake missed the beautiful, all put together, woman who he’d fallen in love with. She was in need of a break from just being Mom, and Drake knew just how to do it. Kate deserved to feel special again, and not just feel needed by someone.

Drake packed his last few things and zipped up his suitcase. When he notices that Kate is still distracted he pulls his case off the bed and sets it down on the floor with a loud thud. She jumps with fright and he finally gets her attention.

Sitting down on the bed, he pulls her over to him and she cuddles into his arms as they lay down together on the bed. Placing a kiss on the top of her head he sighs, "Look, I get it. You don't want to go anywhere. But I miss you, Kate."

"I'm right here, silly." she says, as she lays her head on his chest and he squeezes her tighter.

"We need a date night. Just the two of us. I know you've been an amazing mother to our little Beanie, and it shows in how big she's growing and how happy she is." He moved his hand down her back, smoothing out the bulky material of her clothes to appreciate the shape of her body underneath. When he lifts up the edge of her shirt, she stiffens when his warm hand touches the bare skin of her lower back. "I know you're physically still here, but I miss my wife."

Kate squeezes her eyes shut against her unexpected tears as she whispers, "She's missed you too."

Drake leans back when he hears the sob in her voice, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs. "You don't need to hide under these bulky clothes, you're still beautiful to me Kate."

She chuckles, "Even if I've given up shaving, plucking and moisturizing?"

Drake raises his eyebrows, and then leans in to kiss her on the forehead. "Don't worry, we can work on minor things like that. I want you to feel good about yourself. Besides, Hana told me you've been doing pilates and yoga together again. So there's nothing for you to feel self conscious about."

"I don't fit into my clothes the way I used to."

Drake shrugs, "So we'll buy you some new clothes. And if we need to alter something from your closet, don't worry, Hana can arrange it."

Kate sighs with gratitude, "You're so wonderful to me Drake, I don't deserve you."

"Oh hush, you deserve all of me and the world Kate, never forget that. Now let's get you packed up for a romantic getaway."

"But Brooklyn.."

Drake gives Kate one more squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before rolling away from her and getting up from the bed.

"Don't worry about Brooklyn, she's in good hands with Hana. Plus we're only a phone call away if you want to check in."

Kate glances over at the speaker for the baby monitor, it's still quiet, and then she sits up on the edge of the bed. "So are you going to tell me more about this romantic getaway you have planned?"

Drake shakes his head, "I can't give away everything, or it will spoil the surprise."

Kate looks over at her suitcase, "Well at least help me figure out what to pack. Sweaters, jeans, warm socks? I need a hint."

Drake nods, "Those will do for a start. Oh and a comfortable pair of warm boots and a coat. We're going to be out in the snow."

Kate gets up from the bed, "So I guess we're not jetting off to some tropical paradise then."

Pulling her into a hug, Drake smiles and then leans in to give her a tender kiss. "Maybe next year."

Drake opened the back door of the SUV for Kate. She gives the manor one more uneasy glance and then climbs in. They had both given Brooklyn hugs and kisses before leaving, and a list of instructions to Hana, but still Kate felt guilty. As Drake opens the other rear door and climbs into the SUV, he finds Kate looking worriedly at her phone as she's texting someone. With a sigh he swipes her phone out of her hands and tucks it into the pocket inside his jacket.

"Wha..Hey!" She protests, "Give that back."

Drake swats away her hands when she tries to go into his jacket for it. "Nope."

"But you said I could check in."

Drake feels the vibration of Kate's phone against his chest. "Don't you trust Hana with Brooklyn?"

Kate gnaws at her bottom lip, "Yeah, but.."

"But nothing. Just take a deep breath and let it go already."

Kate huffs in a quick breath and then lets it out, "Happy? Can I please have my phone back now?"

Drake chuckles as Preston climbs into the front seat and starts the engine, "Only if you promise to turn it off and put it away for the car ride."

Kate folds her arms across her chest and scowls angrily at him. "Ok, fine. But only if you tell me where we're going."

Drake fishes her phone out of his pocket, "Do you remember last year when Max and I did the Father Christmas Parade?"

Kate's expression brightens a little as she relaxes her arms. "Yeah."

Drake sends a quick text to Hana, and then passes the phone over. "Well Max kept going on and on about how pretty the village was decorated for Christmas. And it occurred to me that you were missing out on seeing everything. So I figured we could do the touristy thing and spend the night at an Inn and…"

Kate leans over and covers his mouth with her fingers giggling, "Sssh, you had me at 'pretty village' .

Drake takes her hand and kisses it, "Good, because I want you to have the best Birthday ever."

...

As they travel further away from the manor Kate focuses on the beautiful wintry scenery, and Drake's comforting hand in hers and soon her anxiety fades. It was starting to snow so Preston turned on the wipers. Drake gives Kate's hand a squeeze and then leans forward to tap Preston on the shoulder.

"How do the roads look?"

"So far they're just damp, but we should be fine. We have all wheel drive and snow tires."

Drake sits back again with a nod. "Good to know."

Kate tucks her hand under Drake's arm and leans into his shoulder, he turns to kiss her on the forehead. Kate smiles as she catches the comforting smell of his cologne, "I thought you would have used this opportunity to drive us in your truck. I love sitting next to you in the front seat."

Drake shrugs, "I thought about it. But then I remembered that I needed to get my tires changed, and besides if I was driving…" Drake pauses to tilt her chin up and give her a tender kiss on the lips. "I wouldn't be able to do that, whenever I wanted to."

Kate sighs with happiness, as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her tighter against him. "I see your point. It's highly frowned upon to cuddle and drive. Or to do other things."

Drake catches Preston's eye in the rearview mirror when he looks back at them, he leans in to whisper in Kate's ear. "Seeing my point, along with doing other things, will have to wait until we don't have an audience."

Kate giggles as his lips move to her neck to plant gentle kisses. "How close are we to this Inn you were talking about?"

Preston shakes his head as he focuses on the road ahead, trying to ignore the sounds from the backseat.

….

An hour later Drake gently shakes Kate's shoulder to wake her. The warm interior of the car had lulled her to sleep and she had her head on his lap.

"Wakey wakey, Birthday Katie."

Kate moans sleepily and hugs him across the knees, "Five more minutes."

The rush of cold air on her face when Preston opens his door to get out jolts her awake and Drake laughs. "We're here, and I think you could use some fresh air to revive you."

Kate sits up and stretches, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth, "Oh sorry, must have dozed off."

Drake looks past Kate to the building they're parked in front of, "That's ok, you're forgiven. There wasn't much to see during the drive anyway, just snow and trees and mountains. We've finally made it to civilization."

Kate steps out of the car and looks up at the towering stone facade of their hotel, "Wow, this place is beautiful."

While she takes her phone out of her pocket to take pictures, Preston signals for Drake's attention and then pulls him aside.

"The weather reports are forecasting nasty weather tomorrow afternoon, what time in the morning do you want to be picked up?"

Drake shakes his head with a frown,"Didn't you get the itinerary that I sent to your email? Along with the list of things I need you to do?"

"Yes, but under the circumstances I thought you might want to change your plans. For safety's sake."

"I booked us for two days, and I don't plan on leaving early."

"But there's a storm coming." Preston insists.

"And your point is?"

"You're likely to get snowed in, and it'll take most of the second day before the roads are cleared. Meaning it'll take longer for me to come get you."

"Yes, it will." Drake replies, patting Preston on the arm. "Just do as I've asked, and then help yourself to a nice dinner at the hotel. Charge it to my room, and then go home."

Kate glances over at them with a look of concern, "What're you two talking about?"

Preston smirks at Drake, "You've got this all planned don't you? You saw the weather report."

"I did. Now please stop fucking around and get our luggage." Drake mumbles and then walks over to Kate.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders with a smile, steering her toward the hotel. "Welcome to Ravenhurst Castle, Kate. Our romantic getaway awaits."

Looking up at the steep slate roof, stone masonry, and tower climbing the corner of the building, Kate could see why they called it a castle. "You didn't have to go through this much trouble for me, Drake. I would have been just as happy staying at a simple Bed and Breakfast."

Drake stops on the stone walkway to pull her into his arms, "You're special to me, Kate. I couldn't let you spend the night just anywhere."

"But.."

Drake grabs her hand and then leads her up to the front door, "Just roll with it."

Preston follows them through the hotel lobby carrying their luggage. The three of them turn heads as they make their way to the front desk. Even dressed casually in jeans and sweaters, the presence of someone carrying your stuff was a dead giveaway that you were important. Preston drops their bags by the counter and takes up a protective position to watch the room. His fierce stare makes all the onlookers hurry off and mind their own business.

The hotel clerk behind the counter is bubbling with excitement and greets them with a wide smile, "Oh my goodness, welcome to The Ravenhurst! It's an incredible honour to have the Duke and Duchess stay with us. I'll have our best -..."

Drake shakes his head and holds up his hand to interrupt, "We already have a reservation."

"You..you do?" The clerk grabs her computer mouse and starts scrolling away as she searches the hotel registry on her computer screen.

"So you're not here to promote the Father Christmas Festival?"

Drake leans his elbows on the counter and lowers his voice,"Not this time. I was hoping to keep our visit as an unofficial one. We're under a different name. Try a reservation under Jones."

The clerk gives him a knowing smile, whispering. "Why of course Mr. Jones. I see your booking right here on my screen." Her expression changes to a frown when she notices something, "Unfortunately your room isn't quite ready. If you're looking for immediate accommodations though I could upgrade you to a suite."

"That will be fine, we just don't want to be fussed over, no paparazzi, just a quiet visit. Could you manage that for us please?"

Kate leaves Drake at the counter and wanders over to take pictures of the giant lobby Christmas tree. Preston breathes a sigh of annoyance at having his attention divided, he moves to another place in the lobby where he can still keep an eye on both of them. Kate sees the bodyguard move out of the corner of her eye and decides to tease him a little. "Hey Preston, come on over and take a selfie with me over by the tree."

He checks to see that Drake is still in conversation with the clerk, and then after taking a quick visual sweep of the room for possible threats he nods, "Only because the position of the tree provides an optimal vantage point from which to survey the room."

Preston stands next to the tree, unsmiling and on alert. Kate tries to stand close enough to him so that he fits into the frame of her phone camera, but can't get a good angle because he's so tall. "You don't smile much do you?"

Preston keeps his eyes trained on the room and mumbles. "I'm on duty, Your Grace."

Kate makes a funny face at her phone screen, trying to crack Preston's facade and get him to smile. "I've seen you talk to Drake and be more relaxed. Are you scared of little ole me?"

Preston doesn't answer at first, hazarding a glance her way and then looking away when their eyes meet on her phone screen. "It's not you I'm afraid of."

Across the room Drake steps away from the check-in counter and then walks over with a smirk on his face.

"Is she misbehaving, Preston?"

Preston gives a slight nod and then steps aside to give Drake room to slip his arm around Kate, "Our room isn't quite ready. But I may have arranged for some special hotel extras during our stay."

Kate snuggles into his warmth, feeling that familiar flutter that ripples through her every time she gets lost in his eyes, or he lights her up with his smile. "Oh? What sort of special extras?"

"Ravenhurst has a spa and salon onsite, two restaurants, and their own winery."

"Ooh, fancy. But didn't you promise me a tour of a pretty little town decorated for Christmas?"

Drake grins, "I did, and it would be a nice way to kill some time while they get our room ready. Besides, after being cooped up in the car for so long I could use a walk to stretch my legs."

Kate looks over at Preston, "Is Mr.Tall Broad shouldered and Serious coming with us?"

Drake notices Preston clenching his jaw trying not to react to her question, "No, he has other things to do. Then he's going home."

"But, Your Grace.." Preston argues.

After taking a quick look around to make sure they weren't causing a scene in the lobby, Drake answers quietly, "But nothing, just see to it that our luggage is safely taken up to our room when it's ready. Grab a meal on us, and then you're free to go. Don't worry about us, Preston, we'll be fine."

…

Drake and Kate leave Preston behind at the hotel to walk arm in arm to the village. Glancing back over her shoulder at the hotel, Kate asks, “Do you really think Preston can turn off Guard Duty mode long enough for us to have a private stroll?”

“I’m betting he’ll give us a five minute head start at least before he starts tracking us in the SUV.”

Kate giggles as the snowflakes tickle her cheeks and eyelashes, “Thanks for doing this for me. I really did need to get out of the house for a bit.”

Drake pulls his winter hat down further over his ears, his warm breath floating away in the chilly air, “You’re welcome. We both needed this. There’s nothing like taking a walk through a winter wonderland to lift your spirits.”

The tiny village of Raven’s Rest loves to decorate for Christmas. Every railing, light pole, and window was either trimmed with greenery and twinkling lights or wore a sparkling red bow or festive ornaments. With the fresh snow on the roofs and joyful music spilling out from every other opened shop door, it felt and looked like Christmas spirit came to life. The scents of cinnamon, nutmeg and chocolate wafted from a bakery café as Drake and Kate passed under its

striped red and white awning. Drake pulled in a deep breath and smiled as he pointed at the frosted gingerbread house displayed in the window.

“This looks like a perfect place to stop for a hot chocolate and a treat. What do you say Kate?”

Kate felt her stomach growl, “I say lead the way Mr. Jones.”

After ordering hot chocolates topped with whipped cream and candy cane sprinkles, and a plate of decorated cookies to share, they’re seated at a table for two by the window. Drake picks up a gingerbread star and bites off a corner. He looks at the decadent drink sitting in front of him and wonders if there was a possible way to not get it all over his face when he attempted to taste it.

Kate can see the confusion on his face as he chews his cookie, she giggles as she stirs the whipped cream on the top of her cup with a candy cane. “You look scared. Don’t worry it won’t bite. And no there isn't any way to avoid the whipped topping to get at the drink underneath. A little cream on your face is all part of the fun.”

She demonstrates by lifting her cup and delicately sipping at the candied rim, a smear of cream clings to her upper lip when she sets it back down. “See? Think of it just like your Santa beard from last year.”

Drake mumbles as he scrubs at the light stubble on his cheek, “Don't remind me.”

His beard had been much further along the year before, and he had used white stage makeup to whiten his whiskers. Unfortunately the makeup had made his skin itch. This year he was grateful that Maxwell was volunteering to be Santa for the parade.

Drake nearly chokes on his cookie as he watches Kate lick the cream off her lip. He coughs into his fist and then picks up his drink to wash down the crumbs. He gets cream on his nose and lips, and then wipes it off with a napkin, “It's much more fun to watch you drink it.”

Kate noisily slurps the whipped cream on the top of her hot chocolate, while Drake grabs a sugar cookie and uses it to scoop the froth off of his. “Ooh Drake, that's a good idea.”

The café is nearly empty of patrons and Kate is grateful not to have onlookers taking their picture, especially with the way Drake was devouring his cookie and getting cream all over his mouth and chin. She giggles and hands him another napkin, "You, uh have a little something on your face there honey."

Drake grunts, "Thanks."

He's annoyed at how sticky his face feels as he wipes off the cream, "Drinks don't need all this extra crap on them. That's why I prefer my coffee basic and black. And my hot chocolate tasting like chocolate."

"Oh bah humbug Mr. Scrooge, I figured a guy so into s'mores and marshmallows would enjoy something like this."

Drake wipes the cookie crumbs off of his jacket, "Hey don't get me wrong, I love a decorated cookie or dessert. But I prefer my drinks a little less childish and messy."

Kate shrugs, "I guess I see your point. But never tell Hana she can't put marshmallows in your hot chocolate, it would break her heart."

He nods, glancing at Kate's phone on the table. "If you want to check in with her, I won't stop you. I'm curious myself how our little Beanie is doing."

Kate wipes her hands on a napkin and then picks up her phone, "You don't mind? I'm dying to send her pictures of the hotel Christmas tree and tell her where we are."

Drake smiles and then lifts his hot chocolate to his lips. He doesn't dare tell Kate that he and Hana had been planning this birthday trip for weeks.

While Kate happily texts away to Hana, Drake watches the snow falling outside the window. The grey sky was darkening as the flakes got heavier. They soon needed to head back to the hotel. The pedestrian traffic was much lighter than when they entered the café, and the street lamps were coming on. He can see the dark shape of an SUV creeping along the street in the distance. No doubt it was Preston.

Drake is in mid-sip when his phone rings in his pocket, making him jump and spill the hot chocolate all over himself and the table. "Gah! Son of a - …"

Kate gasps in surprise and jumps out of her seat. "Oh my goodness, Drake."

She grabs the remaining napkins from the table and dabs at the front of his jacket as he puts down his cup and pushes his chair back. He swats her hands away when she tries to wipe his lap, "It's ok, it's ok! Let me do that."

Kate chews on her lip as she watches an employee approach with a roll of paper towels.

"I'm so sorry. We'll clean this up. Could you bring us a bag so we can take our cookies to go?"

Drake sighs as he unzips his jacket and takes out his phone when the ringing stops, "Preston, you Prick."

The car pulls up outside and parks, waiting, the wipers swiping away the snow. Drake sends Preston a quick message, I told you to go home.

Preston answers back, Need a lift?

Drake and Kate pile into the backseat of the SUV, brushing the snow off of themselves. In the clean, warm interior of the vehicle the scent of the spilled hot chocolate on Drake's clothes is very noticeable, adding to his discomfort at having wet pants.

Drake takes off his jacket and then folds it up and puts it down on the floor. He inspects his sweater and shirt for chocolate stains.

"Thanks for picking us up, Preston. If we'd tried to walk back to the hotel we would have been soaked and frozen before we got there," Kate says, smiling at the security guard."

"I'm already soaked," Drake mutters, looking down at the dark wet stain on his lap.

Kate pats him on the arm, "I meant from the snow, Dear."

Preston checks their surroundings and then does a u-turn in the road to take them back to the hotel.

"How did he find us anyway?"

Drake answers, "Most likely tracked my phone with the GPS."

Kate looks at him with surprise, "He can track our phones? Is that even legal?"

Drake nods, "After Anton kidnapped us from our own wedding, it was discussed among the council that the security team needed extra help in case it ever happened again. Liam approved it."

"I guess that makes sense. But then all we would have needed to do to escape would leave our phones behind."

Preston speaks up, "It's not a foolproof plan, Your Grace, but it still gives us a place to start if one of you suddenly went missing."

It doesn't take long to return to the hotel, but thanks to the heavy clouds it was already getting dark. When Preston parks the SUV Drake asks, "So did you deliver all of our bagage to our room and do a security check to make sure it was safe?"

"Of course, Sir."

"Did you get yourself a room, Preston? It's too late for you to head home now."

Drake looks at Kate with a frown, "Don't encourage him to babysit us."

"It's his job to keep us safe, Drake, so let him do it."

…

After collecting their room keys the three of them head up to their rooms. Preston has conveniently booked the room next to Drake and Kate.

"Consider yourself off duty for the rest of the evening, Preston. Relax and enjoy yourself." Kate says, smiling.

"If that's at all possible." Drake mutters as he unlocks the door to their room.

As soon as Drake enters the room he starts stripping off his clothes. Kate can't help but laugh. "Woah there cowboy, at least warm me up with some foreplay before we jump right into it."

Drake grumbles as he kicks off his boots and then unzips his jeans, "Ha ha, so not funny. At least you don't smell and feel like a walking candy bar."

Kate leans against the corner of the antique four poster bed as she watches Drake fuss around half naked, digging around in his luggage for his bath supplies. "I dunno, I kind of like the smell of chocolate on you. Gives me a reason to seek out all the parts of you that taste the sweetest."

Drake can't help but grin, as he leans in to kiss her cheek. Kate frowns when she realizes how sticky his face is. "Still like it?"

Kate makes a face and then wipes at her cheek. "Ok, I get it. Go get a shower and a shave."

As he wanders across the room naked, Drake points at the Welcome Basket on the table by the window.

"I asked the hotel if they could throw in some complimentary spa treatments as a Birthday gift. Why don't you check some of them out and then we could go to the restaurant for dinner. Go get yourself all pampered and feeling gorgeous for our date night."

Before Kate can protest that she had nothing fancy to wear to dinner, Drake disappears into the bathroom. With a shrug she picks up the spa brochure and then sits down on the bed while she nibbles on the cookies from the bakery.

"Oooh, they have a special brown sugar body scrub treatment. That would feel so nice, and I would smell delicious afterward." Kate mumbles around her mouthful of cookie. "And I could get my hair and nails done, perfect."

After looking through the envelope of coupons for the free treatments she wanted, Kate walks over to the bathroom door and knocks. "Thanks so much for the spa coupons, I'm going to take advantage of some of these and then see you later."

Drake rinses his razor in the sink and then pauses his shaving to answer, "Good for you. Text me when you're all finished and I'll meet you here to get ready. I'm going to explore the hotel a little bit myself."

Kate kisses her fingertips and then presses them to the door, "Love you, Drake."

Drake smiles, "I love you too."

After finishing his shave and shower, Drake finds the phone number on the brochure and calls down to the Spa.

When his call is answered there's a women's voice on the line, "Bella Salon and Spa, how may I help you?"

Drake runs his hand back through his wet hair, "Hi, do you have a customer there booked in under the name Jones or Walker?"

"I'm sorry, sir, in order to respect the privacy of our clients we cannot disclose that information."

"Oh, Ok. I understand. My wife is there and I want to book a haircut without her seeing me. I want to surprise her later during our dinner date."

"Our salon closes within the hour, but if you're in need of a clipper cut I can squeeze you in right away. What name should I put next to your reservation?"

Drake thinks for a moment, "Davis, Preston Davis."

…

Kate sits in the makeup chair at the Salon in one of their plush robes. She felt like she had just received the royal treatment after the body scrub and facial. Next they were doing the finishing touches to her makeup application and hair styling, followed by a manicure and pedicure. On the other side of the partition wall she can hear the sound of a pair of clippers buzzing on and off and occasionally a man's voice in conversation with the stylist.

She couldn't be sure because of the way the sounds echoed off of the hard surfaces in the salon, but it sounded like Drake. She felt like a bride on her wedding day trying to hide away from the groom until she was ready. It made her tingle with excitement inside over meeting him for dinner. In her mind she was mulling over what blouse and pair of jeans to wear, wishing she had packed something more feminine. But knowing that Drake would probably be dressed casually as well helped.

…

Drake sat at the bar in his black dress shirt, jacket and slacks. He had to resist the urge to smooth his hand over his freshly trimmed hair, hoping that Kate would like it. Any minute now she'd be returning to their room to dress for dinner. He picked at the bowl of mixed nuts and pretzels on the bar, and singled out all the peanuts to munch on as he waited.

An attractive female bartender smiles as she notices him sitting all by himself and walks over, "Good evening sir, could I interest you in a drink? Or are you more interested in grazing from the snack bowl."

"I'll take a whiskey on the rocks, for now." Drake answers, trying to maintain his composure as her hungry gaze makes him feel like he's the snack.

"For now? Are you anticipating ordering more later?"

He smiles as she prepares his drink, "I'm expecting someone."

She nods as she slides the glass of whiskey back across the bar to him, "Well, when your date arrives let me know. I'll get her something special. My name is Amanda by the way."

Drake picks up his glass and gives the whiskey an appreciative sniff and then a sip, he nods toward Amanda lifting his glass in a salute, "Drake."

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he sets the glass down again.

…

Kate lets herself back into her room after her time at the spa. The soft coziness of the robe wrapped around her felt so nice, and she hated to take it off to put on her casual denim again.

She's surprised to find herself alone in the room and sends Drake a quick text. Spa appt all done, feeling fantastic. Where are you?

D: I'm down at the bar enjoying a whiskey. Can't wait to see you.

K: What should I wear? I didn't pack anything fancy.

D: There's a present for you under the bed.

K: Drake.

D: Just read the letter attached and humor me. Happy Birthday Kate.

…

Kate puts her phone down on the table and purses her lips with a frown, she was afraid of what might be in the box. After hiding under baggy clothes and bluejeans for months she was worried that whatever was in the box wouldn't fit.

Kneeling down on the floor she peeks under the bed. There's a large green rectangular box and a smaller white one that looked like a shoe box. She drags out the green box first and sets it on the bed. There's an envelope taped to the top. She should feel happy about Drake buying her a present but she just felt nervous instead. Sucking in a deep breath and then letting it out to help calm her nerves, Kate opens the envelope. There's a handwritten letter inside, and she can't help but feel a rush of emotion at the care it took for him to write it all by hand.

____

Dear Kate,

I'll never forget the night we met. We were all there for him, and then along came you. At the time you were just the waitress that was willing to show us a good time. I thought you were cute and all, but never figured I would stand a chance. You made an impression on a future King that night, and an impression on me.

I'm not sure when everything changed in my favor, maybe it was that night at Applewood or maybe it was when I jumped in front of that bullet, realizing I would rather die than live in a life without you. We've been through a lot to get where we are now, and despite the ups and downs you married me instead. You've shown me a life and love I never thought I'd have and for that I'll be eternally grateful.

Now between us we've created a new life in our little girl. Becoming a parent changes a person. You're no longer responsible for just your own life but for someone else's too. Some days this scares me to death, and then I see you holding Brooklyn in your arms and know that we're going to be alright.

I'm excited to discover my new life as a father, and to get to know the mother you are becoming. So tonight on your Birthday I want to meet you all over again for the first time. So what do you say Kate? Have you ever wanted to meet that mysterious stranger in a bar that only has eyes for you?

Love, Drake.

___

Kate plucked a tissue out of the box on the bedside table. She was glad that she had chosen the waterproof mascara, because now her eyes burned with tears. Drake was right, becoming a mom had changed her. At times she was scared too, but knowing that Drake was always going to be by her side to help raise Brooklyn made her heart feel more full. After dabbing at her eyes she delicately blew her nose, not wanting to smudge her makeup, and then lifted the cover on the box. Peeling back the tissue paper she gasps and then reaches for her phone.

….

Drake finished off his whiskey and then checked the time on his phone. He didn't want to call her in case she was busy getting dressed, but he was starting to worry that she wasn't going to show. Amanda raises her eyebrows and holds up the whiskey bottle to quietly ask if he wanted a refill. He shakes his head and then sticks his hand in the snack bowl again to grab a pretzel. Before he can eat it his phone rings. It's Kate.

"Hello?" He answers.

"I can't wear this."

"Sure you can."

"Because of the way the top is designed I can't wear a bra."

Drake shrugs, "So don't wear one."

"Hah! This mother of a 7 month old child needs a little more support thank you very much."

"Didn't you wear a dress similar to this to Max's birthday party last year?"

"Well, yes…"

"Just try it on. I promise you'll look beautiful in it."

"You're biased because you think I look good in anything."

"Yes, I do. I also think you look good in nothing at all. Now are you coming down to dinner?"

Kate is quiet on the other end for a few seconds, "Ok, fine. But I need pretty shoes to wear with a dress like this."

Drake smiles, "I'm guessing you haven't opened the other box yet. When you're ready, text Preston and ask him to escort you down to Edgar's Restaurant. I'll be waiting for you over by the bar."

Continue on here >>

#12 days of fictmas 2020 #12 days of fictmas #drake walker #drake x kate #choices

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dadzawa-adopt-dabi · 3 years

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📞from (Touya) ,Awnser?

He’s exhausted by the time he makes it down to the coast. predawn light not enough yet to brighten the scenery, just light the edges of the sky and highlight the fog rising. It’s private property so he’s not all that worried about being seen by anyone but the owner, and well, If he sees then he’s got bigger problems than being caught shifting. He sits his backpack down on the pier and shrugs into his coat. The seal skin smoothly sliding on and then slips off one shoulder and half way down his arm. He hurridly kicks off his shoes and shucks off his jeans, folding it over the backpack.

He reminds himself firmly that she mus have gone for the pod. Rei went for her pod, her sisters and family, when Natsou had found her own skin and shown her the shimmery coat folded and tucked away in a safe he’d somehow found the key to. Rei had snatched it up, moving so fast it had caused both Natsou and Touya to flinch. She’d then ran out the door and down to this same pier, throwing up the hood as her children watched and gracefully tranforming as she fled to the open waters. Fuyumi had tried to go after her right after, despite the cold she was a good swimmer and the cold rarely bothered her. Touya had grabbed her out of the water before enji could come home and become upset. Fuyumi was a fantastic swimmer, slight webbing between her toes helping her, but she wasn’t like their mother. Wasn’t a selkie like Rei, himself or baby Shouto.

That’s why she’d left, Shouto was finally old enough to swim in his sealskin like they did. Touya shoved away the recent memories of Rei pouring poiling water on Shouto’s eye as he flipped the hood over his face and shifted, nowhere near as graceful as his mother had. The hurry to find her skin soon after and her sprint to the water were a coincidence, were her rushing to contact her family and take them all away.

Touya floped awkwardly into the water, his coat would never fit. streched thin in some spots and pooling in wrinkles. He’d always been skinny and small but with only his skin to hide it the fur highlighted the ridge of his changed spine. He blinked a few times as the ache of shifting settled, allowing him to clearly see his surroundings. his mother claimed not to have any pain the one time Touya had managed to ask about it. Shouto didn’t seem to either so Touya attributed it to his scars.

The purple-red mass of skin a result of being denied his skin and no way to submerge himself in his coat. Rei had begged and pleaded enji that he needed it, needed his skin and the sea that she called home. Enji had accused her of lying until he came from a buissness trip to see his son covered in skin that cracked and bled whenever Touya moved. He’d screamed when Rei had slipped the skin on him before applying her own to her own drying skin and taken him into the sea for teh first time. Enji had followed in his boat, and Rei had used his presence to set him in the boat whenever her own weakening body couldn’t carry them both. In and out of the water the 3 of them had drifted for hours until his skin lightened to purple and was soothed. if he went too long out of the sea or his skin it still became red and bleed.

He tested out his voice, calling out for his mother. There was no response and he started towards a outcropping of rocks a few miles out. once when he’d been very young Rei had tried to take him out to them. He couldn’t hold his breath that long and had almost drowned, Rei had to unshift and hold his head above water as she slowly made her way back to her prison. Now he was sure he could make it and could hold himself and his skin above water for a few minutes if he had to, depite how heavy it could be. The rocks were full of other seals and he carefully edged up on one, still calling. There was no reposnse, from his mother or the other seals, no other selkie’s revealed themselves and after a hour or so the rest of the seals took off. Diving beneath the waters and leaving the bony pup sqeaking by himself.

He swam around the rocks and as far out to see as he dared. Calling in diffrent tones the entire time, a few times he’d popped up on a rock and shifted just to yell for her in a diffrent way. He yelled he was hurt, that he was there, that he was lonely and scared. That he was looking for his mom and called his mom’s names until he realized she wasn’t coming and then until his voice faded at parts of it.

The sun was setting by the time Touya gave up and made his way back to the pier. He stripped out of his coat and carefully folded it up before hurrying inside. Hir dripping wet and shivering from the cold. He didn’t have the layer of fat to protect himself as most seals did and his coat could only do so much when his human form was so thin.

Touya called for his mother one last time, angry and knowing he would get no response before he turned around and headed inside. Enji came home tomorrow and would find out that his wife had escaped.

There was no awnser, not that Touya expected one after crying and yelling all day.

The silence clogged up his sore throat all the same as he stood there. Dripping hair clothes and eyes on the shore wanting a awnsering call.

#i made touya call his mom #why can't i make rei nice?#rei todoroki #touya todoroki #Dabi #bnha #mha #selkie au #selkie #selkiedabi #thedarkonewrites #part1of4 #it dosent really get better here sorry #not for Dabi

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stratus-skye07 · 4 years

Text

Suga Craze [Four] | Suga

[Three] [Masterlist]

I bought what I needed from the convenient store and Jungkook drove us back to the penthouse. Once I got home I immediately went looking for Yoongi. I ran into Namjoon as I made my way towards his office.

“Whoa, Y/N where’s the fire?” He asks.

“Um, I’m just looking for Yoongi. Is he in his office?” I ask but end up going in that direction without waiting for a response.

He nods, “Yeah, I don’t think he’s busy right now.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I rushed past him to enter Yoongi’s office. He’s on the phone when I enter so I take my time in closing the door behind me. He quickly rushes the call when he sees me enter.

Once he ends the call he looks at me with a smile, “Hey, how was your visit with your dad?”

I don’t answer right away and when he notices my hands holding the plastic bag from the convenient store shaking, he approaches me with a worried look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Yoongi,” I say in a hushed tone, “do you have some time to spare?”

That’s pretty much how we ended up at the hospital to see Jin. Yoongi held onto my hand as Jin returned. I begin to squeeze Yoongi’s hand to prepare myself for whatever he might tell me.

“So? What’s the verdict, Doc?” Yoongi asks.

“I ran the tests numerous times just to be sure but they all came out the same.” Jin semi-smiles, “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

Hearing what I already suspected, I managed to breath. The notification on my phone was for my period tracker app. One of the tools of the app is to alert you when your period is late especially when you note the dates you’ve been intimate. I bought a pregnancy test to make sure that it was true. Yoongi and I sat on the bathroom floor waiting for the test to show the results. It came out positive but we wanted to be sure so we called Jin.

Yoongi was lost in his own happy world as he smiles, “Really?”

Jin nods, “You’re about a few weeks along so it’s still in the early stages.”

I begin to think about my temper and cravings, “So these mood swings were most likely caused by the pregnancy?”

“Yeah, I’m sure at some point you’ll begin to have morning sickness as well.”

Oh joy.

“What about what I’ve been seeing?” I want to know if this is what’s been triggering my seeing Hyung-Sik everywhere. The hormone imbalance caused me more worries than were actually happening.

Yoongi stares at Jin for an answer to what’s been going on, “There’s no sure answer that you being pregnant is the cause of seeing things. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful about that.”

Shortly after going over the plans of what’s to come with the pregnancy, Yoongi and I return to the penthouse to give the news to Bangtan. They were more excited than I was at the surprise.

“Noona, you’re having a baby?” Jimin lifts me up in a hug.

Namjoon shakes Yoongi’s hand, “Congrats but I’m not surprised that you would get her knocked up this early.”

J-Hope nods, “Yeah and V owes me a hundred bucks.”

“I was so close. If only you could’ve waited another month.” V hands J-Hope a bill from his wallet as he huffs back to where he was sitting.

“We should throw a party.” Jimin suggests with excitement in his voice like he was going to be a big brother.

Yoongi shakes his head, “No, this news stays between us.”

“What?” J-Hope exclaims.

“We still don’t know who’s been terrorizing Y/N and this would only give them more ammunition to hurt us, so just between everyone in this room and no one else. We can’t risk someone we know being behind all this.”

“I understand what you’re saying but it’s gonna be pretty hard to keep this secret when she starts growing a belly.” Namjoon adds.

Yoongi nods, “I know, hopefully we can get rid of the threat before the baby’s born. I’m counting on you guys to put a stop to this person.”

Namjoon nods his head, “We won’t let you down.”

As soon as the meeting is over, all the members disperse to get to work. I stay looking out the window. A million thoughts going through my head while I look out into the city lights like what happens now? How will this child be born when their mother is losing her mind? Am I even ready to have a child?

I’m taken out of my thoughts when Yoongi’s arms wrap around me. He leans his chin on my shoulder while his hands begin to stroke my stomach. Images of my stomach growing start flashing in my head.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers in my ear.

I sigh, “Nothing and everything my mind wants to think of.”

He asks, “Are you happy about this at least?”

“Of course I am. It’s just I’m scared of everything that might happen to our baby before and after they’re born.”

Yoongi turns me around to face him, “Nothing is going to happen to you, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you or our child. They’re gonna have to go through Jungkook, V, Jimin, RM, J-Hope, Jin, and lastly me.” He brushes my hair behind my ear. “It doesn’t matter who it is. If it’s Hyung-Sik, I’ll kill him all over again.”

I nod leaning my head into his shoulder and the worries slowly settle in my mind. We had gotten through what I thought was the worst but now involving our unborn child tops that.

“Suga,” Jungkook calls from the hall, “CL is here to see you.”

Yoongi looks over his shoulder and nods, “Let her in.”

I stayed in Yoongi’s embrace when CL came walking into the living room. She looks more casual than when I saw her at the party with a white button up shirt that was tucked in her ripped jeans.

“Is it a bad time?” She asks when she sees us.

Yoongi shakes his head, “Just a second.” He pulls me away to look down at me, “Can you give us a minute?”

“Actually,” CL interjects, “the reason for my visit isn’t to talk to business. I came to see if Y/N had some time to spare for a little girls day.”

I’m surprised to hear that CL had come to the penthouse just to spend time with me, someone she just met recently. Although, I have been interested in knowing more about her since I know that Yoongi will only sugar coat his past with her.

Yoongi, who’s equally surprised, turns his attention back to me, “You feel up for it?”

I nod, “A change of scenery would be nice.”

I don’t know what kind of person CL is but if Yoongi trusts her that much then she must be an honorable ally. Plus, it’s pretty difficult to have a girl friend to talk to. I’ve been close to Taeyeon but she’s a civilian that doesn’t think twice that I’m a mafia leader's wife, let alone has had associations with the underground lifestyle. With CL, at least we have one thing in common, that being a daughter of a mafia leader.

I head upstairs to change my clothes when I hear Yoongi talk with CL. “Have her back before it gets dark out. She’s been on edge lately.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have my best men watching us so you don’t have to be worried. She’s in good hands.”

CL really meant what she said about having a girls day. She took me to a salon where we got our nails and hair done, along with a spa treatment. I’ve never taken time like this for myself before but I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it.

After the spa, she took me to a fancy restaurant to get something to eat. The place had indoor and outdoor seating. CL thought it would be better if we sat outside to keep the fresh air flowing. Of course, she had her guards standing close by.

“I really appreciate you doing all this, CL.”

She smiles waving me off, “Don’t worry about it. We may be a part of the mafia but us girls still need time to ourselves.”

“I’ve never really had a friend of any kind in the mafia before. My dad felt it would be better to have me go to school and away from it all. I knew that no one at school would understand me so I never bothered getting close to anyone.”

“Yeah, it’s not easy making and keeping them for girls like us. Besides, Suga mentioned that you’ve been stressing lately so I figured what are friends for. Don’t get mad at him for telling me but I could sense when I was talking to him over the phone that something was wrong. If you’ve been friends as long as we have, you have a sixth sense for it.”

The curiosity gets to me as I ask, “So how did you meet Yoongi?”

She smiles thinking for a moment, “I met him when I was about a year into inheriting 21 Mafia. I’d run into him while I was doing a job. We had the same objective. If I had met him now, I would’ve killed him right then and there but I was naive back then. He asked for my help in becoming a mafia leader.”

I looked at her in surprise, “He asked you to take him in?”

CL nods, “I told him no at first because, having grown up in the business like you and I, this isn’t a life I would curse anyone with.”

“How did he convince you?”

She chuckles, “He said he had something to fight for. There was someone he owed a huge debt to, that he wanted to repay and he was willing to give up a normal life to make it up to her. Hearing how passionate he was, I agreed to help him and Bangtan. I taught him a lot of the stuff he knows now. Some other things he learned on his own. All of it for you.”

“Sometimes I wish he hadn’t joined our world. I saved him that day because I wanted to help him live a peaceful life later on.”

“I understand how you feel. I feel the same way at times when he got hurt. I felt even worse once he started getting better at it. It sometimes feels like I created a monster.”

“We both helped him become who he is today. At least he didn’t turn out like Hyung-Sik or else I would’ve never married him.”

“Don’t feel too guilty, Y/N. Suga loves you and for people like us it’s hard to find someone that genuinely cares like that. He made his way up the mafia ladder for you and he won’t hesitate to jump off it for you either.”

It’s true. I never once doubted Yoongi’s love for me and now with a baby coming into the picture I know that he will do everything in his power to protect him/her.

I reach out to raise my teacup to her, “To being the princesses of the underworld.”

She raises her drink to clink with mine, “Princesses of the underworld.”

I drink the entire cup of tea in one gulp, raising my head like it’s a shot. I place the cup down on the table to look up at CL. Looking past her, my eyes catch something strange off in the distance. Seeing him stand there with that cocky smirk sends shivers up my spine, Hyung-Sik waves playfully at me from the other end of the crosswalk.

“Y/N, are you okay?” CL asks.

Not taking my eyes off the figure I whisper to CL, “There’s a man standing on the corner watching us.”

CL straightens her back and pretends to fix her hair so she can strategically look over her shoulder. Finally, she turns completely to look across the way where Hyung-Sik remained to stand.

She turns back around at me with a calm face, “There’s no one there.”

My heart drops once she says that. I rub my eyes and look back to find that he was gone once again.

“You know what?” I chuckle, “I think that spa relaxed me so much that I’m starting to get really tired.”

She nods, “Yeah, it’s getting late anyways. Let’s get you home.”

Could this really be because of the pregnancy or am I just losing my mind?

Since the events of yesterday have been playing over and over again in my head, I take the opportunity to sleep in. I didn’t tell Yoongi about it because I didn’t want to worry him any more to the point where he wouldn’t let me out of the house again. Now with a baby involved, it would just make matters worse.

Of course sleeping in didn’t last long once I started to hear a lot of movement going on in the hallway. I finally give up trying to sleep and decide to investigate the noises. I find Jimin and Jungkook carrying some furniture out of the extra room from down the hall down the stairs. I head into the room where Yoongi is with Namjoon. V and J-Hope were on the other side of the room painting the walls a creamy color.

“Yoongi?” I call out to him.

He turns his attention towards me, “Y/N, did we wake you?”

I go past the question to ask, “What are you doing to the spare room?”

He gives me the widest smile, “I was just getting a head start on the nursery.”

“Nursery?” I repeat.

“Yeah, we’ll have to wait to start getting baby stuff but I’m getting a head start with the color. Since we don’t know whether it’s gonna be a boy or a girl, RM thought it would be a good idea to go for neutral colors.”

Namjoon points at the paint cans, “White and gold is the color scheme we’re going for. Of course when you find out, it’s up to you if you wanna change it.”

“A hundred bucks says it’s gonna be a girl.” V declares.

J-Hope shakes his hand, “I say it’s gonna be a boy.”

“Yoongi, it’s a little early to be starting the nursery. I mean we just found out about it yesterday.”

“I know, we’re just planning ahead. For now, it’s just the basic furniture. Once we get everything under control then we can bring in the baby stuff.”

I can tell that he’s extremely looking forward to having this baby more than I am right now, mostly because of the things I’ve been seeing. As long as he’s distracted by this I can deal with what’s going on in my head and he won't have to be worried about me as much.

Yoongi snaps his fingers, “Speaking of babies, I was thinking we should at least tell your dad about the pregnancy since he was the one that was looking the most forward to it.”

I nod at the idea, “I called him yesterday but he said he wasn’t feeling well so I let him rest. I’ll call him back later.”

“Well why don’t we go visit him today? I’m sure the surprise will be better in person anyway.” He says squeezing my hands.

I nod, “Yeah, why not?”

We set out to give my dad the good news that he would be a grandpa soon. Growing up, I never pictured myself having a child, only because things were never going to be easy. With my dad encouraging us to have kids makes me think that if he has so much faith that it’ll be okay to start a family then I should be confident in the future and have our baby with peace and at ease.

Yoongi and I exit the car followed by the rest of Bangtan. Yoongi was carrying a box of those horrible chocolates my dad loves so much as a gift. It’d be less extravagant than a whole lot of balloons to get anyone suspicious of the occasion.

Entering the house, we came across my dad’s assistant.

“We’re here to see dad, is he busy?” I ask him.

He smiles and points towards his office, “He’s in his study. You may go on in.”

I squeezed Yoongi’s hand at how nervous I was to tell him the surprise, “Dad?” I knock lightly on his door before opening in completely.

He was standing in front of his window with his drink in hand like he would usually do when he was in the middle of thinking of future attack plans.

I call out to him, “Hey dad, it’s me and Yoongi.”

Dad turns to face us. His face looks pale and his other hand clutching his chest.

“Dad, are you okay?” He drops his drink on the floor causing it to shatter on the wooden floor.

He begins to lean against his desk as I run towards him to check on him. He pushes me back as he coughs up blood right in front of me then collapses on the floor. I manage to catch him but with his weight I end up falling to the ground with him.

“DAD!”

I turn to Yoongi for help which he yells out to Namjoon, “Call Doc!”

I do my best to keep my emotions under control while helping him survive, “Dad, I need you to tell me what's wrong?”

He reaches out for my hand and pulls me down to his level as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t...trust...don’t...believe...it.” He barely manages to spit out.

“What? Don’t trust who?”

Yoongi kneels down beside me, “Just hang in there. Jin is on his way.”

Dad looks up at Yoongi and nods then turns his eyes back to me, “Yoongi will protect you.”

My eyes begin to blur as the tears begin to form, “No, dad. You’re gonna be fine. I just need you to hold on until help gets here. You have to live to see your grandchild. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a grandpa.”

He cups my cheek, “A beautiful mother you’ll be.” His grip on my hands goes completely limp.

I gasp as I begin screaming my heart out, “DAD!” Thinking of anything that could work, I start performing CPR on him.

Yoongi begins pulling me by the shoulders but I continue to push down on my dad’s chest. I check his pulse again and again but it never comes back.

“Dad?” I called him in hopes that he would somehow wake up again, “Daddy?”

I finally realize when there’s nothing more anyone could do. I reach up to kiss my father’s head one last time. Yoongi pulls me away from his body and embraces me into a hug where I just start crying in his chest.

[Five]

#bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #suga #yoongi #min yoongi #bts mafia #bts mafia au #mafia au #suga au #suga mafia au #yoongi au #yoongi mafia au #bts angst #min yoongi au #min yoongi mafia auu

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 3 years

Text

‘always and forever, lara jean’: a bungled mess of my thoughts while watching the movie

Alright, cards on the table: I never finished reading the book. I got bored a couple of pages in, so I just read up the summary on Wikipedia and called it a day.

Not gonna lie, I expected better from the movies. I loved the first movie; it was cute, it was fun, it hit all the right places. The second movie was… eh. Jordan Fisher is cute, so that’s a plus.

And then we got the third movie; the final in the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before trilogy.

And it was somehow even worse.

Maybe I’m exaggerating. Despite its shortcomings in the plot and character development-related departments (the fact that Lara Jean wrote addresses for letters she never meant to send is something that will bother me on my deathbed), the movies have their merits. They’re cutesy and charming and enjoyable, overall; movie-LJ is sweet and unashamedly a girly-girl, which is a refreshing change from the #NotLikeOtherGirls, pick-me girls and bruh girls we had in loads of other YA movies growing up. Peter’s pretty cute, too; he’s not a possessive freak like so many other love interests (The Kissing Booth, After, Anna and the French Kiss), and his and Lara Jean’s dynamic is cute, too. Not to mention- we finally have an Asian lead whose Asian-ness isn’t the whole focus of the story!

Again, maybe I’m being extra with all this. The series is, at its core, solely for entertainment purposes. Not every piece of media has to have an underlying message and you shouldn’t need to read between every goddamn line to find something worthy of enjoying. They’re certainly helpful for whiling away a couple of hours; perfect for bingeing with a pint of ice cream in hand, and all of this is in good fun.

Also, it goes without saying, but: spoilers ahead.

The film beings with Lara Jean scribbling a postcard to Peter while she’s in Korea with her family. The inclusion of that little snapshot of Asian culture made me so happy- seriously, fuck everyone who says diversity in media doesn’t matter. I’m not even Korean, and I was overjoyed at seeing a couple of scenes just from the same continent I’m on. The K-pop music in the background was a fun touch, too (although all Korean music isn’t K-pop, but that’s a rant for another day).

(Also: Blackpink has so many more suitable songs than Pretty Savage that go with the theme of the movies. Kill This Love in the second movie while Lara Jean is getting ready to go to her boyfriend’s match is bad enough- they’re supposed to be in love in that scene, goddammit.)

One thing that bothered me throughout the movies is how obviously non-Korean Lara Jean and Margot look. It’s like whoever chose the cast went for any random Asian- Lana’s Vietnamese and Janel Parrish is half-Chinese, and it’s so obvious. You seriously couldn’t find two Korean-Americans who even vaguely resembled each other so they could pass for sisters? The actresses do a stunning job and I don’t want to shit on them, but I just wish they didn’t go with the ‘all Asians look the same, what’s the difference?’ mindset.

Also, a nitpicky thing I’ve noticed in movies with characters who read a lot: no one holds their books up while they’re reading. Your arms start to cramp, which is why you keep your book in your lap while you’re reading, or you rest on your belly and hold the book in front of you. My spine and shoulders didn’t suffer years of torture as a chronic reader for you to include characters who hold their books up while reading.

A major gripe I have with Always and Forever, Lara Jean is how the characters are almost jarringly out of character- not from the books, but from the two previous movies, too. Lara Jean didn’t have much of a character to begin with, so I can’t say much about her (she dissed Oasis at one point; it’s okay for me to be mean to her), but the rest of them are either caricatures of themselves or just totally different people.

Movie Peter >>> Book Peter. He’s almost too perfect (except for the fact that he unironically loves The Fast and the Furious, which… ew), almost too much of the ideal boyfriend. Not that my perpetually single arse would know. How do boyfriends even work? I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with one; how often should you feed it? Do you need to take it on walks?

(In the notes I’ve written towards the end of the film, I’ve complained about Peter being immature and making Lara Jean feel bad about following her dream to go to NYU. He confuses me.)

Not to mention how distractingly adorable Noah Centineo is from some angles and under certain lighting conditions (other times, he reminds me of the human version of Shrek and that bothered me). King of weird Tweets and Instagram captions though he may be, he’s got a really nice smile, and his gravelly voice is both parts sexy and disturbing.

But I digress.

I’ll never forgive the directors for what they did to Kitty and Chris- two of my favorite characters, from both the books and the movies. Kitty’s annoying to the point of being borderline unlikeable- gone is the occasionally snarky comic relief we all came to love; in her place is an annoying brat whose every line comes out forced. Also, making soap is fun; fuck you, Kitty.

Chris is essentially Dixie D’Amelio’s character from that TikToker Grey’s Anatomy ripoff; the main character in One Direction fanfiction from 2012 who doesn’t want to go to the concert but her best friend gets a ticket for her so she can’t bail but Harry Styles sees her in the crowd and falls in love at first sight and 50k of mutual pining and misunderstandings late, they get together. She’s cynical and snarky and hates capitalism and consumerism and prom (because of course she does), but secretly, she’s into it (because of course she is). My guess is that she’s there to appease all the arseholes (including myself) who accused the characters of being too one-dimensional, but it seems too out of place in a movie that doesn’t have much plot to begin with.

I really, really hate how Lucas was done dirty- throughout every single movie. Of course, it’s Lara Jean’s story so not every side character has to be fully fleshed out- but you’d think three. entire. movies. would be enough to give Lucas a bigger role than the GBF and the token black guy for the diversity brownie points. Every single time Lucas shows up, it’s to push Lara Jean and Peter’s story forward. I would’ve liked to see a romance for him pushed forward instead one for Chris- especially because he says, at one point in a previous movie, that it’s hard to find other gay boys, so it would’ve been sweet to see him find love- and Chris’s character arc could’ve been focused on reconciling with Genevieve. Instead, we see the OG Reggie from Riverdale be the one to show Chris the bright side of monogamy, and Lucas gets a date to prom as an afterthought (another darkskin black dude, so no one thinks the film is racist).

Genevieve’s character in this movie gives me whiplash. Look, I’m all for girls supporting girls- healthy female relationships are something way too many YA movies lack- but she goes from bitch queen extraordinaire to friendly the moment the next scene calls for it. Her character isn’t consistent. A redemption arc should be executed cleanly and believably; you can’t have a character be a total prick one moment and then suddenly be, “Hey, if you get into NYU, let me know,” the next.

And Genevieve’s still an arsehole to Chris; at one point, in NYC, while they’re at the NYU campus grounds (I knew that Lara Jean was going to go to NYU the moment she saw all the banners; I fucking called it), Genevieve tells Chris, “University is for people who actually have a future,” and I recoiled. I’m not the nicest of people and yet that was going too far. Chris doesn’t hesitate to shoot back a, “You peaked in high school,”, but still. Y i k e s. You can’t convince me someone’s turned over a new leaf when they say something like that.

Lara Jean’s dad (forgot his name; gonna call him Dr. Covey) is as unremarkable as ever, and his new wife (forgot her name, too… Trisha? Trina? Eh, something like that) is… unsettling. I mean, I get that they’re all loved up and twitterpatted, but there’s something about all the smiling they’ve got going on that chills me to the bone.

Also, Trisha/Trina kinda looks like TikTok’s ThatVeganTeacher and it bothers me.

Another huge problem with this movie even being made is that the series never had enough plot to continue onto a trilogy. Lara Jean’s letters are what the plots of the first and second movies revolve around; the third only mentions them in passing. The final love letter from Peter was a cute callback, but there’s a massive continuity issue with the first two movies and this last one- both character and plot-wise.

Maybe I’m not articulating this clearly enough, so I’ll use an example: take Harry Potter, for example. Harry’s main goal throughout the series is defeating Voldemort. And it takes all seven books for him to get there, to finally achieve this.

Lara Jean’s goal in the first movie changes midway; from keeping up the façade with Peter so she can avoid the crap with the rest of the letters getting out, to making her fake relationship real. It forms a bridge with the second movie; the letter that went out to John Ambrose, and her dithering between Peter and perfection (I’m not sorry). But what does the third movie have to do with any of this?

There were way too many music montages. You couldn’t go five minutes without a random pop song playing in the background, and it was annoying as hell. Don’t Look Back in Anger was w a s t e d on this stupid film. The artsy scenery shots were even worse- no, I don’t give a fuck about the New York skyline or a bird’s eye view of whatever vehicle Lara Jean is in. A few shots of Seoul would’ve sufficed; the rest was overkill. This movie is way too damn long already (almost 2 entire hours!!!); cut out a couple of those. No one cares.

I thought they’d pull the whole Aladdin trope with character-A-keeps-trying-to-tell-character-B-the-truth-about-a-lie-B-believes-in-about-A-but-B-keeps-interrupting, but Lara Jean (typing her name out is annoying, why couldn’t she have a single name, like both of her sisters?) comes clean earlier than I expected. Peter’s reaction about LJ not getting into Stanford is… uncharacteristically mature? No “Why did you lie to me?”, no accusations, not an ounce of betrayal. Which I did not expect from a guy who’s a little bitch for the greater part of book one (I really don’t like Book Peter, in case you couldn’t tell). I know fuck-all about book three’s Peter, so I can’t tell if he really did adopt this mature, well-adjusted persona, or the movie did it to make Peter seem like less of a dick (like they did it with the sextape-that-wasn’t-a-sextape in the first installment).

On a sidenote, how do these main characters in YA books get into really good colleges with zero to no visible effort? These arseholes fuck around for the entirety of the story and have way too much going on to actually do schoolwork, but they waltz into Ivy Leagues at the end. And apparently, I’m not the only one bothered by this.

There’s something to be said about how the movies don’t really sexualize minors (characters who are minors, to be fair. None of the MCs look anything like teenagers), though. It’s almost weird to see them not getting drunk and partying and having sex all the time. Maybe that’s why Lara Jean trying to get her hand on Peter’s dick felt so stilted and awkward (I cringed so hard when she kept trying to touch him and he kept pushing her hand away, holy shit).

And the kissing. It’s to be expected from a romance film, but there was so. Much. Kissing.

The amount of product placements (… actually, I could count only two: Apple and a pair of Beats headphones Lara Jean puts on at one point, but the movie shoved so many iPhones in my face that I’m obligated to exaggerate) would’ve made anti-capitalist Chris mad.

I’m guessing this all takes place in a parallel universe, sans the coronavirus. Still, being in quarantine this past year and being socially awkward for every other one, it was agonizing seeing everyone so close together in NYC. When Peter kissed the ball (lol) (I have the sense of humor of a straight boy in middle school, don’t judge me) when him and Lara Jean go bowling, I had a visceral reaction. And what are the odds of Peter meeting his estranged dad at the very same bowling alley?

Speaking of Peter’s daddy issues (I’ve written “Hardin but diluted” in my notes; I watched this movie at, like, 1 AM; I’m not entirely sure what was going through my head at that point)- I hated how they guilt-tripped Peter into giving his father another chance. In the wise words of Hannah Montana, everybody makes mistakes- but leaving your wife and two kids for another woman is pretty far from a little oopsie on Mr. Kavinsky’s part. I don’t blame Peter for hating him, and I’m not in a place to judge whether Mr. Kavinsky (does he get a first name?) should be forgiven or not, but I feel like they let him off too easy and made Peter seem like a misunderstood teenager with anger issues for not accepting Mr. Kavinsky’s (crappy) apology at once.

And it adds nothing to the story at all; Mr. Kavinsky peaces out after having one (01) coffee with his firstborn, and he’s never seen again. If you’re going to introduce a subplot, make it tie into the main storyline- the very least you could do is make it an important enough part of the story to have more than 10 minutes of the run time. It makes no sense as to why they’d bring up Peter’s dad in this last film, when he’s already gone through two perfectly fine. I guess it was a ‘tying everything up’ part… even though no one cared.

Lara Jean’s handwriting is surprisingly ugly for someone who’s written that many love letters. And her styling took a definite nosedive; her outfits in the first movie were so effing cute, but now they’re just… meh.

There are so many conversations and lines that the writers must’ve thought sounded good enough for someone to type out the quote in curly font and slap it on a screenshot from the movie to post on Instagram, but when it comes to the actual delivery, they just sounded… weird.

Peter says one time near the beginning of the film, “You know what I’m looking forward to the most in college? Never having to say goodnight,” because he expects him and Lara Jean to get into the same college.

But I guess the word they should’ve used was ‘good-bye’, because this just makes him sound stupid.

At one point, Lara Jean asks Kitty how much Kitty’s gonna miss her when she goes off to college, and Kitty says, “A four.” Later on, she confesses, “I’m gonna miss you a twelve, Lara Jean,” and all I could think was, “But we’re endgame, Archie!”

(In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t let people know I’ve watched Riverdale; it lessons my credibility.)

Still, there remains some good to be found: all the baked goods looked very delicious and made me crave chocolate chip cookies. Peter wearing the socks Lara Jean gifted him at the beginning of the movie was a cute gesture, and Lara Jean giving Peter her teal hatbox? The one she kept her love letters in? Was so? Cute? Help?

And hey, it’s a cliché that’s been done to death, but I’m always a sucker for that part in movies where the girl walks down the stairs in a pretty dress with her hand on the banister and the boy turns around and his mouth falls open and all he can say is, “Wow,”- and this film did not disappoint! Not to mention how cute both Lara Jean’s and Chris’s prom dresses were.

Dr. Covey and Trisha/Trina’s wedding was cute, too- I struggled to decide whether Kitty wearing a necklace that says ‘feminist’ and a tux is a bit too on-the-nose, but I’ve decided that it’s nothing to get my knickers all in a twist about (for clarification: it’s not the necklace or the crossdressing that made me debate this; I just wish they didn’t make a big deal out of it- I wish they didn’t have Kitty and Lara Jean get into an argument about her not wearing a dress, if that makes sense?).

And the final letter- the one from Peter to Lara Jean- I ate that shit up; it was so, so, so cute.

In conclusion (why is it so easy for me to crank out 3k about my thoughts on a Netflix movie and yet when it comes to English Lit. at school, I’d stare at a blank sheet of foolscap for ages?), did I enjoy the movie? Not really. There were parts of it that I liked, but it was overall too boring and I kept wishing I’d watched the new SKZ Code episode instead every few minutes.

But that doesn’t mean that it was bad. I kinda feel a little sad, actually, now that Lara Jean and Peter’s story has come to a close; To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, the first movie, is one of my favorites, and bitch though I might about them, the kinda grew on me… like an innocent plant, at first, but then like a fungus. Not a parasitic fungus, just not mutualistic, either… kind of like a commensal.

Maybe I should stop with the biology similes.

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justjessame · 3 years

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Glorious, Before the Burden - The Comfort ~ 4

Knowing that I could at least push past the terrible spell that caused Loki to see a nightmare when I visited him gave me some peace to rest, my first night alone in London. Building courage to meet Thor’s love, Doctor Jane Foster who I researched thoroughly before leaving my small cottage and with Michael beside me helping me sort through what was most helpful and what was least likely to aid me in my introduction to this Midgardian genius. Over a light dinner, during a phone conversation with Michael, I told him of my visit with Loki in his cell.

“And he saw YOU?” Michael asked for the third time, almost crowing with both happiness and a heavy dose of his confidence in my powers and person. “I’m not surprised,” I shook my head and took in the view from my window, the night was falling and I knew that sleep would be calling to me soon enough. “Now you just have to meet up with Dr. Foster and off you go to Asgard.”

Laughter erupted from me at how simple he made the endeavor sound. “Yes, JUST.” Listening as he told me the idle gossip of the tiny village I’d left mere hours before, I felt a sort of homesickness and wondered how long I’d feel longing for the small Midgardian spot that had adopted me. Promising to call before I disappeared back to my true home, I tried to tell Michael how much he meant to me, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Don’t go saying goodbye yet, Sigyn.” He grumbled. “Not until you’re on your way out.” And with a huff he said goodnight.

I suppose, with the change of scenery and the nerves that came with what I was about to do, I expected sleep to be more difficult to grasp hold of - like a teasing serpent with its tail flickering away as a fat fisted toddler who is forever curious and yearning to touch, it would flick away at the last moment, saving itself from the yanking of that grasp - but no, somehow it wasn’t hard to find and take hold of.

Slipping into a bed as decadent as the one that Loki had carried me to, pressing me into and kissing me breathless because I couldn’t stand to release him once he first allowed me a sample of his flavor, sleep greeted me as a dear friend, cradling me as gently as my husband had and held me tight until morning woke me with the first slanting light through the softness of the fogging haze that I’d grown to love during my first visit so very long ago.

As I slept, I dreamt and as I dreamt it was of a time and place I did not know. Yet I knew my companions - two of them, at least. Loki, not MY Loki, but the one who wore the same strange outfit that Agent Mobius M Mobius had worn when he unceremoniously showed up on my doorstep with his contingent of TVA Minutemen asking for inside information on Loki - MY Loki - hoping to find a way to take down Sylvie. Who, I was no longer startled to see standing beside THIS Loki, not even seeing their hands clasped together gave me a moment’s pause. There was something about the two of them - these two pieces of my heart, brought together through means that I had no forewarning or knowledge of - that made some mad sort of sense. They stood amidst a clouded world, on the other side I could make out something of the horns I knew quite well from my time at Loki’s side, but they were worn by beings that I had no sense of familiarity with - a child, an elder, one who looked far more like Thor than Loki, and - brought up a touch short - was that a lizard?

Refocusing on the two I held far more dear, Loki and Sylvie, standing before a building that made my heart pound faster - a flash of warmth running through me - like when I felt the urge to run into one of the gardens, or join my husband in bed - the feeling of home. How strange, since I’d never seen this dark stone beast before, rising as if it grew unbidden from the ground. Gold veins, like blood creeping through it, I could hardly pay attention to Loki and Sylvie as they bucked up courage to knock on the door, so entranced was I with how familiar it felt - even the landscape, barren though it was - called to me like a siren song. Odd.

The door opened, and I blinked, had I missed them finally knocking? Had I missed a greeting being called out?

Following them through the archway, I barely glanced at the glowing clock - her obnoxious taunting voice - obviously known to both Sylvie and Loki, but of no consequence to me. Instead I walked around the three of them, ignoring their conversation and searching for any reason why I would feel as if I knew this place, this building. Reaching out with a shaking hand, knowing that I shouldn’t be able to TOUCH anything in a dream, I was shocked to find that I could touch - and the obsidian wall felt WARM, throbbing as if it had a heartbeat all its own.

I almost missed the clock disappearing. Nearly missed the appearance of a new being. Except I wouldn’t have missed him - couldn’t have if I tried. It was as if he screamed my name as loudly as Loki once said I forced him from the garden when I wanted to go inside. Turning I saw HIM. Smiling from behind a newly opened door, lounging as comfortably and unconcerned as any all powerful being would in the face of TWO such as Loki and Sylvie - and while they dared to make attempts on his life, he winked at ME.

I woke up as the sun broke through the curtains and the haze, my eyes flashing open faster than they ever had before. I knew what the clock being had called him. I knew what he’d thought to call himself. Names have power - any witch worth her salt would tell you that. And I knew his name as surely as I knew my own. I just didn’t know why his name mattered to ME.

I got ready with all the care that I would have on my first trip to Midgard had I taken it alone. Carefully tucking my long hair away, magic making it far easier to conceal and seem shorter and fashionable in the way the women of the realm seemed to enjoy it, I sighed as I pulled on a pair of the tight jeans and long sweater over it. Adding the long jacket and scarf, I hoped that I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb as I made contact with Thor’s lady love. And I hoped like hell that I wasn’t too late.

Finding Dr. Foster wasn’t difficult. She’d relocated to London because her mother was living in the city. She’d taken up online dating, which Michael had given me a shifty look about - laughingly offering to create a profile for me, should I think to give dating a Midgardian a chance. A single look was all it took to nip that horrendous idea in the bud. Her mentor was having a difficult go of getting back to normal after having an encounter with Loki, as seen on EVERY news channel known to man, and so - off I went to find Jane where a subtle disturbance in what Midardians knew to be science and gravity was taking place. Thank goodness for children and their inability to keep things quiet.

While I couldn’t disappear as Loki could, hiding when you’re petite isn’t incredibly difficult, but seeing Jane Foster arrive alongside her intern Darcy - another piece of the information Michael had helped me come across - had given me pause. Two Midgardians, slightly more difficult to approach than one, and Darcy had more street smarts from what I’d learned in my research.

Jane disappeared and I sighed. Damn it. While the future is set, I had hoped to head off the Aether. Perhaps if I could have contained it, NOT in the Midgardian scientist, that would have made Frigga’s death slightly less -

She reappeared and I missed my opportunity to meet her before Thor made his arrival, but he spotted me as she spotted him -

“Sigyn?” His eyes widened, and Jane’s eyes narrowed at me. “Sister? How are you alive?” Now Jane looked LESS inclined to rip my hair out, so that was better, perhaps. “Jane, this is -” he pulled her closer, smiling down at BOTH of us. “Sigyn, I thought you dead - they said you -”

Shifting off the reunion and questions. “Yes, I know, Thor.” I smiled at Jane. “This is Jane?” She was staring down at me with so many questions in her eyes that I wanted to scream. “I think we should probably -”

So shocked by Thor’s arrival before I could greet Jane, before I could get things in hand, I hadn’t really taken stock of the storm he’d brought along with him.

“This you?” Darcy had joined us, pointing up at the downpour and Thor stopped it. “Who’re you?” She was staring at me with a challenge in her eyes.

“Sigyn, Loki’s wife.” Rip it off like a bandage, that had been Michael’s advice. Her eyes went wide. “Oh dear, I think we’re about to have company.” Police officers were converging.

They were coming to ask uncomfortable questions, but Thor was in no mood to allow that, and he grabbed onto Jane and nodded to me. With a smile, and extreme focus on my part - cloaking myself so Heimdall wouldn’t know WHO else Thor was bringing at least I hoped - I took hold of his arm and off we went.

Jane was not well, how could she be - the Aether was inside of her. Upon our arrival in Asgard, Heimdall, looking for all the world as if he was unsurprised by my survival and arrival, Jane was taken to the healing chambers. I, however, was rushed to Frigga - Heimdall telling me she requested my presence as soon as I arrived.

“There you are,” she pulled me into her arms and sighed with such relief that I nearly sobbed. “We have very little time, Sigyn.” When she pulled away, her eyes searching mine I saw how glassy hers were. “Did you think only you saw it coming?”

“I’d hoped,” my eyes were burning, my heart giving such pain that I felt as though I’d been stabbed. “I’ve only just come home, selfishly I want more time.” She laughed and held my hands in hers. “Why didn’t you tell me what I am?”

“If I had,” she sat, pulling me down beside her. “If I’d given you all the answers, then you’d have simply had them -” she brushed my hair from my face. “You still have much to learn, I’m afraid. You know what, but not WHO -” I didn’t understand and she knew it. “You will, I swear.”

“Jane holds the Aether,” shaking my head, my eyes closed. “I’d hoped to get there fast enough -”

“To what, my daughter?” She was smiling when I opened my eyes. “Take it upon yourself?” Sighing she shook her head. “You have far more burdens to bear than you need, I think that one is one too many.” Pulling me close, she tucked my head under her chin. “I always wanted a daughter, did I ever tell you that?” I hummed. “You were everything I could have wanted in one, and so much more, Sigyn.”

I didn’t have enough time with her, not alone. I never had a chance to go to Loki’s cell and prepare him for what was coming. I didn’t see Odin beforehand. The only peace I made was with Frigga, and maybe that was all I was supposed to be allotted.

I was with her and Jane when the monsters came knocking. I held her as she took her final breath. And in it, as I cradled her head and told her I forgave her everything, that I loved her and she was my mother, that she told me another piece of my own puzzle. She gave me another name for He Who Remains - at least where I was concerned. And as my tears burned down my cheeks, threatening to break my heart and leave me scarred for my grief of losing the only mother I felt like I’d ever truly known - I looked up to see HIM - Odin, staring down at me in open mouthed surprise.

I suppose there was at least ONE person in all of Asgard that hadn’t been told of my arrival - our King.

#loki #loki x sigyn #loki series #loki spoilers #sigyn #alternate universe #angst #character death

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

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Little Bird: Chapter 16

Read on AO3. Part 15 here. Part 17 here.

Summary: The horrors of Gilead are too much to bear. You've been selfish.

Words: 3100

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Guys... Ren knows she's missing... what the fuck is gonna happen...

(I know but I'm not telling.)

Thank you everyone for your interest and attention to this story. I have no words to express how grateful I am. I love y'all so much. <3

The rest of the house was surprisingly plain, considering its underbelly. Rey and Finn slept on the second floor, and Poe, as their driver, had an adjoining room on the first floor. The facade was one of a normal, functioning Gilead household, with Angel, Wife, and their help all existing in perfect harmony. Part of you wanted to know more about Finn and Rey’s marriage--did they love each other, was it arranged, how had they managed to create the Resistance--but you couldn’t think of a polite way to ask.

Perhaps that was more conditioning. You couldn’t remember if questions like that had appeared unimportant before Gilead.

“Anyway, that’s all for the house,” Rey said. “You’ll likely only be here a few days, but we think it’s important you know where everything is, should anything happen.”

You blinked. “Happen?”

She waved her hands dismissively. “Not that anything has! Or that we expect it to. But it’s better to be prepared.”

Somehow, this did little to ease your nerves. The reality of being involved with a treasonous group of rebels was starting to settle. Of course you could never be a spy for them. You were trying to save your life. You’d done enough risking it at the end of Kylo Ren’s cock.

Rey led you back through the den, a large room lit with tall, dim lamps and a crackling fire. Bookcases packed tight with spines adorned each wall, reaching the ceiling, and a couple of massive leather sofas framed a heavy, carved coffee table at the center. The hardwood gleamed at your feet, reflecting the flames from the fireplace. Rey trudged forward, heading toward the hearth.

“This is a little cliche, I know,” she said. “But we couldn’t think of a better deterrent than fire.”

She pulled a brick out from the side of the fireplace and tugged out a pair of thick, black gloves that went up to her elbows. After pulling them on, to your horror, she reached into the fire, digging into the logs, and yanked at a lever. Nothing happened. But she didn’t seem deterred. Next, she tore away the thick, Persian rug at the foot of the hearth, pushing back one of the slats of hardwood and using it like a handle, wrenching open a rectangular slab of wood, wisps of smoke escaping as she revealed another hidden entrance.

You shrugged, heart skipping again. “You guys have a lot of these, huh.”

Rey smiled, replacing the gloves in the brick. “Just these two. This is the more important one, though. Come on!”

With quick feet, she disappeared down the tiny staircase, the walls closing even tighter than the ones before, compressing your frame like a compactor. You weren’t as fast, surveying your path, noticing the open grate in the ceiling that hung under where the fireplace was positioned. The air was stifling, almost woolen.

“When the grate is open, it becomes pretty much impossible to breathe.” Rey was at an iron door at the end of the staircase, now, spinning the combination lock above the handle. “We hope that in the event of an emergency, it would give enough time to allow for evacuation.”

Swallowing, you nodded, as if you wanted to be worrying about an emergency. Then again, your entire life had been an emergency for the past few years. What did the change of scenery really matter? The lock clicked, and the door opened. Rey waved you on. Holding your breath, you snuck down with your skirts bunched above your ankles, crossing the threshold and into a cooler, open room. She followed, and the door clamped shut behind you.

In front of you was another area illuminated with the same battery tap lights as you’d seen in their war room, accompanied with those similar eggshell crates. Beds lined the walls, some of them occupied, others barren. At the end of the room was a closed door, light peeking out from the frame. As you glanced around the space, each time a pair of eyes landed on you, shame leapt from inside your chest and swallowed you whole. You counted three strangers corralled here, total, all dressed in sweatshirts and jeans that looked about a decade old. And inside the gazes of these strangers, you saw yourself: terrified. Desperate. Alone.

“We have a new addition today, everyone,” said Rey. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

Throwing a half-hearted wave, you mumbled your name. “Hello.”

“Right!” Her hand at your back again, she ushered you forward. “Clockwise, that’s Louise, Audrey, Gabrielle, and…” She snapped her fingers. “Where’s Sarah?”

“In the washroom,” said the one named Louise, pointing to the closed door.

“Got it.” Hand still guiding you, Rey turned you toward the door and walked you through the locking mechanism and how to get up to the main house, if necessary. “And if anything should happen--these girls know this--pull this lever right here. It opens both grates underneath the fire place. The fire is always burning. After you pull it, you all must escape through the piping in the washroom.” She looked over the room again. “You all remember that?”

The other woman called out their assent. Rey nodded, gripped your shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable. There’s a set of clothes underneath one of the open beds. We’ll probably be serving dinner in a few hours. We bring it down here. I hope that’s okay.”

You shifted on your feet, crossing your arms. “So… I’m stuck down here, now?” Shadows stretched across the concrete floors, the tap lights too pitiful to banish them.. “Great.”

Her face fell. “I know. It’s not ideal. But…” She sighed. “Our primary goal is to keep you all safe until transport. We’ve smuggled out dozens of Handmaids with our protocols the way they are.”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

The knowledge that Ren would soon know you were gone was crushing you tighter than the walls themselves. You couldn’t imagine him honestly razing everything within 100 miles just for you--after all, you were just a Handmaid--but then you recalled the last time you’d spoken with him. The ache in his eyes. The despair.

Not one like you.

You haunt me.

A chill cast over your intestines, goosebumps sweeping over your flesh. Your tongue was dry. “When did you say the transport was, again?” You tried to wipe your sweating palms on your skirts.

Rey’s nose twisted in consideration. “We have a contact willing to collect a shipment at the end of the week. So it probably won’t be for a few more days.”

You coughed, trying to clear the dust from your throat. You hoped you’d last that long. “Okay.”

“Everyone all right?” Rey asked, casting a glance across the room. When no one responded, she grinned, and left through the iron door, sealing it tight behind her.

A long, heavy sigh left you, and you turned back to the room, again meeting the anxious gazes of the other women. You shuffled over to an empty bed, reaching underneath it, finding, to no surprise, a pair of baggy jeans and a large sweatshirt. You sat down with a loud squeak, mattress deflating like marshmallow underneath you. Every bed in here was covered with mismatched sheets, the frames combinations of screwed together steel bars and wooden slats.

You regarded the set of clothing with some degree of confusion. The thought of putting them on your body seemed foreign. Wrong. The red dress of your captivity didn’t seem right, either, but at least it was familiar.

“I promise that once you put that stuff on, it feels so much better.” One of the women approached you--the one named Audrey. Her dark hair was short. Very short. She must have cut it the second she was free. “It’s totally weird at first, though.”

“Yeah.” The sweatshirt was grey, stained, with colorful stripes across the chest area that had faded with time. “I don’t really want to change in front of everyone, though…”

“Don’t!” she said. “Sarah will be out in a second. You can change there.”

You nodded, glimpsing the other women watching you. “How long have you… all of you been here?”

“It’s been about a week for me,” Audrey said with a laugh. “My Commander hasn’t given a shit that I’ve been gone.”

“We both came in the middle of the night a few nights ago,” Louise said, gesturing between herself and Gabrielle. Louise had a crooked nose, and her long, blonde hair was tied in braids and piled on top of her head. “I didn’t know if she’d make it!”

Gabrielle shrugged. “You basically bullied me into it.”

“Oh, please,” Louise said. “Don’t act like you weren’t desperate to get out of Dopheld’s house.”

She sighed. “You’re right.” Gabrielle looked at you. Her eyes were dark pools. “I was just scared.”

Audrey nodded. “We were all totally scared.”

“Well,” you said. “That makes four of us.”

“Five.” Louise tilted her head toward the washroom door.

“Has anyone checked on Sarah?” Gabrielle’s nose wrinkled in concern. “She’s been in there a while.”

You blinked. “Checked on her?” It seemed rude to just… check on someone because they were taking a while in the bathroom. Everyone had their bodily struggles.

Audrey stood. “I’ll do it.” She crossed to the door, rapping it with a single knuckle. “Sarah? Are you okay?”

Frowning, your gaze switched between Louise and Gabrielle, hoping they’d provide you with some sort of context. The hesitation in their expression tightened your chest. Dread loomed over you again, a creature ready to consume.

“What is it?” you whispered. “What’s going on with Sarah?”

“Sarah got here last night.” Louise’s voice floated in the air. “She… She’s having a hard time.”

Audrey rapped again. “Sarah? Open the door, hon.”

A tiny whimper rippled from beyond the door. “Leave me alone.”

“Come on, Sare. You’ve been in there for an hour. You’ve gotta come out at some point.”

The hidden voice was tattered, like fabric with more holes than weave. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Louise called, frowning. “There’s a new person here. She needs to get comfortable too.”

“A new person?” A loud sniffle, and shuffling behind the door. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know--”

Audrey stood back from the threshold. “It’s okay, hon--”

The door swung open, revealing a young woman--perhaps the youngest out of all of you--in a sleeved shirt and sweatpants, her long hair swarmed in a nest around her head, her cheeks a furious red. She sniffled again, which stoked the uneasiness in your heart, but what set it aflame was the rest of her appearance. Her hands were shredded, knuckles purple and puffy, and her right eye was an ugly, dead black, swollen shut, accompanying a massive knot at her forehead. A scab crept over a split in her lower lip.

Your jaw dropped. Sarah plodded out of the bathroom, gaze trained on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here.”

“Don’t--uh, don’t apologize,” you said. “I… I only just got here, so…”

She nodded, plopping down on her bed. You sought out direction from the other women, feeling helpless. To get up and just go change seemed a little sociopathic at the moment.

Audrey sat next to Sarah on her bed. “How are you feeling, hon?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye.” She was blank, numbed to her surroundings. “My… my other eye, I mean.”

“I know.” Audrey offered a sympathetic smile, rubbing her back. “You’re free, now, though. You won’t ever have to go back to his house again.”

Something slithered from the depths of your psyche and seized you, coiling around you, strangling the air from your lungs. Guilt.

“Your… uh, your Commander did this?” Your voice was stretched like film over your throat.

Sarah peeked at you, nodded. “When he learned I wasn’t pregnant.”

Guilt now snaked its way into your vessels, stuffed you with its presence. “I… I’m really sorry.”

She shrugged, face blank once more. “I just want to be able to sleep through the night again.”

“Me too,” said Gabrielle. “I get so tired of looking over my shoulder every day.” She shivered, shaking off a memory.

“Ooh, I know.” Louise reached up and pulled her braids from their spiral. “And to never have to smell his breath again.”

“Or just see his face in general!” Audrey chuckled. “I’m tired of being called a pig.”

“A pig?” You blushed when you realized it was you that had spoken. “Sorry. That’s terrible.”

Audrey shrugged, offering a wry, pained grin. “Wasn’t as bad as when he slapped me.”

With every admission of abuse, more oxygen escaped your body. Of course, your situation was no more enviable--you knew this, logically--but there was something different about your desperate, impassioned rendezvous with Kylo Ren in comparison to these women who were literally being beaten. And worse. Kylo Ren was possessive, manipulative, controlling, perhaps even heartless--but at least you’d wanted every single finger he laid on you.

In the end, you were running because there was a dark, awful part of you that wanted more than just sex, and the battle with your desire put your life at risk. These women were running because they wanted less--less of all of it. The realization lit a match to the kindling of your guilt.

“Do other Commanders know about this?” For some reason, you wanted permission to be enraged. “That this happens?”

Gabrielle snorted. “Of course they do. Some of them even team up, if you’re unlucky enough.”

“Team up?” Your jaw tensed.

“Whatever you take that to mean,” Louise said, “that’s what it means.”

Gabrielle leaned forward, scanning you. “You can’t really be that ignorant,” she said. “You lived it, too.”

“Come on, now. Her Commander must’ve been one of the low-ranks,” said Audrey. “Who was he?”

You looked between them, face hot. The words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. You were ignorant. There was no one to blame but yourself. You’d wrapped yourself in the protective sheet of your Commander’s attention, so twisted and obsessed with your own misery you’d never taken time to truly consider his role in maintaining the system. Kylo Ren hadn’t just subjugated you--he’d subjugated all of Gilead, propped it up on false limbs and shielded it from criticism. By default, he protected each one of the men that these women were running from. By default, he was complicit in, an agent of their power. By default, he was corrupt.

By default, he deserved to be brought down.

“Hello?” Louise waved. “Anyone there?”

You snapped to attention. “Sorry!” you said. “What, uh, what was the question?”

“I just asked who your Commander was,” Audrey replied. “You don’t have to--”

“Kylo Ren,” you replied, and found yourself standing. “Please excuse me.”

“Kylo--” Gabrielle stuttered. “Isn’t he right under--”

“Yeah, he’s Commander Snoke’s right-hand man!”

“She’s his Handmaid? She got away?”

“Doesn’t that make it more dangerous for us?”

“It totally doesn’t, we’re already running.”

Your brain was too busy spinning with newfound purpose. You’d walked over to the door, hands quaking as they worked to unlock the exit as Rey had instructed. Behind you, the other Handmaids were chattering, their stares like weights on your back. Blood rushed by your ears, pulse thumping at your temple, beating with a burgeoning power. The door opened, and you slipped beyond it, holding your breath through the hot tunnel to the main house. Your limbs were moving faster, shoving open the hatch, punching away the heavy rug, and you scrambled out, tripping over your feet as you stumbled through the house.

“Rey?” you called. “Finn? Poe?”

It was strange, how threatening silence could be in this world. You crossed through the den, peeking around the corners, searching like a hound. There was something boiling inside you, like a geyser, ready to explode through your skin, wrench you apart with its insistence. You could feel the words on your tongue, taste them, and they were begging to be given life, to find release.

“Rey!” you shouted up the stairs. “Finn! Poe!”

Still no response. Dread again, descending onto your shoulders, hijacking your heart, your breath coming faster, cycling through your lungs. If something had happened, making a ton of noise likely wouldn’t help. You sucked in a deep breath. You hadn’t checked outside. Gathering your skirts, you slunk to the back door, popping the locks and prying it open, inch by inch. Voices hit your ears. You froze. You couldn’t see them--they were around the corner, in the garden.

“We did rush the transport.” It was Finn. Relief tugged at your mind--but he sounded concerned. “The contact still says they won’t be able to make it for another 48 hours.”

“Dammit.” That was Poe. “And no response from bunker?”

“They’re full,” a voice you recognized as Rey’s replied. “They just took in another on emergency.”

“Shit!” A frustrated sigh escaped him. “I thought we’d at least have half a day to figure out where we’d move her.”

Your stomach flipped. Her. You?

“Well, this is Ren we’re talking about,” Finn replied. “We knew how he might get.”

Now your stomach lurched. Yes, you.

“We still have a few hours,” said Rey. “According to our intel, he’s only just now received report his Handmaid was taken off the streets for re-education. Even assuming he abandons his post, he’ll still need to figure out she never made it to a Red Center and find out who took her.”

More nagging guilt. How hard they were working, just to keep you safe. To keep you from him.

“Should we file the missing report to the Eyes?”

You didn’t want to be rude. But new guilt was morphing, too, liquefying to rage in your belly.

“I’m already on it.” Finn sighed. “Let’s just go with the plan as-is, for now. We don’t know what his intentions are. He might not even come here.”

Your fists clenched. You wanted him to.

“This would’ve been so much easier if she had agreed to work with us,” Poe mumbled.

You trembled, roiled through with fury for the women in the basement, for your saviors, for Johana and Emma and Rose, for--hell, yourself. All of you pinned underneath the monstrosity built by Ren and the Commanders like him, some of you struggling with trembling knees, others collapsing, devoured by the machine as they strained to support its weight. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the backyard.

Rey sighed. “Well, she didn’t--”

“Wait.” Your voice was cold and foreign. Finn, Poe, and Rey turned the corner from the patio, mouths parted in shock. “I’ll do it.”

A smile cracked Poe’s face. “You will?”

“Really?” Rey grinned.

“Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll be your spy.”

A flock of birds scattered from the yard, taking off into the dusky sky.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #handmaid au #little bird #fanfiction problems

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me - Chapter 4

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud

While it is a more peaceful existence, it is often a lonelier one. The safety and security of seclusion at times feeling like isolation. Their property…their home itself…is beautiful beyond anything she could have imagined; surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature, the dense and lush woodlands and the pristine beach and majesty of the ocean. Aside from the noise and activity of their own residence, they are very much shut off from the rest of the world; two hundred yards from their closest neighbour, tucked at the very end of a three kilometer stretch of recently paved road. Weeks can pass by before she even sees another human being, let alone speaks to them. There’d been scares and complications during the last three months of her final pregnancy and she’d had to relegate herself to living the life of a ‘shut in’ for the sake of both her health and that of her unborn daughter; never leaving the property aside from specialist appointments. Addie had been an incredibly determined little girl; wanting to make her debut long before it was safe for her to do so. It had been nothing short of a miracle when the doctors had managed to tide things over until week thirty-four, and everyone that had been providing care had thought she’d been in the NICU for the long haul. Only for her to prove them all wrong; being released after only a week and a half.

A fighter. All five pounds, ten ounces of her.

Normally Esme would spend the first part of her morning -after the older kids had been shipped off to school- on the beach; Addie in the carrier strapped to her body, Declan toddling along beside them, allowing him to stop every so often to splash and stomp in the water or play in the sand. Today they walk the road instead, Mac’s leash secured around her waist, one hand pushing the baby in her stroller, the other tightly gripping Declan by the wrist. He is quick and has no fear and won’t think twice about bolting into the woods or onto someone else’s property.

The pavement is hot but comfortable against their bare feet. It was one of the things that she had found so unusual at about Australia at first; no one ever seemed to wear shoes unless going into businesses, and even then, occasionally footwear would be noticeably absent. It is one of the charming ‘quirks’, going hand in hand with their laid-back natures and accents and hilarious slang words. An entirely different way of life; a refreshing and welcoming change of pace. Everyone seeming much more relaxed and calmer. Friendly. Always willing to help one another out, whether friends or strangers. And while Colorado had been lovely in its own right, it often felt too ‘fast.’ That life was constantly hectic, barely given you a chance to catch your breath, never mind admire your surroundings. Everything about Australia is incredible to her; the scenery, the people, the way you just take time to enjoy everyone and everything around you.

But it is still lonely at times. Outside of her own family, she doesn’t really have a life; no relatives that can visit, no friends to talk to or hang out with. It has been that way for years; long before she’d ever met Tyler. Once her first marriage had disintegrated, she’d begun the long and arduous journey of ‘rediscovery;’ more than content with the job she had, jumping from place to place, and living out of suitcases, never forming bonds, or putting down roots. She’s older now though; almost thirty-six. And lately she’s found herself craving more. She had thought that she was perfect content with just being a wife and a mother, but her heart has begun to yearn for something extra. Mom friends that she can talk to whether it be face to face or through a text, other women she could have lunch dates and engage in ‘girl talk’ with. Needing to be more than that someone’s spouse. Someone’s mother. Needing…wanting… to exist outside of the comforts of those two realms.

And she feels guilty for that. As if she’s taking every thing she already has for granted. That she is makes her selfish for wanting more and she should just be happy with the way her life already is. She has a lot more than a lot of women in the world: a supportive, loving, and helpful husband, five beautiful and amazing kids. Shouldn’t that be enough?

****

It is a beautiful morning. Brilliant sunshine, the sky a vivid shade of blue and cluttered with enormous, pure white clouds. The temperature is always cooler where they are; a few to several degrees lower thanks to the abundance of trees and the winds that roll in off the ocean. And she is comfortable in a pair of tattered and weather jean shorts and a hoodie over her t-shirt, one of her husband’s ball caps pulled low over her eyes. It’s become a habit that she wishes she could break herself of; a hat used more for disguise than a cute accessory or protection from the sun. That paranoia still lingers; that there could always be someone out there watching, hell bent on revenge and looking for the perfect opportunity to enforce it.

The walk is slow going; Declan routinely stopping to investigate things, whether it be rocks and sticks he finds particularly interesting, or wildlife that lingers at the tree line that he wants to watch. He is infinitely curious about the world around him, noticing everything and anything, big or small. He hasn’t met and animal or person he hasn’t liked, and vice vera. Out of the five, he’s the ‘charming’ one; able to melt hearts with those striking blue eyes and mischievous smile. Extremely affectionate and loving to everyone he meets, even old ladies in the grocery store who always seem to be enamoured by the thick red hair and the outrageously long eyelashes. While Esme may be biased -as all mothers are- he is just damn cute. A sweet little personality to go along with an even sweeter face. And she can’t resist pausing to take pictures of him with her phone; so adorable in his backwards baseball hat, loose tendrils of hair sticking out at the ears.

She sends one of the photos -of Declan holding a baby garter snake and flashing that trademark smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes (his father’s smile)- to her husband’s cell, along with a text that reads: see what cute babies you make?

The house closest to them has been up for sale for three months; a one-story white stucco place with elaborate Japanese inspired front gardens and an interlocking brick driveway. The property itself is much smaller that what they own, but no less stunning. She notices that not only has the ‘for sale’ sign been taken down, but there’s a bright blue Suzuki hatch back in the driveway; tailgate up, surrounded by boxes being unloaded by the home’s new owner. A tall, statuesque blond with vibrant pink, purple, and aquamarine highlights in her shoulder length tresses. And she watches -albeit briefly- as the woman continues to remove items from the back of the car. The couple that had lived there before had been in their eighties and absolutely hated kids and would complain about Millie and the twins ‘running wild and unsupervised’ in the road despite the fact that their father would have been less than ten feet away. Never directing the complaints to Tyler himself, but waiting until they’d see him leave and then knock on the door to confront her. So it’s nice to see someone younger. That hopefully won’t be such a miserable asshole.

The front door of the house has been left open and a pug comes waddling out; immediately noticing them at the end of the driveway, which starts off a round of barking from both the smaller dog and Mac and absolute excitement from Declan who begins repeatedly shrieking ‘oggie!’ and tries to yank his wrist out of her grasp. He’s incredibly strong for a little guy; heavy, solid, and powerful. And Mac -still barking yet thankfully not bolting- parks himself right in front of the toddler to block his path.

The woman in the driveway smiles and waves to them in greeting, and that’s when Esme makes the ultimate mistake; letting go of her son’s hand to wave back. He seizes the opportunity; taking off up the driveway the second he feels his mother’s grasp release.

“Oh my god Declan! Get back here!” she bellows, and unleashes Mac from around her waist, allowing the dog to chase after him. At the most he’ll grab the toddler by the back of the shirt or knock him to the ground. He’s done it before with each one of the kids; showing an incredible instinct -and with no training- to protect the little humans. “Declan William!” she hollers as she hurries after him and the dog. The latter now making friends with the initially startled pug; the new homeowner scooping Declan up and settling him on her hip.

“Well hey there cutie,” the blond gushes, gently taking hold of his hands as he tries to tear the unique and colourful glasses off her face. “Who are you?”

“This is Declan,” Esme responds. “And he’s not usually this much of a shit head, I swear.”

“You’re just a curious little man, aren’t you! You just wanted to come and meet Stan-Lee. Here, let me introduce you…” their new neighbour drops down to one knee and places Declan on her thigh, taking his hand in hers and then running it over the pug’s fur. The toddler giggling with the dog licks at his hand. “See that? He likes you already! He loves to meet new friends. Especially little ones.”

“I am so sorry,” Esme can feel the blush in her cheeks. “I’m usually not that stupid. Letting him get away like that. Especially on the road. Although no one but us ever comes down this far. We used to get people that would speed down here and park on our property to get into the woods. But we own all that, so my husband went out and scared the crap out of them with a hunting rifle and they never came back. You must think I’m a shitty parent.”

The blond waves off the mere suggestion. “Not at all. They get away sometimes. No matter how hard we try to stop them. Not to mention he’s crazy strong! Two? Two and a half?”

“Seventeen months. I know. He’s absurdly tall. But so is his dad. I am sorry he ran over like that. Bothering you and your dog and…”

“It’s no bother. Honest. I’m Salena,” she offers a hand, and Esme accepts it warmly.

“I’m Esme. And that’s Mac,” she nods at the German Shepherd as he playfights with the pug. “It’s actually Macaroni. Don’t ask. My son named him. And this is Adeline,” she gestures to the stroller. “Be we call her Addie.”

“Is this your little sister?” Salena speaks to Declan as she places him on the ground and takes him by the hand, leading him to the stroller. “How about you show me your little sister. I bet she’s a cutie, just like you. May I?” she asks Esme, taking hold of the corner of the blanket that covers the buggy.

“Of course.”

She peels the blanket back, then places a hand over her chest. “Oh my gracious! Look at you, pretty girl! Aren’t you just a darling! You’re just new.”

“Very new,” Esme confirms. “Only two weeks.”

“And you already look like that?” Salena looks over the top rim of her glasses as she eyes Esme from head to toe.

“Please! The clothes hide everything, trust me. I’m huge. And I feel gross.”

“You’re crazy! You look amazing. Are these your only two?”

“No. There’s three more,” she says, and the neighbour’s eyes widen. “Five-year-old twin boys and a soon to be six-year-old daughter. I know,’ she laughs. “I’m crazy.”

“I just can’t believe that body’s had five kids. Five’s the limit?”

“Four was the original limit but by husband wanted one more. I don’t know who is more insane. Me or him.”

“Well if these two are as beautiful as they are, I can only imagine what the other three look like. The red hair comes from your husband?”

“His mother. Declan’s the only one with it. The other three are blond. Or light brown. Whatever you want to call it. And the last one is all me. Which I feel I deserved after having four that look and act exactly like their father. All that work and getting fat and I don’t get one that looks like me? That is some bullshit.”

“Would you like to come in?” Salena inquires, nodding towards the house. “I have a breakfast casserole in the oven, and it is way too much for just one person, even with leftovers.”

“We shouldn’t. We were just on a walk before lunch and we don’t want to impose or…”

“You won’t be imposing at all. We can sit out back and chat some more. You’re the first person I’ve met since moving to Cookstown. I was staying a hotel right in town while waiting for the house to close. It would be nice to have a friend that’s close by.”

It’s tempting, and as much as she loves the idea of having a friend…especially a neighbour…she knows Tyler will be hesitant. He’s severely overprotective. Beginning after Dhaka and becoming increasingly worse over the years, hitting its peak after the McMann incident. In his mind, everyone is a possible threat. Including the neighbour with the funky glasses and the colorful hair.

“Just stay for a little while,” the other woman urges. “Just for something to eat and a little chat. I don’t bite. I promise.”

“It’s not that and it’s not you, believe me,” Esme attempts to explain. “This is going to sound really weird, but things went really bad before we moved here and I’m a little…apprehensive…when it comes to new people. It’s not personal. I swear. It’s all my own issues.”

“I promise I am not a serial killer. Just come in and have some lunch and let me spend some more with this cutie pie,” she tickles Declan’s stomach until he’s giggling hysterically and beaming up at her with the utmost adoration. “Just an hour,” she says. “If I bore you or I annoy before then, you can leave. I won’t hold you hostage.”

“Okay,” Esme finally agrees, as Salena scoops Declan up once more and leads the way towards the house.

****

He receives the text message just as he pulls his truck up in front of his father’s new place; a small, cottage style bungalow in a newly established retirement and nursing care community in Port Douglas. It had been bittersweet when he’d eventually found out that the old man had sold the family home. The years there hadn’t all been horrible; there’d been a handful of good memories made between those four walls. That house was the last physical tie that Tyler had had to his mother, and the new owners had bulldozed it with plans on custom build for the lot. The demolition had finally erased all the dark secrets that the place had once held. All the cruel words, all the tears, all the holes in the walls, all the beatings.

Killing the engine, his pulls his cell from the side pocket of his cargos and checks the message. A slow smile spreading across his face when he sees the picture of his youngest son, and the words that his wife had sent afterwards. If there is one thing they excel at, it’s making beautiful children. And the activities that help with the actual creation of them. He texts her back, telling her that they’ve just reached his dad’s place and have two stops afterwards close to home. That he loves her and the kids and will see them soon.

He begins to ask where she is but decides against it. It will only irritate her if she feels as if he’s keeping tabs on her and attempting to control her. She claims he’s overprotective to the point of suffocation, something that the therapist had said they’d touch on in the next session. Why he is the way he is and what he can do to either control it or stop it altogether. Tyler doesn’t necessarily want to be that way; he doesn’t want her to feel as if he’s locking her away in the house and controlling every move she makes. But he’s already come so close to losing her. Twice. And he doesn’t want to take the chance of there being a third time.

So he doesn’t ask. Even though it gnaws at his stomach that she’s out there. Off the property. With two of his kids in tow. Instead he pockets his cell, pulls the keys from the ignition, and then finishes the coffee that sits in one of the cup holders between the front seats.

“How are we going to explain me?” Ovi inquires. “Am I just going to be some guy that you hired or…?”

“He already knows all about you.”

“How much does he know? Or what does he know?”

“Your folks were friends of mine and Esme’s, they died, left us you in their will. Nice and simple. It doesn’t need to be complicated.”

The lying never stops. Not when it comes to the old life. To the old Tyler. But at this stage in the game -with his father not functioning properly in the first place- he doesn’t see the need to burden the old man with the truth. Chances are he’d be extremely pissed and/or disgusted and wouldn’t even remember what he’d been told the next day.

“And you think he believes it?” Ovi asks.

“Mate, I don’t even know if he knows who I am anymore. Chances are he doesn’t even remember I have a wife and kids. Or that I even told him about you already. But if he asks, that’s what we tell him. Got it?”

Ovi nods.

Tyler opens the compartment between their seats and fishes out the extra bottle of anti anxiety meds. It’s always smart to have them on hand; never knowing what situations or environments will bring on an attack. But he can already feel the heaviness in his chest and the dryness in his mouth, and he takes three of the pills and places them under his tongue, waiting for them to full dissolve before putting the bottle in his pocket.

It’s a hell of a way to live. Having to dope yourself up just to be able to get out of the goddamn car.

And he’s plain fucking sick of it.

****

The personal support worker greets them at the front door; a short and stocky Aboriginal woman clad in brightly patterned scrubs and bearing a name tag that identifies her as Maggie. She as kind, almost sad eyes, and a soft, pleasant smile and her grip is deceptively strong when she shakes their hands.

“You must be Trevor,” she addresses him.

“Tyler,” he gently corrects, and removing his sunglasses, hangs them on the neck of his t-shirt.

She offers an apologetic smile. “He told me he was expecting someone named Trevor.”

“Trevor was his brother. My uncle. He died twenty years ago. But I’m Tyler. His son.”

“This happens, you know,” she sighs. “Moment when they can’t remember the people in the present, but they remember the ones from the past. It isn’t personal. It’s just the disease. It’s a cruel thing; what it does to people.”

He nods in agreement, trying to at least appear sympathetic. But he feels nothing. No empathy. No pity. No sorrow that his father is slipping away. No regrets that they’ve let the years go by without even attempting a reconciliation.

“You just moved back, I hear,” Maggie comments, as she leads them from the front foyer and towards the back of the house. “Were you gone long?”

“Five and a half years.”

“That’s a long time to be away from home. What made you come back?”

“I came into some money and I was able to retire early,” Tyler explains. It’s not a total lie; that part did happen. It just wasn’t as easy as he’s making it sound. “My wife and I decided this was the best place to raise our kids.”

“Well I can’t argue with that. Is this them?” Maggie pauses in the hall between the living room and kitchen, nodding at the frame photographs on the wall. “Your kids?”

It’s their school pictures from last year when they’d still been in Telluride. Before they’d ever heard of Michael McMann. And one of Declan when he’d just been a baby; not even crawling or walking yet.

Tyler nods. “They’re a year older now. And we added another. A little girl. Two weeks old.”

Maggie arches an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you have five kids?”

“Yup.”

“Five kids,” she breathes and shakes her head. “Boy, you’re either both brave as hell or you’re both just plain crazy.”

“Maybe both?” Ovi suggests, and then laughs when Tyler directs a playful elbow into his stomach.

“I actually have six kids,” Tyler says. “If we count him,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “When he’s not being a smart ass.”

Maggie looks Ovi up and down. “You’re one of his…” she nods at Tyler. “…kids?”

The young man nods.

“And just how does that work? When you look like you do…” she looks at Tyler, then at Ovi. “…and you look like you do.”

“They took me in,” Ovi explains. “Six years ago. After my parents died. It was in my mother’s will. That I was supposed to go to Tyler. So…. here I am.”

“Here he is,” Tyler confirms, and tousles Ovi’s hair. “Congratulations. It’s a boy. All six foot one and two hundred pounds of him.”

“He’s not my father, but he is my dad,” Ovi says. “And that’s good enough for me.”

Maggie gives a slow nod of agreement, and then once again leads the way down the hall. “Your father insisted we put those pictures up as soon as he moved in. He’s extremely proud of his grandkids.”

Tyler doubts it. On both counts.

“He’s having one of his ‘okay’ days,” she says. “Woke up knowing what day is, what month, what year.”

“But thinks his dead brother is going to show up,” Tyler tosses out. And again, nothing. Not even the slightest hint of sadness. The man doesn’t deserve any. Not after the life he’s lived. Not with all the things he’s said and all the things he’s done.

“He may have just screwed the name up,” she suggests. “I mean, you’re his son. He obviously knows your name.”

“I haven’t been his son in a long time,” Tyler says. It doesn’t hurt to admit. It just is what it is. In the same way that Ovi may still bear the Mahajan name, but his father had stopped being a part of his life a long time ago because of his own selfish and evil choices. Just as Tyler’s old man had destroyed their relationship with the use of a belt or a fist or whatever else his father could get his hands on.

“You’ll always be his son,” Maggie’s tone has a scolding tone to it. “He helped give you life.”

“That’s about all he did. He knocked my mum up. That’s it. I know you mean well, but you shouldn’t be lecturing about how things are between him and I. I lived with him. You didn’t. So how about we just cut the chit chat and you mind your own business.”

She holds her hands up un surrender, then nods towards the sliding glass door that leads out onto a small patio. “He’s out there. Likes to sit in the sun and listen to the birds. He’s a very sweet man. Very gentle. Very good to us.”

Tyler gives a derisive snort. It will be a cold day in hell before he acknowledges any of those traits. Because before the old man’s brain started going on him, he was a tyrant. Controlling and manipulative. Drinking far too much. Treating his mother like a slave and then degrading her and beating her if she dared stand up for herself. And when she’d died, all that cruelty and abuse had been turned onto his only child. He could forgive what his father had done to him, but there’s no goddamn way he’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to his mum.

****

His father sits in an old porch swing; frail and sickly looking, a far cry from the man he’d been the last time Tyler had seen him six years ago. When he’d still carried himself with a hint of cockiness and superiority; shoulders still broad, eyes still icy and intimidating. He’s a shell of his former self, and Tyler almost hates himself for viewing this as a form of karma. That after years of treating people horribly, the old man has been reduced to needing help from complete strangers to perform even the smallest of tasks.

“William, “ Maggie speaks from the doorway. “You have company. Your son and your...” she looks at Ovi for clarification as to just who he is.

“Grandson,” Tyler finishes for her.

“Your son and your grandson are here,” she continues. “They’ve come to visit.”

Tyler gives her a small, appreciative smile and then waits until she steps back into the house and shuts the door before turning to Ovi. “Why don’t you go and find that list he supposedly made of the things we need to fix. Probably on the fridge or the kitchen table or...”

“TV,” his father speaks up. “It’s by the TV.”

Tyler smirks. “Go check there. See what you can do on your own. I’ll be in in a few.”

Ovi nods, then gives a nervous smile and a small wave when he notices Tyler’s father watching him, a puzzled look on his face.

“Go on,” Tyler encourages. “I need a few minutes here.”

“Okay,” Ovi agrees, and slips back into the house.

“Hey dad,” Tyler greets, as he grabs one of the patio chairs and places it facing the swing, sighing heavily as he sinks down into it. “You know who I am right?”

His father nods, then leans forward and takes a hold of Tyler’s chin, turning his face to one side, then the other. “They let you keep that fur in the army?”

“I’m not in the army anymore. I haven’t been in it for a long time.”

“The war is over? They sent you home? From Afghanistan?”

“I was in Afghanistan sixteen years ago. The war’s been over for a while. That one at least.”

“So you’re home now?”

Tyler nods.

“I don’t know if I have enough room here for you. There’s not a lot of space. I had to get rid of the old place and downsize and...”

“Dad, I have my own place to live. In Cookstown. With my wife and my kids.”

He looks puzzled. “You have more than one now? When did that happen? Wasn’t Sarah just getting ready to have Austin?”

Tyler sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. “Sarah and I haven’t been together in a long time. Since Austin died. That’s almost sixteen years ago now.”

His father cocks his head to the side, confusion in his eyes and lining his face. “It is?”

“I got married again. You were at the wedding. In Sydney. Same little place you and mum got married at. Near the opera house.”

“Tiny little dark haired thing?”

“Esme. You made a joke about her having a weird name.”

“Esme...Esme...” his eyes squint as he tries to remember. “...cute wee thing. I like her. She’s a sweetheart. You’re still married to her?”

“Six years and counting. She’s still putting up with me somehow. Do you remember meeting your granddaughter? Amelia? I brought her to the old house.”

His father nods.

“She’s going to be six in a couple months. I’ve also got twin boys that just turned five. Tyler and Tanner and another boy that’s seventeen months, Declan. And we just had another baby two weeks ago. A little girl. Adeline.”

The old man smiles. “Your mother’s name.”

“We call her Addie for short.”

“That’s nice. Real nice. That you named her after your mother. She loved you so much, you know. Your mother. You were her pride and joy. The light of her life. I’d never seen her so as happy as she was the day you were born. She was a good mom to you. A real good mom.”

“Yeah....” Tyler clears his throat noisily, trying to rid himself of the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his windpipe. “...she was.”

“She’s a good mom? Your wife?”

“She’s an incredible mom. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. Or for a better woman to give me children.”

“Six years?” his father asks. That you’ve been together?”

“Six years and a couple of months,” Tyler confirms. “I haven’t screwed this one up. Not yet, anyway.”

“Must be a good woman. A strong woman. To put up with the likes of you. You’ve always been a handful.” It isn’t said with malice; there’s a soft smile curving the old man’s lips.

“She keeps hanging in there. Keeps giving me another chance every time I screw up. Which has been a lot, unfortunately. But she never gives up on us. On me.”

“Don’t let her get away. You’ll regret it if you do. And treat her right. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’re better than that. You always have been. You’re better than me. Thank Christ.”

“Well I guess that’s one thing I do have to thank you for,” Tyler muses. “Showing me how not to be.”

“And you’re back home? In Australia?”

“We were in Colorado. We just move back six months ago. We should get you out to the house. You’d love it. It’s right on the beach. Awesome spot. And you’d get to see Amelia again. And meet your other grandkids.”

His father smiles. “I’d like that.”

“Maybe for Amelia’s birthday,” Tyler suggests, and then stares down at his hands; palms up, studying all the callouses and scars that years on the job have left behind.

There’s so much he wants to say. Things that he needs to get off his chest in regard to the nightmare that he’d lived through growing up. He wants to punish his father; make him feel even the slightest bit of regret and remorse for all the things he’s said and done.

But he doesn’t. Because whatever he says will never come close to the torment that’s always taking place in father’s broken mind.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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