#FOR TEN YEARS. when i was just busy. i was distracted. so much came up. things got serious. my dream became clear and i had to chase it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punkshort · 2 months

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i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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msbluebell · 5 months

Text

How We Fall For People Like James Somerton

We're all joking, but this James Somerton thing has me really fucked up.

I wasn't a huge fan of James. I saw a few of his videos and liked them. In the ones I saw he was calm and explained things straightforwardly and even the one or two times he said things against white women...well, that's language I've been seeing on Tumblr since I joined back in my tweenage years. I thought it was just a dismissive joke pointing out a frank reality.

I didn't watch him too much. Just a few videos. I kept meaning to watch more, but I didn't because sometimes I wanted something easier. But I regarded him sell because of how informed he seemed.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He SEEMED informed. He spoke confidently and sometimes quoted queer sounding articles and I trusted him blindly. And why? Because he was giving me information that SEEMED well researched.

Illumanaughtii too. I WAS a consistent fan of hers before other youtubers came out. Because she presented information really well and I like hand drawn characters and because she read academic sounding quotes. I trusted her and her information was stollen. And I feel like a fool for ever having trusted her now, but at least her stollen facts were apparently accurate. Maybe.

James though, he straight up lied. Todd in the Shadows went through a lot of effort to expose those lies. He did so much research that I didn't bother to do. And he admitted he only did it because he happened to know people more informed than him that noticed the lies and went down a rabbit hole.

And maybe if I was more involved I would have noticed. But that's beside the point. what's getting me is I didn't bother to check myself, I just blindly trusted.

And the worst part is I can see why it happened.

I work.

I work, and then I get home, and when I get home I stress. I stress about work I have to do tomorrow, or classes, or finding a new job that actually pays a livable wage. And to escape that stress I go online to AO3, or tumblr, but especially Youtube.

Because I like youtube, I like to have noise in the background while I work. I like to listen to things while I read. And some of the time it's ASMR videos, or watching someone cook something. But mostly? It's history things or video essays.

And when I'm working, or reading, I'll hear a fact, and I'll look up, and I'll think "Huh, that's interesting to know, I didn't know that." And I won't think anything about it.

Because I'm busy, or I'm tired. I'm tired from work, and I don't want to do more work. Or sometimes it's mental health. This is my coping mechanism. I'm trying to learn things, do something to distract myself. I'm not looking to disprove things.

In other words I'm lazy. Or, if I'm being kind to myself, I'm tired.

Maybe if the topic was something I was an expert in I would have noticed. I'm a former ballerina, I'm a failed history major dropout. Maybe if he'd said something like "Holodomor never happened" or "Boudica is a Finnish folk hero" I'd have noticed. Maybe.

But he didn't, and I didn't notice. I assumed he did the work, and why?

Because surely a gay man wouldn't spend hours on youtube talking about Queer history if he wasn't passionate. Because he, a queer man, would surely know about queer history. Surely he wouldn't want to spread lies and hate. And he's quoting from books and articles so why wouldn't I trust him?

My trust was blind and unfounded.

And now I'm reeling from that. I'm reeling because I'm starting to feel like I can't trust a lot of people. How can I listen to any Youtuber casually now?

I can't, I never should have assumed I could.

Now every informative video feels like I need to do tens of hours of research just to be sure what I'm hearing is true. I feel like I can't trust anything unless I do.

James Somerton took my trust.

And it's not only that either. That's not what scares me the most. It's that there are THOUSANDS of people like me. Millions like me. Who are learning something from a video or a tweet or a tumblr post from someone they assume is an expert and are blindly trusting because they assume they can trust it. They don't intend to do their own research because they're tired, or don't know how. And that scars me. I was a history major, I studied tyrants and misinformation and the rise of propaganda, and I, with all my tools to notice, was still blind.

You cannot blindly trust a video, you cannot blindly trust a tweet, you especially cannot blindly trust a tumblr post.

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPOGANDA

#hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #james somerton #plagerism #misinformation

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seonghwaddict · 2 months

Text

EYES DON’T LIE — iii. a worthy competitor.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times.

pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. swearing.

word count. 2.1k. rating. pg-13

chapter ii. chapter iii. chapter iv.

yunho’s life post high school was blissful, to say the least.

he went to his dream university and just like you graduated as the top student of that year. not long after that he landed a job at a relatively large tech company and after promotion upon promotion, he became the multi-billion-won company’s CTO. He lived lavishly; a shining example of what he was able to achieve thanks to his determination and unwavering passion.

at least until all of that came crashing down.

because the CEO just had to get involved in activities that became the downfall of the company. unbeknownst to him, the CEO had been part of an underground piracy organisation and sold the private information of millions of users to malicious parties. when the news got to the police, well… it was chaos. law enforcement swarmed the headquarters to detain the CEO as well as anyone that was identified on the list of people involved. a mess that he had no part of.

in hindsight, yunho should be carrying more than the company card and a suitcase when traveling for business trips, during which all this news got out. but how was he supposed to know he’d go from a highly respected worker to jobless in a matter of 24 hours?

and so he found himself in a shitty hotel, paying with the few bills he could find after rummaging around in his bag. the company card declined when he tried booking a different hotel—the fancy one the company had paid for forced him to leave after they found out he was affiliated with that company. for obvious reasons, he had been confused until he checked his phone for the first time that day and found hundreds of notifications flooding the lock screen that depicted picture of him and his best friend.

speaking of his best friend.

as soon as got into his his temporary bedroom—aka the hotel room that smelled so odd he opened the window as wide as he could and stuck his head out to avoid the stench—he called the man he’s known since they were toddlers, ranting about the situation. unsurprisingly, he found the situation immensely funny.

“so you’re poor now?”

“no, mingi, i just don’t have my personal card. i’ll go withdraw money tomorrow morning.” yunho propped his camera up on the small desk opposite the bed, leaning back in the creaking wooden chair as he rubbed at his temples, dreading the oncoming headache he was starting to feel. “but i’m jobless, for now.”

mingi pursed his lips, nose scrunching as he looked at his phone screen, watching how distressed yunho looked. “how can i help you, then?”

a shrug was the first response he got. “just-” the rotating chair squeaked as yunho leaned a bit further to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before reverting his gaze back to his phone. “just talk to me about something else, distract me for now.”

“okay then,” the fake blond’s face brightened and a wide grin spread across his face as he sat up and leaned closer. “so, you know my boss hongjoong, right?”

and so the next ten minutes were filled with him gossiping about how his boss seemed to have the hots for a cute reporter. yunho listened, grateful to get his mind off his current predicament, but barely registered any words being said. he occasionally replied with agreeing hums or other reactions suitable for the context, but he couldn’t help but feel the tell tale signs of his body wanting to rest. mingi seemed to catch on as he paused his story and squinted at his phone screen, catching the way his best friend’s eyes drooped with fatigue.

“hello? earth to yunho?”

he stirred awake, snorting in a breath before yawning. he checked the time on his very expensive watch briefly before his eyes flickered back up to mingi.

“you look tired, man,” worry was written all over his face, sure he could already see dark circles forming under yunho’s eyes. “get some rest.”

“yeah… yeah, that’s a good idea.” yunho spoke through his yawn, hand covering his open mouth.

they said their goodbyes and ended the call. yunho sat in silence for a moment. he turned the chair, inspecting the bed. it was sad, small and pretty empty. wishing he was back home on his soft king sized bed, he poked the mattress, frowning at the firmness before pulling back and looking at the pillows. well, pillow. singular. while the mattress felt to stiff, the pillow the opposite. he got up to check the little closet for another pillow that he could stack on top to add some firmness, but to no avail.

after a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask the guy at the lobby if he could possibly have an extra pillow. before head for the door, he stopped in the bathroom, checking his teeth and brushing his hand through his dark hair, a little overgrown and resembling a mullet. he fixed the tie of his suit that he had yet to take off and left the bathroom, his hand wrapping around the door handle of the room and pulling it open.

as he stepped out, his temporary neighbour seemed to have just arrived. turning to greet the stranger, he stopped in his tracks just as she had.

what a perfect end to his day. the cherry on top, really.

truthfully, he hadn’t given you much thought after your high school graduation. (he actually did. a friend of his went to the same university as you and he’d occasionally ask him if he knew how you were doing). but seeing you now, he realised you hadn’t changed much. of course, you seemed to have a grown a tiny bit and you looked more mature, but those eyes—those soft eyes, so pretty, red and puffy through your tears—were undeniably yours. he recognised you before he recognised the state you were in, a sobbing mess. in all the years he had known you, he doesn’t recall ever seeing you cry. seeing you like this, with flushed and tear stained cheeks, made his head spin for a moment.

before he could open his mouth to say anything, you were gone. he watched the door of your room fall shut, followed by a thud from inside the room. what it may have been—a kick to the wall, a punch, an item thrown across the room—he wouldn’t have been able to tell as he stared at the door dumbly. he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but what else was he supposed to do when he ran into you of all people in this obscure hotel and somehow ended up next to each other?

watching you disappear through that door reminded him too much of the last time he saw you.

though it had been a warm summer, it rained on the last day of school. having checked the weather, he brought an umbrella with him. but as he watched you stand front of the entrance of the school, alone and looking out into the rain without a jacket, let alone an umbrella, with a conflicted frown and nothing to protect you from the rain but the roof, he found himself caring about you. before he realised it, he stood in front of you, holding out his black umbrella and consequently getting a little wet.

you couldn’t help but stare at him, your gaze switching between his unusually sincere face and hand extending the red handle of the umbrella. you shook your head, insisting that you won’t take it, but he cut you off.

“come on, it’s just an umbrella, i have no problem walking home in the rain.”

“no, please, yunho, it’s your umbrella, i’ll figure something out. you’ll get sick.”

after some more back and forth, he offered a compromise. you could walk home together.

and that’s exactly what the two of you did. you walked side by side, squeezed together under the umbrella, droplets of rain occasionally hitting your right shoulder or his left shoulder. despite the weather, it was oddly peaceful. a steady conversation flowed between the two of you, free of any teasing or insults. you weren’t quite sure why he was being so nice, but you supposed it was the last you’d see each other before heading separate ways.

unfortunately, the two of you thought at the time, you lived in the same apartment building. while you lived on the third floor, he was up on the fifth. he decided it only made sense to walk you to your place first. unlike your walk outside, the short journey from the elevator to your front door was dead silent. even when you got to the front door, neither of you spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat, his voice almost… emotional?

“i guess this is it, huh?”

“yeah… i guess… have fun finding a better, funnier, smarter rival in college.”

“nah, i don’t think i’ll even bother.”

“hm? really? i thought you’re all about that competition.”

“yeah, but you’re the only person worth competing with.”

he’d never forget the way your eyes widened comically as you looked at him after that, a blush so faint it was easy to miss in this horrible lighting. maybe all the people saying you’d make a good couple were on to something. still, he knew you’d never see each other again, there was no point in trying anything. his cell phone rang, interrupting the tense silence. it was his mother, telling him to hurry and get home.

“i… uh, i have to go… but i’ll see you around, someday?”

you smiled, a smile so genuine his stomach did a cartwheel.

“i’ll see you around, someday.”

you stared at each other for a moment, stood across from each other in the hallway. he wasn’t sure what to do. should he hug you? should he just turn and leave? you seemed just as conflicted. after a long minute, you both extended your hands for a handshake at the same time. a small laugh was shared as your hands intertwined in a slow handshake, holding onto each other a few moments too long. his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand gently. he gave it a small squeeze before letting go and bowing his head, winking playfully.

“good luck out there, y/n.”

“likewise, yunho.”

and with the you disappeared through the front door, much like you had moments ago. though at that time you didn’t look so heartbroken. eventually he got himself to put one foot in front of the other and head to the lobby for his original mission.

he thanked the lobby man quietly as he was handed two more pillows, his mind still occupied with you. you’d think that whatever he felt for you on that last day would’ve dissipated by now, but that was quite the opposite. despite it having been so many years, seeing you again felt like a punch to his throat.

on his way back to his room, he thought about knocking on your door for a split second. in the end, he concluded you probably wouldn’t want to talk to him. he wasn’t sure what he would’ve said anyway. hey, it’s really nice seeing you again, by the way did i mention that i’ve realised i had a massive crush on you that time we said goodbye and those feelings haven’t gone away?

no, absolutely fucking not.

he nearly slapped himself at the hypothetical monologue, dragging himself to his hotel room. a soft thump resounded as he tossed the pillows on his bed before undressing and getting under the thin covers. the time it took for him to fall asleep was unclear as he stared up at the ceiling. whoever rented the room above him seemed to want to make a joke in the ground, thundering stomps making the ceiling and his open window shake.

had he not stepped out at that time to get pillow and bumped into you, he would’ve probably been cursing and swearing to himself to get out of this place first thing in the morning. but, considering who his current neighbour was, he couldn’t help but think…

would one or two more days really be so bad?

[ lilo's notes . . . ] hii sorry it took so long to update this, i hope this makes up for it 💔💔 we finally get a little gimped into yunho’s feelings!! yippee!! i’m sorry he comes off as a little stuck up near the beginning, but please understand he went from a luxurious suite to a hotel on the brink of falling apart; i think most people would be a little disappointed 🙏🙏 he’s not a bad guy i promise

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

[ taglist | series + permanent . . . ] @yuyusuyu @diorwoo @loveyluv7 @ad0rechuu @h-nji @nakiiko @lelaleleb @moon-gyus @baribaaari @bvidzsoo @kunikku @kyeos4ng @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbbg @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#★ — › EYES DON'T LIE !#cromernet #wonderlandnet #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho reactions #yunho angst #yunho scenarios #yunho headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez drabble #yunho drabble #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez angst

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robertreich · 2 years

Video

youtube

The Truth Behind “Self-Made” Billionaires

Why do we glorify “self-made” billionaires?

Well, being “self-made” is a seductive idea —it suggests that anybody can get to the top if they're willing to work hard enough. It’s what the American Dream is all about.

If Kylie Jenner can become a “self-made” billionaire at age 21, so can you and I!

Even as wages stay stagnant and wealth inequality grows, it’s a comfort to think that we’re all simply one cosmetics company and some elbow grease away from fortune.

Unfortunately, a nice idea is all it is. Self-made billionaires are a myth. Just like unicorns.

The origins of self-made billionaires are often depicted as a “rags-to-riches” rise to the top fueled by nothing but personal grit and the courage to take risks — like dropping out of college, or starting a business in a garage.

But in reality, the origins of many billionaires aren’t so humble. They’re more “riches-to-even-more-riches” stories, rooted in upper-middle class upbringings.

How much risk did Bill Gates take on when his mother used her business connections to help Microsoft land a deal-making software for IBM?

Elon Musk came from a family that owned an emerald mine during the time of Apartheid South Africa.

Jeff Bezos’ garage-based start was funded by a quarter-million dollar investment from his parents.

If your safety net to joining the billionaire class is remaining upper class – that’s not pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.

Nor is failing to pay your fair share of taxes along the way.

Along with Musk and Bezos, Michael Bloomberg, George Soros, and Carl Icahn have all gotten away with paying ZERO federal income taxes some years. That’s a big helping hand, courtesy of legal loopholes and American taxpayers who pick up the tab, all while our tax dollars subsidize the corporations owned by these so-called “self-reliant” entrepreneurs.

Did you get a thank you card from any of them? I sure as hell didn’t.

Other common ways that billionaires build their coffers off the backs of others include paying garbage wages and subjecting workers to abusive labor conditions.

But portraying themselves as rugged individuals who overcame poverty or “did it on their own” remains an effective propaganda tool for the ultrawealthy. One that keeps workers from rising up collectively to demand fairer wages – and one that ultimately distracts from the role that billionaires play in fostering poverty in the first place.

Billionaires say their success proves they can spend money more wisely and efficiently than the government. Well they have no problem with government spending when it comes to corporate subsidies.

When arguing for even more tax breaks, they claim each “dollar the government takes from [them] is a dollar less” for their “critical” role in expanding prosperity for all Americans, through job creation and philanthropy. Well that’s rubbish.

50 years of tax cuts for the wealthy have failed to trickle down. As a result of Trump’s tax cuts, 2018 saw the 400 richest American families pay a lower tax rate than the middle class. And U.S. billionaire wealth grew by $2 trillion during the first two years of a pandemic that was economically catastrophic for just about everyone else. They want to have their cake, everyone else’s cake, and eat it, too.

Behind every ten-figure net worth is systemic inequality. Inherited wealth. Labor exploitation. Tax loopholes. And government subsidies.

To claim these fortunes are “self-made” is to perpetuate a myth that blames the wealth gap on the choices of everyday Americans.

Billionaires are not made by rugged individuals. They’re made by policy failures. And a system that rewards wealth over work.

Know the truth.

#youtube #video #videos #billionaires #money #wealth #inequality #economics #elon musk #jeff bezos #tesla #amazon

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

Note

Hi! This is my first ever request and I’m so excited 🤩 Could you please do Ambrosia and Coriander with Wrecker?

I love the character trope “A falls first, B falls harder”, so maybe fem!reader A and Wrecker B?

Fireworks

Summary: You make fireworks for a living, just like your parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. You love the colors and the explosions. And when you meet Wrecker, who loves many of the same things that you do, you hit it off. You fall first...but, as it happens, he falls harder.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 2377

Warnings: Heated making out

Prompts: Ambrosia - love is reciprocated, Coriander - lust

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: SO! This is my first time writing Wrecker, and I'm not sure how I did. So please if anyone has an opinion on it, please let me know.

You smile warmly up at Wrecker, “I appreciate you going out of your way to help with this,” You say lightly as Wrecker sets the crate on the floor.

“It’s not a problem, I was there and happy to help.” His grin is wide, “Besides, I’m kind of curious as to how you do this.” Wrecker adds as he gestures around you. “I’m sure Tech could walk me through it, but it’s not quite the same as seeing it for myself.”

“You’re exactly right! Tech is very clever, and I’m sure he could give you the bare bones details, but a lot of this is passed down through oral tradition.” You place your hands on your hips, a proud grin lifting your lips, “And, my family has been making fireworks since before space travel, so I’m something of an expert.”

“What a coincidence, so am I.” Wrecker teases, “Are you sure you want this crate here?”

“True! Explosives are explosives, whether they’re for show or for destruction.” You fold your arms, “And yeah, I have to dig through it to sort it properly anyway, so better to leave it here.”

Wrecker looks around a little more, “You guys seem busy.”

“Well, the fireworks festival is happening soon.” You point out, “But really, this is nothing. You should see us in the week leading up to the festival.” You grin at him, before you crouch to enter the code to unlock the crate, “Of course, the payoff is definitely worth it, in the end.”

Wrecker opens his mouth to say something when a shout from the second floor distracts you both. Your older brother and your father are screaming at each other, and you sigh. “I should go deal with that.” You stand, “Thanks for the help, Wrecker, I mean it.”

“Sure.” He eyes the screaming men, “You want me to stick around-?”

You laugh, warm and bright, “My brother and my father are both just too stubborn for their own good, but there’s no danger here. I promise.”

Wrecker eyes the screaming men for a moment longer, and then turns his gaze back to you, a grin crossing his face, “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Thank you though, you’re sweet.”

“Ah, well…” His face heats slightly, “I try.”

A giggle falls from your lips, he really is too cute, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Wrecker watches you for a moment longer, as you hurry up the stairs to defuse your brother and father’s fight, and then he leaves out the way he came in.

It’s been almost a year since Wrecker and his brothers settled on Pabu with their younger sister, and they’ve since made a home for themselves here.

You met Wrecker about eight months ago.

It had been an accident, you hadn’t been paying attention, and he hadn’t been paying attention and the pair of you crashed into each other. You weren’t hurt, but he did manage to knock you to the ground, simply because of how much bigger than you he is.

At the time he had been so apologetic and worried about hurting you, that he spent a whole ten minutes apologizing to you. It took you another fifteen minutes to reassure him that he didn’t hurt you, and that the scrapes and bruises that you were covered in happened before he ran into you.

After that, you seemed to bump into him everywhere, though you never actually ran into him again.

Slowly, over time, you and Wrecker developed a close friendship. You’ve come to cherish him as a close friend, and are more than happy to spend your free time with him.

Well, okay, that’s not exactly true.

You do consider him a dear friend, but you also want more. You’ve long since fallen in love with him, but you’re hesitant to ask for more than friendship. After all, if he doesn’t feel the same, then you’ll have just ruined the best friendship of your life.

So you keep your mouth shut, and you enjoy the time you spend together, and you appreciate Wrecker’s kindness and warmth, and you silently pine over him, while hoping that he doesn’t notice.

The last thing you want is to lose your best friend, after all.

You rub the back of your neck as you hurry up the stairs to your family. You can think about this later, there are more important things to worry about.

It has been almost 6 weeks since the day that Wrecker helped you bring a crate into the warehouse, and the Firework Festival is almost here. Almost, in the sense that it’s tonight, and you’ve been running around like a maniac for the last week trying to get things in order.

In terms of relationship, nothing has changed between you and Wrecker…at least, you don’t think anything has changed.

These last couple of weeks, Wrecker has been acting odd around you.

Seeming a little nervous and jumpy, unwilling to meet your eyes at times, and randomly changing the subject whenever you try to press him if something is wrong.

You’re beginning to worry that you’ve done something wrong, that maybe you said or did something that bothered him and he’s just too nice to call you out.

Stars, you hope not. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted.

Unfortunately, you’ve been too busy the last week to have a proper conversation with him. It’s everything you can do to manage a simple hi when you see him on the street before running off to your next chore.

And even with those small conversations, there’s still something off with how Wrecker responds.

You grip your comm for a moment, staring at Wrecker’s contact information for a moment, before you grit your teeth and take a risk.

Hey Wreck, you up?

Yeah, course. What’s up?

The Fireworks are tonight, you gonna watch them?

That’s the plan. Omega wants to watch them on the beach.

Ooh, that’s a good place.

For a moment, you hesitate, before you type your next message.

I was going to ask if you wanted to watch them with me, but since you already have plans.

I’ll just watch them with my brothers

Wait

Wait!

I’d like to watch them with you

If the offer is available?

What about Omega?

Hunter, Echo, and Tech will be with her.

She won’t even notice I’m gone.

Where are we watching them?

On top of the warehouse, I’ll bring food!

You don’t have to do that

I want to. I’ll see you tonight!!

I’ll be there.

Some of your anxiety fades when Wrecker agrees to watch the fireworks with you. If nothing else, he still wants to be your friend. And then you jump when you hear your mother shout at you from the hallway of your apartment.

Kriff, you’re going to be late!

You roll, literally, out of bed, landing on the floor with a thump, “I’m okay!” You shout to your mother before you scramble to your fresher to take the world’s quickest shower.

And then you pull on your clothes, and hurry out of your bedroom while pulling your hair into a tail, “Sorry, sorry! I overslept!” You call to your mother, who shoves a breakfast sandwich into your hands as you balance on one foot to pull your boots on.

“Hurry up, everyone is waiting for us!” Your mother rushes you.

“I know, I know! I’m coming!”

Wrecker is nervous. Nervous with a capital N, even.

He knows that he’s a big guy, he’d have to be blind to not see that. And he knows that he’s not as careful as, say, Tech or Echo. And he knows that he’s a bit too loud and a bit too exuberant, and that he’s not everyone’s cup of Caf.

He also knows that his pretty spark has been working herself to the point of exhaustion for the last week, and that she’s not had time to do anything for herself, and even so, she still made time to say hi to him every day.

Even when she’s covered in soot, and has dark circles under her eyes, and her hair is pulled into a messy knot because it hasn’t been washed in a week, she’s still the most stunning woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

She still smiles at him like…like most women smile at Hunter, and stars, he loves her so much.

Echo figured it out before he did, because of course he did. He just flashed a small, sad, smile before teasingly telling Wrecker that when he fell for her, he hit every branch on the way down.

Wrecker figures that he’s probably right, he normally is about this kind of stuff, but it’s not actually helpful.

“Wreck,” Echo says, his voice gentle and kind, as he pulls Wrecker out of his thoughts. “You’re already friends with her, just talk to her.”

“But…what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, that’s a risk that you have to take.” Echo replies.

“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything-”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“...no.”

Echo smiles at him, “Go. I’ll cover for you with Omega.”

“Thanks Echo.”

Wrecker makes the walk from the house he shares with his siblings to the warehouse, and he uses the outside stairs to get to the roof. She’s already there, sitting in a comfy chair next to a table covered in various foods and drinks.

Her hair is loose and freshly dyed, likely to celebrate the festival, and she’s wearing a pretty dress that he’s never seen before. She looks…gorgeous. And somehow Wrecker falls even more in love with her.

Her gaze slides over to him, and a blinding smile crosses her face, “Wreck! You made it!”

“I said I would,” Wrecker replies as he steps onto the roof, “Has all of this stuff always been here?”

“Hm? Oh, I pulled them out of the shed,” She replies as she motions to a small building a little bit away, “But it wasn’t hard.”

Wrecker crosses over to her and sinks into another chair, though he hasn’t taken his gaze off of her, “I see you dyed your hair new colors.”

She laughs, “New colors for a new firework festival!”

“And a new dress?”

“Mother bought it for me. Do you like it?”

“It suits you.” Wrecker replies, finally averting his gaze to look at the food on the table, “Did you just hit up every fast food place between your apartment and here?”

“Mm, just about.” She falls silent for a moment, “Hey, Wreck?”

“Yeah?”

“Did I do something to make you mad at me?” She asks, and Wrecker’s gaze snaps to her face, she looks deeply anxious, “You’ve been acting…odd, these last couple of weeks. And I know I haven’t been a good friend, because of how busy I’ve been-”

“Woah, woah. Hold on. Did someone tell you that you’ve been a bad friend?” Wrecker asks, his brow furrowing, “Because you’ve been so busy this last week, that I was worried that you were going to collapse from exhaustion before the festival.”

“Well, no.” She admits, “but I can’t think of any other reason. You’ve been really nervous around me, and I can’t figure out what I did-”

“...you noticed that?”

“Of course I noticed, I’m not blind.” She sounds hurt and offended, “I just want to know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Wrecker hastens to reassure, “If anything, this is my problem.”

“Wreck, will you just tell me? Please?”

He exhales nervously, and rubs the back of his neck, “I…appear to have fallen in love with you. Hard. Echo says that I ‘hit every branch on the way down’.” He risks a glance at her face, and his heart sinks slightly when he sees the look of surprise, “And I just didn’t want to make you nervous. Or to lose our friendship.”

She exhales slowly, “Well, I can honestly say that I wasn’t expecting that.” There’s something strange in her voice, and Wrecker’s not quite sure what emotion it is. He’s never heard it before.

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t expect it, I’m happy with our friendship-”

She blinks at him, “Wrecker, that’s the thing, I do feel the same way.”

It’s his turn to blink at her dumbly, “You…do?”

“Of course. You’re so kind and gentle and handsome…plus you love explosions as much as I do. How could I not? I’ve been crushing on you for months now.” She admits with a small smile.

Wrecker just stares at her for a long moment, “Huh.” He finally says, “I…legitimately don’t know what to say to that. I kind of expected you to tell me to kriff off.”

She laughs, “I would never. Even if I wasn’t interested for some reason.” She considers him for a moment, and then she stands and walks over to him and gingerly settles herself on his lap.

Wrecker immediately slides his arms around her, and watches her curiously. This isn’t the first time he’s touched her like this, she’s a very tactile person after all, but she’s never sat on his lap before.

She flashes a small smile up at him, and then she leans up and presses her lips against his.

The kiss is soft and gentle…and shoots white hot desire through his entire body. He tries, he really does, to keep the kiss chaste and innocent. But the more she presses her lips against his, the harder it is to control himself.

And then she presses her lips to his one more time, and Wrecker just snaps. One of his hands tangles in her hair as he cups the back of her head, while the other one firmly grips her hip and pulls her flush against him.

He’s still careful to not hurt her, but even that thought fades to the background as she releases a soft moan when he nibbles on her lower lip.

His name falls from her lips in a breathy sigh when he pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, and Wrecker can honestly say that he’s never heard anything more arousing in his life.

At least, not until ten minutes later when she moans for him.

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes follower celebration #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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laceswan · 8 months

Text

The Spirit of Fate

The Smiling Princess, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5

Finnick Odair x fem!dancer!reader

What if the equivalent of a Disney Princess was thrown into the Hunger Games? Sylke is optimistic and has an affinity for all that is gentle and sweet. What happens when she is placed in an arena and forced to kill or be killed?

Fluff and angst, strangers to lovers, T/W: canon-typical violence

Epilogue is out!

Finnick woke up with a startled gasp. With eyes wide open he was now incredibly aware of all that was touching his body. He could feel the suit from the arena clinging to his body, the cold air and the mask on his face, and a bandage on his arm. Looking around, he saw the inside of a jet much like the one had taken to get to the arena. Beetee and Katniss were in a similar position, lying on mats on the floor with bandages and wires monitoring them. Behind a frosted glass door he heard voices. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to the door. Inside, he found Haymitch and Plutarch sitting by a table and talking.

“You’re up.”

“I am. Where are the others?”

Plutarch stepped closer. There was sadness in his expression, but Finnick had half a mind not to trust it.

“Snow got to them before we could, there wasn’t any time.”

Finnick leaned against the table, his head hung low and defeated.

“Alright… what about Sylke, where’s she? Are we headed to the house or-“

This time it was Haymitch that spoke. He placed a hesitant hand on Finnick's shoulder.

“Finnick, I’m really sorry.”

Terror painted across Finnick’s face.

“We sent some people, but by the time they got there…”

Haymitch trailed off as Finnick sunk into his body. He let his body fall onto a chair, but had it not been there he would have just ended up on the floor. He assumed the worst. His hands flew to cover his mouth and muffle the little cries that came out. He’d already suffered her death once before, why again?

“Do we at least have her body? I want… I wanna give her a proper burial.”

His voice was shaky, but this was what needed to be done. He needed at least to say goodbye.

Haymitch looked to him with utmost pity.

“Son, she’s alive. They got her.”

And suddenly her death felt like a blessing. Burning emotion seized his body. It wasn’t even rage, nor terror, just pure anguish.

“No, no! You told me-you promised! You promised we would get her out!”

Haymitch sighed.

“I made a lot of promises. We’ll send a rescue team when the dust settles.”

Finnick nodded. His whole body was still stricken and trembling with agony, but he wasn’t one to throw a tantrum; especially not when he knew firsthand the nuances of covert operation in the capitol. Katniss, however, was a different sorry. When she heard about Peeta she did everything Finnick’s impulse had urged him to do. She screamed and shouted, even attacked Haymitch. She clawed and batted at him like a desperate animal, repeating that he made a promise, that he was a liar. Finnick could only watch, for once feeling pity, as well as understanding. Ten years ago, he would have done exactly the same.

When they landed in District Thirteen, Finnick, Katniss, and Beetee were sent to the infirmary. The lightning strike had presented some complications to Finnick’s health, so they dressed him in a white gown and admitted him to a small room with a thick glass door until he recovered. The room was probably white too, clinical and pristine, probably cleaned by the hour. But right now, it looked like it was coated in mustard gas. The lights buzzed with a sort of iodine yellow hue, washing the room in an ominously warm colour.

During his recovery, they allowed him few personal items-not that he had many to begin with. He was however, able to get some rope. When he was awake his mind would race. There was nothing to do, nothing to keep him distracted, his only task was apparently to recover. He could at least keep his hands busy, tying and untying the same couple ropes until there were blisters on his hands. It helped to move his hands, but not enough. Every second, his head was flooded with thoughts of her. Perhaps he had brought this on himself, refusing to think about her for so long in the arena, simply because there wasn’t time. Now, he had all the time in the world, and it felt wrong not to think of her at every moment. They were keeping her alive, he was sure of that much. They wouldn’t give up their leverage so easily. Was she in a similar room, white and cold with a similarly racing mind? We’re they hurting her? Or was she still just some pretty thing in a cage? Was she able to dance? A bittersweet smile came to Finnick’s face when he pictured her dancing. He saw her in a room just like his, in a gown just like his, dancing barefoot around the room with her eyes closed. It brought him comfort, the idea that she could perhaps maintain at least a little joy. But of course, thoughts of her dancing were followed by a much more somber and unfortunately likely possibility. In his mind, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if they were restraining her. He saw her strapped fo a bed much like the one he had in the infirmary, struggling and begging to be given even a moment of freedom to move. He at least had that privilege. He could pace, sit on the floor, even dance if her wanted to. What if she couldn’t? Such questions plagued him mind. The span of morbid possibilities refused to be ignored, and so he listened to that dangerous voice. He fell into a spiraling rabbit-hole of ways she might have been hurting, only further enabled by his present utter inability to help her.

It affected his health too. The doctors called it a parasympathetic stress response, but all he understood was that it felt like shit. He was always tired but only sometimes able to sleep, he experienced phantom pain in random places, and everything took longer to heal. The time he spent in the infirmary was miserable. It was miserable for Katniss too. She had a nightmare once and came into his room. That night was perhaps his lowest point. It was when death looked so welcoming, so lovely a fate to experience, if only it would come sooner. The only thing that kept him alive was knowing the capitol wouldn’t let her die. He refused to die if she was still alive and hurting.

Katniss somehow recovered much faster. Finnick was a little jealous, that she was able to keep living her life even when Peeta was in the capitol. She was discharged, and not long after, Coin called everyone to hear a speech, which included those admitted in the infirmary. Finnick stood with the doctors and other patients, making a little patch of white in a sea of grey. Coin announced that Katniss was to be the face of the rebellion, and that in exchange for that, there were some “concessions”. Specifically the extraction the the victors held hostage in the capitol. The crowd began to clamor at the mention of Peeta’s name. They shouted and exclaimed, rejecting Peeta’s rescue. Katniss made her way over as Johanna’s name was announced.

“Finnick, I made the deal for Sylke too.”

Coin’s voice boomed through the hall.

“…and Sylke Fairinan”

Their was utter silence at her name. Some people looked a little confused. Finnick was just a little shocked himself as well. He never quite thought of Sylke as a victor. Hearing her name, her full name, announced like that to a crowd made her feel like a public figure, a celebrity, someone with an image and a life they hide from the world. But to him she was just Sylke, that’s what she’d always been. He hadn’t even heard her last name in ten years. She was always just Sylke, the angel that occupied eternal space in his mind and heart.

“Once freed, they will be granted pardon for any and all crimes committed against the rebel cause.”

The crowd once again resulted into vocal dissent and anger. A worries look quickly came to Katniss’ face. Finnick tried to console her, knowing the two of them were the only ones with loved ones hostage in the capitol.

“Good.”

She looked to him, concerned and clearly unsure of herself.

“That’s good, Katniss.”

For the first time in a long time, there was a small smile on his face. There was hope again, however small.

“If Katniss Everdeen fails to fulfill her duties, the deal will be off.”

That look of fear and heartache returned to both of their faces as the people filed out of the hall. It occurred to Finnick as he made his way back to the infirmary that his spirits were rather fragile now. That night, when he was alone, words couldn’t help but escape his lips. Even with Coin’s speech, hope was hard to hold onto. Finnick sat on the floor of his room, leaning against the bed with his head hung low.

“Angel, how do you do it? How do you stay smiling? I’m trying, I promise.”

His voice was quiet, speaking words meant only for him and someone miles away.

“I’m so tired.”

He cried quietly to himself, though did eventually drift to sleep there on the floor.

Finnick recovered slowly. While Katniss was filming propos and being the Mockingjay, he was in the infirmary. He wallowed, but with every day came a little more hope. Katniss and Beetee sometimes came to see him, bringing news of the rebellion’s plans. Smiling got easier, as did picturing Sylke dancing. The idea that she would be alright seemed more and more true. When the phantom pains and memories of Sylke finally became manageable, he traded in his white gown for a grey jumpsuit.

The whole of thirteen gathered one night to watch Katniss’ new propo. He was horrified by the bombing, he was angry with Snow for uncountable reasons, what he was not was triumphant. At the end, the symbol of the mockingjay came onto the screen accompanied by a message. Join the fight. The crowd chanted their celebration like they won a war. That sort of victory song always felt misplaced to Finnick. Blaring horns and happy voices when people lie dead on the battlefield. People showering him with gifts and congratulations just after someone died in his arms. But that was what the propos were meant to do. He looked to Katniss beside him, and she had a similar look of confusion and discomfort.

“You don’t like hearing a fight song at a funeral, huh?”

She turned her head to look at him. He continued, reminding her and himself of what they needed to remember.

“The more people on our side, the closer we are to Sylke and Peeta.”

She nodded. No matter how icky it felt, this was what needed to be done.

The days passed with incredible monotony. Every day was exactly the same, the same schedule, the same people. The only variety came in the form of news, speeches, broadcasts. One night, Finnick visited Katniss in her room and they watched Peeta’s interview. He was crying, and he looked terrified. Finnick in a way envied her, for she able to see Peeta’s face and know that he was at least physically healthy. But he also knew that the pain of seeing him say everything they couldn’t believe in was a whole different world of pain and confusion. In the short time he knew Peeta, the subject of rebellion or even government never really came into conversation. It was the same with Sylke. Perhaps that was the worst part; that what Peeta was asking of Katniss and the rebels seemed entirely possible. From where he was standing, he just wanted the violence to stop. He was most certainly being fed information, being manipulated by the capitol, but the root of his argument was something understandable. It was almost reminiscent of Sylke’s words in her interview so long ago. She was never one for violence or combat. Ever since the beginning, she favoured diplomacy, kindness, and compromise. Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if Peeta’s words were even that treacherous. They were currently entrenched in desperate times, and thus desperate measures were called for. But later, they would need people like Peeta, like Sylke, to remind them of the value of compassion. Finnick made a small promise to himself, that he would try to be one of those people, at least when the fighting was over. If they managed to win, he was going to try to be like her. To be kind, to have mercy, and to offer grace.

The next day, he went with Katniss to hunt above ground. It was calming for both of them, getting to move and use the skills they had honed for years. That familiar feeling of a trident sinking into flesh, the thwip of an arrow as it flies through the air, it brought them comfort. They did eventually sit down too.

“I’m glad we were able to come out today. I think you needed this after last night.”

She nodded.

“I don’t like watching those broadcasts, but I can’t look away. He’s so different already. What are they doing to him?”

Finnick was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know. I think that’s the worst part.”

“It is. They could be telling him to say all that stuff and threatening to kill him, or maybe they’re actually convincing him it’s true. I don’t know what’s better.”

“I don’t think there is a better. It’s all bad when it comes to Snow.”

She murmured agreement. They were quiet again, listening to the birds and the rustling trees. Nature has such an ability to soothe, with her ambient noise and dappled light. It made them feel safe enough to talk.

“Is it bad that I just want this to be over? Sometimes I think he’s right, that we should just give up. At least then I could see him again.”

“I don’t think that’s bad, Katniss. I think it’s human.”

She looked unsure of herself.

“You miss him. And you want to be with him, so you can know he’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Do you want it to be over?”

“Of course. I just want to know she’s safe. That safety could come with a ceasefire, or with victory.”

“Yeah. But a ceasefire means she goes back to that mansion.”

Finnick clicked his tongue and tilted his head in agreement.

“And that’s why I’m here. If we win, we wouldn’t just be safe, we’d be happy. I want her to be happy.”

Katniss smiled.

“I think I could be happy with him.”

They spent a few more hours talking in the forest, confiding in each other as the only other people who could relate, who knew this special sort of pain. Their afternoon in the forest was a nice respite, but they did eventually need to return to the concrete rooms under the earth.

After the attack on the dam, another interview was broadcast. Peeta called it inhuman, begged her to stop. He looked so genuinely terrified. But what he was scared of was unclear. There was something just behind the camera, something that instilled and powerful fear in him.

“They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone. And in District Thirteen you’ll be dead by morning-“

The broadcast was cut off as he was dragged away. Sirens began to blare, people filed out to level forty. If there was panic in the air it was hard to detect. People were calm and orderly as they rushed down the stairs, perfectly trained soldiers. That is, until water rained from above and the lights went out. People screamed, ran, let go of order in favour of getting to the bunker. People would scream each time a blast hit. When the night grew quieter, no one slept. They just kept waiting for the cracks in the ceiling to widen, for the walls to cave in and for death to arrive. Finnick sat in one of the beds, fiddling with the gold bangle instead of rope, which he had given to Katniss during the bombing. She had looked like she needed it more than him. In the quiet of night, Katniss walked over and sat beside him.

“He’s taunting me, using Peeta to punish me. I didn’t understand until just now, watching that stupid cat.”

“Yeah. That’s why he took Sylke too.”

Finnick sighed before continuing.

“After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act. We all expected you’d continue that strategy. But it wasn’t until Peeta’s heart stopped and he almost died that…"

He looked at Katniss directly, hoping to convey just how sincere and vulnerable this conversation was for him. This sort of openness wasn't exactly natural to him, but it needed to be said, and right now, she needed to hear it.

"I misjudged you. You love him. Anyone paying attention can see it.”

“How do you live with it?”

“I’ve been doing it for ten years. For five of them I thought she was gone. I did the whole self-pity thing the first time around. I had nightmares-I still do. But you learn not to give in to it. It gets easier.”

She listened, nodding her head ever so slightly.

“But then it happened again. And it takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart, you saw how long I was in the infirmary. But if Sylke taught me anything it’s that little joys can keep you alive. They kept her sane in that house, and they’ve kept me going down here.”

Katniss didn’t say anything. They sat in silence for a while, and once Finnick started nodding off, she went back to her sister and mother.

In the morning, she was gone and thirteen was buzzing with action. Finnick was sitting, anxiously waiting for something he could do to help. Beetee was working through the capitol’s electronic system or something, there was a rescue team setting up, and all Finnick could do was watch. He had signed up to be on the team, but as a refugee and not a soldier, they informed him that he couldn’t. By nightfall they finally had a job for him. He was going to be a distraction broadcast so they could jam the whole system, and the team could safely get it. He stood on a pile of rubble and white roses, with stagelights warming his skin.

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games. I’m coming to you from District 13, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the capitol. But I’m not here to give you recent news. Instead, I’m here to tell you the truth. The truth about the capitol.”

He continued for what felt like forever, indulging in his whole story, the one he only ever told Sylke. The story of how after he turned sixteen, he was sold like a commodity to socialites in the capitol. That he wasn’t the only one, and if you refused, your loved ones were killed. That there was one girl who was dead to the rest of the world, but Snow brought her back just to sell her.

“Remember Sylke Fairinan? She was your princess. You dressed her up in fancy gowns and gold tiaras before she went into the arena. I felt her die in my arms. And then they started her heart back up and sold to the highest bidder. Lycan Indigo. He kept her like a doll, locked in a mansion for ten years. She’s alive. You kept your princess in a gilded cage. And what's worse, after ten years in that place, after slowly learning to find happiness there, you've taken her from it again. President Snow is holding her hostage, to taunt me. He is not the kind man he shows himself to be.”

Finnick kept going. He revealed Snow’s history of poison and assignation, the reason behind his heavy perfume, the bloody sores in his mouth, every secret he knew was a secret no longer. As he spoke, one or the people behind the camera spoke up.

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, it looks like they’re broadcasting Katniss now.”

Finnick nodded, unsure of what was going on. They went back down to find everyone looking incredibly distraught. He and Katniss sat in a room, silent, waiting for news. He once again had the rope in his hands, tying and untying knots to keep his hands busy. He had to think she was safe. He had to. Cause if he considered for even a moment that she wasn’t, he’d fall apart again. When Haymitch opened the door, their eyes show up.

“They’re back.”

All that needed to be said for them to get up and sprint to the landing area. Johanna was the first one they saw. She was gaunt, her head shaved, but a smirk was still on her face. And then he heard it.

“Finnick? Finnick!”

That voice he hadn’t stopped hearing for ages, but only ever in his head. Her name fell from his mouth involuntarily, quietly questioning if it was real as he ran towards the source of her voice. Later, people would tell him that they said each other’s names perhaps a thousand times in that single exchange. He would notice later that she looked weak, her hair was longer and had lost some of it’s shine, and that despite all that her spirit had in no way dimmed. Her eyes had lit up when she saw him walk in the room. And suddenly, it was as if there was no one in the world but the two do them, crashing through space to reach each other. They collided and lost balance, slamming against a wall, but they stayed there, clinging into one being. Indivisible. He whispered like he didn’t believe it.

“You’re safe…”

She pulled her head out from his embrace to look at him, nodding with a smile. Whether they were smiling or laughing or crying, even they didn’t know. Words fail to describe the joy, the relief, the wonder of being back together. When heart rates slowed and the dust settled, they finally spoke. Finnick had a smile the magnitude of which hadn’t touched his face in far too long.

“Hi.”

“Hi. It’s been a minute.”

As though they were one being, they burst into simultaneous and gentle laughter.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m okay. They beat me up a little, but I’ll be alright.”

“They what?”

Finnick’s voice was hoarse, breathy. He knew that they would do that, and yet in that moment he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to hurt her. Not even Mr. Indigo did that. But her smile clearly wasn’t gone. With a voice laced with affection, she put a hand against his cheek and reassured him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You guys got me out before they started my ‘treatment’. I’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“We should get you to the infirmary.”

“Okay.”

Still refusing to stop touching her, Finnick scooped her into his arms and carried her himself to the infirmary. On the way there, her head was nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

“I was right, you know.”

“Hmm? How?”

“I knew you’d come back to me. You didn’t win, but you didn’t have to. I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did. You were right to hope.”

She laughed to herself, closing her eyes. Even with her sunny disposition, her body was clearly exhausted.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As her body melted further into his and her breathing slowed, he continued walking. They didn’t put her in a room, apparently her condition wasn’t that bad, so she would only need a bed for a few days. Mostly bruises, a couple of open wounds, but nothing bad.

When she woke up, she found herself in a cold room devoid of colour. For a moment, she wondered if it was a dream. Sitting up, she looked around. Finnick wasn’t there, and neither was anyone else. The curtains were drawn. Had they moved her to a new place? We’re they starting her treatment? She hastily removed the IV from her arm, leaving the patch with the needle and luer connector, but no tubing. Whatever they were pumping into her needed to stop there.

“Johanna? Peeta?”

Silence. She heard faint chatter from just outside, doctors or scientists getting ready. Hesitant feet touched the ground. Her fingers brushed against the thin fabric of the curtain. Fear kept her from grasping it. What would she see on the other side? There was hope in her still that she was safe, that she wasn’t in the capitol anymore, but what if she was wrong? What if she was still there, destined to be Syren Indigo? What if she was wrong to hope?

“Hello?”

She heard footsteps. Fearing the scolding that might come should they find her out of bed, she laid back down and put the IV back against the luer connector, though not actually placing it inside. Hopefully she’d be able to fool them. The footsteps got louder. It wasn’t necessary, but she wasn’t ready to face them yet, so she relaxed her body and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She heard metal rings scraping against a pole as the curtain was opened.

“Sylke?”

That was his voice. She wanted to open her eyes, see him, but what if it was a lie? What if this was the start of her treatment? She heard how it started with Peeta. They played him altered clips and all sorts of things. What if this was one of those?

“Oh. You’re still asleep.”

A chair was pulled up, and someone sat down. A warm hand smoothed out her hair. She took a long inhale. No perfume. The hand then gently rested on hers. She knew that touch, and it made her flinch. But still terrified, she kept her eyes closed. The technology of the capitol could do anything.

“Sylke? Are you awake?”

That was his voice. He sounded so real. Even if it wasn’t him, couldn’t she take a look? Even if it was fake, couldn’t she see his face again? That voice of temptation was so loud. What would be the worst that could happen? They were going to wake her up anyway. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. And there he was. With those lovely green eyes staring right back at her.

“Hey, Angel. How are you feeling?”

She frantically searched his eyes, before looking to everything else around her. His eyes looked right. His face too. He was in a grey jumpsuit. Everything else was grey too. Behind him was what the curtain used to cover. It looked like a hospital. It was quiet, but not deadly silent. It didn’t look the same. The walls weren’t pristine white, they were concrete. The lights would flicker every now and then, nothing seemed quite perfect like it was before.

“Angel? Is everything alright?”

She looked back at him with terror in her eyes.

“Are you real? Are you really here?”

He moved closer to her, with nothing but love and affection in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m real. We’re safe. We’re in thirteen, remember?”

“We are?”

“Mhmm. You’re in the infirmary right now, but they said you can be discharged in a day or two.”

He looked at the IV lying unconnected at her arm, and plugged it back in with a chuckle.

“That is, if you actually listen to the doctors and take the meds they give you.”

She smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile.

“How come you unplugged it?”

“I… I thought I was in the capitol. I thought they had moved me to start my treatment.”

“You said that earlier too. What treatment?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I didn’t hear all of it. But Mr. Indigo… when he visited me-“

“He came to see you?”

“Yeah. Almost every day for maybe an hour, he’d come in and talk to me, make sure they were treating me well, he even snuck in a couple things for me once. More recently he started mentioning the treatment. Said he talked to the doctors and convinced them to let me get the help I needed, so I wouldn’t be starting fires in my room anymore. And he said it would make me a real Indigo if I wasn’t already. I remember the words.

‘Syren Indigo. Got a nice ring to it, don’t it?’

I heard what they were doing to Peeta. I figured they’d do something similar to me. He wanted me to be his daughter.”

“Oh Sylke…”

The words to be said evaded him and he was left with only actions. He stood up and walked over to the bed, gesturing that she move over. She did, and he crawled under the covers, holding her close in his arms. His embrace was warm, comforting, familiar.

“Finnick. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want to forget.”

He held her even tighter, placing a kiss on her head.

“You won’t, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. You remember how to waltz?”

She looked at him with a grin.

“Of course.”

“Then get up.”

He got out of the bed and offered his hand. The moment she took it, he placed a hand on her waist, pulling her close. With his other hand, he grabbed the pole on wheels from which a bag of saline fluid hung. Sylke rested her hand by his neck and with the other room Finnick’s hand, holding the pole as well.

“Do you remember?”

“I couldn’t possibly let myself forget. Not when I still owed you a dance.”

And with that, they swayed about the section of the room she had been allotted. It was just like she taught him that night, all those years ago. One, two, three, brush, one, two, three, brush. Swept up in the music they heard in their heads, the dance continued. He spun her around, lifted her off the floor, and always right on the downbeat. It ended when they let go of the pole and it rolled too far away. Sylke felt a sharp tug at her arm and the imaginary music stopped.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just maybe we should be more careful."

“Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

Sylke laughed, wrapping her arms up by his neck.

“We both did. Once I’m out of here, we’ll get to dance properly.”

Finnick nodded.

“Soon.”

Finnick did eventually have to leave and resume his schedule. Sylke went back to sleep, clutching a pillow in his stead. Slowly but surely, a new world faded in. Her limbs were blocky, solid, and utterly incapable of movement. All that she had control over was her eyes, glancing around. In her periphery, she was able to figure out what exactly she was. She was a marionette, strung up on a stage. In the audience, right there in the front row, we’re the cold, wolf-like eyes of Mr. Indigo. He was watching her, with a hideous, inhuman grin. And then the music started. It was plucky, out of tune, like a harpsichord left untouched for ages. And she began to dance. Her arms and legs flailed about, and her torso was yanked up and down. She couldn’t open her mouth or even breathe, and yet somehow she kept moving. This dancing cage of hers moved without life or spirit. It had no bones, no muscle, only string that extended up into the vague darkness above.

Sylke didn’t wake up screaming or yelling. Her eyes merely flew open, tears already pouring down her face. Sniffling and quietly sobbing, she sat up and clutched the pillow in her arms. Johanna, from the neighboring bed, spoke up. Her tone was harsh, unsympathetic.

“What are you crying about?”

“I-I just had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Mr. Indigo. He was looking at me, and I just…”

Words dissolved into sniffles. Johanna just laughed. There was venom in her voice when she spoke.

“Your scared of him? Seriously? That man visited you almost every day. He was so good to you-“

Heartache emerged from her throat.

“He loved you!”

A whimper escaped from Sylke and she clutched the pillow even tighter.

“But he…”

“He what? I heard him talk about you, he had nothing but love for you.”

"Please don't say that..."

She kept going, words flowing like a river from her mouth, with no hesitation or tact.

“Are you really that ungrateful? Everything he did was for you…”

She paused for a moment, a devilish smile growing on her face.

“… for his little Syren.”

“Please, just stop…”

Sylke took a shaky breath, shifting to look at Johanna straight on.

“I never asked for his love. I know he’s the reason I’m still alive, I know that it could have been worse. But that man took my life and made it his.”

The shaking stopped. Sylke regained her composure. She stood up and walked to Johanna’s bed, sitting down next to her. Their time in the capitol made them quite familiar with one another’s hardships. Sylke knew exactly where these words were coming from. She knew why Johanna was hurting, she knew that when one has no one, even unwanted love seems desirable. And so she spoke gently, hoping her empathy would be understood as such, rather than pity.

“Mr. Indigo didn’t love me as a person. He didn’t care if I was happy, so long as I provided entertainment. That’s not how you’re supposed to love someone.”

Johanna nodded, saying nothing. She knew she overstepped, she knew her words were impulsive. And now suddenly she felt a little guilty. Sylke had appealed to her humanity with just a few sentences.

“I know. It just hurts, you know?”

“I know.”

Sylke murmured more validation, placing her head on Johanna’s shoulder. She wanted to say that Johanna had friends here, people who loved her, but decided to let it be quiet. She’d say it some other time.

Sylke’s wounds took very little time in healing. She only needed to stay in the infirmary until the larger wounds had closed up, which didn’t take long. Really, they only worried about the cut on her side. She remembered when it was made. The blade was jagged and dull, dragging across her skin at a snail’s pace, over and over again. They asked her with every stroke what she knew. Of course Finnick hadn’t told her about the plan, she barely even knew he was a rebel. But they kept going. First there was a raised line of red, where the skin was raw and irritated. The blade tore further into her skin, but drew no blood. They grabbed her arms with and iron grip and threw her back into her cell, earning her a couple bruises. Once there was a film of yellow scabbing, they took her back out. Slowly, and again with the questions, they peeled it. With the layer of platelets gone, blood dribbled out of the wound. The flesh beneath was tender, and they took advantage of that. She answered each question honestly, but they didn’t like what she said. And with each answer they didn’t like, she received another swipe against her side with the jagged blade. Eventually, they gave up on trying to get information out of her. Sometimes they would try again, but never to that degree.

Now, she had a bandage wrapped around that area, gently changed and cleaned every couple of hours. The doctors were kind here, always making sure it was alright to touch her and asking if the bandage was too tight. Under their care, the wound closed up in no time. By then, all of her smaller cuts and bruises left only fading scars. Soon, she was given a drab grey jumpsuit and assigned to new quarters. It was a small room not unlike the infirmary in style. There were two small beds and a table between them, one bed for her and the other for a roommate. After guiding her to the room, the nurse previously assigned to her shut the door, leaving her alone in that room. She did not hear the click of a lock. Her schedule was to start tomorrow, for now she could settle in and find a place in the room for any personal items. Of course she had none, but curiosity led her to peak at her roommate’s. Everything was neat, folded, as though it was never lived in. The only signs of a human’s stay there were a couple of items on the table, seemingly the only personal items this roommate of hers had. Perhaps they were a refugee as well, with only a moment to have gathered items of sentimental value. Or perhaps residents of thirteen simply didn’t value material possessions all that much. Considering the lack of decor and personality in all parts of the place she had seen, that was in fact the case. Sylke allowed herself to fantasise for a moment about who this person might be. A coal miner from twelve? She had always wanted to see a forest, maybe they could tell her about them. A soldier from thirteen? One who had trained their whole life for combat, for revolution, and now finally had the chance to prove themselves? Or perhaps another refugee from the capitol. What if she knew them? What if one of the few people she was able to meet in the capitol had been a rebel, one who took a chance one night and ran away? They could exchange life stories, maybe become friends. But none of those turned out to be true. On the table, she found a golden bangle and a short bit of rope, neither of which told her about this person. She sat on one of the beds, hopefully the unoccupied one, and waited. She wasn’t tired, she’d slept plenty in the infirmary. So she sat, waiting for something to happen. The door slid open to reveal her roommate.

“Finnick?”

He chuckled.

“I asked them to put you in as my roommate, I didn’t know they’d actually do it. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Everything’s healing well, so I they discharged me this afternoon. I do still have to keep it bandaged, but the wound is much smaller now.”

“That’s great!”

He walked over to the bed and stood before here, a smile adorning his face.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here with me.”

She leaned into his touch as he caressed her cheek. The words “I love you” were not needed in that moment. There was a mutual understanding of affection, one that had been there for ten years. Though not entirely true, retrospect and nostalgia had a way of convincing both of them that it had always been this way, that this familiarity and affection was present since that first night they met. In some ways this was correct, there was always a connection. But the comfort in it had developed over time. Insecurity was able to fade away, they became more familiar with the other’s habits. And yet wonder was not lost. There was still a glimmer of shock, of flustered joy in moments of affection. Things between them weren’t perfect, but they were damn well close to it.

Sylke’s task in thirteen was to help in the kitchen. The food was boring, seasoned only with salt, and they often stirred in powders of vitamin supplements or something of that nature, because the people down here rarely saw the sun. She spent her days standing beside people she found to be kind, talkative in comparison to the Indigo household staff, and generally pleasant company. Life was certainly monotonous, but that was something she was used to. At least now, she wasn’t alone. During mealtimes, she would serve the food, watching everyone eat and chat from afar. On occasion, she would sneak away and sit by Finnick, but that often got her scolded by someone who cared far too much for rules. At the end of the day, the whole facility would get dimmer, and she would be back in her room with Finnick. The beds were made for one person, but they made it work for the both of them. In the mornings, she would wake up before him, needing to go and prepare breakfast. His arms held her tightly, unwilling to let go.

“Finnick, I need to go.”

His voice was deep, raspy, and barely awake.

“I don’t want you to go.”

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his jaw. His eyes were still closed, but a satisfied grin appeared on his face.

“Fine. Two minutes, and then I really have to go.”

He groaned, considering her offer, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Okay.”

Running his fingers up her body, he attempted to feel for her face, too tired to open his eyes. His touch was gentle and yet possessive, still unwilling to let go. Once he found her jaw, he pulled it closer and planted endless kisses on her face. At some point, his eyes fluttered open. He was confronted with the image of her smile, a little tired and a little exasperated, but undeniably lovely.

“You’re beautiful.”

A little colour came to her cheeks.

“You know, you can’t keep me here forever. Do you want food today or not?”

He let a sigh as she got up from the bed.

“Alright fine, I concede. Just one more kiss though.”

She laughed, leaning down to peck his forehead before leaving. Once alone, Finnick’s mind couldn’t help but fantasise about waking up with her every day, and not having to rush off somewhere.

The explicit concept of marriage had come up only once or twice in their five years of exchanging letters. Far more common was talk of a hypothetical life they would have one day. A wedding was implied, but never really stated outright. Instead, they talked about days without urgency, when they could lie in bed for hours, dance in the kitchen instead of cooking, fall asleep on the beach, and all of this simply because they wanted to. But as the danger of revolution increased, both of them began thinking about the specifics of that vague life together. It didn’t take Finnick long to understand that he wanted to marry her. He mentioned it one night when the room felt quiet and too awake.

“Hey,”

“Hmm?”

“Would you want to get married? I know we’ve talked about being together, when it’s all over, but what if we did it now?”

She looked to him with wide doe-eyes.

“Now?”

“I mean here, in thirteen. Before anything happens-before anything possibly could happen. Just in case.”

She took a moment to think, sinking into his chest. If she had been falling asleep before, she was wide awake now.

“Okay. Just in case.”

“Yeah. That way if something happens, I’ll have been married to you. Another thing to help prove to the world that you’re here, and that I’m yours.”

She lifted herself to prop her head up on her hand, smiling at him. He soon followed, staring lovingly back at her.

“I like the sound of that.”

She placed a kiss on his lips.

“But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?”

That was partially a lie. There was a reason they were doing this, a risk, and they both knew it. But after everything they’d been through, fate had to be in their favour. It would simply be wrong, to have done all of this, just to lose their happily ever after.

She reassumed her position lying on his chest after that, speaking softly to him, but also to herself.

“I used to picture my wedding, you know. When I was little, I had this image in my head of a white dress and a castle and a ballroom, like in the fairytales. I didn’t know who would be my prince or princess charming, but I knew that I’d love them. That was always the best part. I know we won’t be in a castle, but in a way it’ll be exactly like how I dreamed of as a child.”

He was falling asleep by that point. She lifted herself to look at his peaceful face. He looked calm and safe, lying next to her like he was sure, like everything in the world assured him, that this is where he was supposed to be.

“I love you, my prince.”

Plutarch explained that the wedding was going to be filmed. “To show the capitol that we’re alive and well” he said. Because of that, they were allowed all sorts of luxuries that thirteen didn’t usually permit. The hall was glowing with amber light and greenery they brought in from above. Finnick was dressed in a lighter grey than usual, with sturdy fabric that hugged his waist but got a little looser at the shoulders. He was also given something of a cape, but it only covered one shoulder. He looked somewhere between a soldier and a duke. For Sylke they made a dress fit for a princess. White of course, a colour held with some disdain in thirteen. The skirt was long and full, trailing behind her every so slightly when she walked. It was simple, no layers of tulle or golden jewelry to match, but it made her feel like herself, entirely herself, which was really all it needed to be. It felt like all of her, nothing held back or exaggerated for anyone.

She made her way alone down the aisle, smiling at the man ahead, the destination toward which she walked. He took her hands in his, this time with no iron bars between them. She looked into his green eyes, like she had so many times before, and everything felt right in the world. There was no sunlight or gentle breeze, no magnolias or birdsong, but there didn’t need to be. He was here, looking back at her with all the love in the world. When it came time for her to say her vows, she had very little prepared. She spoke truthfully, freely, saying everything that her heart told her to say in that moment.

“My darling Finnick. I’ve said to you before that I believe in fate. We were just kids when we met, and even then, I knew my story was tied to yours. I promise to love you, to cherish you, and to be by your side for the rest of happily ever after that fate allows.”

The smile on his face grew before he took a breath and said his vows.

“Sylke, my angel, you have my heart, as you always have, for all eternity. Whether together or apart, we will always be united, tied together by the strings of fate. I promise to protect you, to dance with you, and to love you until death do us part.”

They didn’t quite need to be told that they could kiss, but once prompted, they did just that. All of thirteen began to applaud, but neither Sylke nor Finnick could bring themself to care for the audience. Just as it had ten years ago, the watching eyes melted away, leaving only tenderness and love burning between the them.

The festivities began once the aisle and ceremonial decor was packed away. First was a slow waltz meant just for the newlyweds. The two of them had danced in their room many times before, but never with music. With a guiding melody, they were able to truly get lost in the movement. No longer was it necessary to count or concentrate, they could simply dance. They swayed and twirled about the room, never once breaking eye contact. When the music slowed to a halt, Sylke was securely nested in Finnick’s arms and lowered to a dip. There was once again applause as people came to join them on the dance floor. A more upbeat tune filled the hall as everyone started to dance. The sound of lively fiddles filled the room, and spirits were lifted. It seemed like everyone was having a lovely time, smiling and laughing with friends. For that night, war was but an afterthought. It was a respite from tragedy, a true celebration of all that is good and lovely, and its survival even in dark times.

It wasn’t long after the wedding that Finnick was sent away again. He and Sylke had a rather lousy honeymoon, spent mostly in their room underground or in the forest just above. Soldiers were slowly returning from the fight at the capitol, some injured, others returning for a dignified burial. Sylke was transferred to the infirmary when it got too understaffed. And then Plutarch called Finnick into a meeting. That night, Finnick sat waiting in their room until Sylke returned from her shift in the infirmary. She entered the room and gravitated to his hunched figure.

“Finnick, are you alright?”

She placed a hand to his face, suggesting that he look at her. His eyes were sad, conflicted, scared. Sylke saw his expression and quickly kissed him before anything more could be said.

“What happened?”

He shifted to make space for her on the bed; she sat down.

“Plutarch wants me in the capitol. They put together this squad for filming propos, he calls it the face of the invasion.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, such that it was hardly a question: he would be going. There was no debate about it, both of them knew that. An all too familiar feeling churned in her core. Her chest became heavy and her throat strained. She croaked out a single sentence before leaning into his embrace.

“Come back to me, okay?”

He held her tightly, the way he wanted to that night outside the mansion.

“I will. I believe in fate.”

They fell asleep there, unsure when the trembling cries faded into unconsciousness.

Finnick left in the morning. Goodbyes were cut short by the arrival of a jet full of wounded soldiers. Sylke was pulled away by the other medical staff, parting with a fleeting kiss and a smile.

The infirmary was bursting with people. New patients arrived every day from the capitol, covered in wounds and burns and horror stories from the city. They told of abandoned streets full of bombs and traps set by peacekeepers. Every moment of peace or quiet we’re impossible to trust, they were left waiting for the inevitable bloodshed as they walked through empty streets. Sylke couldn’t help but wonder the state of the mansion. Had Mr. Indigo evacuated? What did he take with him? She pictured the house empty, devoid of the usual upkeep, dusty and alone. What about the household? Had they gone as well? What would they do without their jobs? Did that even matter when the city was under attack? Her imagination took her through each room and corridor. The office she’d only been in a few times, the dining room that could seat a dozen but never saw more than two, and of course, her bedroom. Soot still on the ceiling, dance slippers tucked hastily under the bed. The soldiers mentioned bombs and fire. What if the mansion was destroyed? The image of fallen walls, a pile of rubble and ash, arrived in her mind. A bittersweet sort of pain burned in her chest as she pondered such a possibility. That mansion was her prison, her gilded cage. And yet there were happy memories there. There were times when she smiled, dancing around her room or strolling through the garden. She found joy in that wretched place and thus made it slightly less wretched. The delicate China in the sitting room was beautiful, with hand-painted birds and flowers under the faintly cracked glaze. The furniture was soft, velvet or leather or brocade, but always unreasonably comfortable. And of course the magnolias. Those fragrant blossoms could distract her from everything bad. A lovely part of being human, isn’t it? The ability to be distracted, to find small joys, even trapped in a cage. She pondered all the things she loved in that house. The drapes and the garden and smooth feeling of the banister beneath her fingers as she walked down the stairs, all things she missed now. Was it bad that she missed it? Was that terrible, to think somewhat fondly of her time in the mansion? A part of her was sure that it was simply horrible. Mr. Indigo was a dangerous, horrible man, and thus his home was the same way. But he also gave her dancing slippers. He cared for her in his twisted, infantalising way. Johanna’s words sounded in her head. Perhaps, in a strange interpretation of the word, he loved her. Sylke couldn’t bring herself to fully accept that idea. Love was the tenderness she saw in Finnick’s eyes, it was the warmth in her chest when they were close, she was entirely and unequivocally sure of that. But as time went on, she continued to wonder, her mind volleying standpoints, if Mr. Indigo’s bizarre affection was also love.

Such thoughts bounced around the back of her head as she tended to those in the infirmary. Days slowly bled into one another, all monotonous and practically identical. She would wake up alone, eat with some of the other medics, and then go to the infirmary. After a long day, she would return to her quarters and lie on her side, reaching her arm out to where Finnick would have been lying beside her. And when the foggy darkness of sleep arrived, the day would begin again.

News from the capitol came every night. The whole of thirteen would go quiet the watching broadcasts. Just a day after they deemed Peeta well enough to join the “Star Squad” in the Capitol, that infamous anthem blared from the broadcast. The faces of every member of the squad was shown. Sylke had been working when it came on the screens. All faces looked to the screen in the room, stepping away from their work for a moment. She froze when she saw Finnick’s portrait appear. She hadn’t seen his face is so long, too long, but this was not the way she wanted to see him again. He couldn’t be dead, he promised. Why, after all this time, why now? After all the trials they encountered and survive, how could it end? Something was wrong, it was simply wrong. Fate wasn’t supposed to be like this, fate couldn’t be like this.

You said you would come back to me

Her perception of the world was cloudy. The hands on her shoulder, the steps she was taking, they didn’t register. Voices were muddled, nothing felt real. All she could do was mutter his name, repeat the same phrases, praying that someone would hear her, some great puppet master who could pull the strings of fate and make them right again. Her murmurs became sobs, and when her eyes were dry, when her energy was drained, she could finally sleep.

She woke to a sharp voice and someone shaking her awake.

“Sylke, get up!”

She pulled herself up, groggy and confused. For a moment, it was just like any other morning, and she almost bolted up, afraid of being late for the start of her shift. But then her vision cleared, and reality set in. She saw the medic uniform she was still wearing and the sad look on Johanna’s face.

“What happened?”

Johanna’s tone was careful and sympathetic.

“You kinda lost it after the broadcast. Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt anyone or do anything bad, you just kinda froze. We didn’t know what else to do, so we just took you here to rest.”

Sylke nodded, not quite sure if she could bring herself to stand up and start her day, as though nothing happened.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t even know. But they’re calling all the medics right now, so…”

Sylke didn’t move.

“They’re flying you guys out to the capitol.”

She still didn’t move.

“Sylke, that means you need to go.”

“I know… I just…”

Johanna placed her hands on Sylke’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

“Look. I know you’re hurting. I know you just lost someone. It’s not the same but I lost him too. But Sylke we’re so close. And people are hurting in the capitol that don’t need to be. We need you to go out and help them.”

Sylke took a shaky inhale and nodded. With Johanna’s help, she made her way down to the hanger where medics were streaming into jets and strapping into their seats. Sylke followed suit, getting her jet assignment and sitting down on a cold metal chair.

The flight was a blur. They landed in district two and waited until the final stages of the battle to fly into the capitol to help innocent citizens. Soon, they were flown in and dropped off in the city circle. When the cries of countless people reached her ears, helping them became Sylke’s sole priority. The moment her feet touched the ground, she rushed to anyone and everyone that looked hurt.

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“Let me take a look.”

She was wrapping a splint for a woman with a broken leg when a familiar chime rang through the air. She looked up to see grey canisters on parachutes floating down from the sky. She froze again, remembering everything from years ago. She remembered the way Finnick’s eyes lit up when he saw a trident float down on an identical grey parachute. That had always been a sweet memory, but now it was laced with pain. She looked around, seeing the people stretching their arms out, welcoming the gifts. There was a flash, a boom, and then quiet.

Sylke’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She was lying on her back, on something soft and comfortable. There was quiet. A peaceful, calming sort of silence surrounded her. She noticed pain on her skin when she tried to get up. Her body was bandaged in random places, and the flesh of her arms and hands felt incredibly sensitive. Her body was sore, but she could move, albeit only slightly. She turned her head to look at her surroundings. She was in a tent, seemingly a medical tent, surrounded by equipment and kits she recognised as the portable medic kits that each person on the jet had been equipped with. Turning her head to look directly to the side, she saw someone lying in a bed like her own. They looked like him. Beneath the bandages she saw his face, sleeping peacefully with his eyes closed. She longed to believe that it was him, to enjoy that delusion and ignorance. But she knew it wasn’t. She knew he was gone. He wasn’t there, no matter how much she wanted him to be, no matter how much he should have been. Tears formed and fell quickly from her eyes. Quiet wails and sobs escaped her. She murmured his name, hoping beyond hope that it would will him back to life. The person in the bed began to rouse.

“Hmm?”

They sounded like him too, why did they have to sound like him? She curled into herself, ignoring the pain in such movement. She hid herself beneath the blanket, like a child afraid of the monsters beneath their bed.

“Hey, are you alright?”

That was his voice.

“Why do you sound like him?”

She wailed with a volume she hadn’t used in days.

“Sylke?”

“You sound just like him…”

Her whole body shook with sobs. She heard fabric rustling and quiet groans that sounded so familiar. There was a hand on the edge of the blanket.

“Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Her voice was dejected, entirely hopeless. The blanket was pulled away, revealing a face with cuts and bandages, seemingly some stitches as well, and sea green eyes holding a tender gaze.

“You look like him too.”

“Angel… I’m right here.”

“No you’re not! You died! I saw your picture, I heard the song, you died!”

“Oh sweetheart…”

The person sat down on the bed and gently lifted her to sit up as well. They then pulled her into their arms. That warmth was exactly the same.

“I’m right here, I’m alive. I got damn near dying, but I didn’t. I told you I’d come back to you, didn’t I?”

Finally, she let herself believe. Her grasp on him tightened.

“You’re alive? You’re safe?”

“I’m alive. I’m right here, Angel.”

A part of her still couldn’t believe it. Somehow, there was a shard of pessimism in her that refused to be tricked. And he could sense that. He understood all too well the spirit of self preservation that will do anything to keep itself from hurting. So he pulled away slightly to look at her.

“Hey, look at me, look at my eyes.”

She gazed up at him with scared, teary doe-eyes.

“Don’t you believe in fate?”

And with that, the last bit of denial shattered within her. A smile and then a laugh came to her face as hope returned to her spirit.

Taglist: @zulpix-blog

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thewritingginger · 1 year

Text

Sorry for the wait! Hope you had a good Christmas / Holiday Season, Lovelies!

Have some scandalous car shenanigans with our business professional Erwin Smith 😉

Fandom: Attack on Titan Pairing: Erwin Smith x M! Reader Word count: 4.5k+ words Warnings: 18+, Modern au, Established relationship, Sir kink, Semi-public sex, Car sex, Slight exhibitionism, Hand job, Oral sex (M! receiving), Praise kink, Neck holding, Pet names, Dirty talk, Slight degrading, Spanking, Sex toys (butt plug), Anal fingering, Anal penetration, unprotected sex, Creampie, Slight cum licking

Enjoy ~

It is nearly half past eight. You’ve been getting ready for Erwin to pick you up to take you to the Holiday party his coworkers had set up —they do one every year but this is the first time you’ve been able to go in the three years you’ve been together.

The first year it came around you’d only been together for a few months and the two of you weren’t quite sure what your relationship was going to be yet. The second year you had plans with your family the week it was happening, so third times the charm –Right?

It’s not like your relationship is a secret, far from it. Erwin is very open about being taken and, to your slight embarrassment, brags about you to his coworkers. Though you only really know Levi and Hange, the rest you’ve only met in passing when you visit the office and you really want to make a good impression. But that doesn’t mean you won’t try to have a bit of fun.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the front door being unlocked, you’ve gotten a text from Erwin that he was ten minutes away but time must have gotten away from you.

“Are you ready, Sweetheart?” Erwin calls from the base of the stairs.

“Yeah, just getting my jacket.”

Looking over yourself in the floor length mirror by your closet you smooth the front of your black blazer. You wanted to wear something simple but still festive enough so you wore a deep red button up and a matching pocket square in the front of your black blazer.

Rounding the corner of the banister you see your boyfriend leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone. You take the moment he is distracted to admire the way his navy blue suit fits his body perfectly. The way it hugs his bulging muscles and accentuates his tapered waist makes you want to forget the party and have one of your own right where you’re standing and on every other surface of your shared home.

A second later Erwin glances up and his blue eyes warm, creating a handsome smile on his face when he sees you.

“You look perfect, I might not want to take you out in fear of someone trying to take you from me.” He jokes as he walks up to you, pulling you in by your waist till your chest is pressed to his.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Handsome.” Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your lips connect in a sweet greeting. Pulling away you sigh.

“What are you sighing about?”

“Nothing much, just thinking about how I’d wish we could just stay home and have our own fun.” You say with a suggestive lilt making the blonde man laugh.

“That is quite tempting, however I’ve already assured the others we’d be coming, they really want to get to know you.”

“What if we are just a bit late?” You suggest, brushing back his hair in place with a slight pout on your lips.

“There will be more than enough time for that, Sweetheart. Patience is a virtue, good things come to those who wait.” He winks before untangling from you and heading for the door.

~~~

Throughout the car ride you tried to be good and wait till you get home but your patience is only getting thinner. You don’t know if you can really blame it on first-time-meeting-his-coworkers jitters, what you do know is the more you look at how Erwin is gripping the steering wheel and the way his large body is sitting relaxed in the driver’s seat —the tighter your pants are becoming.

Pulling into the underground garage of Erwin’s office building you adjust your pants in a willful attempt to push down your semi from bulging out too much.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” Erwin asks as he turns off the car.

“Uh yeah, just a bit nervous.” Your voice stutters slightly –you were never good at lying to him.

“Really?” Unbuckling his seat belt Erwin leans over the center console, looking into your eyes. “Are you sure it’s not due to the erection in your pants?” Your throat dries.

When did he notice it?

You begin to stammer and try to make up an excuse but the hungry look in his eyes and the drop in his voice makes all possible lies leave your brain and before you could say anything he continues.

“I thought I told you we had to wait till we got home, did I not?” He tilts his head, waiting for a response.

“Yes but I didn’t-.” You’re cut off by Erwin’s shushing.

“But nothing. I thought I made myself very clear but since you’ve decided to be naughty I guess I’ll have to help fix your little issue, huh?” You respond with a whimpered ‘uhuh’ and gasp when you feel Erwin’s large hand cup your growing bulge.

His palm kneads you over your pants, making your cock harden completely.

“Look at you, Baby. Whimpering in my front seat already and I’ve only just started touching you. Do you like the way my hand grips you through your pants?”

“Yes.” You sigh, your eyes still locked with his heavy blue ones.

“Yeah. You're such a needy boy, huh?” You nod again, making him smile. “Take off your pants.”

“What?” You were stunned by his request –more like command. You thought he’d just palm you till you came in your pants but he’s telling you to strip your bottom half bare in the parking garage of his workplace.

“You heard me, Baby. Be a good boy and do as I say, you wanted me to play with you did you not? Because we can stop and go in now or-.”

“No. I- I’ll take them off.” You’d be a mess if you stopped now. Showing up to a party with a raging hard-on is hardly a good first impression.

Unbuckling your seatbelt you kick off your shoes and shimmy out of your suit pants as instructed.

“Your underwear too.” Erwin adds, you do as he says. Looking out the window as you pull your boxers from around your ankles. A hand jerks your eyes back to the man next to you by your chin.

“Look at me, Baby. No one is here.” He reassures but you know that at any moment someone could pull into the empty spot next to you and see you half naked —though you’d be lying if you said that didn’t kinda excite you.

Good impressions be damned.

Your boyfriend’s big hands touching you is skirting away all rational thoughts in your mind.

Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck Erwin pulls you in for a heated kiss. Your tongues dance together and you moan into his mouth as his free hand begins to slowly tug on your erection. He pulls you away by the hair on the nape of your neck, looking at the way your face scrunches up when he squeezes your shaft and teases your tip with his thumb.

“You're so cute like this. Your lips pouting and your tip already oozing so much in my hand. I’ve only just started playing you, is my sweetboy so starved for my touch that he’ll cum just from me kissing him and stroking his pretty dick?”

“Yes -ah.” You breathe out a soft moan.

But your sighs of pleasure turn to whines of loss when the hand wrapped around your member disappears. Opening your eyes you see Erwin reclining his seat, untucking his shirt and undoing his belt. You lick your dry lips as you watch him unzipping his slacks, a large bulge trapped underneath. Your length twitches at the sight of Erwin pulling himself out.

His shaft is thick and veiny in his palm, a pink bulbous tip already glistening with precum.

“You want my cock, Babyboy?” He asks, teasingly slapping it against his exposed abdomen. You nod your head. “Good boys use their words, Sweetheart.”

“Yes, Sir. I want your cock.” Smiling, Erwin’s sinks lower in his seat.

“Goodboy.” The single-worded praise is all he says before pulling you over the center console by the back of your head holding your face centimeters away from his throbbing erection.

Not wasting any time, you eagerly wrap your lips around his tip and give it a hard suck, earning you a pleased growl from your boyfriend.

Your knees are bent on the passenger seat cushions, your ass propped up –on display for anyone who may walk by– as your hands rest on Erwin’s thick muscled thighs for support. You bob your head up and down his thick shaft, only able to comfortably fit half of his girth in your mouth. His hands rests on the back of your head, guiding your movements.

“Just like that, Baby.” He praises in a low growl. “You’re such a good little cock-sucker. Come on, take a bit more. I know you can. Ah, yeaah.” He moans, pushing your mouth further down his length till you feel his thick tip prod at your throat making you gag.

With his fingers tangled in your hair, Erwin’s other hand slides down your clothed spine to cup your ass. You moan around his girth when he gives your cheek a firm squeeze in his palm. He continues to massage and grope your ass lazily, making your body throb with more need. Pushing your ass back against his wandering hand earns you soft smack in warning.

“Ah ah.” He falsely scolds. “None of that, Baby. Grinding your needy ass agasint my hand as you have my cock stuffed in your mouth. Such a naughty boy. Someone really ought to teach you some patience.” He says, punctuated with a firm spank making you choke on his length once more.

He grips your hair to increase the speed your mouth is working his shaft as he continues to spank your reddening ass with sinful words spilling from his lips in a low purr.

“Making me pull my cock out in the garage of my job. Forcing me to punish you in order to teach you a lesson in patience, your ass bare for anyone to see –you should really be ashamed of yourself.” Your moaned responses vibrate along his twitching cock breaking up his words with gritted curses.

“But my Sweetboy likes that, huh? Being used and on display for me?” You nod your head and hum in eager agreement making Erwin chuckle.

Reaching further down, his fingers running down your crack. A predatory purr sounds in the closed car and a mock disapproving tsk.

“What do we have here?” He says in dark amusement, his fingertips rubbing and pressing against the silicon buttplug you’d put in before leaving the house.

Spit is seeping from the corners of your stretched mouth andwetness beginning to seep from your eyes. Erwin rips your mouth away from his cock with a wad of your hair tightly gripped in his fist. Sputtering. Slobber dripping down your chin, face flushed and chest heaving for lost air your face was forcibly directed up to the hungry man looking down at you.

His hand makes a necklace for you around your neck, his palm slightly impeding your airway as the other continues to play with the secret toy lodged in your ass.

“Such a dirty boy. Not only are you slobbering all over my cock with your bare ass up for any lucky passersby to see but to think you were going to parade around my workplace, shake hands with my coworkers –all the while with a toy shoved up your ass, making it ready to stretch around my cock when we get home.” He tsks again, rotating the toy in your gummy walls pulling whimpering mewls from your throat and just as you were about to start begging you’re cut off with yet another firm smack to your sensitive asscheek.

“What am I to do with you, Sweetheart?” He asks rhetorically, head tilled with mockingly soft eyes. “Perhaps I should make you get dressed and walk into the middle of the party with your cock painfully hard and your hungry ass having nothing but that toy to suck on. Or better yet, maybe I’ll pull you out of the car just as you are for every one of my coworkers to see just how much of a shameless little boy you really are.” Erwin’s threatening words send a chill down your spine and pout from your lips.

“Please, Sir, no. I’m sorry, I’ll be good. Please don’t leave me like this, I need you so badly.” You cry pathetically, past the point of no return –you know what you need and at this moment you aren’t above begging for it.

Erwin’s warm hand around your throat moves to cup your cheek, pulling your hot damp face closer to his.

“You’ll be good?” You eagerly nod your head. “Sweetheart, what makes you think I should believe you? Considering all that you’ve done thus far?” Your mind spins for a response, desperate to convince him to satisfy your selfish needy wants.

“Please. I’ll do anything. Anything! Anything you ask, I’ll do it like a good boy. I’m your goodboy, I swear.” Your words are becoming more of a whiny keen with frustration building inside your belly and in response an all too wicked smile begins tugging at the corners of Erwin’s lips.

“Well then.” He said, retracting his hands from your body to lean back in his seat, reclining it further back and pushing his slacks further down his thick thighs.

Looking at your dazed and confused face expectantly he instructs you to remove the rest of your clothing with a wave of his hand.

“I want to see every part of you as I make you fuck yourself on my cock.” You were okay with your ass out but to be completely naked would make it near impossible to hide what it is you’re doing if someone were to walk up to the car but you can tell from the sure look in Erwin’s eyes that he is not the least bit caring of that fact.

How much of a shameless little boy you are.

The words play back in your head, reminding you what you are for him and the hungry look in his crystal blue hues is a further testament of what Erwin needs from you in this moment.

Shamelessness. Obedience. Pleasure.

Looking over your shoulder one last time you look at the large man watching you. Tossing your blazer in the backseat and undoing every shirt button you’re locked in a staring contest till you are completely bare in the front seat of Erwin’s car —nothing but the tinted windows to hide you from the world. You’re sitting with one leg crossed under your butt and the other planted on the floor. Your legs are spread open, showing you balls resting against your ankle and your stiffness standing tall. There is nothing but a hot, hungry silence passing between you two in the too small car making it hard to breathe till Erwin’s voice breaks the air.

“So pretty, Sweetheart.” He comments, licking his lips. “Come here, let your loving boyfriend take care of you.” Patting his thigh he beckons you over with a welcoming smile.

You quickly scurry over the center console as delicately as possible. Your legs are partially resting against your boyfriend’s thighs and the seat beneath him, your back hunch and hands curling around the back of his neck –thank god his seat is reclined.

“Such an eager little boy.” He purrs, sliding his hands up your already shaking thighs to cup firmly your ass. “Needing my thick cock to stretch out your little asshole so badly you’ll be completely naked for anybody to see. What do you think my coworkers would think if they passes by right now to see my sweet little boyfriend, naked and rock hard, begging me to fuck them in my car?” He taunts as his hands continue to squeeze and spread your ass-cheeks.

Just as you were about to answer you’re cut off by your own moans as a hand begins toying with the plug in your needy hole. He is pressing and spinning it within your walls, teasingly giving it a slight pull to test the tight grip around it.

“What do you think they’d say, Y/n? Seeing you cry as I play with the toy you shoved in your ass before we came here?” Your nails dig into his neck, eyes screwed shut and mouth slack.

“That I’m a bad boy- ah.” You pant in quick response as a wonton moan erupts from your lips as Erwin pulls the toy almost completely out before popping it back in your tight ring.

“What else, Baby?” He eggs on, clear amusement in his sultry voice.

“Tha-that I’m your needy cock-slut who needs -ah- needs you to stretch me out.”

“What do you need stretched out?” He asks, punctuated with a firm spank making you whimper once more –trying so hard not to grind against his hardness that is touching yours.

“My ass. Please, Sir! I need you inside me.”

Your fingers are tangled in the short hairs at Erwin’s nape, your eyes pleading –leaking desperate tears– as you watch him ponder your plea while gently pumping the toy in and out of the very place you need him. And in a mournfully-delicious instant he finally rips the toy from your gaping asshole, leaving you to clench around nothing.

“Sit up, Baby.” He instructs, spitting into his palm.

Propping yourself up on your cramped knees you are inraptured by the way his large hand wraps around his own cock, slicking it with his hot spit till it is glistening and ready to fill you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you lean forward, allowing him to direct you where he needs you. His hand spreads your cheek as he begins to teasingly slide his cock-head against your hungry hole, kissing the tight ring of muscle tauntingly.

“Is this what you want, Sweetboy?”

“Yes, Sir. Please. Fill me.” You pulls back from his neck to look into his hard eyes. A dark smile curls his lips.

“Well then-.” His hand gently cups your cheek, leaning into his touch your eyes flutter as the smooth baritone rocks you into a submissive transe. “My cock is ready for you, baby. I want to see you ride me —hard.” He says, forcing your ass to sheath him whole in one push.

A strangled gasp tears through your throat as your body quacks from the quick intrusion. Erwin’s thick curved cock stretches you fuller than any toy could. The way your body burns to accommodate him makes your toes curl against the leather seat. Another moment for your body to accept his invading length, Erwin’s rough hands slide up and down your thighs —sending goosebumps across your exposed skin.

“Ahh-.” A pleasured groan seeps from your boyfriend’s throat as your walls quiver and clench around him. A firm smack to your asscheek brings your back to reality momentarily before you’re swept back into Erwin’s domineering voice.

“Ride me, Baby. Show me you deserve to have my cock stuffed inside you. I want to see how dirty by babyboy can be.”

Erwin’s encouraging words sends your body into autopilot. Your scandalous body begins to buck against the strong man beneath you, your hand tangling into his neatly styled hair —wanting to mess it up. Proof that you were here.

Wonton gasps and moans flood the car’s cabin from the both of you. Your coiled fingers pull at Erwin’s roots for leverage as you take his throbbing length hard and fast. You’re surer and surer that if anyone were to walk by your rocking car there’d be no doubts of what is happening within —but you don't care.

All that matters right now is Erwin’s thick cock pummeling your insides, his callused hands groping your ass —his nails digging into the soft flesh and palms coming down with demanding smacks— and your face buried in his neck, inhailing his musk and sweat.

“Fuck.” Erwin roars into your ear, pulling your face from the curve of his neck till your drooping eyes are held by his. “Just like that, Baby. Ride my cock. I want you to pump my cum into your perfect little asshole so I can see you walk into my office, knowing you’re leaking me in your pants. Is that what you want, Babyboy?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know that is exactly what you’d want.

Wanting him to fill you. Claim you. Own you.

“Yes, Erwin! Please! Fill my ass with your cum. I need it.” You cry, fighting through the burn in your thighs to gain the earthdifying pleasure of having your boyfriend’s cock moving within you —hitting you deep and hard.

“Yeah? You need it? You’d do anything for it?”

“Yes!” You gasp desperately. Your head is swirling, you feel drunk and dizzy. The only thing keeping your head up is Erwin’s hand holding your forehead to his, his intense blue gaze carving into your scrunched up face, watching you unravel on his lap.

“Tell me, baby —who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Who’s cock is only enough to satisfy this slutty little hole of yours?”

“Yours, Erwin. Yours! Please!” Your voice is rough with exhaustion and dehydration but the pain of the scratching doesn’t register, if anything it only adds to the deboucherous cacophony of pleasure coarsing through your weak body.

“That’s right, Baby. Let everyone in this damned parking lot hear you. Take my cock —Fuck!— Just like that! Going to make me cum, Baby.” Erwin says, his head falling back, hand letting your head fall forward to assist his other hand pulling your hips towards him —increasing the speed in which you take his cock.

“Yes! Cum inside me, Sir! Please. I- I need it.” You beg —unneccissarly because you both know Erwin was planning to spill his hot cum inside you, regardless of what you said.

The windows of Erwin’s luxury car is fogged from your hot breaths, rocking rapidly from your ravenous joining and surily is emitting fiendish sounds of pleasure spilling from each of your lips.

“So close, Sweetheart. Look at me!” Erwin demands. Pulling your head from his shoulder you rest your head against his. You’re truly a vision to him —one he wants framed for his viewing pleasure— your jaw slack, dripping drool and your eyes watering as they attempt to stay open.

“You want to cum, Baby?” You quickly nod your head, whimpered pleas incoherently fall from your tongue.

Leaning back, your hands resting on his knees for support you give Erwin a full view of your naked body’s lewd movements.

“So gorgeous.” He praises through hagered breath. “Look at your pretty cock. All red and leaking, needing to realse.” A choked sob rips through your throat as Erwin’s hand wraps around your length, jerking it in rythme with your stuttering hips.

“Wait, I- Erwin- ah!” Your voice is broken up by pathetic mewls, unable to grasp your words as your boyfriend continues to stroke your cock, squeezing your shaft and twisting at your tip —coating his fist in your precum.

“Wait? Why would I when you look so pretty like this —Fuck!” He huffs, his face flushed with exhurtion, his end nearing. “Cum on my cock, Sweetheart. I need you to squeeze me. Make me fill you with my cum. Please, Baby. Cum for me.” The blonde’s pleading words were just the thing you needed to finally plummet.

Your hips grind against his length, encouraging it to press against the sinful button deep within you and in a shell-shocking moment you’re left gasping and wailing as you reach the end of your rope. The hand around your shaft continues to tug on you as streams of white begin to coat your bare chest and belly.

“God damn, Baby. Don’t stop!” Erwin demands, hand milking your balls and his other hand keeping your pass on his lap till you finally feel the heat bloom in your belly as his twitching cock floods your insides. The two of you fill the car with your pleasure filled roars as you each ride out your highs together till you’re each overstimulated and gasping.

The next few moments are spent catching your respective breaths, bodies still connected and coating in sweat, spit and cum. The firm hands griping your hips detach to begin gently running up and down your trembling form, sending aftershocks up and down your spine.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” Erwin’s voice softly says into your ear. You tiredly nod your head, breathing in his scent at his neck and gently laying a kiss on his pulse. Pulling your face to his, he connects your lips for a tender kiss.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? Feel any pain?” You shack your head, chest fluttering at his love and care for you. Looking into his eyes you give him a tired smile.

“I’m more than okay.” You chuckle, one that he returns in response making your belly flutter for naughtier reasons. After another moment of looking into his eyes, Erwin slowly helps you off of his softening length. You gasp as he finally pops out of you, hot seed gushing out of your used and exhausted hole.

Helping you slide over to the passenger seat so you can resume your clothes, Erwin lets out a silent curse. Looking over, your underwear in your hands, you see him looking at his black trousers —a sheer white blotch disrupting the pristine fabric.

“Is everything okay?” You ask. Erwin nods his head giving you a soft smile, shaking his head to himself.

“Everything is fine, Darling. In my rush to take you I didn’t think about the possibility of messing up my pants.” He lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “Guess we should head home after all.” Frowning at his words you lean over the center console, your head dipping to his lap where you begin to lick at the splotch that rests on the junction of his right hip and his groin.

A low growl sounds over your head, you don’t need to look up to know Erwin is watching your lewd show of cleaning the mess you’d made on his lap. Sitting up innocently, wiping the dribble of spit on your chin, you flash Erwin a sweet smile.

“Better?” The dark look in his eyes reveals that everything is far from ‘better’.

“Oh now we’re defiantly going back home.” A strong hand grips your hair to crash your lips against your boyfriend’s before being pulled back harshly. “I’ll tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well and I’ll bring you around some other day.” His voice is a low purr, hunger brewing in his crystal eyes.

“Why, Sir? I feel just fine.” You say, as if you’re pure of heart and clueless of the situation.

“You know exactly why, my dirty little boy. Now sit back in your seat —and don’t even bother getting dressed because the moment we pull into our garage I’m gonna fuck you so hard you wont be able to walk your cute out of this car.”

Hope that was ok. Feedback and Interaction is always appreciated! :)

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#christmas #christmas 2022 #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan erwin smith #aot erwin smith #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #aot smut #erwin smith smut #erwin smith x male reader #x reader #x male reader #male x male #christmas smut #*nsfw

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coreene · 17 days

Text

WIP Wednesday Saturday

My apologies to everyone who tags me - I absolutely love it when you do but I know I am always super late with doing them. But, on the bright side, this way we can keep the circle going!

Thank you @thisaccountisagainstmywill and @fistfuloftarenths for the tags, I love WIP Wednesday!

I am tagging @my-favourite-zhent @bardic-inspo @beesht @justporo and @tellmeallaboutit as usual no presh and also share your wips even if you're not tagged!

My offering is a piece from chapter 42 of Lorelei's Journal where the gang finally meets Lorelei's mother. 👇✂️

We were walking when I spot someone familiar, walking towards the gates. I stopped in my steps suddenly and the rest of the group hit me in surprise.

"What's the matter?" Gale asked with confusion.

I instinctively walked closer to Astarion. I wanted to hide, I needed to run; I didn't want to see her.

"Eleyarus, what a surprise," my mother spoke in the fake nice tone she used all the goddamn time.

"Mother," was all I could say with how dry my mouth had gotten.

"You look... good." She said in a very obvious, I'm lying, tone in her voice. "Although, I would do something about that dry hair and you're in desperate need of a hair cut, so many split ends." I tried to brush my hair with my fingers after her words and looked at the tips.

"And what is it that you're wearing?" I looked down to my leathers. "At least someone had the good sense to embroider something on it. It couldn't be you though, all those lessons and yours always came out wonky, didn't it?"

I took a step back, towards Astarion. He placed his arm over my shoulder wrapped his hand protectively around my body.

My mother squinted her eyes to the display, her gaze darting from me to Astarion.

The split second when I wasn't under her mocking gaze, I spoke. "What are you doing here, mother? I've never seen you leave Upper City."

She returned her gaze to me with a condescending smile. And there was something wicked behind it. "Oh, your brother wanted to see the circus."

"Fen is here?" I asked with a hopeful tone. I was still mad at him for the way he left but I would be so happy to see him again. I've missed him.

"No, your little brother." She said and turned towards what looked like a nine or ten years old brat who was busy kicking pigeons. I would be mad if he was able to catch up to them but he didn't look very blessed in the athletics.

Suddenly I connected the dots in my head. The timing of the announcement in the paper, telling people I was dead, when she stopped looking for me. It all fit the time he was born.

"Now, we should be leaving. We spend enough time around plebs. Volan come." She said and turned towards the gate as the boy tried his best to catch up to her. He was very slow.

"Mother, leave the city, if you can. It's not going to be safe for a while." I called after her.

She looked at me over her shoulder. "Don't tell me what to do, girl. I know everything better than you do."

And she turned her back completely to us, with the brat following her and walked passed the Fist guarding the gate.

"I'd wish she'd turn into a mind flayer for not heeding your warning, but I don't know if that'll change much for her. She's as emotionless as the illithid." Astarion commented while the rest of us were still in shock.

"That is not how a mother should behave," I heard Gale mutter under his breath.

"I now understand why you ran away." Karlach commented.

I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. "It's fine. I'm used to her. Let's just go back to camp." And hope we never see her again. She could save herself for all I cared.

"No, you need a distraction." Karlach ran in front of us and stood near the stand for the circus. "Let's visit the circus, please."

I smiled at her enthusiasm and nodded. "Alright, I guess we can."

"And we're just in time for the clown show," Astarion spoke with a tired voice "how wonderful."

Karlach darted towards the circus gate, as we followed her in a leisurely pace, Gale was coming from a little behind us. Astarion's arm was still wrapped around me. He pulled me closer to himself and left a kiss to my temples. I cherished the feeling of his cool soft lips on my skin. I felt a headache coming up and it was helping.

"How are you, my love?" He whispered to my ear.

"I'm okay," I looked up at him "and grateful to have you."

He bent his head down for a soft kiss. I breathed him in when our lips touched. "You'll never have to face her alone, as long as I'm here."

For those that do not follow my longfic: Lorelei's mother is a high elf, older than Halsin, and including Volan, she has five children. Lorelei and Volan are the only ones who share a father. The other three all have different fathers and the eldest, Miraren, doesn't actually know hers. It is rumoured to be a star elf, though.

She calls Lorelei, Eleyarus, because that's the name her parents has given her. Lorelei changed it when she ran away.

I was making a family tree to show Lorelei's family but I still can't decide on a design I like so it's gonna be a while for that to see the light of the day.

#wip wednesday #tag games #bg3 oc Lorelei #oc: lorelei #bg3 tav #Astarion x Tav #tavstarion #Astarion x Female Tav #Astarion #BG3 Astarion #Astarion Ancunin #Baldur's Gate 3 Astarion #Bg3 #Bg3 Spoilers #Astarion Fanfic #Astarion Fic

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p1nkwitch · 7 months

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Here me out. 10 for that prompt list and Lonelyeyes.

Sorry it took me this long! Between lonelyeyes week and having to finish the good omens au, i was busy. Anyhow!! Here you go i had a fun writting this.

10. “you died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract”

Peter was furious, he read the paper in his hand, over and over again, till eventually he crumpled it in his hands and put it inside his pocket. He quickly put on his coat and went to the Magnus Institute at a quick pace.

The letter had been clear, there was no line that he could use to escape, no loophole. He even called his uncle on the way there, wanting to check just in case, but Nathaniel merely let out a sigh and told him it was in fact a clause that Mordechai had signed up with Jonah Magnus many years ago. It just so happened that no other head of the institute had any need to call upon it till now. James Wright instilled his right to it and now Peter was seemingly stuck. Cursing loudly he hangs up on his uncle telling him to keep it cool.

When he finally arrives at the building, he takes no time at all to make his way to the office of the new head of the place. Elias Bouchard.

Peter had liked James, in fact he had fancied him quite a bit, before his death, the two of them had a bit of a relationship. Which was fine by him, Peter came and went to the sea and back to land to spend some time with James whom he held fond feelings for. Quite…romantic in kind in all honesty.

He flushes just thinking about it. Unfortunately they were still working for opposing forces, therefore they were very prone to fights, so in his last trip, they got into a big one. Things were said. Peter left to simmer on his feelings for the next ten months, expecting to get back to James with a cool head. Unfortunately by the time he did come back he was informed the man was dead and he missed the funeral as well.

It really just…well it shook him quite badly, enough that he refused to go to the institute at all to meet the new head of the place. Telling Nathaniel he was done with it and to find someone else.

That of course didn't seem to work for long, because now he got this stupid bloody letter!

Peter grumbles but he struggles to remember where the office is, he tends to get lost easily in the stupid building and the sensation of being watched made him feel sick, enough that it distracted him too much to properly know his location. Eventually he finds someone from staff who points him to the right direction and so he finds himself in front of James' office.

Rosie tries to stop him but he starts to use the lonely when she picks up her phone and tells him after a few seconds that Elias shall see him. He quickly enters and closes the door behind him.

The man in front of him was sitting behind his desk with a set of glasses that were slightly sliding off his nose, they were red rimmed, which contrasted a lot with his dark gray suit.

“Ah, Mr. Lukas I was not expecting you today, what can I do for you sir?”

He almost deflates. Elias was at most a couple of years younger than Peter, maybe barely hitting his thirties. He was shorter than him, which he noticed when the man stood up and pointed to the seat in front of him. The feeling of being seen was present so at least the man knew what he was or James picked someone with promise for the spot.

Thinking of James makes his head hurt for a very specific reason.

“What you can do is get rid of this” He takes the crumpled paper from his pocket and slams it on the desk, sliding it towards Elias who picks it up and reads it. His eyebrows raise till eventually he looks up at him with a blank expression.

“This is a bit of a surprise to be honest, but unfortunately…i can't do anything about it. I legally cannot undo the contract”

Peter chest burns.

“You cannot expect me to think its ok for James to pawn me off to you! We aren't in the 18 or early 19 century. We don't arrange arranged marriages anymore!”

Elias makes a sort of motion with his hand. “Maybe not here but its technically not-”

Peter glares at him. “I'm not going to marry you because James lost his mind before he died” He doesn't like looking people in the eyes, it's horrendous, instead Peter stares at the spot between their eyes. This is why he notices how Elias' expression turns pinched and his mouth turns slightly downwards at his outburst.

“Mr.Wright was under all his faculties before his untimely demise Mr.Lukas. A heart attack is a heart attack, not a reason to question his sanity. Albeit its quite the shock that he thought about this. He did mention you to me, as he was training me. I presumed you two were close from the way he spoke of you…very hm, yes fond”

Peter shivers and steps back feeling that horrible sensation of eyes raking over his skin, of being known.

“Knock it off. He did not-”

But Elias nods and walks around the desk to stand in front of him.

“He did, I was very curious about what sort of person he would talk so fondly of, you know? Ah it was a pity when i found out you were quitting your place as the representative of your family, i wanted to meet you. Albeit of course also not under this circumstances”

Peter feels a mix between shame and…and he is not sure. Especially as Elias' hands landed on his coat's lapel, he was fixing up his lapels and letting his hands linger for a bit. Making his skin crawl and his face burn. Elias is handsome. He will give him that, he also has sharp eyes, the same color as James too, a very cool shade of gray.

Still-!

“Listen, I'm not the sort of person you get to know, that's not how I work, but even less so…I don't do arranged marriages! Why would James even think this is a good idea to begin with at all?!” Elias tilts his head and says he doesn't know.

“But it's not such a bad thing isn't it?”

Peter gapes at him.

“What?”

Elias smirks at him, his lip slightly lifting upwards, it was both very nice on his face but also very insufferable.

“Take it as an opportunity, besides i talked to Nathaniel on the phone and he was mentioning something about you perhaps soon having to find a wife, since you were now no longer doing business with the Institute” Peter didn't know-

His face burns in shame about this little bastard knowing so much about him and yet Peter had nothing on him. “He wouldn't-”

A tap on the chest makes him look down at Elias. What a…handsome devil.

“But he would, now as I said, you can call this a blessing in disguise. Arranged as it is, we can make this work. You still travel, and leave for most of the year as you Lukas tend to do. I'm busy and I don't have time to dwell too much in relationships, they all bring me headaches. So…a transaction if you may. A marriage in name but its more of a…collaboration if you will?”

Swallowing a bit he asks carefully what that would entail. Elias smirk gets more wicked and there is something on the way he does it that just tickles the back of his brain. There is something so very…familiar in the motion.

“Well, for one, I do not like your replacement, I can tell you that right now. Conrad is a prick” Peter can't help but snort and smile just a bit, a hint really.

“Yes, that tracks”

Elias' eyes flutter and Peter has to look elsewhere, he is handsome, so what? Peter is still placed in a binding contract between entities and a marriage that he never asked for.

“Still what else? I want to win something out of this whole farce”

Elias walks around him like a predator measuring up with their prey, it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Well, I only want some time to talk, perhaps dinner if you may. It is a marriage, perhaps not conventional or legal yet, but one made by our predecessors and bound by our entities. Quite the thing isn't it? As for you, well, what is more lonely than this? A marriage with no love?”

It is true, but that's not…

What fuels his loneliness is not the complete lack of something, but an absence. Peter is lonely because there is something to miss. An empty relationship as miserable of an affair as that is, doesn't feed his patron at all, because its not making him lonely, just miserable. Fun for a watcher not for Forsaken.

“I'm afraid you are going to need something else to sell it out to me, Mr.Bouchard. That's not how it works for me”

“Oh? And how is that then? Aren't you sad about what happened to Mr. Wright? Isn't it lonely enough to be married to someone else than the person you actually…cared about?” He was sure he was going to say love, in that case Peter would have just sent Elias to the lonely. Clenching his fists he tells him through clenched teeth to watch it.

Elias' eyes narrow and his expression turns wicked.

“Why? Isn't it the truth? Mr.Wright was fond of you but i'm sure he got over it quickly when you left him”

Peter stares and then grabs him by the tie, gripping it tightly as Elias smiles at him. “Grinning little freak, shut up”

“Perhaps that was what did it, you wore down his heart” Peter face twitches and Elias eyes seem to drink it all in.

“I am going to get rid of this little contract, after all who cares if you are dead right?”

The beholder laughs and grips his wrist tightly with a hand as he leans so close to his face Peter has to step back, yet Elias follows.

“Do that, and I will shove so many memories of other people's lives and their thoughts about you that you will turn into a blubbering mess Peter dear, don't test me. Im being kind darling”

The niggling sensation on the back of his brain intensifies, the tone, the posture, the bossiness.

The eyes.

“Well, its a good thing i dont give a shit about James, he was a douchebag and he had a horrible sense of fashion too, you on the other hand have a nicer look” Elias face turns outraged for a second too long, his eyebrows twitching in consternation. Peter grips him by the jaw. “What the fuck James?!”

His expression turns blank and then resigned before going to be amused. “I suppose I gave my hand away too early, huh? Hello Peter” Oh he is going to kill him for sure. “Oh sod off, you won't”

“Stop messing with my head!”

“Stop making it so easy darling. Put some more effort into shielding those thoughts. Now, about that marriage-”

Peter headbuts him. “You fuck-” Elias is grabbing his forehead, his expression turned into that of outrage. “What is your blood problem-”

“My problem?! You died and left me on the hook for a hereditary marriage contract!!! What the hell is wrong with you! What- How are you alive, what is this? What the bloody hell is going on!”

Things devolve for a while, mostly into Elias explaining while looking sour that he was in fact Jonah Magnus, that he swaps bodies, that he changed his and when Peter did not come to meet his new body he had to find a way to drag him back. He was going to wait till there was a founding party, but Nathaniel did in fact talk about making Peter find a wife soon and Elias…

Oh Elias was possessive. Peter could see it in the way he described his plan and the way he grabbed onto him as they sat on the small loveseat in his office. The way his hands touched him and his lips curved up in smirks that had him flush.

“So I invoked the right to pass you along, honestly Mordechai and I were really drunk when we made that clause back then. Neither of us were actually thinking clearly, it was a wild weekend. What can I say? When you mix your vices and bring in your friends..”

“Ugh, can we not- I dont want to know how you fucked my grandfather. That's just gross”

“Pity”

He glares as a warning so Elias lifts his hands in surrender.

“So…”

Peter holds his face in defeat. “I'm not marrying you. Not now”

There is a long pause, Peter knows what his words mean, the implications. Elias probably can see it too, is likely smirking like the Cheshire cat.

“Now?”

“Just- just shut up would you? Just…” Peter doesn't want to marry, not now, not like this, let alone not when he is processing a lot of information that he is trying to be cool with in such a short amount of time. “Let me think”

“Be my guest”

Like this he just tries to sort his thoughts and what he found out and eventually he reckons, the best course of action is to keep going as they were. For now at least. “I'm going to continue to work, and drop by to…talk about business”

Elias' expression is guarded, Peter rubs his own jaw deep in thought, the cons about this whole thing are growing, are exponential, this whole thing is wrong and will have dire consequences for him.

Yet the pros….

Well Peter was a gambler at heart. What's life without a bit of spice? Without a bit of a spark to make things interesting? Elias, James, Jonah or whatever he wants to call himself is his spark of chaos. Painful as it is to admit it.

“Dinner? Your place or mine”

He can see the momentary surprise at the acceptance. Soon it flickers into smugness, but Peter brushes it off.

“Oh? Is that so-”

“Well yes, I haven't gone out with Elias Bouchard yet, perhaps i don't like him, perhaps you are…boring, or perhaps you are interesting enough to keep around. Maybe to even stay over at my flat”

Elias' face is wild. “Maybe i find you boring instead”

Yet Peter shakes his head in fond exasperation. “If you did, you wouldn't have basically trapped both of us into an arranged marriage under the suspicion that I would soon find a wife. So, dinner this friday? Your treat this time since you basically almost made my blood pressure burst”

The chuckle is a mockery, but it suits Elias and its…he has a lovely voice. Charming and low and makes something twist on his gut.

“I can live with that. For now we can be engaged, that at least will keep your family off your back, isn't that great?”

Lord.

“You are so horrible” Elias' hand touches his cheek.

“I am and yet here you are?”

Here is indeed. Peter tilts his head to brush his lips against his palm, he can see pink on his cheeks for the first time and he really is starting to like the idea of figuring Elias out. He seems more expressive than James. With a hum he leans downwards and kisses him.

Its different but also familiar. He feels arms wrap around his neck and when the kiss deepens a bit too much, Peter retreats and starts to drift into the lonely to meditate a bit about this whole thing.

“Asshole”

Peter laughs this time at the pout on Elias' lips when he begins to slip away from his grasp. “Pot and kettle you utter insane bastard. I'm going to try and process the whole 200 year old dandy thing, now, see you on friday Mr.Bouchard”

Peter is almost gone when he hears him say goodbye.

“-Mr.Lukas, its a pleasure to meet my new fiance”

Peter's face burns all of a sudden as Elias gets the last word in before laughing at him.

Horrible man!

Yet…it does serve him well.

Enough that in a few years he will propose to him properly this time, with rings and a silly post it note to seal the deal. Curse him for being charming and a bastard, he is weak to such things.

#lonelyeyes #peter lukas #elias bouchard #tma #the magnus archives #flurby gets an ask #jonah magnus #myficf #flurby fic #writting prompt #Elias is a scheming possesive bastard #gaslight gatekeep girlboss that lonely man for your own good #Peter is so tired of this bullshit but also he is into it

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writingwitharlo · 1 year

Text

Mystery

a/n: will admit i’m not in my peak era atm, whether in writing not mentally so please enjoy this tiny crumb i have provided (also tagging @nhasablogg for funsies)

(Stranger Things; Steve/Eddie)

983 words

Nothing in his life could have prepared Steve for the amount of discoveries he was still going to make, even after officially asking Eddie to be his boyfriend. Or did Eddie ask Steve? Neither of them could remember that well, and regardless, it didn’t matter.

The only thing that did matter right in that moment, was that Steve was trying to get to sleep and Eddie had been hindering that very thing for almost the past two hours.

“Eds?”

“Hm? Oh. I thought you were asleep.”

Steve let out a groan and propped himself onto his elbows so he could glare at the one sprawled out beside him.

The Harringtons had left Hawkins on a ‘business trip’, which meant that Steve’s house was going to be empty for a few days. It also meant that any sleepovers were being moved from the Munson trailer and Eddie's cramped twin bed to Steve’s luxurious queen.

Perhaps it was the fact that Steve’s mattress was softer and less lumpy, or this neighbourhood always fell eerily quiet at night, or the missing hum of a nearby fridge. Or that Steve didn’t allow Eddie to smoke in the house under any circumstances. Whatever it was, Eddie always had a hard time winding down.

Once he was asleep, he slept like a baby. It was just getting him to be still enough to get to that point.

“I would be asleep if you stopped moving every ten seconds.” Steve wanted to be annoyed but when he looked at Eddie, all of it melted away. Those dark deer eyes stared at him all innocently, headphones pushing back tousled hair and a collection of doodles filling some scrap paper. Clearly Eddie had been trying to occupy himself.

Steve shook his head with a defeated little sigh before dropping his head to Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re a menace. What’re we gonna do with you, hm?” Soft lips met warm skin just where the cut-off sleeve revealed Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do with me? How about we start on the things you could do to me?” The smugness of his grin made it all the way to Eddie’s voice.

Steve laughed, shoulders shaking briefly as he lifted his head again. “Oh, yeah? Anything among that list that would tucker you out, perhaps? Cause that’s what we really need right now.”

Eddie just smirked, propping a hand behind his head once he had set his headphones aside. “Oh, most certainly.”

There was an expectant pause. “Okay… You’re not gonna tell me then?” Steve’s eyebrows rose slowly.

“Hm, I don’t think I will. Have to keep the mystery alive somehow after all these years, don’t I, Stevie-boy?”

Steve rolled his eyes, mainly to distract from the way his cheeks heated up whenever Eddie called him anything but his name. “Always so dramatic,” he muttered mostly to himself, placing a couple precise pinches near the other’s hip.

Immediately, Eddie’s arm shot down again with an audible gasp, hand catching Steve’s but it was too late. A full attack was already under way and nothing was going to stop it.

Steve ended up laughing along as Eddie writhed beneath him, and relished in the yelps and protests that came from vibrating digits between his ribs. “Was this anywhere on your list?” he asked, a playful glisten on his face. “Cause if not, it definitely should be.”

Eddie just let out a string of insults as a reply before being interrupted by his own shrieking laughter again. It wasn’t until a little later, a gentle claw fluttering over his belly and Steve’s face buried against his neck, that Eddie’s resolve seemed to run out.

The prickling of Steve’s light stubble against his sensitive neck had Eddie in a giggling fit, forcing him to breathe a little heavier. Until, out of nowhere, a desperate moan escaped.

Steve froze and time stopped. As Steve slowly lifted his head, Eddie was staring quite forcibly up at the ceiling. His face was almost emitting light, it was burning so much and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see how Steve was tilting his head to the side in question.

“Please don’t tell me you heard that,” Eddie got out, voice barely over a whisper as he squeezed his eyes shut. Unfortunately that also meant he missed how the look of Steve’s face changed from one of delight to curiosity to pure mischief.

“Oh, but I did,” Steve replied in a low rumble. A smirk already tugged on the corner of his mouth when Eddie’s reaction was simply to whimper. “So, was it the neck or the belly?”

Eddie groaned loudly, slapping both hands over his face to hide the growing burn before giving a muffled reply.

“Huh? I didn’t quite catch that.” Steve’s fingers twitched ever so slightly, which had still been resting against Eddie’s stomach. Lightning fast, Eddie’s hands came crashing down to grip onto Steve’s. “Both! I said ‘both’, you dick!”

Steve laughed, a full toothy grin on his face. “That’s what I thought you said.” They grappled with each other’s hands for a bit until Steve put an end to it by pinning them above Eddie’s head. “Ready?”

There was something incredibly flustering about having Steve practically inches from his face, fully excited to explore this new facet of Eddie’s many quirks without any judgment or hesitation.

After almost an hour of exploration, they’d discovered that it wasn’t only those two specific spots that could draw out such a reaction from Eddie. Also, Steve found himself getting almost equally as excited on his end. But most importantly, they were both tuckered out by the end of that hour.

As they curled into each other, both with still a hint of a smile on their faces and a glowing warmth coming from their chests, Steve had only one single thought: Turns out, Eddie was the mystery keeping them both alive.

#tickle fic #steddie tickle fic #tickling #tickle community #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie tickling #stranger things tickle fic

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punkshort · 2 months

Note

i had an idea to add to the ‘str’ extras post. i came across an insta account that details “things ____ loves/hates” (i will link an example, credit to them for the idea), thought it could be an interesting, insightful look into sheriff!joel, of things you haven’t touched on but that makes up the wonderful man we have grown to love!

no rush if you decide to do it just a fun lil thing i thought of <3

https://www.instagram.com/p/C3BLN86OquE/?igsh=MWF0aG0ydzA4c3BnZg==

I like this idea! And I am very much looking for a distraction so I decided to have a little fun with it and make a photo collage to go along with my answers:

Likes:

Classic romance novels. I think he likes to keep it a secret but he has a soft spot for the classics (I thought wuthering heights was kind of apt... two people unable to be together, etc...)

Coffee. It's an obvious one, but maybe not so obvious is he prefers to share coffee with someone else. That's why he always found himself going to the diner, even before reader came on the scene. He just likes to be around others, even if it is his annoying younger brother.

Texas - duh. Sheriff Joel couldn't imagine living anywhere else, especially up north. He is a southern boy through and through.

Lazy mornings. Those are rare for him. Sarah tends to have a busy schedule, even on the weekends, so when he gets the chance to sleep in a little or just lounge around before having to get up, he really enjoys that (especially if reader is there, although he hasn't been able to have many mornings with her... yet 👀). To go along with this, he also really likes kissing. Just making out with no goal in mind. Slow, lazy licks and soft little noises under a warm blanket on a Sunday morning with nowhere to be? Perfection.

Old movies. Especially at the drive in. Something about the nostalgia of it really makes him happy. And that romantic side of him can't help himself. It's usually his go-to first date idea.

Football. As Sarah mentioned once before, he really enjoys American football and annoys her with it. Sarah really looks forward to the spring and summer because there's no football on TV and she doesn't have to listen to him yelling in the living room every ten minutes.

His favorite pair of jeans. He's had them for years, the knees are getting worn out but he loves them and won't part with them.

Sarah - obviously. Even though she keeps him on his toes and super busy all the time, he would drop anything for her. He is always struggling to balance work and home and he tends to stretch himself too thin and not take enough time for himself, but he tries to make every single soccer game and school event because he loves seeing how talented Sarah is.

Hiking, specifically with Sarah. It's something they like to do in the summer, at least one weekend a month. Occasionally he can convince her to camp out overnight, but she hates sleeping in a tent so it's a hard sell.

Dislikes:

People who don't use their seatbelts. It's so easy. Just do it. He's seen too many accidents in his line of work and he hates when people don't use them.

Snakes. Sarah never lets him forget about the time when he was nine years old and he went to put on his boot to go play outside and was surprised to find a snake sleeping inside. To this day, he can't put his shoes on without checking them first.

Oysters. It's a texture thing, he thinks they're gross. He doesn't care they are an aphrodisiac, he doesn't need it 😉

Line dancing. Even though he's from Texas, it makes him cringe every time he sees people doing it.

Snow/being cold. He prefers the heat. It's what he's used to and he doesn't like shoveling snow on the rare occasion Texas gets any accumulation.

Lip Gloss. He likes kissing. A lot. And he thinks lip gloss is too sticky.

Wool Sweaters. Because he runs hot as it is and wool just makes it worse. Plus, it's itchy.

People who talk about themselves too much. Especially women he's been on dates with. He likes learning about other people, but when it becomes apparent they have no interest in learning about him, it's a turn off.

Golf. Because all my Joels hate golf. For no particular reason at all.

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a lot of fun putting together.

#anon ask #ask #STR fic #sheriff!joel

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ladycatofwinterfell · 7 months

Note

Something with Ned not kissing Cat in protest of her smoking until she quits 😂

I don’t know what this is, but I wrote it and now I’m posting. Enjoy!

Ned was waiting for her in the backyard when she came home. He sat in the patio, resting in an armchair. It had been hot all day, the sun had been scorching. She was not surprised to find him there.

“Unusually hot, isn’t it?” she asked.

“If it’s more than a day left of this heat wave I’m going to die. Or kill myself. Same outcome either way.”

He had his hair pulled back in a bun and there didn’t seem to be a single bone in his body. He was slumped back against the backrest as if he was truly dying.

“You’re so dramatic” she smiled.

She came over to stand next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her with a tired smile as she did so.

“Not in the least. I was not made for this weather.”

Catelyn leaned down to kiss her husband, as she always did when one of them came home. Though instead of her lips meeting his lips they met the palm of his hand. It was rather unpleasant, but she took the hint.

“And what did you do that for?” she asked, offended.

She stood up straight again.

“You know why.”

As if the hand stopping her had not been enough he demonstratively crossed his arms over his chest.

With a sigh Catelyn walked over to sit in another armchair.

“I haven’t smoked today.”

Ned tilted his head slightly to the side, making him for a moment look a little like a dog.

“But have you quit?”

His tone was terribly condescending, it was annoying. She was a grown woman, she could make her own choices and it wasn’t like she was unaware of the risks.

They had already had that conversation. At least ten times by that point. She had said everything that needed saying.

“Catelyn” Ned sighed. “I keep bringing this up because I love you. I’m not trying to be annoying, I’m not trying to moralise, I just don’t want you to die sooner than you have to.”

Her husband had a way of sighing her name that was infuriating.

“Are you going to refuse to kiss me until I stop smoking?”

“That wasn’t my plan, but now I’m definitely going to.”

“Alright, Lysistrata” she said dryly.

“So no sex either? Sounds good.”

Catelyn groaned, sinking further into her seat. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

First time she had quit smoking it had been easier because then she had been very much forced to. Couldn’t risk hurting her baby with the terrible habit. Then she had been clean for years and years.

“Are you going to sex strike to make me quit smoking?”

She opened her eyes to look at him.

“If that’s what it takes” he replied calmly.

As if he wouldn’t struggle with something like that as much as she would.

He was right, she knew he was. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to quit. It wasn’t like she loved being addicted to something that was very likely to make her sick. Perhaps kill her in the end. But quitting was hard, continuing was easy. So much easier.

“How long must I go without smoking before you’ll put your hands on me again?”

It felt like it would be a double punishment if she wouldn’t even be able to distract herself. Well, if she couldn’t get him to distract her. Or if she wouldn’t at least have that option, she wasn’t sure she would even want it once

“It can be business as usual immediately, but I better not catch you lying about it.”

“Oh this is going to suck so much.”

~*~

Catelyn had to avert her eyes when Lyanna held out the package towards her.

“Want a cig?”

“Nope. I’ve quit.”

She had known the question would come when she followed Lyanna outside to keep her company while she smoked, she had prepared herself. That didn’t make the screaming in her head any easier to deal with.

Lyanna still waited a moment before putting it back in the pocket of her jacket. She was smiling.

“I know. Ned told me.”

“And you still offered me a cig?”

Lyanna could be even more infuriating than her brothers at times.

“I wouldn’t have given it to you either way, just wanted to see what you’d say.”

Catelyn hated that family. To believe she had almost married into it through Brandon and then actually married into it through Ned. Mistakes had been made.

Ned poked his head out through the door. He threw a quick glance at Lyanna, saw the unlit cigarette in her hand and then immediately looked at Catelyn.

“Nothing” Catelyn said, holding up her hands to show him they were empty. “She offered and I said no.”

He came out on the porch and let the door close behind him.

“You offered her a cigarette?” he asked Lyanna with raised eyebrows.

“I was never going to give it to her” she said defensively. “And she’s not a child, you don’t need to police her.”

“I’m not trying to police anyone, I just want you to know you’re an ass.”

Lyanna just huffed and fished a lighter out of another pocket.

“Dinner’s ready” Ned let them know.

Catelyn looked at Lyanna. She was cupping a hand around the cigarette between her lips as she lit it. Gods, she wanted that. Why had she followed Lyanna outside in the first place? It was a terrible idea.

Ned caught her by the arm and gave her a kiss as she meant to walk past him and open the door. He lingered there just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m proud of you” he said as they parted. “You’re doing great.”

“I wish I could say it helps to hear that, but it really doesn’t.”

“I do what I can.”

#catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat #my drabble #quitting smoking sucked soooo bad. like am i glad i did it? yea. did it suck? also yea #and i wasn’t even doing it for that long :/

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sparklingmusicofstars · 7 months

Text

Hamefura Bonus Short Story : Second prince and his fiancé

(This story takes place after the kidnapping incident in Volume 3)

I, Selena Berg, took a deep breath to calm my nervousness.

Today, Prince Ian, my fiancé, will come to my house and we are planning to have tea.

And soon Prince Ian will arrive.

Although Ian is a busy member of the royal family, he regularly makes time to visit me. A while ago, I thought it was inevitable because of his fiancé's obligation, but now I know that's not the case, so I'm really happy.

As I prepared and waited in the sunny garden, the person I had been waiting for appeared.

"Selena"

Prince Ian approached me, his eyes sparkling, and I remembered the first time we met.

It was almost ten years ago. My parents told me that I had been chosen to be the prince's fiancé.

I was a quiet person, so even at children's tea parties, I often stayed quiet in the corner and didn't stand in the front, so I never really met the prince. So when I heard the story, I was very nervous. I wonder if I'll be okay.

But I couldn't say anything to my parents, who were so happy, and before I knew it, the day of our meet-and-greet arrived. I was just so nervous. If I let my guard down, my hands would start shaking.

Then, the most beautiful boy I've ever seen appeared in front of me. The boy with blond hair and blue eyes was exactly like the prince I had read about in books――my nervousness became even worse.

"N-nice to meet you. I-I'm Selena Berg and I'm going to..."

I took a moment to say my greeting. The adults around me laughed at that funny greeting.

I feel embarrassed and my face heats up. I must be blushing.

Thinking about this, I felt even more embarrassed and almost looked down.

"Nice to meet you, Selena. My name is Ian Stuart. I look forward to spend time with you from now on."

Prince Ian said and extended his hand.

The prince looked straight at me without laughing at my unseemly greeting.

It was impossible not to fall in love with him, and I fell in love with Prince Ian in the blink of an eye.

Also, he is serious and hard working, and is a little clumsy but kind. As I saw various things, my feelings gradually grew.

Before I knew it, I started to want to support Prince Ian who was trying so hard, and I tried so hard... but my magical powers were still weak, and I wasn't able to achieve that much academic results, so instead of supporting Prince Ian, I felt like I was a burden to him. I started to wonder if there was.

When I started having these thoughts, Prince Ian became more aloof than before, and I thought that I was disliked by Prince Ian because of my poor performance.

And because of those feelings, I was manipulated into causing a terrible incident.

However, after that incident, Prince Ian began to take good care of me. I was able to know that he loved me.

When I heard those words , ``I, Ian Stuart, love Selena Berg,'' I burst into tears of joy.

From that day on, I began to move with renewed determination to support Prince Ian. I frequently show up in social circles that I don't really like, and deepens my learning about foreign cultures. I wanted to be of some help to my beloved Prince Ian.

"Selena, what's wrong ?"

When I was a little lost in thought, Prince Ian asked me this in a worried voice.

"I'm sorry. I was remembering something from a long time ago and got distracted.''

"From a long time go ?"

"Yes. It was when I met you, Prince Ian. You have been wonderful ever since then.''

After saying that, Prince Ian paused for a while,

"...Selena has always been adorable since then," he whispered.

I felt heat rise to my face.

★★★★★★

After being told that we had arrived at our destination, I, Ian Stuart, got off the carriage while suppressing my excitement.

Today I came to my fiancée Selena's house for tea.

It's been a while since I've had time with Serena as she is busy with her official duties.

Since it's sunny today, we're going to have tea in the garden, so I was guided by a servant and head to the prepared area.

I found her in a beautiful garden under a clear sky.

"Selena"

I call out to her as I approache, and a dazzling smile appears on her adorable face.

My cute fiancée hasn't changed since we met.

It's been almost ten years since I met Selena.

I was told by a servant that my fiancée has been decided. When I heard her name, "Selena Berg,'' I couldn't remember her face. I have attended quite a few tea parties, but I may have never met her properly.

Engagement is a normal thing for the royal family, and I fully understand that I cannot choose my own partner. That's why I never thought that such a girl would be good, and I just wanted to cherish the girl who became my fiancée. I believed that a fiancée was a partner for the rest of my life, and that romantic feelings were unnecessary.

However, when we met for the first time, I was captivated by how cute Selena was.

I've always liked small and cute things, and I also really liked small animals.

However, I have never thought that the girls who gather around me at tea parties are especially cute, so I think that I don't feel that way about girls. That's what I thought...

I noticed it . Those kids just weren't my type. I liked girls who were cute, like small animals, and aroused my desire to protect them. Then, a girl appeared in front of me who seemed to make my preferences a reality. Moreover, she will become my fiancé.

"N-nice to meet you. I-I'm Selena Berg and I'm going to..."

Selena greeted me. She also has a very cute voice that sounds like a bell.

"Nice to meet you, Selena. My name is Ian Stuart. I look forward to spend time with you from now on."

Inwardly, I was agitated by Selena's cuteness, but thanks to the results of my daily training on how to behave like a member of the royal family, and the fact that I don't show any emotion on my face, I was able to return the greeting without any problems.

I was even more nervous because her hand was small and soft when I took it, but I managed to get over it.

In this way, I was incredibly lucky and became engaged to a very type and cute girl.

Also, she has a gentle kindness and is a hard worker. After seeing Selena in many different ways, I was not only attracted to her appearance, but also to her inner self.

Selena had a perfect sense of distance, watching over me from a distance when I wanted to be alone, and quietly staying by my side when times were tough. I don't know how many times she saved me. Before I knew it, Selena Berg had become my most important woman.

However, as I got older, I started to find myself unable to stand Selena's loveliness. When I saw her cute smile, I felt the urge to lock her in my arms.

Even though we are not married, such a thing is unacceptable. In order to suppress the urge to get stronger, I distanced myself a little from Selena.

As a result, I misleads Selena and she ends up getting involved in a dangerous incident. I regretted it deeply and told Selena my thoughts.

Eventually, the misunderstanding was resolved, and we are spending our days together again.

"Selena, what's wrong ?"

Selena looked somewhat dazed. When I said that out of concern,

"I'm sorry. I was remembering something from a long time ago and got distracted," was her answer.

"From a long time ago ?"

"Yes. It was when I met you, Prince Ian. You have been wonderful ever since then."

Selena said that with a slight blush on her cheeks, and she was so adorable that I was speechless.

However, I learned the importance of clearly conveying my feelings through the recent incident, so I managed to open my mouth.

"... Selena has always been adorable since then."

Selena's face turned bright red at my words, and it was so cute that I clenched my fists to hold back.

Ian !!! You're barely better than Geordo ! What's the problem with the Stuart family ?! It's clearly obsession you know !!? You hentai ! Sigh... I guess I can say it's...cute ? In a way.

#hamefura #my next life as a villainess #katarina claes #bakarina #otome game no hametsu flag #otome game no hametsu flag shika nai akuyaku reijou ni tensei shiteshimatta #ian stuart #selena berg #my next life as a villainess: all route lead to doom #bonus story

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d-dalladalla · 2 years

Note

Can I request Mafia AU of Alpha Blackpink secretly dating an Omega S/O (Who is known as the baby sister to everyone) who is from an enemy Mafia gang

Love this!!!! <3

Jisoo

She would hate herself for catching feelings for you. Her family had been at war with your gang for as long as she can remember and she just had to fall in love with you. She first saw you whenever she had decided to take out one of your leader's subordinates, they had taken out one of hers so revenge was going to happen.

She saw you in the building, dressed in sweatpants and hoodie as your members listened intently to the boss's words, you didn't fit in, you looked so sweet and innocent and being surrounded by hardened killers was shocking to her.

She bumped into you outside the whole 'mafia' setting, in some bar while trying to forget about her work week. You were there, celebrating some birthday and she couldn't stop looking at you. You eventually caught her staring and came over, she bought you a drink and ended up asking you to go out for dinner.

You knew who she was, you didn't care, the whole turf war was stupid to you but you knew the danger of revealing your relationship. She made it much more challenging as she decided to scent you every time you were about to leave her place, earning you some questionable stares from your coworkers.

Jennie

She didn't care that you were in the rival's gang, she just wanted you. She had found out about you while in a shootout with your leader, hearing him yell your name and tell you to get away from the scene.

She saw your head peek up from the car window, looking terrified and then recognising your scent, she didn't think gangs were accepting omegas and she was so distracted that your leader managed to hit her in the shoulder.

She was intrigued by you, why were you there? was your family involved? was it your decision? were you mated? it was driving her insane so she ended up ordering her goons to find out. They got the wrong idea and bust her office doors open with you being dragged in.

She almost lost her shit at them, firing her gun just an inch away from their heads as they scrambled out of the office, leaving you hunched over on the floor. She apologised and apologised and kept apologising. She just wanted to ask you out not give you a heart attack.

So you accepted her offer for dinner as an apology for the whole 'kidnapping' thing. You had been going out for nearly a year and it was killing her keeping you a secret from your gang, she wanted to mark you so badly but your members would sense it immediately and she wasn't ready for a war.

Chaeyoung

She was enamoured with you the moment she saw you, the diner was one of the spots that both her and your gang would frequent, often leading to fights but today it was just her lot. You had come in on your own which was a miracle because you usually had at least ten people around you constantly.

You had finally got some alone time and waited by the counter on your food when she spotted you and you spotted her, you tried your best to remain calm, expecting some comments or a fight to break out but it never came. Her members didn't even notice your presence, but she did.

She told them to make themselves busy as she walked over to you, remaining silent for a moment before sensing that you were an omega. Trying to not intimidate you as she complimented your outfit, asked if you were seeing anyone and upon hearing the 'no' from your hesitant lips she immediately asked for your number.

Taking you out to the most expensive restaurant, out of town, of course, the two of you would be recognised and she wasn't ready for a bigger war between the gangs.

She loved to mark you up, you allowed her as a compromise for not allowing her to leave a lasting mating bite, not just yet. She would probably be killed if your gang ever found out she was the one who did it. They would take it as a forced thing, not believing she actually had feelings for you.

She didn't care if her gang knew, constantly having you in their warehouse, sat on her lap during meetings, getting her driver to pick her up and take her home with you accompanying her.

Lisa

Lisa had always known about your place in the gang, she saw how they treated you. You never had to do the dirty work, hard labour, anything that would hurt you was off the table. She didn't know if it was because you were family, or maybe just because you appeared to be the youngest or maybe it was because you were an omega.

But whatever it was she was attracted to it, how you looked so innocent, so cute, just so interesting, she always wanted an omega to spoil. And that was you. She made herself known, her car following yours as you pulled in to check why your car had started to slow on the road. Offering you a ride and calling a tow truck for you in the morning.

And that led to her giving you her number, meeting up for dinner dates, spending most of your time in her office and telling your gang that you had started college. She spoiled you rotten, buying you expensive coats, new cars, purses, makeup, anything you want she would buy it for you. Loved to buy you pretty things, dress you up and have you sit on her lap the entire day, no matter who came into the office.

Any members who made comments would be dealt with quickly, she loved you so much and she wouldn't let your ties with her rivals stop that, as long as you loved her that was enough. You made sure that your gang steered away from attacking hers, stating the dangers of it and not having enough resources nor men to recover from attacks.

#Alpha!Blackpink #Mafia!Blackpink #Blackpink x female reader

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sirowsky · 1 year

Text

Surviving Christmas

At last, December has arrived, and I can share this lovely little Christmas tale, as part of @startrekkingaroundasgard 's Winter Gift Exchange!

My giftee is @firstofficerwiggles and I hope you'll find this cute and fluffy and not too long ;-)

Description: A reluctantly rich heiress, having recently inherited your mother's fortune after her passing, you're not at all feeling the spirit of the holidays. But you've stupidly agreed to go to a party. One which might end up being the best decision you've ever made.

Warnings: Din Djarin x Female Reader, no y/n, no physical description of reader, deceased parent, mild tones of sadness/grief, Christmas themes, fake dating, plenty of fluff, happy ending. Word Count: 6500 Author's Masterlist

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He was, in a word, mysterious. Mr. Din Djarin. Silent, but not in a brooding sort of way. It seemed more as though his mind was always occupied, always observing. Which was prudent of him since he was a security guard, but it annoyed you.

Primarily because you found him intriguing and wanted to learn more about him, but your questions were generally met with shrugs or the very briefest and unembroidered answers that he could come up with. Which led you to the assumption that he didn’t share your interest in getting more acquainted, for any reason.

It wasn’t like you wanted to jump his bones, although he was ridiculously handsome. It was more like he was a puzzle that you were itching to solve. Made even more infuriating by the realization that every time you managed to find two pieces that fit together, the image changed and nothing made sense. So, you lived under a constant cloud of frustration, as the man refused to come into focus.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that you couldn’t avoid him, even for a moment, since he was your protector and currently lived in your guest room. You weren’t really a celebrity, you were just rich, which put you in the public eye even though that was where you least wanted to be.

Your wealth wasn’t earned, it had been passed to you at the death of your extremely ambitious mother, about ten months ago, and although you’d given heaps of it to people in need, it never seemed to diminish. And your generosity had of course not gone unnoticed by the public, which was why you were now stuck in the company of a man that seemed unable to enjoy anything.

Coming up on your first Christmas without your mother didn’t help either. She may have been a career-woman and a real shark when it came to business, but at home, she’d been warm and kind. Your only real issue with her throughout your life, had been how absent she’d been for so much of the year, travelling all over the world for her ambitions.

But Christmas had been her constant. The one holiday she’d never missed, never allowed her work to steal her away from, making it your favourite time of year. She’d been all the family you’d ever had and now she was gone. It made you want to jump forwards in time and just avoid the whole holiday, but sadly, science had not yet figured out how.

Instead, you’d stupidly promised to appear at a private but luxurious party, in a penthouse apartment in New York, because the owner and host was your best friend and you couldn’t turn him down. He was trying to help, you knew that. Trying to distract you from the loss, but no manner of glitter or glamour was gonna make you forget that she wouldn’t be there.

Still, as the day arrived, you went all out. Because if you were gonna be trapped at a party being miserable, you were at least gonna fake it with style. And boy, were you gonna have to fake it.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you declared as Mr. Djarin opened your bedroom door at the exact time you’d asked him to.

He said nothing in response, as always, and you caught his eyes quickly travelling over your form before he stepped aside to let you pass. But it wasn’t an appreciative glance. It was merely to assess how vulnerable you were. If you could run or carry a weapon, should it become necessary. And honestly, it bruised your ego. You were single, after all.

Annoyed that he couldn’t even bring himself to compliment your appearance out of mere politeness, and already stressed about how terrible this Christmas Day was gonna be, you snapped at him while you walked ahead of him towards the stairs.

“Does anything in this universe interest you, Mr. Djarin? Or is it just me you find endlessly tedious?”

You’d hired him just three months earlier, entirely based on his faultless merits and not his personality, so in truth, you only had yourself to blame. But was it really so hard to just say that you looked nice? You would’ve appreciated it even if it was entirely insincere, just for the smallest sign that he cared about more than just your physical wellbeing.

“Are you dissatisfied with my performance, Boss?” he asked, somehow sounding completely unbothered by your rather rude questions.

“No, not at all, your performance is perfect. I just wish you had a damned personality,” you griped, regretting the words from the moment they left your mouth.

You stopped inside the front door of your house and sighed, suddenly feeling ten times worse about everything, but mostly just yourself.

“I’m sorry… that was mean,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I hate this. I don’t wanna go to a party, I wanna curl up on my sofa and eat treats and read books until I fall asleep.”

“Then why don’t you?” he surprised you by asking, and he sounded sincere.

But you didn’t have an answer. All you had were excuses, so you opted to keep your mouth shut and walk out to the waiting car instead. He followed, getting in beside you in the backseat while the driver waited behind the wheel. You refused to have your car-door held open for you as it was something you considered superfluous and somewhat vexing.

It was a long drive because your house was outside of the city, and traffic was horrible so it took a good while to get there, which prompted your host George to make sure that you hadn’t changed your mind. Your phone pinged, and you groaned even before you’d picked it up, knowing who it would be because he always did this.

[Hey, gorgeous! No cold feet, I hope?] he wrote, and you wanted to throw the phone away and just tell the driver to take you back home.

[10 minutes away] was all the reply he got, while you once again wondered why you were doing this to yourself.

[Did you bring a date?] he asked then, and your stomach dropped.

Because he wouldn’t ask you that unless he had something up his sleeve, and knowing him, it could only be one of two things. Either, he’d heard some rumour on the grapevine about you and some guy, and wanted to know if it was true, or he was trying to fix you up with someone.

And given the time of year, with the potential around mistletoes and all that, you were certain that it was the latter, and nothing was less appealing to you right then, than the prospect of being hit on.

“Sarah, stop the car, please,” you asked the driver, and she immediately turned to the side and stopped at the curb.

“What’s going on?” Mr. Djarin inquired, wanting to know what changes he might have to make to ensure your safety.

“I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going,” you said, almost on the verge of tears for some reason.

“Why not?” he pressed, which was unusual for him.

He had thus far been very respectful of your decisions, never trying to influence you or meddle in your life. He would simply inform you of what dangers you might face and how to best avoid them, but he’d leave the decisions up to you. So, if he was asking you to elaborate then he had to have good reason.

“Because I’m pretty sure that George has someone there waiting for me, and I can’t deal with that crap right now. I’m already pushing it just showing up, knowing that I’m gonna have to fake a smile the entire night and then come up with some socially acceptable excuse to leave early. If I have to spend the evening with some lovesick puppy on my heels too, I’m gonna explode,” you tried to explain.

But if he reacted in any way, you didn’t see it, as you kept your gaze on the sidewalk outside of your window. He seemed to think on it, though, staying quiet for a minute. And then he said the very last thing that you could ever have imagined.

“George hasn’t met me yet. You could use me as your cover.”

You were so sure that you must’ve heard that wrong, that it took a good moment before the words sunk into your brain and you slowly turned your head to stare at him.

“What?” was all you could muster, and he turned his head to meet your eyes when he responded, perfectly calm and earnest.

“If it’s what you need to get you through the evening, then I can play your date,” he said, dead serious, and then he shrugged. “I have to be there anyway and it would only make it easier to keep an eye on you.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. As much as you were dreading this evening, you could at least dip into the eggnog or hide in the bathroom for a while. But he’d have to endure every second of it on full alert, unable to enjoy it even if it had been his kind of scene, which you were fairly certain that it wasn’t.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for us both if I just didn’t go?” you asked, utterly shocked by this turn of events.

“Probably,” he declared simply, once more leaving the choice up to you.

You’d agreed to go to this party. You’d made that choice with no knife aimed at your throat, and while you’d regretted it ever since, there was a part of you that knew exactly why you’d said yes. The lonely part. The section of your brain that craved company, even when all you wanted was a blanket and hot cocoa and your favourite tv-show.

It was the pain that accompanied the season that was making all this so difficult, but at heart, you weren’t someone that thrived in solitude. Your wealth was the problem there, because it mostly attracted idiots or fortune seekers, and it was getting increasingly difficult to trust anyone when they claimed to like you for who you were.

But you still craved that partnership, that sense of belonging and togetherness, and that was why you’d gotten into the car at all that night. Because there was a chance… just the smallest increment of a possibility, that the mistletoe might have something new to show you this year.

However, if you were truly honest with yourself, you didn’t really believe that such a thing would ever happen to you. It was just a dream that you wished you could believe. But looking at your protector in that moment, your perspective shifted, ever so slightly, with the realization that there was nothing preventing you from letting yourself pretend. Just for that night, you could make believe that you had everything you wanted.

“Sarah,” you called to the driver, “let’s keep going.”

Then you looked back at Mr. Djarin, who’s expression hadn’t changed at all.

“We’ll give it a go and pretend that it’s our first date, to make any awkwardness between us seem natural. But if I feel like we need to bail, I’ll take your hand and squeeze it really hard, okay?” you instructed, and he nodded once.

“Good plan, Boss.”

“No, it isn’t,” you scoffed at your own ridiculousness. “But even though I’m so not in the mood and I’m pretty sure that this is gonna suck no matter what, I feel like I still need to go. Whether for mom or for myself, I don’t know. I just need to… give Christmas a chance.”

You weren’t quite sure why you told him that, but it felt like he deserved to know where your head was at, if he was gonna chaperone you for several hours.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone spoil your night,” he promised, still with that serious expression that was just about the only one you’d ever seen on him.

“Thank you,” you offered, despite your confusion at this deeply uncharacteristic generosity from him, and he returned to staring out of his window.

A man of mystery, indeed. The kindness of the gesture notwithstanding, it did nothing to help you understand him better. More so the opposite. But you did feel a bit less uncomfortable about the party, knowing that you’d have an arm to lean on if you needed it.

The car came to a stop outside the fifty-story building and you allowed Mr. Djarin to get the door for you this time, to further sell the idea that he was your date. You managed to resist the urge to slap his hand away when he offered to superfluously assist in your departure from the vehicle, letting his fingers gently curl around yours in what suddenly felt like a very intimate touch.

It was probably just because he’d never touched you before, but the warmth and unexpected delicacy of his hand, was enough to make the hairs on your neck stand up, and not at all in an unpleasant way. Then, like a true gentleman, he offered you his arm once he’d let you go. You took it, letting your fingers wrap loosely around the base of his bicep, which was larger than you’d expected, and together you entered the building and headed for the elevators.

A strange little buzz moved through you as you stood beside him, just the two of you in the small space as you were lifted to the correct floor, and you wondered if he felt something similar. He was impossible to read, save for the tiny clues that his body-language sometimes gave off, which was something that he seemed to have an annoyingly good control over.

If he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking or feeling, then there was no way that anyone could work it out just by observing him. But he could also make his thoughts and intentions abundantly clear without making a sound, if he chose to. You’d often wished that he would’ve let you see more of his personality, but he never did.

A sign of a truly good professional, you supposed, but still a very bleak way to live. Not that it was any of your business.

“Take a breath,” he whispered, just as the elevator started slowing down, reminding you that you were supposed to be relaxed and happy.

You did as he said and felt a heap of tension slip away from your frame as your lungs inflated, unlocking the muscles around your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and then the doors to the penthouse opened.

Normally, the elevator would stop without the doors opening automatically, needing to be unlocked from inside the apartment, to keep unwanted visitors out. But whenever there was a party, George would temporarily disable that function. Instead, he placed two tall and burly-looking guards at the entrance, to make sure that no one gate-crashed.

You gave them your name, and then announced Mr. Djarin as your plus one, to which the two men stepped aside and welcomed you with a surprisingly cheerful holiday greeting. And once you walked in from the foyer, your eyes, nose and ears were positively bombarded with Christmas. The entire place had been covered, from floor to ceiling, with decorations and trees and all around were little tables covered with treats and drinks.

All the well-known classics, from Sinatra and Elvis to Mariah Carey and Nat King Cole, were playing just a tad too loudly, and everything was simply as over the top as Christmas can be. Your mother would’ve loved it. Keeping that thought in your mind helped you to not just turn around and leave within five seconds of arriving, but only just.

“BAAABIE!!” a very familiar squeal sounded from across the room, before George parted the sea of people by sticking his hands in the air and preceding to just glide over the floor in the most over-the-top dramatic fashion that he could manage.

Not that you were in the least surprised. It was only to be expected of a recently retired supermodel.

“Hi, Georgie,” you answered once he got to you, before letting him pretend to kiss your cheeks in that completely useless way that so many celebrities did.

“I’m so glad you came! And you brought a date!” he was still squealing when he turned his attention to your protector, but then let his face fall into the drama-queen-version of a scowl, to commence his scrutiny.

“Nice physique. Good suit, although nothing I would wear, but we can’t all be perfect, that would be exceedingly dull,” he prattled on while you politely smiled despite rolling your eyes at him. “Gorgeous eyes, though. The browns always get me weak in the knees.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said light-heartedly, but with emphasis. “It’s our first date, try not to scare him away.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mr. Djarin warmly assured you, placing his large hand over yours, where it still rested in the crook of his elbow. “I’m not easily deterred. It’s a pleasure to meet you, George, my name is Din,” he finished, turning his attention back to the host.

You were more than a little surprised at the endearing way that he addressed you, since he’d never called you anything but Boss or Miss before. But you were even more surprised by how hearing him talk to you like that, made a very tingly sort of warmth pool in your stomach. And it was true that his eyes were captivating. A fact made so much clearer now, when his normally so reserved manner was blown away.

It wasn’t as though he’d become a different person, but more like he was just allowing himself to be less controlled and professional. More casual. Something that you’d seriously begun to suspect that he might not be capable of, and which you were only all too happy to have proven wrong. But you also needed to remind yourself that he was your employee, and that this was all pretend.

This shift in his behaviour was starting to make him look very appealing, which was a dangerous thing for you to feel towards the man that was in charge of your safety. Still, it said a great deal about his charisma that he was able to scramble your mind within just a few moments of turning on his charms. Either that, or you were even more starved of company than you’d realized.

“Welcome, Din. Now, take good care of my girl tonight, you hear?” George cautioned, in a very uncommon serious tone, reserved for only the most severe of circumstances. “She’s my darling, and if you break her heart, I’m the one that’s gonna have to put it back together, which would automatically make me hate and loathe you for all eternity. And I have a lot of power in this city.”

“Gee!? What did I just say about not scaring him away?” you reproved, suddenly feeling embarrassed that your friend would take such a bluntly direct approach.

He didn’t know that it was fake, after all. And while you’d witnessed him very effectively safeguard you from drunks and idiots alike, many times before, this was different. He seemed so much more genuine in that moment. So much more convinced that this could be the real deal, which would make it your first attempt at a romantic relationship since your mother passed.

Except, this wasn’t real.

“Just telling it like it is, boo,” George shrugged, having returned to his dramatic flair.

“I appreciate the honesty,” Mr. Djarin nodded at him, seemingly perfectly at ease with your friend’s complete lack of delicacy.

Your host was pleased with that, and shot you a little smile as he turned and strode off among the glittering crowd, while you just shook your head after him.

“I’m so sorry about him,” you said to your protector, feeling oddly exposed by the uncomfortable exchange, as though George had revealed some hidden truth about you, which wasn’t the case.

“Don’t be. The mark of a truly good friend is honesty.”

You couldn’t argue with that, and it made you feel better to hear him say it, so you smiled in thanks and was surprised to see him return the gesture. You’d never seen him smile before. And damned it… he was cute.

“How about some food?” he suggested, indicating the larger tables along the far wall of the room, that were packed with all sorts of edibles.

“Sure," you agreed, letting him lead the way while you kept a firm grip on his arm.

You let him go once you reached the plates, though, in order to pick what you wanted from the generous offerings, but it made you feel vulnerable. He was such a solid thing to hold on to. You felt certain that he could tackle any problem that he encountered, and most assuredly anything that might happen while standing guard over a helpless rich woman.

“Why did you take the job?” you asked him while you looked for a place to sit down to eat and made sure that George wasn’t close enough to hear you, since the question might give away your bluff.

“Is there some reason that I shouldn’t have?” he countered, but he sounded only curious, so you elaborated.

“I guess I’m just wondering why someone that seems so capable is trapping himself with such a dull working life. I mean, it’s not like anything ever happens to me,” you said, just as you found an abandoned love seat close to the balcony.

“And yet, you want protection,” he pondered, and simultaneously avoided directly answering the question. “Which tells me that you feel unsafe.”

“Not really. I’m just fed up with having to fend for myself against the horridness that comes out in people when they know that I have money. Mom kept me away from all spotlights, protected me from becoming this famous kid of a rich person, and then when I grew up, I decided to stay in the shadows. If she hadn’t died, I would’ve continued to live a normal life, free of all this.”

“So, I’m a deterrent?” he asked in between bites, but it was more of a conclusion than a question.

“Yeah, I guess you sort of are,” you admitted, somehow feeling bad about it, like you were using him, even though he’d willingly signed on for the job.

“Well, no one’s bothered you yet, tonight or any other night, so it seems to be working,” he said with a very small wink, just enough to let you know that he was fine with the situation.

It made you smile, both knowing that the party probably wasn’t gonna be as bad as you’d imagined, but also that he wasn’t having the worst night of his life, despite the falseness.

“Thank you for doing this, Mr. Djarin.”

“Please, call me Din,” he offered, and your smile widened, because removing that formality made it so much easier to look at him as just this cute guy that was your date, rather than the tough guardian that you normally saw.

You chatted some more while you ate, mostly about trivial stuff like favourite foods and whatnot, and then he once again surprised you.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, and for some reason it sent butterflies through your stomach.

“Sure,” you replied before your brain had even fully grasped the meaning of the question.

But by the time you’d caught up to your own response, Din had already led you to the floor, and suddenly his hand was on your waist and his broad frame was taking up almost your entire field of vision. He moved softly, following the gentle piano notes of whatever song was playing, drowned out by the sudden noise of your own pulse beating in your ears.

Oddly enough, your mind was focusing only on the way his hands felt against you. The simultaneously firm but tender grip, in both the hand that held yours, and the one that secured your body against his. He was keeping you close, moving slowly in the crowded room, and you could’ve sworn that his arm around you was pulling you closer with each step.

Was he even watching your surroundings anymore? You hadn’t seen his sharp eyes scan the room once since George walked away, so perhaps he’d simply decided that these people were no threat to you. Or… was it possible that he’d gotten as lost in your closeness as you were in his?

You could feel his cheek against your temple, and after about half the song, you felt his head dip forwards, as if he was smelling your hair, and then it stayed there. But from that position, he wouldn’t be able to look out over the room, the most he’d be able to see would be the feet of the people closest behind you. Which made you wonder if he was even acting as your security anymore.

When the song ended, a much more energetic one followed, but he didn’t pull back or try to change the dance. He just kept swaying across the floor, as softly as a blade of grass in the wind, and you followed without protest. This was the most intimate and comforting thing that had happened to you in as long as you could remember, and you didn’t want it to end.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder. All efforts of trying to maintain an air of professionalism between you, completely blown away in the sudden desire to just let yourself be held. He let go of your hand and instead wrapped both arms around your waist, turning the dance into a moving hug, and somehow, the rest of the room just vanished.

For a long and blissful moment, it was just the two of you. The firmness of his strong body enveloping you, along with the warmth that seeped through his suit, seeming to build a bubble around you that was strong enough to keep the entire world away. But annoyingly, the world didn’t stay away. All too soon it invaded your bubble, making it crack and pull your protector away from you.

Looking up, you saw what had drawn his attention as George was making a show of Santa’s sudden appearance from the balcony, to the delight of the entire room. But instead of filling you with joy, the sight made you feel sad. Because it reminded you that it was Christmas Day and that your mother wasn’t there to hand out the presents like she always had.

And for reasons that you couldn’t make sense of right then, although perhaps because of the tender moment that you’d just shared with Din, this became the thing that killed the evening for you. Letting your arm slip from his shoulder, you took his hand and squeezed it as hard as you could, and his reaction was immediate.

Without asking a single question, he turned towards the elevator and calmly pulled you through the crowd and away from the party. It wasn’t until the doors had closed and the box had started dropping that he turned to look at you, and there was concern in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, still holding your hand.

“Yeah, I just had enough,” you said, suddenly too done with this day to explain any further.

He didn’t ask anything more, he just nodded and reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and call Sarah, who was still in the car and had parked nearby. When you left the building, the car just came to a stop by the curb, and you climbed in without pause, feeling like you’d just stepped into a haven compared to the stuffed atmosphere up in the penthouse.

No one said anything during the entire drive home, but once there, Din dutifully followed you inside to make sure that everything was in order. But while he walked around to check all the rooms and windows, you were disheartened to see that his professional persona had snuffed out the warmth in his frame that you’d somehow gotten used to even after just a few hours of seeing it.

As though an iron mask had fallen into place, his face was once again hard and unreadable, his shoulders stiff and ready, his hands idle by his sides. He never shoved them into his pockets, or clasped them together, or crossed his arms. He kept them ready to be used for anything that he might have to do quickly, in order to protect you.

But tonight, you wished that he would’ve let them stay soft. That he would’ve kept holding you, kept pulling you closer, like he had on the dancefloor. Whether he’d meant to or not, that night he’d shown you who he was underneath the armour of his profession, and much to your own surprise, you wanted to know more. You wanted more of him.

But you couldn’t ask for it, because he wasn’t yours to know. Because tonight had been fake and this was reality. He just worked for you. Coming back to the front hall, he nodded to indicate that his search hadn’t revealed anything of note, and you felt yourself return to the sad and lonely employer, accepting that the evening was over, and everything was back to normal.

“Thank you, Mr. Djarin, that’ll be all,” you said, as his first name suddenly felt too personal again, but hating how his last name tasted so bitter now.

Without waiting for a reply, and fully expecting him to just nod and leave you to your own thoughts, you turned away from him and headed for the fireplace in the living room, adjacent to the front hall. There was a picture of you and your mother on the mantelpiece, from a winter holiday to Europe to see the northern lights, years earlier, and you stopped in front of it.

It was your favourite picture, because it hadn’t been set up. It was a candid photo, taken by the wilderness guide that had brought the two of you out into the Swedish mountains. You were both in the foreground, laughing because you’d been unexpectedly surrounded by reindeer while watching the sky, which was lit up in every colour of the rainbow, casting its magical glow over the snow-covered slopes.

“I’m still Din to you,” a raspy, low voice whispered in your ear, startling you out of the memory.

And when you whirled around to find out what he was up to, you found his impressive frame all around you as he leaned in and kissed you, ever so lightly, before quickly pulling back again. His eyes were twinkling dark pools, more than deep enough for you to drown in as you stared at him, unable to grasp what was happening.

“I’m sorry. That was very unprofessional, and I know that you have problems with relationships right now,” he explained apologetically, while you struggled to formulate a single thought. “But I feel like tonight was very special and it was just a little too perfect that you stopped underneath the mistletoe.”

That woke your brain up, because you’d decorated your house by yourself, and you hadn’t put up any mistletoes. But looking up, you found that there was indeed a red bow tied around a large bundle of the weed, hanging halfway up the visible stone chimney that followed the wall and disappeared up through the ceiling.

“What? I didn’t put that there…” you mumbled, utterly confused by the whole situation.

“No, I did,” he confessed, and you snapped your head back down to stare at him, but again, words failed you.

You stood there with your mouth hanging open like a fish, while your mind tried to fit together the unsociable security specialist, with this cute and warm sweetheart that was now standing before you with an adorably insecure smile on his lips.

“But… I don’t understand… I thought you didn’t like me,” you finally croaked, and his eyes turned down to observe his own feet for a moment.

“I’m not supposed to, and I’ve tried not to,” he explained. “But the truth is that being your date tonight was just about the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It was like Cinderella going to the ball, except you were the princess and I was the common boy, made to feel beautiful for a night.”

He glanced up at you to gauge your reaction, and he looked so terribly unsure that you wanted to hug him and scream at him not to think so little of himself. You’d only had this one occasion to see this other side of him. Just a few hours in which he’d let his guard down and allowed you to see him without his armour, so maybe it was too soon to say that you liked him too.

But in that moment, it wasn’t the months of meeting the stone-faced guardian every time you looked at him, that defined him. Right then, in front of that fireplace, it was the way he’d held you when you’d danced, and his inviting smile and glittering eyes, that told you who he was and who he could be. And you really did like that man.

“You are beautiful, Din. Always,” you said, and watched his eyes turn from unsure to something more difficult to understand.

But there was confidence in there, and it grew when he couldn’t see any doubt in you. When you kept meeting his eyes with clear honesty, waiting for him to decide what to do with that. It didn’t take him more than a few seconds, though. He stepped closer, and took your hand with a careful but determined grip.

“Can I kiss you again? For real, this time,” he asked, and there was something much bolder in his frame now.

You just nodded, as it felt like you might break that same magical bubble that seemed to once again encase you both, if you made too loud a sound. But it was all he needed. He closed in further, until there was no gap between your chests anymore, letting his free hand find the small of your back to hold you to him as he slowly bent his head forwards.

You were shorter than him, so you raised your chin to meet him, feeling a tiny shiver of pleasure creep up along your spine when his nose caressed yours on his way to your lips. A warm breath that smelled of mulled wine and saffron-buns spilled over your face, and then his soft lips took yours in a kiss that was nowhere near as tentative as you’d expected. Heat flooded your system making you instantly crave more.

You licked into his mouth and felt him eagerly respond in kind, tasting the many flavours of the foods from the party on his tongue. Soon you were both straining to get enough air through your noses, as your hearts raced to try and keep up with the building desires, and neither of you wanted to pull away. But then your phone pinged, breaking the spell and bringing you both back to reality.

“Sorry,” Din laughed breathlessly against your mouth. “I didn’t mean to take it quite this far. Well… not yet anyway.”

You hummed a small laugh in return, glancing down at the way he was keeping you pinned against his front, one arm still at the small of your back and the other wrapped around your shoulders. He took the hint and loosened his grip, still grinning proudly with the knowledge that you hadn’t objected to anything that had just happened.

“Maybe we should go on a proper date before we go any further,” you suggested, remembering that you didn’t actually know much at all about the man before you, now that your mind was coming out of the haze of desire.

“Yes. We should,” he agreed, and yet his smile spoke of anything but restraint.

It was enough for you to know that if you asked, he’d go however far you might want him to that night. But the fact that he didn’t push or try to influence you, also told you that he really would wait if you weren’t comfortable moving that fast. And that told you that you already knew enough about him to know that you were safe in his arms, no matter what happened next.

It was close to midnight however, and the only one that would be texting you that late was George, and if you didn’t answer, he’d keep texting and then call. So, you stepped away from Din and picked your phone out of your pocket and checked the message.

[No hard feelings about your bail, boo. Hope you had a little fun, at least.]

That was sweet of him. Even though you’d known that he’d be okay with you sneaking away, you’d expected some pouting. It was just who he was.

[Thank you, Gee. I did] you responded, just to let him know that you’d gotten home alright and that everything was good.

[Happy to hear it, my love. And if you want my opinion (which you should) I think Brown Eyes is a keeper.]

You smiled widely at that, pleased to hear that your best friend had seen the same things that you did. It made this strange fairy-tale evening seem more real.

[I do too] you answered, and then turned the phone off and threw it on the sofa nearby.

Returning to the man in question, you let your hands slowly travel up along his arms, over his shoulders and then into his hair, where you gently pulled him towards you, wordlessly asking for another kiss, which he obliged without hesitation. And when you broke it, leaning your head back just far enough that you could see his eyes, you felt certain that he already knew what you wanted.

“Take me to my bedroom, Din,” you said, bringing one hand out of his hair to cup his cheek instead, for no reason other than that you felt like it.

Unexpectedly, his smile softened, and he leaned into your touch as though it was the smoothest silk, closing his eyes in blissful serenity for just a moment. He was in no rush, despite the heat in his skin or the darkness of his blown pupils. He was simply happy, and content to know that you were too. For the first time since he’d met you. He kissed you again, much gentler this time, and then proudly squared his shoulders.

“As you wish, my lady. I believe I know the way.”

THE END

I'm so happy to post new material again, I feel like it's been forever! Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging <3

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