#like you’re all 15 and dehydrated

[prettyboykatsuki]

you say the word, im on the way | e. yeager

♤ tags ;; fem!reader, cheating (on reader but not by eren), exes to lover, past toxic relationships, arguing and insults, very emotionally charged sex, co-dependency (in a way), childhood friends to lovers, streamer!eren (BARELY mentioned), make-up sex, oral (f!recieving),, unprotected sex, so much dirty talk, praise kink, petnames angel, baby, pretty girl, eren kinda.. talks to ur pussy djhsdj, 18+

♤ wc ;; 10.2k (utter agony)

♤ a/n ;; i really like. this isn't the best. but that's fine i had a lot of fun alr. very self indulgent. title from teenage fever by drake.

♤ synposis ;; after your boyfriend cheats on you, your ex, eren, shows up for you against all odds. you give into him against your best interest.

You wait for him on the side of the road. 

The rain is coming down in heavy sheets. You’re soaked to the bone having left in a hurry with only a single suitcase of your things. Your phones nearly dead, less than 20 percent with an ever-depleting battery. The closest place to charge your phone is too long to walk in this weather.  And it’s so late the buses have stopped running. 

Even if you could leave, it’s dark and dangerous. Your heart is in your throat, and the only streetlight is so far it hardly makes you feel any safer. You don’t know a single person in your ex-boyfriend's hometown other than his parents, but you aren’t sure you can face them right now if you wanted to. 

It’s not like you wanted to call Eren. Or for him to see you as sorry as you are. Dehydrated, exhausted, emotionally battered - you don’t even like seeing Eren when you’re at your best. You’re sure as soon as you get into his car, he’ll start arguing with you. You’ve spent the last 15 minutes mentally readying yourself for his harsh comments whatever they may be. 

You don’t have the luxury of being picky. He’s safer than venturing by yourself or taking an Uber. And he owes you one, anyway. Nows a good of a time as any to take him up on that. 

Relief fills your whole body when you see a car pull up onto the side of the road. It’s an all-black sports car. Typically Eren, it sticks out sorely from all the other cars that have passed by. Wiping your eyes, you clear your vision to see Eren inside. He’s wearing a black cap and mask. 

Your feet sink in the mud as you walk up to the car, but he beats you to the punch. Approaching you in the dead of night with a sort of anger you can feel before you even look at his face. He has a jacket with him made of that thin plastic material. 

Before you open your mouth, he’s pulling the poncho over your head. He puts your arms through before he drags you by the wrist to his car. Hurriedly, you grab your suitcase and track it through the mud while you follow. Your voice is too hoarse to protest him, but you shout over the rain. 

“Fuck Eren,” You half yell, wriggling your wrist free from his grip “Let me go,” 

When he does, you stumble forward. You don’t get a look at his face as he walks over to the driver's side. In your exhaustion, you don’t think twice about it or assume he was doing it on purpose. You resign yourself. Hearing the back trunk of his car open, you try and read his face through the tinted windows. But even with the lights on, you can’t. 

Sighing, you truck it towards the back. Your feet sink into the soft earth under you, huffing as you pick it up and shove it into the trunk. After you close it, you hurry back to the passenger seat, finally opening the door to see Eren. 

He doesn’t even look at you when you do, eyes focused on the road. You stare at the interior of his car, grimacing at the thought of having to pay him back for getting it covered in mud. Left without a choice, you get in. 

The plastic on his seat tells you he might’ve thought ahead. You aren’t sure if you should be comforted by that or not. 

The door closes with a soft thud as you get to sit. The sound of the rain is muted almost instantly and leaves you with nothing but the radio, virtually silent, and Eren with a hand over the wheel. You put your seatbelt on and then settle more into your seat. Turning your body to face the window. The tension in the air is so thick you can feel yourself choke around it, breathing through your nose. 

Eren’s car smells like spearmint. You’re expecting to be berated at some point, for inconveniencing him or otherwise. After all, you called him through a sob and asked him for something you’re sure he’d rather not be doing. 

Instead though, he puts the car in drive, steps on the gas, and does a turn until he’s back on the road home. 

He doesn’t say a word or even looks at you. Maybe reminding him of the fact he owed you meant he was going to treat this interaction as entirely transactional, which is infinitely better for you. You let out a breath of relief, shivering. He turns on the heat without you asking. 

You decide against speaking and give him a glance of acknowledgment. He doesn’t return the gesture. 

You hear your phone buzz in the pocket of your pants, and fish it out. As you expected, it’s just your ex-boyfriend. A slew of missed messages and calls. Your eyes hurt getting adjusted to the bright lights as you send him a quick stop texting me tonight before clicking it off. You want to throw your phone in the river, and yourself. To float down somewhere far from here, and pretend nothing ever happened. 

With the white noise of rain no longer drowning out your invasive and sad thoughts, you find yourself choking back more tears. The wound is still fresh, tender, and bleeding. 

You’ve always had bad taste in guys. 

But you thought this time would be different. He was different. Patient, and attentive and so thoughtful. It was always stable. You met his family, for fuck sake. His mom, dad, and sister - are all good people. A nice house with a garage, health insurance, and a college graduate. From a different place than you and your friends. 

It was never all that exciting, but you thought it was better that way. To keep it simple. You put in the effort to make it work. Got comfortable with complacency, and waved off all of your friends when they insisted you should date someone better. Someone who suited you more. 

Maybe someone like Eren. The thought makes your stomach sour. 

But your ex, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t so easy. He was safe, and after your other experience with romantic relationships- safety wasn’t something you could dismiss with the idea of deserving more. More was abstract and intangible. Slippery. 

 You were content, so you stayed. Stability, you told yourself, I just want stability. 

He was the last person you could imagine cheating on you. Unsurprisingly with a girl from his hometown who he’d told you about before and swore he got over. Feeling stupid, you let out an exasperated laugh. It’s your fault for trying so hard. For taking his inch and trying to turn it into a mile.

For believing it’d be enough to try. Maybe you know better than anyone, there are just some people you never get closure with. That distant look in his eyes concerned you. But a guy like him didn’t seem like he’d cheat. 

You’ve never been so wrong. 

Your stomach rumbles as you close your eyes and go over the fight. Subsequently, you forget Eren is even in the car with you. His presence fades into the background, face pained as you think of your exes apologies. He seemed sorry. 

But you’re not someone who can forgive or forget easily - so you broke up. It just complicates everything. Already broken up, but you have to get your things. Find a place to stay for the month because it’s too expensive to go home early. Delete him off your socials, and maybe get in touch with your therapist again. The laundry list of post-break-up things to do is the most frustrating and most taxing. 

The emotional healing and distrust go in some compartment until you can actually unpack them. After the initial devastations scabs over, you’re sure the sore feeling of sadness will come back with a vengeance. 

That’s later though, and this is now. 

Moping is a pipe-dream, seeing as you’re in a place where you have no one and nothing. The only person you know lives here is Eren, but you’re not really expecting any help from him after tonight. Maybe 3 days max, if he’s feeling generous enough. 

At the very least, he must feel pretty sorry for you. No snippy remark or sarcastic gripe since you’ve gotten in. You can’t figure out what he’s thinking, just as before. It’s almost impossible to get a read on his face, and that thought leaves your mouth bitter. 

As bitter as a favor. As bitter as a memory, you swipe your tongue on your teeth to rid yourself of the taste but it lingers. 

You avert your eyes to your hands, peeling the skin off the edge of your fingernails. After a minute or two, you drive in front of a stoplight. The red reflects onto your sneakers and into Eren’s car. 

“So,” He starts, voice filled with that familiar sharpness “How’s the boyfriend?” 

Ah. There it is. He almost disarmed you with his silence. It’s a weird way to start scolding you, but you’ve never really understood why Eren does what he does. You sigh, clearing your throat. It’s thick with tears you’ve been shedding all evening. 

“Ex-boyfriend.” 

The light goes green, and he takes a right. He lives farther than you thought. 

“How’d you fuck it up this time?” 

Normally, his insistence on blaming you would frustrate you. It’s classically Eren. The projection was always the name of the game when you two were dating, especially at the sour end of your relationship. 

Your desire and ability to fight are diminished though, turning into ember and ash. Giving him a shrug, you laugh a bit. 

“Don’t know,” You say with a little more honesty than you were intending to  “I just uh. I don’t know.” 

He sighs this time, and his voice goes a touch soft. Sympathy feels worse than his anger. How pathetic you must look settles in. 

“...What happened?” 

It’s hard to get yourself to say it. Even though you know it. Getting the words out feels like climbing a mountain. You lean back into the headrest and turn away from him. Watching the passing cars intently, you smile. 

“He cheated on me. From uh, a girl with his hometown,” You say, forthright. Hoping his pity might make him go easy on you “His first love. I came home and found them in our bed,” 

You can feel him go stiff beside you. 

You realize that anything he said to you right now probably wouldn’t hurt. The numb pain outweighs everything else that you think it’d slide off your back.

“And?” 

“Uh... I don’t know. She left. And we got into a fight. Broke up with him and said I’d figured something out. Just didn’t really want to be in the same room with him,” You sigh, rubbing underneath your eyes “Packed my shit and sort of wandered around trying to figure out what to do. Called you when I saw how late it got,” 

“Should’ve called me earlier,” He says simply. You chuckle. 

“Like when?” 

He huffs. 

“Earlier. Would’ve picked you from his place and fought him or something.” 

You smile somberly. 

“I thought about it, buut I thought that'd upset him, so I didn’t,” 

This he scoffs at, anger in his voice. 

“That’s so like you,” 

You wish you could disagree. 

“Yeah,” You say back, unsure of what else to do “Yeah, guess it is.” 

“What’re you gonna do now?” 

You take a deep breath in. 

“I won’t be in your hair long. I’ll try and score an Airbnb and wait it out. Leaving early is expensive as fuck.” 

“You could stay with me if it’s just a couple of weeks,” He offers easily “Airbnbs are more expensive than a ticket, right?” 

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that? Does she know you’re picking me up?” 

He stares out into the road, jaw clenched. 

“We broke up a while ago.” 

“What happened there?” 

“None of your business.” 

You scoff. 

“Of course, it isn’t,” You reply, a little angrier than you can control “Your personal life never is. My mistake. I’m a little rusty on how this works.” 

His voice is so cold it’s chilling. 

“Don’t,” He grits, hands hard on the steering wheel “Don’t fucking start,” 

“I’m not trying to start anything. But it’s hypocritical for you to ask me about the shit that just happened and not even tell me why you and your girlfriend broke up.” 

“I’m doing you a favor,” He justifies in a half-hearted way you’ve grown accustomed to “I deserve to know,” 

You laugh, voice strangled. 

“You deserve a fucking foot up your ass,” You spit, suddenly shaking “A simple ‘It’s complicated or ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now’ would’ve sufficed.” 

“You’re still good at picking fights,” He goads, mouth twisted in a sneer “Did you nag him too? Maybe that’s why he went crawling back to his first love” 

It’s too far. He’s too far, and he knows it. It’s all over his face, even masked in anger. You shoot him a deadly look, arms crossed over your chest. Suddenly, tears well up in your eyes and you can’t even look at him. It was a mistake, of course it was. You shouldn’t have bothered. Expecting anything from Eren was your own fault. Even basic decency.

Whatever camaraderie you used to have dissolved a long time ago. You bite your tongue

“You’re the fucking worst,” You sniffle, closing your eyes “Just drop me off at a hotel. I don’t want to be around you. It’s my fault for assuming you’d be civil.” 

His hands are gripping the steering wheel tight. 

“Tell me how you really feel,” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I think I’m being plenty civil right now,” 

“Fuck. Do you get off on provoking me? On hurting my fucking feelings?” Your voice comes to a scratchy yell, unable to contain the anger in it “I just got fucking cheated on. In the middle of a city where I don’t know a single person other than you. You’re the last person I want to fucking see, Eren. The last,” 

“So why’d you call me crying?” 

“I didn’t have a choice! If I had a choice, I would’ve called anyone else. Would’ve called Jean or Connie or Armin—anyone. Anyone who isn’t fucking you.” 

He clicks his teeth. 

“Liar,” He says with the sort of confidence that floors you “You would’ve still called me even if everyone we know was in the city,” 

It stings that he’s right. Your strength crumbles. 

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter that I thought of you? That’s always been my issue, right? How’d you put it again?” You laugh out loud, a little out of it “I should stop expecting anything from you, right?  It’s my fault. I should just stop having expectations for anyone. It must be me.” 

He looks a little strained. Almost sorry. You scoff. 

“Yeah,” You mumble, exhausted “You’re right. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. No matter how much I heal, or how hard I try to do the right thing” 

“Y/N—” 

“I worked on myself. Went to therapy. Took time off from dating altogether. Did everything right and still,” Your mouth fills with iron “Still. Still. I can’t find one person to treat me decently. Congrats, Yeager. It’s just like you hoped.” 

The silence that follows says more than you ever could. You rub your temple. He’s probably right that you pushed it. 

“Sorry for snapping on you,” You reply, voice tense “But, I still want to be dropped off at a hotel.” 

“Why?” 

You laugh. 

“What do you think? Think we’re gonna be able to play house for two weeks? It hasn’t even been an hour and we’re fighting,” 

He’s thinking. You can see it on his face, the tight strain of his jaw, and his brows. You haven’t seen him in person for more than a couple of years. But the familiarity always lingers. It doesn’t feel unusual, even the fighting. 

He hasn’t changed. That much is obvious. 

You shouldn’t have called, you think. It might’ve been better to get hypothermia and walk to the nearest motel.

“It’s not your fault he cheated on you,” He says. You think it’s his way of apologizing, a piss poor attempt at comforting you “Guys are just scumbags. Hung up on their first love or whatever. It’s not uncommon,” 

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Frankly, you don’t have the energy for either.

“Does that include you?” You attempt to joke. To your surprise, he laughs. His voice is hoarse, and a touch resentful. Not at you, though. That feels important. 

“Yeah.” He replies, not looking over at you “Me especially,” 

It’s the first time he’s said as much about himself in your presence. Before it was that you didn’t understand him or that you didn’t get it. It’s too early to retract your previous statement. Hope sparks anyways. For what, you don’t want to know. 

You nod sagely.

“You especially,” You affirm without any trouble “At least you know.” 

This time, he smiles at you. It’s barely there. This whole conversation and the good nature of it is like walking on eggshells. You both know that. 

Eren breaks the silence first as he pulls into another lane. 

“Stay with me for tonight,” He offers “Just tonight,” 

You don’t know why he insists. A loud yawn slips through your lips and your inclination to protest dwindles before being snubbed out completely. Shivering, you nod. Your head feels heavy. 

“If you say so,” 

You think you feel a pair of eyes on you before sleep washes over you like a tide. They might be Erens, but in your delirium, you can’t be sure. It doesn’t take much for you to succumb to sleep. 

__ 

After your car ride ended, Eren woke you up gently to help you inside. This time, he took your luggage without your asking and helped you into his home. 

He lives in one of those luxury apartments with a doorman. It’s fancier than you could ever imagine yourself living in. There’s a chandelier in the lobby, with a gym and a pool.  Trekking mud into such a nice place makes you feel guilty. Eren seems unbothered. 

You take the elevator up to the 7th floor, and then a right into the hallway. Eren fishes the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

This is a bachelor pad. It’s the first thing that crosses your mind when you enter.

 The decoration is minimalist and expensive. Boyish in its extravagance, littered with pricey things only Eren Yeager would buy. The couches are black, the carpet is white and the windows are big panes that overlook the entire city. 

A flatscreen takes up most of the room. There’s a kitchen but it looks unused. It’s lived in, in the way that there are running shoes and clothes. Mess that happens when you spend your time somewhere, but it’s void of things a girlfriend would have in the house. You would know. 

On one of the walls is a painting of a woman's naked body, tastefully done. From what you remember of Eren’s ex-girlfriend, she’d have his head over something like that. 

Eren clears his throat behind you. When you turn to look at him, he looks a little sheepish.

“Broke up a while ago huh,” 

He looks surprised at your deduction. You poke your head at the painting. 

“She would’ve beat your ass for even thinking about putting that up,” 

His expression is affirmative. After you’re done taking it in, all of your sensory issues hit you all at once. You pull the sleeves of your soaked hoodie over your hands but you’re freezing. His eyes widen. 

“Ah, shit. Let me get you a towel. I’ll turn the heat up too,” 

“Thanks, ‘ren.”

The nickname slips out of habit, but you don’t get a chance to retract it as Eren shuffles off to grab you a towel.

 It doesn’t take him very long, a few in hand. You watch him idly as he turns on the heat before hurrying back over to you, shoving towels your way. You make him hold them for a minute, taking off your poncho and hanging it to him. 

You dry yourself off to the best of your ability as Eren goes to put away the raincoat. 

“Mind if I shower?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Would be concerned if you didn’t. I can get us food or something while you’re in there,”

“That’s… thoughtful of you. I’d appreciate it. I can Venmo—”

He puts a hand up, sitting on the back of his couch while you dry yourself off. 

“Save your money if you’re worried about it.” 

“I don’t want to owe you anything.” 

Your frank way of speaking to him irritates him, same as always.

“You won’t owe me,” He assures first “I know we hate each other's guts now, but I’m not gonna let you go hungry.” 

Warm. It makes you feel warm. You avert your eyes as you dry yourself off. 

“Your mom would have your head,” You murmur. He laughs. 

“My mom might forgive me. Zeke and my old man would hang me like a flag,” 

“How’s Zeke been?” 

His expression goes dry. They’re fighting. Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. On my ass, as usual. Business is good. I’ve got a niece now. Zeke’s wrapped around her finger,” 

You’ve seen it floating on social media. You feel a little melancholy. It must show on your face. 

“You should still visit home sometimes. Don’t be a stranger,” 

You smile sadly.

“Easier said than done,” 

“...Even if you don’t see me. I’m not the only one who misses you. Jean hasn’t stopped bitching about you going to see just Armin.” 

You don’t know if he catches it. He misses you. You’re too afraid to confront it but unable to ignore it. You think over his words.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” You start, voice slow “But after everything… after everything.”

There’s a minute where neither of you talks. Yet it’s not silent. The room is tense with everything you want to say or everything you did. Every regret, every memory starts to buzz all at once inside of your ribs like a spark of electricity through your hollow. 

“If tonight didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have ever seen you again,” 

He shakes his head with the same confidence as before. 

“I would’ve found you.”

He says it like it doesn’t need any explanation. As casual as relaying the weather to you. He gives you a look, scratching his jaw. 

“Go shower. How’s Thai? Same as before?” 

It takes you a second to find your voice. 

“Y-Yeah. Same as before. Where’s your shower?” 

He directs his eyes towards the bathroom. You grab your small luggage on your way, offering him a quiet thanks. The sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, faster than the pounding rain. 

__ 

Time passes like sand between your fingers. 

After a shower, a change of clothes, and a full stomach - you and Eren are left totally in each other's company. Your expectation of it being awkward or even marginally uncomfortable becomes unthinkable after a while. Despite how late it is, you aren’t tired or all that sad. 

Truthfully, you don’t know how to handle how familiar Eren feels. Like a durable winter coat with a heavy and comforting weight on your shoulders. It’s not burdensome to talk to him. He matches your pace and picks up easily on your quips. Natural lulls in conversation don’t feel uncomfortable and every misdirect or anecdote opens the door for more conversation. 

Maybe you should’ve expected that. You and Eren grew up together. Along with Mikasa and Armin, and everyone from your hometown. It shouldn’t surprise you that Eren is comfortable. 

When you look at him, you see home. If your gaze lingers. even a second too long or if you think for a minute more than necessary, you’re caught in the web of memories you’ve spent your whole life making. 

You wonder about your ex-boyfriend. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. Maybe it hurts because you understand perfectly. No matter how much you love after, there’s nothing like first love. If he saw that in her eyes, it’s all that much harder to feel angry. 

The only thing keeping you grounded is remembering that you’ve tried before and it failed miserably. It sinks you when you float too close to your heartwarming nostalgia. 

The acrid truth is that this is all temporary and circumstantial. 

Every now and again you remind yourself you’ve just been very vulnerable. And Eren’s grounding presence is helping you. 

Again and again, you remind yourself that. 

“High school was so ass,” Eren leans back into the couch, stretching his legs out “Mrs. Carnegie was such a bitch,” 

You give him an unimpressed look. He looks like you remember when he’s like this. Having changed into his own clothes, hair tied up messily. He’s adjacent to you on the couch, far enough to stretch his limbs comfortably.  

“She was nice to me. She was a bitch to you because you kept interrupting class,” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“And who was I doing that for?” 

Your heart skips a beat. . 

“Man, whatever.”

He laughs at you. 

“Weak come-back,” He hums, laying his head on the back of his couch. He tilts his head in your direction “I was a good boyfriend in high school at least,” He adds, a little softer. 

“You were. You were kinda like a puppy,”

He groans. 

“Don’t say it like that, that’s humiliating.” 

“What are you talking about? Puppies are cute.” 

“Yeah, but hearing that now is embarrassing. I’m a man now,”

You raise a brow.

“Men can't be cute like puppies?”

“No,”

“But Armin is right there,”

“Doesn’t count. He literally looks like a fairy prince. Statistical anomaly,”

That makes you laugh hard enough your stomach hurts. 

“Why’re you laughing? Am I wrong?” 

“You just said it so seriously. He is an anomaly but I think Connie is cute in a puppy way too,” 

“Connie’s bald ass? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I like it, his hair looks good buzzed.”

“You’d find something nice to say about a pile of trash,” 

“I like your long hair, Yeager.”

He gives you an unimpressed laugh as you break out into laughter. 

“Low fucking  blow,”  

“Cry,” 

This time he laughs instead, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it easily, holding it to your chest. 

“I do like the hair though. It’s all you ever talked about,” 

He gives you a little smile. 

“You remembered. I thought it’d make me look cooler. Alternative or whatever. Don’t know if it’s working,” 

“Your fans seem to love it,” 

He looks sheepish at the mention of his work. You laugh. 

“It gets a mixed response. A lot of people miss the short hair. I mostly keep it long because it’s easier to style,” 

“Both are nice. I like your short hair more when I think about it,” 

“Yeah?” 

“I guess it’s cause it was short when we’re growing up. And uh,” 

“When we were dating?” 

You give him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah. When we were dating, it was always short,” 

He closes his eyes, suddenly deep in thought. 

“You wanna know why I kept it short?” 

You think you’d be better off not knowing.

“...Why?” 

“When you’d play with my hair,” Subconsciously, he pushes his hair back a little “I could feel it better when my hair was shorter. Thought if I’d grew it, you wouldn’t touch it cause it’d get greasy quicker.” 

All at once, you pull back. Whatevers on your face isn’t enough to make Eren waver when he looks at you. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes. Ocean blue, and full of something dark. Tempting like an abyss or a siren song. You swallow a lump in your throat. 

“It’s something I’d do,” 

The way Eren stares at you is so intense. You’re dancing around it now. What you both want to talk about it. A conversation that’s gone untouched for more than 4 years. Sober and aching. Different but the same. 

Eren breaks the tension first. That’s twice.

“I’d cut my hair short if you asked me,” 

You’re quiet. 

“I’d do whatever you want,” 

“Eren,” 

“What?”

What do you say? Don’t? Please? What could you say that means more than his name in your mouth? 

“You know what,” You say weakly “You know,”

A conversation you’ve had a hundred times before. It burns like bile rising in your esophagus. Crushed windpipes under the burden of love. Your hands grip the ends of the pillow tighter. He sits up straighter. You don’t want to talk about it. 

“Do I?”

“Eren,” A warning. 

“There’s not any point in talking around it, “ He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie “Around this. Around us.” 

“There is no us,” You correct sharply, shaking your head “Not anymore,” 

His face doesn’t have anything you can read. You know yours must read of resentment. Eren is his usual blank. 

“There could be,” 

You shatter at the sentiment. The hopeful, easy way he says it. Like he doesn’t remember anything, and that you two are strangers. You know better that you aren’t. That no amount of healing can take it all back. Maybe you could forgive Eren, and somewhere far down the line - you could even be friends. 

But us is impossible. You tried us. It blew up in your face. 

“Fuck you for even saying that,” Your voice comes out garbled “Fuck you for even thinking it,” 

“How is it fuck me? For wanting to fix our relationship, seriously?” 

You hate him. With everything you have in you, with a burning fiery sort of anger. A resentment that’s spent  years strangling you. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue, all the time you tried to fix it. 

It’s all so messy and so unspeakbly touchy. 

“The sooner you get it out of your head there’s a relationship to fix, the better off we’ll be,” 

“Bullshit. Bullshit there’s nothing. I make you feel nothing?” 

It’s not what you said. He knows that, but he means what he’s saying. And he knows your answer already because he’s like that. He already knows everything about you. Where to make you hurt, and how to make it sting. Eren is a scar, not a bruise. He stays, for as long as you’re alive. No matter how faint, or how healed - he stays a part of you. 

He knows that as much as you do. That’s why it took you so long to leave. Of course you’d end up talking about it like this, but that’s not what you wanted. Or maybe it is. You don’t really know what you want from Eren. What you were hoping for when you stayed up late to talk to him and reminisce. You think just camaraderie. 

“I hate you so fucking much,” You croak, wiping away angry tears “More than anyone in my life, I hate your fucking guts,” 

“You don’t mean that,”

“I do,” Your reply comes in an angry hush “I can’t forget how we ended Eren. The months after I left were some of the worst of my life. Do you know how long it took me? To get better?”

His jaw clenches. 

“I didn’t think you would leave,”

His confession stuns you into silence. His arrogance never fails to astound, Like this, it feels incredibly frustrating. Your stomach sours. 

“...You thought I would stay? After everything?” 

“You said you would,” He raises his voice this time. He sounds hurt. Angry. Sad. All things you didn’t know he could still feel “You—you fucking promised. It was supposed to be forever and you left first.” 

“You can’t be serious,” 

“You promised,” 

“Yeah,” This time you sit up. Everything hits you at the same time “When I was 17 and in love. Before you treated me like shit,” 

He winces. So he does know. 

“You remember now, don’t you? You changed. You left for college, you stopped picking up my calls. You were such a fucking flirt that half of your campus thought you were single till I moved in. You remember that Eren?” 

His silence makes you madder. 

“You remember. right? How I’d desperately try and fix our relationship while you ran around doing whatever? You always looked so fucking indifferent. All we ever did was fight. Nothing I did worked,” 

“Y/N—” 

“I didn’t know anything other than you. If it was anyone else… But it was you,” 

“I’m—”

“You used to tell me when we were kids that if any boy hurt my feelings, you’d kill him. You remember that?” 

He closes his eyes. 

“Don’t make it sound like I just up and left for nothing. We both know that’s bullshit,”  You choke back a sob as you think about it. The gaping hole in your chest that Eren always left splits open again. 

“I’ve always loved you. Always. From the minute I could walk and talk. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Eren,”  Even now, you don’t want him thinking that “I left because you didn’t love me. I left because I realized that” 

The silence that follows your rant exhausts you so much you slump back into the couch. You learned your lessons the hard way. That love was meaningless to safety. That stability was a luxury few can afford. Nothing is guaranteed.

This second time around, you know that love can’t be one-sided. Maybe that’s what all of this has been trying to teach you. 

You cry silently, taking in deep breaths. You have no idea what he’ll say, and you don’t know if you care. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“....What?” 

“I’m sorry,” His voice breaks a little this time. You don’t remember the last time you saw him cry “I didn’t mean for things to end like that,” 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” 

You know it’s a mean thing to say. It’s not kind or forgiving. His sincerity doesn’t even feel real to you at the moment he says, but sorry doesn’t make you feel better. Sorry doesn't fix it.

“I know,” 

“Then why say it?” 

“I still love you,” 

Drowning. You’re drowning in murky waters, hardly getting air. 

“You don’t love me,” 

“Don’t say that,” His voice sounds weak and desperate. You haven’t heard it like that in so long. Vulnerable “Even if you hate my fucking guts. I still love you, always did. Always.” 

“Then why did you do that to me?”  

“I was terrified,” 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Eren. Spoken to him, or even called him on the phone. Years. Checking on him through his social media and streams was all you ever got. Sometimes Armin would fill you in, or Mikasa.

But Eren, in your eyes, had remained how you left him. He got arrogant you think. He got his fix and grew up to be tall and handsome. Had aspirations and grew out of his shyness. 

And instead of growing together, you grew apart. You started to accept the fact that the Eren you loved was no longer someone you could reach. The young, doe-eyed lovesick boyfriend. Eren was just a college boy now. Not your only exception, not the love of your life. 

Accepting that was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in your life. 

So why does he sound like someone you used to love? And why now, of all times? 

“When you talk like that, it makes me think you’re different.” 

“I am,” He stops for a minute, hands folded “I’m trying to be.” 

“...Why were you scared?” 

“It’s uhm, I don’t know how to say it,” 

“Take your time,” 

“Doing long distance made me realize how much I needed you,” His voice is hardly over a whisper. “It was ego. But I hated that. I had it in my head that you were off with other guys, and I—I don’t fucking know—I was stupid. I wanted to feel like you still wanted me,” 

“So what? You made me chase you?” 

“Yeah. Something like that. When you moved in, it just… I don’t know. I saw how everyone looked at you. I didn’t think it would make me so angry to see you like that,” 

“Sounds like…” 

“Self-sabotage,” Eren interjects “That’s what my therapist said, at least.” 

“You’re in therapy?” 

“Only a few months, but yeah. It helps.” 

“I don’t understand you at all,” You shake your head “ Not at all,”

“You bring out the best and worst in me.” He replies with a humorless laugh on his lips “Still. Around anyone else, it doesn’t matter. What they do or don’t do,”

“And me?” 

“You,” He rubs a hand over his face, voice shaking. He tries to be lighthearted but the sentiment is sincere “I make myself sick thinking about you,” 

It feels hot under your clothes. 

“We shouldn’t be… I shouldn't—”

“I know. You drive me so fucking crazy and I get so angry. I know, but how the fuck could it ever be anyone but you?” 

Your breath hitches. 

“What’re you saying?” 

“That I want you. I want you so fucking bad. I don’t want to ever be away from you ever again. I can’t help but want that,” 

You can feel him coming into your space. How he scoots closer to you, just enough that he’s moving across the couch. He’s so much bigger than you remember. Stronger. It's all moving so fast. When he puts his hand on your knee, you tense but don’t move. The dizzying smell of his cologne catches on your tongue and tickles your throat. 

His eyes dart down to your lips. His hands running up your outer thighs. You’re defenseless. Weak, you pull back a little. He doesn’t move. 

“I can’t just forgive you overnight—” 

“I know,” He leans in a little more. Close enough that his breath touches your skin “I’ll keep trying. I want to try again. I’ll earn it this time. I’ll chase you, and you can ignore me all you want,” 

He’s being cheeky as much as he’s being serious. Classically Eren. You’re so screwed. 

You feel your throat close up as he inches forward. 

“You’re so bad for me.” You whisper, the words too heavy. 

“Two sides of the same coin,” He says back, then he smiles “We’re made for each other. You think that too. I know you do,” 

“I wanted stability,” 

“I’ll try to give you it. If that’s what you want.” 

“And if you’re just a rebound?” 

“As long as I’m yours,” 

“You’re such a scumbag.” 

“I know,” 

Everything falls from under you the minute you kiss him. 

A little noise of surprise leaves his lips that instantly morphs into desire. It’s an uncouth display of emotions, so animal that you can hardly call it love. It’s something in between love and hatred, the opposite of indifference. All the intensity of life, of every terrible emotion you’ve ever had. You kiss Eren Yeager first because you miss him, despite yourself. Everything after that is just another blurry detail. 

He moans into your mouth. Where your hand has landed on his chest, he grabs your wrist and then drags you into his lap without ever breaking apart. You end up over him, with his lap under yours.

When he has you where he wants you, he hugs you close to his body. You can feel the hardlines of muscle through his shirt, his arms secure around your back. Your tits are pressed against his chest, bra forgotten. The slightest brushes are what make you feel the most.

Eren’s shaky breaths and the overwhelming way his lips move against yours. Indecision in how to treat you. Soft kisses that are followed by rough ones. The intensity of your own desire consumes your ability to act cordial, as you squeeze against Eren tight. 

You can feel the rapid beat of Eren’s heart in his chest, grinding your hips into his. 

In between kisses, he makes sure to nip at your jaw. You can feel his teeth pierce your pulse point, his tongue lapping over the leftover wound that leaves you shaking. 

He litters bites like that on every inch of your skin, your neck left with an ache. There’s something ironic in Eren licking your wounds over, but the words escape you before you can utter them.

Even in just being claimed, the feeling is intense. It makes you visceral. Not to be worked up from touch or words, but something else entirely. Something cosmic in it’s very existence. 

Eren finally pulls away from you, just barely to glance at your swollen lips. He meets your eyes as his teeth sink into the lower one to make you whine. He talks to you while your eyes are locked. 

“Fuck,” His voice is thick with lust. Heat splits you right in half “Fuck, fuck, baby. Been so long,” 

“Y-Your hands,” 

“Can’t take em off you,” They’re smooth as they feel you up. Shamelessly squeezing the fat of your hips in between in his fingers, grabbing your ass hard. A guilt creeps up for comparing him to your ex-boyfriend. 

But all you can think about is how Eren is the opposite of stability. Images pop up of when you used to have sex, so many years before. He was meeker before, less assured. You thought his confidence would make you sick, but it doesn’t. 

Rather, the look on his face while he gropes you makes you wet. Chewing his lower lip, feeling your body like he’s dying to see it under his clothes. Impatiently and unabashedly wanting you in a way that is distinctly Eren. 

There’s truth in the sentiment that no one could ever fuck you like Eren could. It’s one you’ve kept to yourself for so long that you almost forgot it. Eren knew your body and shaped it to his hands years ago. You like being touched because of how he touched you, a memory you carried like a torch. 

It was Eren who wanted you first, who fucked you first, who made you cum first when you were both so awkward and clumsy. 

“Look at you,” He groans. His hands inch under your shirt, skin on skin. Pinching your nipples gently, till they’re hard against your shirt “Look how sexy you are,” 

He knows what you like, what you like being told. 

“My pretty fucking girl,” 

Fuck. Of course, he remembers that. 

“Oh, you—” 

“So pretty,” He parrots. Even with electricity buzzing in his movements, he’s patient. Undresses you gently. When your skins bare, your shirt tossed to the other side of the room, he kisses the underneath of your tits. Each one, he kneads them. Appreciates them,  worships them. All of that undivided attention that he always used to give you when you were dating. 

When you were in love. 

“You still like when I tease ‘em too,” 

His tongue runs over your hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, His free hand occupies the other, taking time to give them both equal attention. Your body starts to ignite, little sparks of electricity flitting up your spine. 

Letting your fingers card through his hair, you glance down. He looks up at you with his mouth full, eyes lidded. His lashes are long against his olive skin, sun freckles over the bridge of his nose. Your hands reach to touch the moles along his cheeks, all in places you remember. 

You don’t resist the urge for intimacy. Not things you did with your ex, but with Eren. You press a kiss to his hairline and his hands get a little tighter. Your want expands, fills like a balloon. 

Feeling his cock nudge against your shorts is surprising. A blush crawls over his face, grinding his hips up into you. It’s muscle memory to do it back - rocking yourself until he’s nestled between you. Dry-humping like this makes you feel like a teenager again, doing this in Eren’s dingy basement when you weren’t ready to lose your virginity. 

Except Eren knows what he’s doing. He shifts his weight, sitting up enough to push up against your clit. His mouth deatches, a string of saliva in his place. The cool air against the swell of your tits make, adds to the sensation. 

He grabs your ass again, this time just to push you up. To set a pace as you grind against each other. 

“Wanna know something?” 

You choke back a whimper. 

“Mm,” 

“I used to jack thinking about you,” His voice is slick when he speaks, a low whisper “Remember? You used to be too sensitive so you’d rub against the edge of your bed. Thought about it all the time after you told me,” 

Your jaw drops open. 

“You—” 

“You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Not too sensitive for this, but—,” He does it with more purpose, a long slow drag so you can feel his shaft against your clothed cunt “you still like it slow,” 

“Eren, holy—” 

“Everything you like,” He hums, this time matching how he moves you with his own body “Still remember every detail,”

“Y-Yeah?” 

“Yeah baby,” He dips his head to kiss against the column of your throat again, this time sucking deep dark hickies. You can feel his lips when you moan “Everything. Kept me company,” 

You’re almost too afraid to ask what he means. 

“Eren,” You half beg, fingers twitching with want “Don’t tease me,” 

“What do you need?” 

“Uhm,” Embarrassed. For some reason, Eren asking you is making you embarrassed. You’ve never been before “This is so humiliating,” 

“You were always shy about asking for it,”

“So why’re you making me, asshole?” 

“I like watching you squirm,” 

“Shut up, you’re awful,” 

“Put something in my mouth, then?” 

Your eyes go wide, and he smiles. His breath brushes against the shell of your ear. 

“You wanna sit on my face, right? Shut me up,” 

It was a stupid arguement you had. At the latter half of your relationship, sometimes the only way you two resolved things was sex. Eren referencing it makes you mad as much as it makes you wet. 

When you were both a little inebriated, he used to beg you for it.The memories of that make you nod. Your voice is coarse with lust.

“Wanna sit on your face,” 

“Take your shorts off,” 

Taking off your clothes is haphazardly done. You and Eren part ways. He takes off his shirt and hoodie to reveal a body cut from pure marble. He was always athletic, but clearly his gym rat posting on his IG story were genuine and not for show. He sends you a little smirk when he catches you staring, flexing his muscles a little. 

“Do I look good?” 

You nod, awestruck as you wriggle out of your shorts leaving you in just your socks. Eren does the rest slowly, stood up and taking off his sweatpants His thighs are muscular, strong with a little dark hair. It’s on his stomach too, just barely there. 

The fabric of his boxers strain against his cock. It’s big, bulges against the black material that you can see the skin. It’s intimidating to look at. 

Your eyes follow him to the couch. You watch him get comfortable, moving pillows around to make sure there’s enough space. He flashes you a smile when he’s laid down, untying his hair as a last touch. 

“Come here, angel,” He signals, waving you over “Come sit,” 

The air brushes past you as you approach him. He reaches a hand out to lace with your hands. 

“Face that way. So you can hold onto my hair, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” 

It takes you a minute. It’s easier to climb over his chest, inching towards his face. When you’re spread right over his neck, he gives you a cheeky grin. His hands reach over your thigh, pulling you apart. His eyes are zeroed in on your clit, finger brushing back the hair on you. The affectionate way he does both makes you want to hide away.

Eren is holding you in place so you can’t move. 

“Look at that,” He whispers, breath fanning your cunt “Look at how wet you got for me,” 

Instead of putting his tongue where you need it, he cranes his neck to one side and presses kisses into your inner thigh. Licking at the skin, he holds your eyes. 

“Tell me something,”He goes an inch highe and leaves a hickey before repeating it a little bit aove “Did he ever get you this wet? You can be honest,” 

Your clit throbs between your legs. Eren grins, as you squirm. You look down at him, shaking your head. 

“Not like you. I mean, he wasn’t bad but he wasn’t—”

“But he wasn’t me, was he?” He goes on, his lips pressing right against your achy clit, arousal on his lips that he licks with ease “Could never be me, could he?” 

“Eren,” You whine. His smile gets bigger, tongue licking one long stripe against your folds. 

“Say it baby. That I’m the best you’ve ever had?” 

Your reply is a meek yeah. It’s hard to do anything with confidence or self-assurance when your entire body is begging to be pleasured. Eren gives you a few more kisses on your clit, like he’s making out with it. It’s sweet and lazy, making your hips buck for more. 

“I’m the same,” He coos, sticking his tongue out as he forces your weight down so you’re not longer hovering but sitting on his face “There’s nothing like you,” 

He doesn’t hesitate to dive in right after that. Burying himself deep, your hands immediately fix at the base of his hair. He’s not shy about it, his tongue laid flat, creating just enough suction around to feel. It’s perfectly pracited, familiar. 

Eren eats you out from memory. That much is obvious to you as soon as you feel him, the wet heat of his mouth and his tongue. It’s a measured build of pleasure, soothing a long-time ache that slowly escalates to something more. 

A mewl escapes your throat. He moans against your pussy, nose bumping against you. Tugging at the roots of his hair, you wiggle your hips to get him to give you more. 

You feel the coil in your tummy when Eren goes a little deeper, sucks a little harder, moves a little faster. Encouraging you to use him to the best of your ability as he pushes your hips, nails dug in the skin to keep you steady Looking down makes you see him completely blissed out, like he’s in a comfortable dream. 

You don’t really remember the last time someone went down on you like this without asking. Like he’s enjoying it all on his own, like he wants you. There’s vigor to how he takes you into his mouth, tastes you greedily, with appreciative grunts and groans. 

The word perfect falls flat to how Eren licks your pussy. Perfect is too prim, too neat. Whatever Eren makes you feel between your legs, is far from perfect. Eren is something more. More intangible, hard to touch. He eats your pussy perfectly, but messily. Desperately, lovingly. Every inch of you is wanted, tongue nestled against your folds and on your hard clit like he wants to stay. He looks at you intoxicated and it shows in how much joy he takes in tasting you. Hitched to your very existence, like a planet revolving around the sun. 

He does it like it’s a privilege, a divine gift. Sucks like it’s sweet, ripe fruit in scorching summers. Water in an oasis, deserving of only the highest praise. Not worth wasting even for pride. Shameless. 

You can feel yourself tipping closer and closer to the familiar edge. Each second pushes you to it, closer and closer and closer before you feel the feeling again. Deep in your body, undoing you completely.

“Eren, oh—” 

You cum hard. It’s the first one, the most intense. Eren is unyielding as you hit your high and start to fall back down, catching on each layer of the ozone. You moan his name over and over, Eren, Eren, Eren. It’s all you can think to say. The only person you’d trust to catch you from this high, you fall foward. Hand gripping on the couch, you try to wiggle away but he won’t let you until he’s had his fix. 

When he pulls away, he takes in a deep breath. 

You lean back, catching sight of his face. It’s dripping down his chin. He reaches his hands to wipe it with his fingers, then sticks his hands up to you.

“Open your mouth up,” He says, pushing his fingers against your tongue “Or come down here and clean me up, maybe?” 

You widen your eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you wiggle down until you’re face level with him. He gives you a glance, encouraging you. Unsure, you push your tongue out against his neck, tracing down to his adams apple. He groans, voice vibrating. 

“Fuck yeah,” His hands comes around the back fo your neck “Just like that baby. That’s perfect,” 

Your memory reminds you. You repeat your actions, tongue dragging over his nec and chin, presses kisses and bites all along his jaw and neck. Eren moans above you appreciatively. The sound is pleasing. Hearing it over and over eggs you on to “clean” him up well until you reach his lips. 

The way he kisses you is sweet and gentle. He kisses your lips before peppering them on your face. 

“Fuck, look at what you’re doing to me.” 

“Making you sappy?” 

“Already was. I’m so hard for you right now, it’s fucking stupid,”

You let out a whine.

“Mm,” 

“Condoms upstairs,” 

“Don’t need ‘em. ‘s fine. Just give it to me how it is,” 

He shivers against your body. 

“I wanna cum just thinking about it,” 

“Don’t think about it and come fuck me,”

He laughs, handing coming down on your ass. 

“Get up,” 

You stand up and Eren follows suit. He gives you a quick peck before whispering in your ear. 

“Bend over the edge of the couch for me,” 

Shivering, you nod your head and walk beind the couch. You shoot Eren a look over your shoulder, seeing him ease his cock out of his boxers to give it a quick stroke. It’s just high enough that you struggle to get over it all the way. His eyes are piercing, watching you as you bend over like he asks. You push your ass towards him. 

“Like this?”  

“That’s perfect, angel. Stay like that,” 

You can hear him coming towards you. The weight of his body, bare chest against your spine is almost startling. He’s not crushing you, but you’re still completely pinned under underneath him. You wriggle your hips back, struggling to move.

His hand creeps lower and lower, finger slipping through your folds. He feels you up like that for a while, whistling. 

“You’re so wet,” He coos. His voice is smooth in your ear. You moan. He rests his chin just over your shoulder as you turn your head to kiss him. Slowly, he slips his middle finger inside. You’re surprised how little resistance there is really. The pad of his finger reaches far, rubs against your g-spot without second guessing it.

Your squealing makes him do it again. It’s a careful move. Your body responds to him eagerly as he slips another one, steady. Until he’s knuckle deep, stretching out unhurriedly. When it’s no longer a tight fit, he pulls away from you. 

Over you, he repositions. You can hear him spit in his hand behind you, the way his palms move against his cock. It’s all completely quiet besides that, lewd little noises that clue you into what he’s doing. Not seeing him makes the anticipation greater, leaves you vulnerable to whatever he wants to do. 

“Missed this pretty pussy so much,” He hisses, the head of his cock pushing past your folds until he’s snug against your hole. The muscle clenches “So fucking warm,” 

“Eren,” 

He pushes forward, a calculated push of hips. You both moan when he enters you. Just the tip, just the familiar curve of his cock. Your inside ache, deep inside. A place only Eren could reach, you think. He groans nto your ear. Your feet are barely touching the floor in this position, Hardly reaching the ground, toes holding you up. The back of the couch digs into your stomach. It’s puts a pressure on your lower belly, that Eren must feel.

All your muscles are tense. Tight. The tip of his cock rubs against your walls. He’s so hard. Intrusive. You clench around him again. Jaw agape, you moan as he pushes even further. 

“See that?” He whispers, against the shell of your ear. His hands grab yours, putting them behind your back till your defenseless “She remember me,” 

The moan you let out is entirely involuntary once it hits you he means your pussy. Your walls spasm around him. He chuckles at that. 

“That’s right. She loves me even if you don’t, doesn’t she?” Pulling his hips back until your empty, he fills you again. Harder this time. You choke on air “We made love tonight, didn’t we?” 

“Eren, shit” 

“I like when you say my name baby,” He says, another thrust “Like when your pretty pussy welcomes me home. It’s mine, isn’t it? Always has been. Bet he wasn’t making you feel like this, was he?” 

All at once, you feel Eren for what he’s worth. You feel his cock, the curve and the shape the weight as it drags inside of you. You feel the weight of his body, all the stretch in your thighs as he casts over you like a shadow. The gravelly way that he speaks reverberating in your bones. He’s fucking you like he’s all the way in the bottom of your stomach. 

Like a puzzle piece, Eren completes you on a level no one else in the world could. The way he talks to you reflects his, confidence not unearned. He’s cocky and awful, but his dick is doing this to you. Making your mouth fall open until your drooling underneath him. He answers every craving you ever had, that bone-deep sense of dissatisfaction that you’ve spent an entire year burying. 

Eren fucks you like he’s in love with you, and only you. His cock kisses your cervix, and it feels like the same kind done at weddings. A vow to you, a promise. It feels so fucking good when Eren fucks you. Nothing in the world could ever quite comparing to that satisfaction. Deep in your body, primal and hungry. 

“You were made for me,” He pants in your ear “Made just for me. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you. Remind you that. You get it now?” 

You whimper out loud. Yes comes out naturally. Eren kisses your shoulder blade before sinking his teeth into it.

“Knew you would, 

Eren fucks you the only way he’s ever known to. Deep and paced. You can’t say how he does it with anyone else, but with you it’s always been the same. Like he’s carving you out with his cock, the way you’ve always needed. You know you’re starting to be close again with each thrust. It’s a memory that your body welcomes. 

Eren knows what you need to cum, but he waits. Like always, he keeps at it until your walls are tremor. Until you’re just getting there, and you need the extra push to get you to your end. He keeps you at the end as he fucks you, whispers filthy things in your ear until you reach the point of desperation that you’re begging. 

“Please, Eren,” At your limit, pleaing “Please make me cum,” 

“There’s the magic word,” 

He snakes a hand around, reaching your clit and giving it a gentle rub. Everything happens at once. It’s perfect motion. Equilibrium. You can feel your knees start to give in as he gives it to you, the tension gently easing out. A carbonated soda, cracked open slowly to make way for the big finish. The release. Eren speaks to you again.

“Cum for me angel. Give it to me,”

Like a seismic wave, you cum hard on Eren’s cock just like he asked. He’s not far behind you, thrusting through the waves of pleasures. Your brain melts out of your ears completely, babbling to him to give you his cum too.

And he does in record time, shallowly rutting into you until you’re full of him, shooting deep. You feel your insides painted white, content at the feeling. 

When he pulls out of you, you feel it drip onto his hardwood floors. You’re unsure of what comes next, but he pulls you right into your arms. Into his chest, even with wobbly legs. 

“I’m not gonna let you go again,” He assures, more to himself than to you “You’re mine. Forever and always,” 

Against your better judgement, you give in. Just for now. Just for the time being. 

#eren x reader #eren smut #aot x reader #aot smut #writing tag #toxic cw #cheating cw

[ribsonrepeat]

ana tips to stay as safe and healthy as possible <3

**important to note that I’m not encouraging this behavior in any way but if you’re going to persue unhealthy wl then harm reduction is important**

1) take multivitamins EVERYDAY and stay hydrated

2) if you’re down with the flu or any other sickness please increase your cal intake to aid in the recovery process

3) if you notice negative side effects like hair loss, excessive bruising, joint pain, etc take more vitamins i.e. hair, skin, and nails, joint vitamins, iron supplements

4) if you’re feeling faint/dizzy/nauseous constantly please eat something and maybe consider raising your cal intake for at least a few days

5) avoid hot temperatures, hot showers, working out, etc if you think you may faint to avoid any injuries, embarrassment, etc

6) don’t stay at a super low cal intake for extended periods of time (under 500 cals)

7) if you’re fasting and start to experience heart palpitations, dizziness, nausea, spotted vision break your fast immediately it’s not worth it

8) never NEVER dry fast!!!!!

9) avoid excessive caffeine intake it can cause headaches, nausea, heart palpitations, etc and it doesn’t curb your appetite enough to risk that

10) if you’re feeling dehydrated but feel like you cant drink more water try a hydration multiplier like liquid iv

11) make sure you’re using your cals for healthy choices at least try to eat a fruit or vegetable once a day

12) make sure you’re getting enough protein it will aid in wl while also keeping you healthy

13) don’t excessively purge or avoid it all together the health problems it causes are nothing to play around with

14) don’t abuse laxatives it fucks up your stomach badddd

15) don’t push yourself too hard the goal is to lose weight not death 😘

#an0r3c1a #ana meal #i need to ⭐️ve #i wanna ⭐️ve #thinspp #tw ana trigger #tw thinspi #⭐️rving #ana trigger #th1nsp1ration #🕯️as a 🪶 #tw ana diary #ana bllog #tw ed diet #tw restrictive ed #thinspø #thin$po #⭐️vation goals #i want to ⭐️ve #⭐️rve #⭐️ving #⭐️ve

[poeticpascal]

Stay (Joel Miller x Reader)

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Summary: After being betrayed by a FEDRA agent, losing your belongings and getting severely injured, you have no choice but to steal and kill your way to survival. But when Joel and Ellie become your next targets, you never could've imagined how they'd save you in more ways than one.

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+ content, MDNI, PIV sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), violence, descriptions of killing, descriptions of injury, guns, blood,

A/n: eek, I'm so in love with this fic! I'd love to know what you think, and if you have any Joel x reader ideas, requests are open so send them my way! :)

As the sun sets beneath the tree-lined horizon, you can’t help but think about how worryingly close to death you are by now.

Spring brought cold winds and heavy rain, washing away the den you’d managed to live in for a few months. It’s a wonder it lasted that long, really.

You could’ve managed. You’ve managed for years now; your whole life, in fact. You never could remember your mother or your father, if you had siblings, if you had friends. All you know is you were 6 years old when Outbreak Day destroyed the world, and you’ve been alone from then on, lucky enough to get brought to a QZ and lucky enough to escape it when you were 15.

You could’ve managed the shitty weather, until you were betrayed, by a FEDRA agent no less. One you’d dealt with for a few months now, smuggling whatever drugs he wanted into his QZ in exchange for the food and medicine and warm clothes they had there. You never wanted to go back, could never let yourself get locked behind those walls again, but you had to admit their resources were far better than any you could attain out here, alone in the infected world, and so you made it your business to get your hands on it.

It was a week ago now. The agent - whose name you never bothered to learn - must’ve been caught with the gear he got from you. Of course, FEDRA let him off easy, as long as they gave him a name. Your name.

So instead of pocketing a new med kit and a crate of food, you got beat, shot at, nearly tortured before you could make your escape into the shrubbery and away from the small legion of agents that came for you. But not before the agent you’d dealt with led them to your base, where they burnt your every belonging, every piece of tattered material and weaponry and sentimentality you owned.

And so here you are, no food, no clothes but the ones on your back, one gun with just a few bullets left and a blunt knife hidden in your boot. And you’re fucking pissed.

Pissed that you’re dying. Pissed that over a decade of fighting, looting, trading had been burnt to ash in just moments. Pissed that the bullet wounds in your torso weren’t enough to kill you, but just enough to let you live in agony, spurred on by hunger and dehydration.

Even the small stashes you’d spent years placing strategically around a good 25-mile radius were useless without a map of their locations. Which you had made, obviously - you haven’t survived this long out of luck. You’re smart, you know how to traverse this world, and you know how to protect yourself. But everything got fucking burnt.

So perhaps you don’t know how to protect yourself at all, because you’ve spent the last week wondering how you could’ve been so stupid as to let this happen.

It’s not like you’d trusted the agent. You don’t trust anyone.

But you worked with him, and somewhere along the line you must’ve slipped, told him where you keep your base, let him choose a meeting point when it should always, always be you to choose. You can’t even remember what it was, what error you made. Untreated bullet wounds do an awfully messy thing to your mind.

You collapse through a string of branches and shrubbery, landing with a wet thud on the muddy path. You’ve stumbled into a clearing, and with as much strength as you can muster, you pull your cheek away from the dirt and look up to see the old building you’ve been looking for. A small, weak smile tugs on your lips. A glimmer of hope.

It used to be a doctor’s surgery, as far as you know. Written on the decayed wooden sign was ‘Dr. Hardman’s Healthcare Services’, though it was so faint it was almost unintelligible, and the cracked blue floor tiles gave a clinical air to the place, even in its decrepit state.

Obviously, it would have been looted beyond recognition within a week of Outbreak Day. 

But there were those stupid enough to go in and search it anyway. And that’s why you always came back to places like these over the years.

The first time you did it, you were 16, not long free of the QZ and still getting to grips with life on the outside. With surviving. It was a different building, a warehouse somewhere near Philadelphia as far as you remember. One you hoped would have something left, anything worth taking. It didn’t - but it did have people. Other looters, a small group of around 3, all of whom had split up to search while leaving a pile of rucksacks near the front entrance. It was incredibly easy to take what you needed, and you learned then the brilliance of lying in wait for others to bring their resources to you, and taking, and running.

It was sleazy, and you’re not proud of it. But it’s the only way you could survive those first few years, before you cemented your foundations, able to source your own food and build solid relationships and make decent trades that let you survive.

And now, you have to do it all again, because your shit’s all burnt and your blood’s surely depleting and breathing is starting to get really difficult.

You just hope it’ll be simple, that they won’t even realise what happened, ‘them’ being whichever unlucky soul happens to stop by first. Not because you’re afraid to kill - you accepted a long time ago that it was something you had to do to survive - but because you really don’t think you can survive a fight. 

You don’t even pick yourself up from the floor where you fell. You’re just about hidden below the bushes, with a good view of the building, and the mud you’re lying in has warmed up from your body heat, providing much needed comfort as the rain continues to pour.

You spend a few hours like that, falling in and out of sleep, when you finally hear voices. Two, you think, though you raise your head to see properly and sure enough, there are two people making their way up the path to your right. It’s an odd pairing; there’s a man, tall, rough-looking with his beard and messy hair. The other is a woman, a girl even, she can’t be more than 16, you think. His daughter? Perhaps. She’s excitable, almost galloping up to the house, shouting back at the man who seems to only grumble in response.

They’re far enough away that you’re confident you won’t be seen, but close enough to just about hear them, straining your ears against the rain’s pitter-patter.

“This place is creepy, dude. Do we have to stay here?” The girl whines, spinning herself around a pillar that stands at the entrance, childlike.

The man grumbles, stopping before the steps of the building, looking up at it with a hand rested on the strap of his rifle. You’ll have to get them while they’re asleep, you think.

“Yes, Ellie. We do. I’ve gotta stash of some things left here, and it’s the only proper shelter for miles.” His voice is low, southern you think, and undoubtedly appealing. Not what matters right now.

“But Joel-”

“Just get inside.” The man, Joel, enters first, clearly protective of the girl - Ellie, you think he called her - as he finally gives her the go ahead to follow him in. The door shuts, and your head falls back to the ground, knowing it’ll be a few hours yet before you can make your move.

Joel and Ellie. You remember their names as you start to fall back asleep, figuring if you had to kill them later on, it’s the least you could do.

You’re nice like that.

You really regret the whole ‘lying face down in the mud for 6 hours’ thing once it’s time to actually get up. Everything hurts, the rumble of your stomach aches against the wounds that puncture it, and the dirt has soaked through your clothes and onto your skin so thickly that it almost weighs you down.

But it’s now or never, so you all but drag yourself towards the building, doing everything you can to hold back the whimpers that threaten to break through your lips.

You enter the back way, a quieter one, where the frame is empty of a door and - hopefully - where you’d be able to sneak in without detection. The front entryway was too obvious, too bold, and if they expected anyone to come in, it’d be through there.

There’s an upstairs, but it’s pretty miserable, even by the current day’s standards. You’re fairly confident they’ll have stayed downstairs; the reception area was particularly favoured among the less experienced travellers, though from Joel’s apparent knowledge of the area and the gun on his back, you suspect he’s not one of them.

You’re right; they’re not in the reception, so you continue to tiptoe through the halls, checking through windows and the gaps in doors before finally hearing a slight rustle coming from the end of the corridor.

You smirk, slightly endeared to these two; they’d made a good choice. One you always make whenever you spend the night here. They’re in the clinic’s bathroom - for some reason, bathrooms in any building were always forgotten by looters. As if no one would think to sleep there. It’s a small but cosy space, close enough to the front door to make a quick escape, but just hidden out of way enough for it to be easily the safest spot to hide.

There’s also no window into the room for obvious reasons, and while that’s served you well many times while you stayed here, right now you curse as you plan your next move to get in and out undetected.

The rustles are quiet, not the movements of someone awake, but turning in their sleep. You wrap a hand around the door handle, giving you full control of its swing as you open it as slowly as you can manage, your other harm held tight against your aching torso.

The door opens easily, silently, and you’re grateful. Joel is lay closest to the door - his protectiveness on show again - using his bag as a pillow. Dammit, you think. The girl, Ellie, is lay against the back wall, her frame noticeably much smaller than his from where you’re crouched, watching from the small slip in the door.

You search the room, the hint of desperation you’ve managed to push down for this long finally creeping up on you, your head suddenly going dizzy.

Then, you see it.

Ellie’s backpack in the corner of the room, by Joel’s feet, tucked under one of the sinks. Within arms reach if you can just fit in at the right angle.

You push your arm through the gap, trying to find balance with your free hand while not leaning against the door so much that it opens further and inevitably hits Joel, waking him. If the guy’s as experienced as you think he is, your pained, whispered gasps alone may be enough to do that. But you carry on, twisting at the elbow and pressing your cheek against the doorframe, flailing your hand until it finally, finally brushes against the dense material of the bag.

Relief floods you, and for a moment, you almost don’t feel the pain anymore. You strain further, your fingertips pulling the bag towards you just enough to be able to properly grab it, and you’re almost reckless with the way you snatch it through the door and back away quickly.

You stand on shaky legs, not even thinking to check the contents of the bag; you just needed to get out now. You head for the front door, letting the wall guide you there as you lean against it for support, the dizziness stirring in your head once again.

Then, you hear it.

The unmistakable sound of the safety being taken off a gun. One you’d produced yourself too many times to count.

“You’re gonna put that down, and you’re gonna walk away. ‘Else i shoot you.” 

It’s him. The man, Joel.

His voice is far more gruff now than it was before, when you were outside. You turn to face him, still clinging to the wall, the bag still in your hand. His expression is a mix of anger and nonchalance; like this was more of an annoyance to him than anything else. He just wanted a good night’s sleep, but here you were, padding through the shadows and stealing from them.

He’s about as happy as you’d be in this situation.

“Put it down,” he repeats himself, louder this time, the unwavering aim of his pistol pointed right between your eyes.

He must’ve woken up Ellie, because you hear movement from the room behind Joel, and next thing you know she’s creeping out the door with her eyes wide open. “The fuck is going on?”

Joel curses, rolling his eyes, and you just watch their strange dynamic unfold. “Get the fuck back in there. I’m just dealing with a little… problem,” he turns back to you.

You really didn’t want it to end like this. You never do. But this is the way it goes, more often than not. Still, the girl’s spunky, with more life than you’ve seen in anyone for a very long time. And he, well… he’s hot, and if that isn’t a good enough reason to feel bad about killing someone, you don’t know what is.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you can pull it off. You’ve been in this situation a thousand times - gun pointed at your head, no escape route in sight - and you’ve left every time with your pockets full and a handful of dead bodies behind you.

You brace yourself to launch, to throw the bag at the man then draw your gun just as fast, but you’re cut off by a shriek-like sound from the girl, “oh, shit.” She’s looking at you, but at your face; you follow her eyes down to your abdomen, and yeah… shit.

You’re bleeding. Like, really bad. You’ve been bleeding for 7 days now but this is a fresh, gushing stream of blood that spurts from the left bullet wound and mixes with the mud that cakes you into a dirty, sticky mess.

The dizziness hits you again, for longer now, and you stumble. Any escape plans are long gone as everything blurs together, nothing but one tall shape and one short one visible before you, and Ellie speaks again, “dude, is she… dying?”

Yeah. Maybe.

The two exchange more words, but you don’t hear them. They could’ve been screaming into your ear, just one inch from your face, for all you know. Your senses cloud completely, you think you feel yourself fall, and then… everything turns black.

—------------------

You groan, fighting the heavy pull of your eyes to stay closed, completely disoriented. Your eyes flicker open for moments at a time then shut again, your brain seemingly not ready to wake up yet. You’re already going into overdrive, though. 

Because you feel really fucking weird.

You’re warm. The room you’re in is warm. The bed you’re in is warm. You haven’t slept in a bed in years, and yet here you are, soaked in sheets as light as clouds and laying on a mattress that cradles you like a child.

The pain is gone. A dull ache sits in your abdomen, but it lulls, more like a stomach ache than a week-old and most likely infected bullet wound. 

You feel good.

Weirded the fuck out, but good.

You use your strength to lift an arm, groaning again, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a gasp from across the room, and suddenly there are feet hitting the floor and a loud shout, “Joel! She’s awake!”

The voice is familiar, probably the only thing around you that is, but you can’t place where. Its owner has left the room as you finally scan it, pulling yourself to sit upright. 

The room’s actually really, really nice. It looks normal, like the bedrooms you saw in those old Hollywood movies you’d managed to find one day. You’re lay on a king-size bed, set inside a carved wooden frame, with matching side-pieces and a dressing table directly across from you. There’s a white wardrobe to your right, and just beyond that, a large window where the curtains are blowing back slightly, letting you see out into the neighbourhood. It’s quiet, but pristine. It’s normal.

It’s weird. To your left is the only door, presumably where the other person who’d been in there with you left from, making that a no-go in your escape route. Window it is.

You swing your legs off the bed with a whine, the ache in your stomach intensifying. It’s only then that you notice the bandages wrapped around your torso, perfectly neat and clearly fresh. Like someone had been replacing them.

You hear two sets of footsteps, one is quieter but quicker, running up the stairs outside your room. The other is much heavier and slower, and the juxtaposition of them both causes a sudden flash in your mind of the pair you recently met -

“Hi,” Ellie says, having reached the top of the stairs and charged into the room before you could even comprehend your own trail of thoughts.

You just stare at her, in what must’ve been the most confused and annoyed expression you’ve had in your life. She stares back, with a mischievous look on her face that both sets you on edge and endears her to you at the same time.

Joel appears then, the same scowl on his face as he’d worn before you passed out, terribly unimpressed as he stares down at you on the bed.

For fuck’s sake.

“Where am I?” You ask, given up on your plans to get out of there. Your body’s too tired.

“Bill and-” Ellie starts, but Joel quickly shuts her up with a sharp glare. “Oh shit, erm, it’s a secret. Can’t tell you where you are.”

You roll your eyes, looking around the room again before setting your eyes back on the two. “Why am I here?”

“We saved your lucky ass,” Joel replies, his tone almost mocking. He shifts from the doorframe, walking towards you and folding his arms, stopping only a metre away from where you sat. “Shoulda’ killed you when I had the chance, but this little pain in my ass,” he nods towards Ellie, “insisted we save your life. After you fuckin’ stole from us.”

“To be fair, she didn’t get very far,” Ellie quips, then addresses you directly, “you fuckin’ fainted, dude. I thought you were dead!”

Joel just grumbles at her interruption.

You squint, leaning your head back in a poor attempt at a stretch. Your body is screaming at you to move, to walk around, to remember how to function. You push the desperation down, not ready yet to try anything, not with those two just staring at you.

You push them instead, unsure, untrusting. “You’re saying you just decided to save me? Just like that? After I stole from you?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, smiling. Joel grunts again. He does that a lot, you’ve noticed.

You huff, looking away, unsatisfied with their answers. “Should’ve let me die.”

Joel sighs, unfolding his arms and throwing his head back in annoyance. He points at Ellie, as he makes his way out of the room. “Fuckin’ told you this was a bad idea.”

He leaves. It’s awkward. Ellie just continues to stare at you as you hang your head, hands clasped in your lap, trying to figure out what to do next.

“We literally saved your life, you know,” Ellie breaks the silence. You look up at her as she continues, “you were so nearly dead. It was so weird. You were literally-”

“Yes, yes, I get it.” You interrupt her, rubbing your aching head. It’s silent for a little longer, still awkward, and you let out a sigh. “Thank you. For - for saving me.”

She smiles. A big, cheesy grin that somehow lifts your mood with its genuinity. Then she gestures to the door, the one Joel had disappeared from minutes before - “it’s him you need to thank. He’s the one who carried your sorry ass 3 miles to get here.”

You laugh, something foreign to you after all these years, and she giggles back. The air between you both seems softer now, lighter, and the tension that filled your body when you woke up has dissipated completely. You think she can sense that it has, too.

“Frank told me to tell you there’s fresh clothes in the closet, and the shower’s out the door and on your right,” she points in the vague direction she’d described. “We’re having a barbeque later, just come downstairs when you’re ready.” 

You nod, and she leaves you with a final smile. You take another look around the room and sigh, wondering just what you’d gotten yourself into.

—------------------

Bill and Frank are fucking lovely. Bill’s a little grumpier than his partner, but just as sweet all the same, and you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the little life they’d built together.

When you came downstairs after your shower, you’d bumped into them in the kitchen, preparing food and drinks to bring outside for the barbeque. Frank explained how things worked, how they live off the land, growing and making everything they could ever need to live happily here forever. How Joel had helped them stay safe, setting up the large metal gates that surrounded their small, solely-occupied community. It sounded like he really cared about them, and then Frank told you about Ellie, how Joel had taken her under his wing and they were travelling together on some sort of mission that they couldn’d built together.

That was a few hours ago. You were alone now, sat in the living room, listening to the soft music of the radio and the laughter of the group outside. You didn’t feel like joining them; they wouldn’t want you there, a looter and murderer, and even if they did you weren’t the type to make friends. It’s a dangerous habit in this world.

So instead, you sit on your own in the house, feeling a little sorry for yourself and really craving the sausages you could smell cooking outside.

You hear something behind you, turning around to see Joel traipsing in through the back door. He kicks his shoes off, making you smile at the politeness from such a rough, grumpy man, and stalks through the house towards the kitchen. He stops when he sees you.

The two of you just stare at each other, for a good few moments, the kind that feel like hours.

“What’re you doing in here?” Joel asks. You can almost sense something honest in his tone. Like he genuinely wondered why you were here, alone, and not out there with them.

“Thinking,” you just reply, quietly.

“‘Bout what?” And there it is again, that earnest intrigue.

You shrug, not sure what to tell him. “What to do next, I guess.”

Joel furrows his brows, and begins to stride towards where you sit on the couch. He walks slowly, hands buried in his jean pockets, before taking a seat on the chair across from you and relaxing into the cushion.

It’s strange seeing him act so casually, so normal, when just days ago he’d had a gun pointed at your head and every intent of pulling the trigger.

You suppose he feels the same about you, sat on a floral-print couch, covered in a far-too-big plaid shirt and - for lack of a better word - sulking.

“So what’re you gonna do next?”

He’s looking at you, fiercely so, his eyes unwavering from yours. You don’t know whether to look at him, or the floor, or your hands fidgeting in your lap - his stare is uncomfortable and intoxicating, all at the same time. You opt for your hands.

“I don’t know. All my shit’s gone. That’s - that’s why I was there. At the clinic. Ste-… taking your stuff.” 

Joel pushes out a breath of air, almost a laugh but not quite. It’s not mocking, though - not like his tone was earlier. It’s understanding, like his way of telling you, “I know.”

And then he says it. “I know.”

You just nod, and he continues, “you gotta be more careful out there. Anyone less caring than Ellie woulda let you die there on that floor.”

“I’ve done this my whole life,” you shoot back. “And if it weren’t for - fuckin - this” - you point to the bandages round your torso - “I’d have killed you both and left you with everything you have.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of something playing on his lips, like the beginnings of a smile. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and maintaining his stare. His brow is cocked upwards.

“Well, ain’t we lucky you had your little problem there, huh?” You scowl at him, finally meeting his eyes and being almost surprised by the sheer depth of them. There’s pain in those eyes, you can see it because it matches your own, and yet there’s a kindness in them that you’d not seen in the man until now.

“And what about you?” You ask, feeling bolder now. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

“The kid made me help you,” he answers with speed, like he’d rehearsed it. You can tell there’s something on his tongue, something waiting to spill, and so you stay quiet. Coax it out.

“And… those wounds, you didn’t get them from some average Joe’s gun. And someone your age, someone who must’a grown up in this hell… you don’t go stealin’ from people like me for the fun of it.”

You nod, offering him a small smile, one that says thank you. You think it’s the only form of thanks he’ll accept. 

“I did want to kill you, though.” Joel says, so casually he could’ve been telling you about the weather that day.

You huff. “And I wanted to kill you.”

His eyes stay trained on yours, and you don’t look away this time. It’s close, intimate. “I really don’t like you.” He seems to lean in as he says it.

“I don’t like you either,” you reply, mirroring the sly turn of his mouth.. Your answer seems to satisfy whatever it was he was looking for, and he nods.

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

In unison, you back away from one another. “Yeah,” you say, though it’s redundant. “We are.”

With that, Joel stands, offering his hand to you. You just stare at it, unsure of what he wants. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing outside. “Come and sit with us.”

You think on it for a moment. You still don’t know what you’re going to do next - where you’ll go - and you certainly don’t want to make friends. But here’s this man, with his calloused hands and the scars on his face that tell a thousand stories, and you just can’t seem to say no to him.

So, you take his hand, letting him help you through the doors and onto the lawn where the three others sit drinking and lauging. There are a few burgers and hot dogs left out, which you eye up hungrily, making Joel laugh. Bottles of wine and whiskey sit on the table, a few cans of soda for Ellie, too, and two empty chairs sat round the camp fire waiting for yourself and Joel to sit down on. A feeling of joy spreads through you at that, the fact they’d thought to leave a chair out for you. You try to ignore it.

—------------------

The night is filled with laughter, and drinking, and telling stories of a world long gone that make your heart hurt and your mind spin with wonder.

Joel’s distant, and you have a feeling that’s just how he is, the type who prefers to watch and listen than be the loudest person in the room.

Ellie, for whatever reason, has taken to you quickly. You think it’s because you’re one of the first women she’s hung out with in a long time, someone she can relate too, and for all the attention she gives you, it’s nice in a way. Albeit overwhelming.

That’s what all of this is, really. Overwhelming.

Because you don’t live here. It’s not your home. None of your things are here. None of your things are anywhere but that wretched pile of ash, most likely collapsed in the rain and buried in mud by now.

And though you won’t admit it, it hurts. It hurts to have lost it all. It hurts to have to start again. It hurts to have these people, these great people, showing you so much hospitality and knowing you’ll have to leave because this won’t work. It can’t work. Friendships can’t work, and by god, whatever it is you’re starting to feel for Joel cant work either.

You’ve stayed at Bill and Frank’s for four days now. Three nights from when you woke up. And in that time, you’ve found yourself drawn to Joel in a way you’ve never felt before. He’s distracting. He talks, and even without having to try, you hang on to every word he says. You wonder if he feels the same way. You don’t talk much, at all - only if you absolutely have to. And yet when you do, he’s there, listening.

The one you do talk to, more than the others, at least, is Ellie. You see some of yourself in her, you think. Someone lost in a world that had given up on her before she even had the chance to try.

And that scares you, too. If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s someone to look up to, and yet that’s all the kid seems to do.

It’s something you think about as you pack your bags.

You’re not stealing anything, per say. Except the bag. And the things you’re putting in it.

But it’s what you need to do in order to leave, and get out of their way for good. If that means losing a shirt or two and a pack of sandwiches, then so be it.

It’s late, around 3am, when you’re sure everyone will be asleep. You tiptoe down the stairs, holding the back tightly to your side, checking behind you every few minutes knowing that Ellie’s as sneaky as she talkative.

You slip through the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a brick. You curse yourself for not packing a coat, it must’ve slipped your mind as you rushed, but it’s too late to go back now.

You head down the patio steps, your only priority now being to get out of there as quick as you can. You’d managed to disable the security on gate 1, it should mean you can slip out pretty easily, and then it’s back to your old life again. Back to survival.

You didn’t think you’d feel as sad as you do right now. You’ve been alone for so long, convinced yourself that it’s what you wanted… but loneliness never felt like this. It never hurt. And now, as you make haste away from Frank and Bill’s house, away from Ellie, away from him… you wonder if the bullets hurt less.

Until you’re stopped, that is. 

“Where the hell are you goin’?”

The similarity to your first meeting with Joel isn’t lost on you.

Except now, as you turn around to face him, it isn’t anger drawn across his features. It’s hurt. Real, deep, hurt. Heartbreak, you’d be inclined to call it, if you didn’t know better. If you thought that was possible.

His eyes drop down to bag you’re holding, clearly full, then up again to meet yours. His expression saddens even more, somehow.

“You’re leaving.”

It’s not a question.

So you don’t answer.

It’s hard to tell if he expects you to or not. But in this agonising silence, he calls your bluff, because he knows you have something more to say.

“I have to.”

He shakes his head, and answers just as quickly as he had a few days earlier in the front room. Except it’s not rehearsed. It’s raw, and desperate, and pleading. “No you don’t.”

Tears brim in your eyes, stinging. “I do. I do, Joel. It doesn’t work. Friendships don’t work. And this-“ you stop yourself from gesturing between you, from finishing your sentence at all. He knows what you were going to say. But he still pushes you.

“And what?” He begins to walk towards you, as slowly, as painfully, as usual. 

The words are gone from your mouth, I forgotten but unspeakable, too powerful to tell him. But he knows. He knows.

And before you know it, he’s reached you. It’s the closest you’ve been yet, closer than when he sat across from you on the couch. His breath fans your face. Your fingers brush his, and you tell yourself it’s not on purpose.

“And what?” He whispers, not because it’s nighttime, or because you’re already so close. But because he’s scared.

Then he kisses you, leaning in so heavily you think he’s trying to fuse you with himself, to keep you there forever. And in that moment, that’s all you want. You kiss him back, dropping the bag and wrapping your arms around his neck while his go to your waist, the kiss deepening and his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You moan, spurring him on, his crotch now pressed flush against yours. You let one hand fall from his neck, glide down your bodies and slide between you, palming his already half-hard cock. Joel groans into your mouth, bucking his hips and kissing you so desperately that your teeth collide and you miss one another’s lips at times. Neither of you care.

Before you can realise what’s happening, Joel’s sweeping you up, hooking your legs round his waist and holding you up by your thighs. He’s careful to never break the kiss, to never let go of you, and you hardly recognise the movement as he begins to carry you back inside the house.

Your escape bag is left behind on the grass.

Joel’s careful as he brings you upstairs, quiet, though his need for you never falters. It’s hot, passionate, and his grip on your thighs leaves bruises that you hope will last forever. 

He nudges his bedroom door open with his back, letting you fall in, entangled together. He finally breaks your kiss, the both of you gasping for the air that your noses alone weren’t enough to breathe. 

You land on the bed, bouncing softly below Joel’s gaze. He’s quick to climb on top, guiding you backwards so your head hits the pillow, just as soft as the one you’ve been sleeping on the past few nights.

And then, for the first time since he discovered you trying to leave, the two of you just… stop. Joel lifts a gentle hand to your cheek, brushes his calloused thumb across it, watching you with a cocktail of amazement and care and the same fear you saw before in his eyes. 

It’s sweet. It’s gentle, and soft, and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you it’s something more. The same something you weren’t able to say when Joel caught you leaving.

Now, you don’t know what love is. 

You’ve never known what love is. You’ve seen films, old pirated copies you’d been able to find on your travels, that you watched tucked away in a camping tent on the DVD player you looted from some old store. You’ve heard music, sweet tales of love and loss, told through melodies and lyrics that seemed too much like fairytales to be true.

You don’t know what love is, and yet for all the stories you’ve watched and heard, this feels pretty damn close.

You don’t know how, but Joel sees the struggle behind your eyes. The way your mind spins at a million miles an hour.

“Hey. You okay?” He whispers, his southern drawl sultrier than ever.

You nod, but it’s not enough. “No, come on. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, Joel,” you breathe, and he seems appeased. 

“Alright.” He kisses you again, much slower this time, letting your lips slide together like they’d been made to fit just right.

The kiss becomes heated, the same passion rising within you both again, and Joel reaches for the rim of your shirt, pulling it over you with a quick check for your agreement. You lift your arms, letting him expose your already braless chest, and you’d be lying if you said the way his eyes light up and his cheeks fill with blush didn’t fuel your ego.

You take his shirt off next, then reach for the zip of his jeans, but he stops you. You look up at him, confused, and he just smiles before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Not yet.” He murmurs, before kissing down your neck and onto the plane of your chest. You moan, hands tangling in his hair as he leaves marks across your skin, finally reaching the peak of your breast and sucking it into his mouth. Quiet gasps fall from your mouth, sensual, basking in the feeling of his hot tongue on your nipple.

“You like that? My mouth on your tits?”

Another loud moan leaves your lips at his words, dirtier than before and making wetness flood at your core. Joel grins - your eyes are closed, but you can feel the stretch of his mouth on your breast, and your grip on his hair tightens in response.

He finally, finally starts to move to where you want him. His fingers are painfully slow as they work to pull your jeans down, revealing your soaking wet cunt to him, and the groan that escapes his throat at the sight only makes you more needy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.” He moans, spreading soft kisses along your public bone, centimetres from where you need him. “How bad d’ya need my tongue, honey?”

You could scream at how badly he’s teasing you, but you’re able to hold it, responding in a way you certainly weren’t proud of. “So - so badly. Please, baby, please.”

Your hands flex in his hair, tugging on the strands haphazardly, and the way his breath speeds up against your core lets you know he likes it. On your word, he delves into your cunt, dragging his tongue over your folds and burying it in your clit.

“Shit, shit, Joel - ah -“ your moans are getting louder, more needy, desperate as he tortures your cunt and licks across your bundles of nerves again and again.

You arch your back off the bed, not even in control of your own body at this point, his tongue now plunging so deep inside you that you can hardly remember your own name.

He fucks you with his mouth, moving his lips against your hole as his tongue curves around your walls, curling in a way that makes you whine so loud you fear any one of the others in the house would hear you. Joel doesn’t seem to care though, his only focus being on you, your pleasure, your screams for him.

“J- Joel, please, I’m gonna -“

You regret warning him. You regret the words as soon as they fell from your mouth because he fucking stops.

“What? Baby I-”

He shushes you, climbing back up to meet your lips, calming their begs with sweet kisses. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. I gotcha.”

His hands roam over your sides, teasing the edge of your breasts, one still wet from his mouth and sensitive in the cool night air. He kisses you again, making you moan as the taste of your own wetness hits your tongue, and you’re sure you can feel his cock swell against you at the sound.

He must feel it too because he desperately pulls his jeans off, throwing them behind him with no care for where they land. He does it without breaking your kiss, a grace to his movements that mesmerises you, leaves you victim to whatever he wants and needs as long as you get to feel his skin and his touch and his taste.

“Have you done this before?” Joel’s words are croaked, broken apart by the tightness you left in his throat, by your words and your touch alone. So much so you hardly hear him, too lost in the realm of desperation to register that he’d spoke.

“Baby?” He taps your chin, making you finally open your eyes and look up at him, drowning in the brown husks that meet your gaze. “Baby, have you done this before?”

You swallow, nodding your head so quickly that it makes you dizzy. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to grind against you, his bare cock slipping between the wet folds of your cunt, threatening to slip inside while leaving you so empty you could cry.

And it was true; you had done this before. Not many times, and only when necessary. The first time was before you left the QZ, with a boy your age who was just as curious about what all these new feelings and hormones actually meant. FEDRA was terrible at many things, and sex education was one of them. Another time was with a FEDRA agent - ironically, you thought - one who’d promised you food and shelter but left you in the dirt as soon as you smuggled in the pills he needed.

You’ve done this before, but you’ve never done this before. You’ve felt skin on skin, sweat dripping down your neck, a tongue in your mouth that felt foreign but explored your body all the same.

But you’ve never felt this passion. The way your body cries when it loses his touch. The way your mind is alive with sensation and need, begging to feel his fingertips and hear his voice in your ear again and again until the coil inside you unfolds and you give yourself, endlessly, doubtlessly, to him.

You don’t know how he knows. And you don’t know how you know that he knows. But Joel’s eyes pierce yours, his breath falls into your open mouth, and there’s just something in the way he looks at you that tells you his every desire is the same. 

He needs you like you need him.

And so he begins to pump his cock, moaning into your mouth as you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck once again. Where he feels most secure against you.

“Shit, I-” He mumbles against your lips, half incoherent, and you break the kiss. Your eyes search his, looking for whatever it is that’s tripping him up, and it’s only then that you realise just how much he’s begging for you. How his hips grind against yours with so much need that he could cum right there and then, you think.

And fuck, it turns you on.

“Need your cock, Joel. Need your big cock filling me up so badly.” You moan into his mouth, not even kissing him anymore, just letting your heavy breaths fall into the cage of your lips pressed together, perfectly fit.

He buries his head in your bare neck, revelling in the soft skin that greets him there, a canvass for his touch as he peppers kisses and bites across your throat and over your collar bone.

His hands settle on your hips, draggin you as close to his own as possible, and you wrap your legs around his waist again on instinct. He presses his forehead against yours, willing his eyes open, though you watch how they flutter and it makes you need him more.

Joel whimpers, catching himself from falling as he brings up to your cheek, stroking it gently. “You can do this, baby?’

Your heart warms at his words, blooming flowers only made for him. “I need it. Joel, I need it, I need you-”

Before you can finish, he’s heard you, pushing the bulging head of his cock into your cunt as you try to stop a scrambled scream in its steps. Joel’s head burrows further into the crook of your neck, teeth bearing down on the skin so hard that you’d scream if you weren’t already incapacitated by the fullness of his cock inside you.

You moan in unison, gripping him like your life depends on it as he bottoms out, tears brimming in your eyes as he draws himself away from you and slams back inside again.

“Fuck, Joel, so fuck - so fucking good,” your moans break the thick sound of skin on skin, as Joel slams into you again and again, aching your hips and scrambling your brain into nonsense. He groans, the hand that rested on your cheek now balanced on the pillow beside your head, allowing him to fuck you harder, deeper than before.

Sweat paints your skin, reflecting in the moonlight that seeps through Joel’s curtains, matching the thin veil of the man above you. You wince as the headboard begins to smack against the wall, hitting it again and again, making the unyielding pace of his hips all the more heady as you drown in his sounds and his scent and his thrust.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck,” he’s getting closer, you can tell, and it takes everything you have not to come right there on the spot.

Instead you flex your hips, meet his thrusts with legs still tight around his waist, pulling him further, deeper inside you. “Need to fucking - ah, ah - J- Joel I need to cum.”

His head frantically nods, still buries beneath your jaw, before he musters the strength to emerge from his new-found home in the crook of your neck and meet your eyes once again. He rests his forehead against yours, both sweaty and sliding, but neither of you care as his hips rut faster and faster into the warmth of your cunt.

“You- fuck, you can cum, baby. Need ya to come for me babygirl.”

At his words, your desperation unfolds, tethers of pleasure unraveling from your core and tightening around his cock, still fucking inside you without respite. He groans, his pace finally faltering as he feels your warmth coil around him, welding his hips against yours where he finally releases ribbons of thick, hot cum inside you.

Joel collapses on top of you, careful to rest at least some of his weight on the hand beside your head, but otherwise burying as much of himself into you as he can. His cock stays inside your cunt, plugging you with his cum, and in your post-orgasm haze you can hardly think as you bring a hand to the back of his head, stroking his hair and letting him rest atop your chest.

“Don’t leave.”

You don’t hear him at first. Truly, you don’t. You know he’s said something, felt the vibrations of his whispered pleas on your skin, and yet you’re still so caught up in the sweat and the smell and tingling of his body on yours to even register his words.

But he’s desperate. He’s sad, and hurt, and hopeful. Hopeful that tonight meant as much to you as it did to him. Hopeful that you weren’t about to continue your plan and leave into the night, as much of a ghost as when he’d found you.

“Don’t leave,” he repeats. “Stay.”

For all the shades and emotions and words you’ve seen in his eyes, there’s something in them now that you can’t place. You wonder if he even knows what it is himself.

You just nod, gasping slightly as he takes your small, delicate action as all the confirmation he needs to move, keeping you tethered together as he rolls onto his back and pulls your limp, shaking body on top of his.

Joel’s hands finally move from their vice grip on your waist, one wrapping tightly around your back, holding you to him, the other cradling your head. You crave him, his touch, and leave kisses on any expanse of skin you can find on the scar-riddled chest you find yourself huddled against. The one you wish you’ll never have to leave.

It’s hard to say how you know you’ll fall asleep first. Maybe it’s because he continues to move, to soothe, as you drift off in his grasp. Maybe it’s because he has his mouth pressed against your ear, whispering promises of togetherness that melt into a dream of hope and sweetness, one that stains the very sheets you’re lay in.

Maybe it’s the way he’s fucked you so good, you can hardly keep your eyes open.

Whatever it is, it works, and your eyes drift shut in the wake of his touch. You hold him, sinking into his softness with an ease you’ve never felt before, and his last murmurs before you finally fall into your dreams fall into the air like smoke.

“Just stay. Please, stay.”

#joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller

[chaoscharme]

Self Care Activities that Actually Help

My list of practical, achievable and useful self care tips that will actually improve your mood instead of enabling you to wallow.

Reply to your correspondence

Often if we feel low or our motivation is down, we find it tricky to respond to messages and calls from others. This allows unopened messages to pile up which creates stress and even panic. Instead of trying to ignore this problem, set a timer for 15 minutes. Then give yourself those 15 minutes to respond to as many of those messages as possible, starting with the most urgent messages first. If you cannot complete all the messages, take a minute to reevaluate. Can you give yourself another 15 minutes to finish the task today? If not, that’s fine. Assign the task for tomorrow, and repeat the process when you feel refreshed. If you are not able to give a thorough response to all of your contacts, I recommend drafting a universal message to send, stating that you are currently occupied and you hope to offer them a more appropriate message over the coming days. You can tailor this message to suit your needs and circumstances, and it reduces the amount of pressure on you to offer explanations for your absences.

Wash your clothes

Take the clothes you are wearing off. All of them. Strip your bed. Gather up any towels or tea cloths you can find. Wash them all. I cannot overstate the benefit of living in a clean environment, and wearing clean clothes. Even if you can’t wash everything, wash the essentials, and make sure you are wearing fresh clothes from head to toe. You can swap pyjamas out for more pyjamas, what you wear doesn’t matter. Just make sure they’re clean.

Water

Drink a pint of water with nothing added, no fruit, no cordial, nothing. Just drink a pint of water in one sitting. You are almost definitely dehydrated, just like everyone else. Hydration provides mental clarity, energy, and even relives stress. It reduces pains and aches in the body. It helps quell nausea and heartburn. Water is the quickest and easiest way to reduce physical pain or discomfort throughout the day. By keeping hydrated, you’re improving your quality of life almost instantly.

Stretch in bed or on the sofa

The last thing most of us want to do when we feel low or unmotivated is going for a run, or working out at the gym. Instead of pushing yourself to get a serious or intense workout in, try some stretches you can do from the comfort of your bed or sofa. Stretches will help relieve tension in the body and can increase your energy throughout the day. You don’t have to do anything crazy, just a couple of simple, effective stretches will do the trick.

Eat a “healthy” carb

People so often try to avoid eating carbs as they think carbohydrates are inherently unhealthy. This is simply not the case. While carbohydrates are often used in the production of unhealthy treats such as cakes, cookies and pies, they are not fundamentally bad for you. Carbs are our main source of energy, and if you’re feeling low energy is exactly what you need. Try eating a healthier alternative to those instant sugar rush carbs, such as rice, wholemeal pastas or breads, potatoes or oats. You can add other ingredients to these meals, such as berries to oats or some veg to pasta, to make a more filling meal. Everyone eats differently, but we all need carbohydrates in our diet to provide energy and nutrition, alongside other food groups. Creating a balanced diet is much more important than eating “healthy” all the time. Respect your body by fuelling it appropriately and regularly.

Clean yourself as best you can

Have a shower. Take your makeup off. Brush your hair. Clip your nails. Put deodorant on. Brush your teeth. Wash your hands. You might not have the energy for a full “everything shower” but you can probably do one of the things listed above to make yourself feel better about yourself and your hygiene. Don’t berate yourself if you’ve gone a while without practicing any of these for a while, life can be pretty difficult. Just accept your current situation and try to better it as best you can with the energy you now have.

Please reach out to a trusted person or a qualified professional if you feel you need extra support for any reason. You are not alone and you do not need to suffer in silence. Support is there.

Mwah, Chaoscharme

#it girl #self development #self growth #self healing #self improvement #self love #that girl #self discovery #personal development #self care #hygiene #happiness #pink pilates princess #self esteem #support #chaoscharme #self worth #healing journey #glow up #motivation #learning #evolving

[sugurufic]

Yello idk if your request are open but I'm into Gojo and Geto and wanted to ask what are their reaction with a clingy,paranoid and snuggle SO?

Like they're SO loves to cling at them in the morning by the waist with their legs wrapped or holding their hands everything they walk together ❤️

Thank u and sorry for disturbing you

Them with a clingy SO (separately) Gojo

I think Gojo would enjoy a clingy SO, and might just return their clinginess. It’s endearing to a point it’s annoying everyone around them. If his partner wants to touch him or have contact with him all the time, he’s gonna make sure that you guys are touching in some way or the other - be it a hand on your back or your knee, holding hands or the other way around your hand on his back or on his knee or on his arm as you go about mundane tasks. Hugging him from behind as he does anything around the house, following him like a tail. I can definitely seeing him returning the same energy - his head on your shoulder (or the top of your head, if you’re short) while you’re throwing the clothes into the washing machine or cooking something. 

I imagine him setting up the alarm a little 15-20 mins prior to the time you guys have to wake up just to get in some extra sleepy cuddles and enjoying each others warmth.

In case you can’t be together physically, you guys would always text each other little updates of the day - even the most mundane things like drinking water (it’s a lot for some of ya’ll dehydrated folks, i’m aware), or trying a new workout routine, or reaching your destination… you get the point.

Even if you aren’t doing things together, being in the same room or sitting on the couch together with your thighs touching as you do your own work or scroll through your phone. It’s a comfortable silence. Sneaking in cuddle sessions during break times that might just extend a little long if either of you is feeling needy, randomly leaving kisses on the cheeks, neck, knuckles or even each other’s palms. 

He likes that you need him just as he needs you, that you are a person he can always depend on in case of any turmoil. If you are a grade 1 or special grade sorcerer, it’s like cherry on top because you can also understand the pressure on him to be the strongest, the protector of all without him having to say too many words. I feel like during the extra snuggle time he would be the most vulnerable and open to you, talking about his struggles with loneliness (satosugu breakup as well), his unfiltered opinions about everyone, his fears, his declarations of love. 

Gojo is brash, and he can be like that with his partner at times, but that wouldn’t be intentional - and I feel like he’s the type to apologise with kisses and hugs with his sincere words of apology.

Gojo with a clingy SO is perfect 10/10

Geto

Geto is the charmer of the two, he has an expansive vocabulary and knows how to use it well. I feel like he’d enjoy having clingy SO as long as they aren’t too clingy in public. Teen!Geto will love a clingy SO, but Cult Leader!Geto has an image to maintain and you don’t get to be clingy with him during long hours of the day - barely any texts or calls, although you will have way too many pictures with him - of him kissing you, you kissing him, of your hugs, of you holding hands.

Talking about Teen!Geto - he’d be flattered to have to cling to him for emotional support - be it holding hands, constantly texting you, accepting and giving kisses. He loves the way you love him, how your snuggle sessions just manage to slip past the curfew time, how you linger in his arms for a good while before waking up.

He’d be just as clingy if either one of you was about to be sent on a mission, with too many kisses all over and hugs that you melt right into and cuddles with all limbs crossed over. It’s like you are trying to become one person, never wanting to leave with the uncertainty that being a sorcerer brought. Same would be after returning from missions - following the other with at least pinkies intertwined while reporting or getting freshened up.

PICTURES! He’d send pictures if he’s the one on the mission, and if you’re the one sent on a mission he’d be glues to his flip phone like it’s your hand - immediately responding to any of your updates or pictures.

Cult Leader!Suguru loves spending time with his family, who loved them just as much. You are a part of that family, but he loves you differently. If it’s just his family, he doesn’t mind you being clingy at all. In fact, he might even encourage you sitting close to him, or on his lap, or with his arm holding you close. It’s like he's trying to save your touch for later when he’s busy conducting sermons to invite newer monkeys to get their money. 

When it’s just the two of you, these snuggle sessions might turn into moments of shared vulnerability, a confession of fears and plans and desires, and just recharging social batteries. It’s his favourite part of his day, and he absolutely loves it when you plead him in the mornings to stay a little longer - he’ll tell those monkeys that he was having a vision that he had to listen to - and they believe his pretty words pretty easily.

You having his location on your phone doesn’t phase him at all, because he has your location with him all the time. He loves knowing that you want to be with him at all times, but this is the best you two can do sometimes. Facetime whenever possible, texts full of longing when the separation is too long. Having a small sample of each other’s perfume to spray on pillowcases pretending to be the other one - falling asleep on facetime.

Geto with a clingy SO is cute, but might not be able to respond to your clinginess all the time so 7/10

A/N: thank you for this ask, i loved writing this!

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ask: sweetchildcloud #clingy so

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 15)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: depictions of labor/childbirth and violence/death.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen

“Y/N,” Effie all but accosts the woman emerging from the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowns, bewildered by Effie’s urgency.

She is in tears, “it’s Cinna.”

“What happened to Cinna?”

“He’s…he’s dead.”

Again the floor is falling out from beneath her, sinking, never ending. “How?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Effie breathes, it’s all being kept hush.

“I have to-” Haymitch left before Y/N, allowing her to rest. Her eyes are still swollen from the tears, no amount of sleep or makeup will hide it. “Haymitch is waiting for me.” Does he know?

“Of course,” Effie nods, excusing herself.

Y/N moves for the elevator, jamming the call button repeatedly with her finger. It dings upon arrival, moving at a snail’s pace to the ground floor.

The outdoor viewing area is open today. As if nice weather is reason enough for a picnic, while tributes slaughter each other on screen.

Chaff is still alive; hiding, waiting it out.

The current threat is monkey mutts, blood rain and the giant tidal wave; that sends Peeta and Katniss’ alliance to meet up with Johanna, Wiress and Beetee on the beach.

“Johanna?” Finnick spots her first, covered in blood from head to toe. “Johanna.”

“Finnick!”

“Looks like we have more allies,” Peeta remarks.

Y/N finds her husband, near the far wall of the indoor viewing area. He’s easier to spot in a crowd after all these years, the width of his shoulders, the color of his hair.

“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” He is tired, worn down and unfortunately, the only news she has to share does nothing to help.

“Cinna’s dead.” Y/N whispers, plopping down in the seat beside him.

“Blight hit the forcefield, died on impact. Female morphling sacrificed herself to save Peeta.” Haymitch adds to the death toll.

“Do you think he lied? Plutarch.” That’s what gamemakers do. They lie to get in your head.

“His plan is to get Katniss out. I don’t think he lied about that.” If they keep this alliance going long enough-

“What about Peeta?” What about everyone else?

Can’t protect anyone in an arena. “He’ll be with Katniss.”

“Tick tock,” Wiress says, for what must be the hundredth time. Grabbing Johanna by the forearms to spin her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asks.

“She’s in shock, dehydration isn’t helping.” Beetee tells Katniss.

“I’ll get her some water.” Gloss takes the spile into the tree line. His back is torn up pretty good from the mutts.

“Tick tock.”

Katniss leads Wiress out into the water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Johanna follows, while Beetee stays closer to shore, winding something on a spool.

“What’s Beetee got there?” Katniss wonders.

“Some kind of coil.” Johanna picks pieces of debris from her axe.

“Did he get it from the cornucopia?”

“Took a knife in the back to get it.”

“Tick tock.” Wiress gasps.

“I can’t,” Johanna holds up a hand in defeat. “Have fun with nuts.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss repeats, though it makes little sense to her. Allowing the water to wash away any blood clinging to Wiress’ hair.

Y/N looks to Haymitch, “tick tock?”

He lifts a shoulder, hell if I know.

Lightening strikes the large tree, at the far end of the arena, twelve times. Almost like- “a clock.” Y/N mutters under her breath, “chimes on a clock.”

“Twelve sections.” Haymitch realizes, “everything stays in its own…the forcefields in between.”

“Oh,” Wiress bobs up from the water. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss says again, “it’s a clock. Wiress, you’re a genius.”

————————————————————————

With this new knowledge, the alliance heads back to the cornucopia.

“It all starts with the lightening. Then the blood rain, fog and monkeys, that’s the first four hours. At ten, that big wave hits from over there.” Katniss pauses to watch Peeta sketch a crude outline of the arena, with his sword.

“The tail points at twelve,” Peeta adds.

“That’s where the lighting strikes, at noon and midnight.”

“Strikes where?” Beetee asks.

“That big tree.”

Beetee cocks his head to the side, “good.”

“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock,” Wiress is singing softly to herself, beside the water.

Gloss takes a seat beside her to keep watch, smiling kindly. He doesn’t know this song.

“What about the other hours, did you guys see anything?” Cashmere asks Johanna and Beetee, hoping to fill in the other six wedges.

“Nothing but blood.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peeta moves to stand, “as long as we steer clear of whatever sector’s active, we’ll be safe.”

“Yeah,” Finnick chimes in, “relatively speaking.”

Wiress gasps in surprise, drawing their attention.

Brutus is there with his sword buried in Gloss’ sternum. He had shielded Wiress with his own body. Gloss tumbles into the water. Cannon.

Leaving Wiress dead by Enobaria’s hand. Cannon.

Katniss draws her bow, the other victors now on defense.

Cashmere is lost in a fit of rage, knocking Brutus from the rocks.

The archer lands an arrow in Enobaria’s left arm, the career diving back into the water.

Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face. No time to digest the news as the entire cornucopia begins to spin. What the hell are you doing, Plutarch?

Johanna keeps hold of Katniss for as long as she can, but she is eventually lost to the whirling water.

She’ll drown. Y/N gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She’ll drown while I’m sitting here and all I can do is watch.

The spinning stops, the same way it started; suddenly and without cause. Eventually Katniss is able to kick to the surface, the viewing room cheers.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off the bloody island.” Johanna scowls, patting at Katniss’ back while she hacks up water from her lungs.

————————————————————————

“Besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asks, sifting sand between her fingers.

They are back on the beach now.

“Maybe Chaff,” Peeta offers, “just those three.”

“They know they’re outnumbered, I doubt they’ll attack again.” Finnick reasons, “we’re safe here, on the beach.”

Cashmere hasn’t said a word…not since Gloss.

“So what, we hunt them down?”

“Katniss!” Prim’s howl ends the conversation prematurely. “Katniss, help me!”

“Prim!” Katniss takes off; without back up, or logical thought. Prim is in danger and she needs to save her.

“Katniss, wait.” Peeta chases after her, his leg becoming more irritated with every step. Still he presses on, ignoring it as best he can.

The bird carrying Prim’s scream is shot dead. Jabberjays.

Finnick is the fastest, joining Katniss in the clearing. “Katniss, are you ok?”

“Finnick! Ahhhh!” Annie’s voice draws him deeper into the forest.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?”

Peeta pounds his fist uselessly against the forcefield. They can’t hear him, he can’t hear them.

Katniss and Finnick run back towards the beach, only to realize that they are trapped. Birds wailing all around them. Katniss sees Peeta before she collides with the forcefield.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. They’re just mutts, they’re not real.” Peeta yells, hoping Katniss can make out the words.

She screams, covering her ears, crumpling to the ground. Peeta follows; touching his forehead to the forcefield. They wait for the hour to pass.

Y/N’s lower back is taut, spasming and releasing, stealing the air from her lungs.

Haymitch notices the uncomfortable shifting beside him. “You ok?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her own voice.

Haymitch begins thumbing circles along her spine.

————————————————————————

Word comes from Plutarch, the extraction is happening tonight. A hovercraft commandeered by district thirteen will arrive shortly and they will go. Collecting the remaining victors, under the guise of death.

Beetee’s plan is a good one, it will cause enough of a distraction. Using his wire to conduct electricity from the lighting strike at midnight.

“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Johanna demands, leaning heavily against a tree branch.

“Because I invented it,” Beetee looks up at her. “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

Cashmere stares out at the water. The hovercraft never came to collect Gloss’ body. Did the cornucopia tear it up? Or do they just not care enough to recover it?

Finnick returns to the sea, waiting out the sunset.

Katniss and Peeta find solace in each other, the way they always have.

“I think we need to go.”

“This plan’s gonna work,” Peeta disagrees.

“I think so too,” Katniss whispers. “Once the careers are dead, we all know what happens next. I don’t wanna be the one that shoots first.”

“What if they don’t either? What if all of us refuse to shoot first?”

The gamemakers will send mutts, or perhaps gun them down if they’re feeling impatient. “We might still end up dead.”

“Maybe not,” Peeta lifts a shoulder, “I mean it worked for us last time.”

“They’re not gonna make that mistake again. We both know there’s only one person walking out of here and it’s gonna be one of us.”

“The careers are still out there. I say we stick with these guys till midnight, and if we hear a cannon, we go.”

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Katniss, I don’t know what kind of deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises too.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, kid.” Haymitch raises his glass to Peeta before chugging it down.

Y/N just shakes her head. For a man who claims he doesn’t love those kids, he sure does make a lot of deals. With them, for them, doing his damnedest to keep them alive.

When the star crossed lovers kiss, there is no denying it’s real. Katniss loves Peeta, Peeta loves her. Finally she understands, what Y/N had been trying to tell her, that day on the train. Peeta is that person; her best friend, her partner, the one who waits.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Johanna calls them back.

What’s left of the alliance heads to the lighting tree.

————————————————————————-

“You two girls go together now.” Beetee hands Katniss and Johanna the wire. “Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire wire is in the water. Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector, we’ll meet you there.”

“I’m gonna go with them as a guard.” Peeta insists.

“No,” Beetee’s head snaps toward him. “You’re staying here to protect me…and the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta is not backing down.

“They’re trying to separate them.” Madge realizes, pulling the throw pillow into her lap. The children and her mother are asleep, leaving only her and her father on the couch.

Y/N’s family set up camp in Victor’s Village, providing Everest and Arista some normalcy. In their own house, in their own beds. They are often found in their parent’s room, clinging to pieces they left behind.

“I’m sure there’s a reason.” The mayor shoots his daughter a reassuring smile.

They rarely watch the games together, not since she was a child. Under different circumstances Madge might think their time spent together was nice.

Katniss leaves with Johanna. Staring back at Peeta until the darkness swallows his silhouette.

A few feet later Katniss feels a bit of resistance from the line, tugging lightly. Must be stuck on a rock. “It’s caught on something.”

Brutus cuts the wire, sending the loose end flying back toward Katniss.

Johanna turns on her then, slicing a gash in Katniss’ arm and smearing the blood across her neck. “Stay down.” She tosses her axe at the careers and darts off into the woods.

Katniss pushes herself upright once their footsteps are out of earshot. “Peeta.”

“Johanna,” Finnick comes to check on his friend, after the commotion.

Katniss remains silent, allowing him to pass her by. Gathering her bow, she heads back to the tree.

Cashmere is missing and Peeta is gone. Leaving only Beetee; unconscious and twitching after an ill fated tryst with the conductor.

His spear harbors the evidence, wire still wrapped around it’s blade.

A cannon sounds, symbolizing Chaff’s death.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams.

Finnick sprints back toward the sound, “Katniss, where are you?”

She draws her bow, aimed at Finnick as he returns.

“Remember who the real enemy is.”

Just like Haymitch said…

The artificial storm cloud looms above them, and Katniss knows what must be done. There is only one shot at this, one way it ends.

“Katniss, get away from that tree,” Finnick warns.

She does not heed it, preparing for her final act. Twisting the wire around her arrow, a single shot toward the bolt of lightning. Her body is sent flying when it collides.

The screen goes black, Madge’s mouth agape. Nothing like this has ever happened. What will happen? What will Snow do?

She doesn’t have long to agonize over the prospect before the old communication system hums to life. Static cracking through the speaker. A jumble of nonsense and then a voice, her voice. Madge would know it anywhere.

“Into the woods-”

“Y/N,” Mayor Undersee nearly trips in his haste to reach the receiver. “Sweetheart, are you there?”

“District twelve…” the line crackles, “into the woods.” Then she is gone.

They aren’t able to revive the signal.

“We have to move.” Madge understands.

“She wasn’t making any sense.” Her father argues. “It might be safer if we stay-”

“Y/N is stuck in the Capitol, that may be the last message she ever sends and she sent it here. To you, to me. So we have a chance.”

He squares his jaw, struggling to accept this news. Not because he thinks his daughter is wrong…because he knows that she is right.

“I’m gonna warn the Everdeens and then I’m taking Everest and Arista into the woods where it’s safe. Pounding on doors and screaming, all the way, for our people to follow.”

“Get the kids ready to move, I’ll get your mother.”

“Thank you.” Madge says, chest heaving as she turns on her heels. Waking the children, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Her parents are waiting at the door, with Gale and Katniss’ family.

“How long do we have?” Gale asks, Primrose and Miss Everdeen tucked away behind him.

“Hovercrafts could be here in an hour, maybe two.” The mayor informs him.

“Something tells me they’re in a hurry.”

————————————————————————

“I need you to take a big breath for me.” Haymitch is kneeling in front of his wife. Cupping her face in his hands, the line is down, they can no longer communicate with district twelve.

“I can’t.” Y/N claws at his hands, unable to deny that she’s having contractions, no more than two minutes apart. “Haymitch…” what if they didn’t get the message.

“Everest and Arista are gonna be waiting for us. Madge too.” Haymitch knows it. There is no other outcome. “Thirteen is sending hovercrafts for evacuation as soon as possible.”

“Did we get Peeta?”

“We have Katniss, Beetee, Finnick and Cashmere, for now. The pilot is swinging back around for Peeta and Johanna.” They only have a few minutes before the Capitol fleet arrives. “We’re gonna get them, ok?”

Y/N nods, breathing out through her nose.

“I need you to focus on this.” He runs a hand over her belly, tense with another contraction. “Healthy baby, healthy you.”

————————————————————————

Katniss startles awake, an oxygen mask tied to her face. She’s in the hovercraft. They’re taking us to the Capitol. Beetee is beside her, still unconscious. They must be holding Peeta elsewhere.

The last thing she remembers is the arrow firing, broken pieces of the arena falling around her and the claw.

“Ahhhhhhh!” A piercing scream echoes through the hovercraft.

All the more terrifying because Katniss knows it, she heard it among the jabberjays. Y/N. They are torturing her. Katniss can’t say how, but it must be something awful. Tearing the flesh from her body…

Removing the mask, she scans the area for something, anything she can use, a syringe. All she needs is a clear shot at one of her veins, save Y/N from whatever they’re planning to do next. Then she would move on to Peeta, spare him this hell.

Katniss hides the weapon behind her back, tapping the glowing access panel to open the door.

Y/N is there, sweat clings the material of her dress to her body; mouth open in an agonized howl.

Haymitch is seated behind her, keeping her upright, holding her hands. Cashmere is perched between her legs.

Finnick spots Katniss first, from his place beside Plutarch, at the holographic display table. “Katniss.”

“Katniss?” Y/N repeats, eyes searching for her.

The syringe clatters to the ground, Katniss charging toward her and crouching at her side.

“Honey, are you ok?” Y/N shakes one hand free from Haymitch’s grasp, reaching for her.

Katniss, takes it, pressing her cheek against the back of her mentor’s hand. No. “I thought…”

Y/N bears down as another contraction ripples through her abdomen.

“That was good.” Cashmere nods, patting Y/N’s knee.

“What is that?” Y/N’s given birth twice before, this is different.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Cashmere encourages as tiny feet appear, “everything is ok.” It’s not ideal, but if they keep the baby moving-

“Where’s Peeta?” Katniss turns to Haymitch.

His eyes are glossy, hesitant to reply, “he’s in the Capitol. They got him and Johanna. We couldn’t get to him in time. But we’re gonna talk to President Coin when we get to district thirteen and figure out the best way to get him back.”

You’re a liar. Katniss wants to scream it, to slap him, hard, for breaking his promise. But it will have to wait. You promised to save him over me.

Exhausted and frustrated, Y/N reaches a hand down to make sense of what’s happening. “Breech?”

“Yeah,” Cashmere breathes.

Finnick is just beyond the blonde’s shoulder, a pained expression on his face. Or perhaps nauseated, watching over Y/N without actively watching.

“Once we deliver the shoulders, it should be easy.” Katniss has seen this before, her mother delivered a handful of breech babies, as a healer. The women of district twelve would call on her when the babies got stuck.

Y/N pushes again, crying out as she does.

Haymitch rests his cheek against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes to the sound of her sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N continues, the same way Haymitch has known her to face any difficulty, with fierce determination. The infant is placed on her chest, kicking and crying. Healthy; same as her brother and sister before her.

Part 16

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy fanfic #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x y/n #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #haymitch x reader #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[neevblanc]

this is a req for your cafe event! 🩷 15/Dark Era dazai x reader word: hm.....sick (like the kind of sick after you drink too much) bar lupin shall be the death of me🥹 If you need a name: April

a/n —hiii april! :D ty for sending this in! i've never tried my hand at writing dark era dazai so i hope i can do our little funky guy justice lmao :P

blanca’s cafe event!

this event is now CLOSED! feel free to leave a normal old ask, though!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Dazai Osamu x GN!reader

Tags— dark era dazai, he's a little mean but what can ya do, regular dazai suicidal antics (help him), killer hangover (sort of), bullying him into being cared for seems to be a theme amongst the ppl in his life (looking at you, kunikida)

CW/TW— drinking, underage drinking, mentions of vomiting, dehydration, suicidal themes

please keep yourself safe.

note — i ended up modeling what reader is to this dazai as something similar to what higuchi is to akutagawa. not exactly, of course, since all four of these characters are complex and very much different but the premise was...inspired, i think. it's interesting. dazai is interesting!

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"Dead to Me by Kali Uchis"

00:34 ━━●─────── 03:19

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

"i don't know what you've been told. see i am not your enemy."

The walk up to the roof is familiar. The stairway is damp, and the stairs creak under your feet; the building is one of the older ones left in the city and, therefore, made of wood instead of the metal you were used to seeing.

You open the door to the roof, biting the inside of your cheek as you step out into the open and let it shut behind you. The soft night wind bites at your face in greeting as soon as you are entirely on the roof. Your eyes dart to the right, and you find what you’re looking for in the exact place it always is.

“Are you done now, Dazai-san?” You ask, approaching the man. He’s sat on the ledge of the building. Despite seeing him in this position more times than you could count, unease still seeps into your stomach and pools at the bottom. You stop just beside him, and without thinking much of it, you do the math to make sure you’d be able to catch him if anything happened.

You shuffle a foot closer. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks.

“Yes.” Dazai’s response is clipped, but he takes a deep and visible breath before speaking. You know immediately he’s had too much to drink.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, despite knowing that Oda-san and Ango-san wouldn’t have let Dazai up, and Dazai wouldn’t have been on the roof if Oda-san and Ango-san were with him.

“None of your business.” He huffs, almost clumsy, as he swings his gangly legs back toward the roof and stands slower than usual. You frowned but kept your hands to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate a steadying hand. You turn first, keeping track of his footsteps that sound quietly just after yours. You hold the door to the stairwell open for him, and Dazai passes you without the slightest acknowledgment. 

He heads out of the building without another word, and instead of following his steps back to his…room, you quickly round the corner and head down the steps to bar Lupin. Two steps at a time, your breath comes out in cloudy puffs due to the cold. The bar door creaks ever so slightly as you open it, and the man at the bar gives you a strained smile when he sees you.

“Got him?” He asks, putting down the glass he’d been drying. You nod, sighing lightly.

“Could I have some of those bread rolls you sell? Put them on Dazai-san’s tab, please. I’ll be back to pay it off later in the week anyway.” You say, leaning on the bar. He smiles gently at you and packs the little rolls into a box for you to take. He hands them over and tilts his head toward the door.

“Now get going. It’s too damn cold and late for you kids to be out.” He shoos you away, and you hurry back into the winter air again.

Fortunately, Dazai has slumped against a building wall not too far away. A flickering streetlight shines above him, keeping his form visible to you despite the layers of black he insists on wearing.

You walk to him quickly, and as you near, he straightens and doesn’t bother to look your way. You do him a favor and pretend he hadn’t been slack-jawed a second ago, half coherent and entirely too relaxed in public.

You fumble the take-out box open and hand him one of the rolls, ignoring the hazy way his eyes roll over your entire form as he takes it. A Dazai this plastered doesn’t have much of the subtly everyone might expect from him.

“These are cold.” He huffed, demolishing half of the roll in one bite. You smile tightly at him.

“Unfortunately, they’re not kept fresh for 18 hours, Dazai-san. We’re lucky Lupin had any leftovers at all.” You sigh. Dazai busies himself with the rest of the roll in his hands, so you don’t get much of a response.

The walk to the shipping yard isn’t too eventful. Fellow drunks and the shady people that populate Yokohama’s streets at night become less and less as they tread deeper into Port Mafia territory. For all the fear that the PM no doubt instilled into Yokohama’s citizens, they weren’t the type to break promises. Shop owners paid their protection fee monthly, and they were dutifully kept from any damage caused by the (admittedly desperate and exaggeratedly large population caused by the Port Mafia) local criminals.

Despite his inebriated state, Dazai’s unsteady feet lead him toward the container he calls home- which you’re grateful for since you couldn’t ever remember which was his in the sea of containers the Mafia had come in and out of the shipping yard.

You watch him fumble with the latches, managing only to flip those over. Dazai had never been the strongest, so when he goes to pull on the handles and pop the container open, he stumbles backward and just barely manages to not fall flat on his ass.

“Um.” He slurs, blinking at his hands. They must have let go without him trying to. You bite back a laugh and pull the handles, only slightly staggering with the weight of the door once it pops open.

Dazai huffs softly and heads in, leaving you to close the door behind you by a cable he had fashioned to the door. You secure the door and turn to flick the lamp in the corner on, illuminating the space in a warm glow. The lamp was an addition you insisted on. Eventually, Dazai allowed you to drag in the thing (along with a semi-quiet-enough generator to keep it running). You had a feeling it was only ever turned on when you were in here.

Dazai had collapsed onto his mattress, worryingly quiet and face down. You put the container with the rolls down near the makeshift bed and gently roll him over, making sure he settled on his side to avoid choking on his own vomit in the night. His face is startlingly blank when you can see it again, and he eyes you with contempt.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” He says lightly, though you know better than to think he wasn’t bothered.

“Sorry, Dazai-san. You wouldn’t enjoy dying in a pool of your own vomit, I think.” You answer lowly, slowly reaching for a bottle of water that had clearly rolled away one night and hadn’t been picked up since.

He gives you that same withering look and brings a hand up to rest over his eyes. You imagine the headache he’s sporting must be killer- Dazai was not one to be nice to himself, especially not with something so destructive as drinking.

You gesture for him to take the bottle in your hands, shaking it lightly as if he were a toddler who needed the visual cue. He huffs and takes it.

“You should leave.” He mutters, haphazardly bringing the bottle’s opening to his mouth and drinking messily. You ignore the way some of the water overwhelms him and dribbles down the side of his mouth.

“I should, but it wouldn’t do to have you die by choking. Even asleep, I hear it’s a horrible way to die.” You hum, finally shifting into a comfortable sitting position next to the mattress.

A sober Dazai might’ve stared you down until you left, and a particularly pissy one would’ve shoved you out himself.

As he was, he grumbled and let the bottle fall back into your waiting hands and promptly went to sleep, sagging like a corpse into the bed. You place the bottle next to you and sigh as quietly as possible- Dazai could be one hell of a light sleeper.

His breathing deepens quickly, and it’s startlingly quiet despite his inebriation. Dazai was always like this, somehow- walking the line between alive and dead. He was your superior by multiple clearance levels, sure, but not much older than you and not all that physically impressive. His strength was in his demeanor, of course- in his sharp tongue and quick-witted mind.

He was still young, though, and despite being a bit younger than him you were always a little taken aback by how other members treated him when his face was still round and soft like a child’s. The only people who really treated him like a kid you could count on one hand, and one of them was his age.

You’d keep these thoughts to yourself, of course. You’d seen people get shot for much less let alone question their superiors power.

The lamp flickered in the corner. The yellow light made him look sickly. The floor of the crate was rigged and unforgiving, but you preferred to stay where you were. In case Dazai needed anything.

And if it meant you got to settle the tightness in your chest by watching his own move steadily throughout the night, then no one else would have to know.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #dark era dazai #dark era dazai x reader #dazai x gn!reader #gn!y/n #bungle stray dogs x reader #neev.doc

[meshlasolus]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 15

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: This one is a little nerve wracking and angsty but there's a lot of fluff, too. ALSO THE BIG REVEAL.

Chapter Summary: The crowning ceremony has begun, but Snow's words drive Finnick to do something he may regret sometime in the near future.

Word Count: 5.0k

Season two is being written rn I'm about halfway through and It will be 20 chapters (I will not be posting them any time soon bc i swore i would finish some other series)

“I think that they were enraptured purely by you, Mercedes.” But your face still did not change, and he didn’t know why. Why were you so completely happy? He had known for certain from watching the games that you did not win them for glory or for stature. You won them to survive, to exact vengeance. So why were you filled with joy? “I suppose it was t-the work of my mentor,” you breathed out, never looking away from him in the crowd. He couldn’t hear a word being said, but he was smiling back at you all the same. 

Waking up felt achy the next morning. Like your entire body had been dragged through hell and landed in this bed, surrounded by comforts you’d never seen. It felt like you were slightly dehydrated, and most likely experiencing the strain of tight muscles from the night before. The way you’d cried, your entire body jolting like it was the end of the world, it was now affecting you. 

You felt as if you were dying, but then as you came into clearer consciousness, you felt the warmth surrounding you, in the form of two arms that were tightly wound over and under your body, holding you close to his own that practically radiated heat. It was your reminder, that though you felt like dying, there was still something left for you here. 

It wasn’t said that you had to be awake by a certain time, nor did anyone go over your schedule for the day ahead of you in any moments prior. It stands to reason that you don’t make any moves to get up. It’s why you don’t even stir past a few blinks of your still sleepy eyes, staring with great interest at Finnick’s resting features. He’s so beautiful and defined, but without those snarky expressions or that dazzling smile, he looks so peaceful and soft. If not for the light shining in gentle beams over his shoulder, you may not have awoken, but you’re glad you did. You find you rather like looking at him, especially so close and personally, in a way that few others have ever seen him. 

After a few moments you allowed your eyes to close again, snuggling further into his chest, right between his shoulders. He had nice shoulders, you noted. They were broad and tan and strong. 

He stirred not long after, tightening his hold around your body and pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. It was small and he thought that you weren’t even awake to feel it, but every time he did that you were slowly understanding why he did it. It was just a gesture, sweet and endearing, and a reminder. You’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him.

His fingers found solace in the strands of your hair, the length gliding through and falling over his palms. He came to a conclusion the night before, after the charade with the Flickerman Interview played out. He watched you go through that, alone on a stage, with only gawking capitol members surrounding you. Your trauma didn’t matter to them. To them it was drama, and they loved it… wanted to see more. 

He kissed your hairline once more and started to whisper in your ear. 

“We have to get up soon,” his voice was low and raspy from sleep. 

You groaned in defiance, turning in his arms but not leaving them, instead pulling them closer around your front as you buried your face into his elbow. 

“No we d-don’t…” 

He sighed. He certainly did not want to get up. He thinks back to every moment during the games when his stomach turned with fear, his jaw staying in a state of constant tightness while watching you in that arena. His belief that you could win was never unbothered by the small voice in his head telling him you were going to die. He remembered the feeling of dread that would fill him to the brim every time he saw you close to death, knowing he’d never hold you like this. Never be able to kiss the crown of your head or pull you closer into the curve of his body where you seemed to fit perfectly. 

Eventually, you both got up, because today was the crowning ceremony. The Victor was to accept her title and become the Capitol’s newest darling. You understood what came with it, and despite the horrors you knew you would face, you told yourself you were ready to take it on. This is the cost of escaping the arena with your life, when all others, including your allies, and best friend, did not. 

Dalton had left your new dress and necklace in the apartment that morning, unable to stay for an interview he had himself. The stylist of the newest Victor, the current peak of popular fashion. The one who was capable of extenuating even the most desirable of the tributes.

You opened the garment bag that was hanging on a portable rack in the living room, reading the small note that was peaking through the sides. 

For the mermaid… knock em’ dead.  - D

You smiled and took a look at the dress, your eyes lighting up as you pulled the floor length get up out of the bag. It was a stunning turquoise with an iridescent top layer, pearls and fish beads sewn into the fabric. The edges of the bottom looked like crashing waves, and it flared out in comparison to the tightness of the top. 

You took the dress back to your room, starting to get ready, but you realized you weren’t sure what to do with your hair. It was just down and around your shoulders right now, and you wished you’d had your mother’s expert hand in braiding it or twisting it into some sort of crown. 

You sighed in frustration after your third failed attempt, and though you hadn’t been paying attention to your groans and noises of annoyance, Mags had, because her door had been open, right across from yours, open as well. 

She leaned in the frame, watching you struggle for the last time before you threw the comb in your hand onto the vanity before you, leaning your head into your hands. 

Mags stepped in right away, her silent approach calming when she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, reaching in front of you and picking up the comb you dropped. You lifted your head and met her eyes in the vanity mirror before smiling to her in relief. 

“T-thank you.” 

She made quick and gentle work of pulling the strands in her direction, twisting them together and taking small pins from the vanity to place them down. By the time she was finished, your hair was put into a sweet looking bun, small tendrils framing your face and behind your ears. 

“It l-looks beautiful.”

She lightly patted your shoulder, helping you out of your seat and over to the bathroom to change into your dress. 

-

Finnick had been waiting to leave for a few minutes now. He knew Mags had gone to the rescue when you were struggling with your hair, but he wasn’t sure why everything else had taken so long. Dalton didn’t usually take very long preparing any tribute that sat in front of him. He supposed it was because he had a lot more experience.

Dalton was technically not the stylist for the female tributes from four… but he was Finnick’s stylist, and friend, and when Finnick asked for him by name before the games, the man had no qualms about saying yes. He felt he would have to owe Dalton a favor of some sort, because in his mind, having him as your stylist saved your life. 

He had gotten caught up in his thoughts, but turned on his heel as soon as he heard the sound of pearlized shoes clicking along the floor behind him. The dim lighting from the barely open shades provided a soft haze over the room, a glowing ambience, the reflection off the black tile allowing a certain allusion of floatation when you entered the room. 

You looked beautiful, of course, but he noticed a confidence in your step he hadn’t seen since before the arena. You looked more powerful, more ethereal. 

He wanted to say something when he met your eyes, wanted to open his mouth and feel actual words leave his mouth, but the longer he was locked onto you, the less his mind was able to work coherently. Words failed him completely, and rightfully so. 

“I t-think Dalton outdid h-himself,” You beamed, giving a small and slightly clumsy twirl in the dress. 

The first thing that came to his mind was the conversation Lukas had with Rodey in the arena, how he thought he’d fallen in love with you because of one night when you twirled in a dress, lighting up like a star in a dark sky. He recalled the exact words. Like some crazed wind turbine. You’d only twirled once, but he could only imagine it was the same as all those years ago. You had a spark of happiness in your eyes, even after everything. He caught a glimpse of your whole body before returning to your facial expression again. 

“You’re beautiful,” he smiled, finally able to gather the two simple words he’d been searching for this entire time. You’re beautiful, you’re innocent, despite the games. You’re a force to be reckoned with in the best way possible. He wants to preserve this image of you, keep it untarnished, so he tucks it away in the recesses of his mind to return to in the future. “The color suits you.”

Your smile and slight giggle that erupted told him that maybe you were just as nervous as he was, and perhaps you were just more outwardly expressive. 

“You look g-good, too.”

He didn’t even think about how he looked, if he was being honest. An older white knit sweater shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and embellished buttons on the side coming directly from both of your district. 

“I’ve been known to clean up nice, sometimes,” he laid on the charm, trying his best to wear a facade before he even stepped outside. There was no use in keeping on in his stare like a poor love struck boy. He had a show to put on, today. 

He offered his arm, and you took it without hesitation, glancing over at Mags who had only now made her presence known, following you all to the door. Arbin would probably already be at the party, knowing him. He needed to be where the noise was, the drama, and the excitement. A true capitol citizen, except for maybe he had compassion. More than any of the other higher up bloodsuckers did, anyway. 

The ride to the center of the capitol was extremely wild, the shouts of fans outside the windows, they were screaming and shouting. You couldn’t bring yourself to dislike it, though you didn’t exactly throw yourself into the adoration, either. This was life, now. You didn’t have a choice or a way to change it, so you might as well just let the world go on around you. 

The fanfare of triumphant music began the moment you stepped onto the concrete, the grounds and buildings around you decorated with things reminiscent of four. You were somehow always surprised when the capitol showed a new part of itself to you, as if you expected something different. They strangely romanticized the cultures of the districts, but would never even think about setting foot in any of them except for the ones that are well off.

You allowed yourself to feel important while roaming amongst the citizens. Making your way to the glorious stage, where a throne awaited and President Snow stood by. He seemed much more intimidating now that you were going to have to approach him. 

The steps of the platform were steep, so you took your time going up them. You ignored the thought in the back of your brain telling you to stop stalling and to go faster, but by the time you completely shoved it away, you’d reached the top anyways. 

You nodded to the man with a smile, forced. He came before you, offering his hand to be shaken. You took it right away, scared to anger him in any capacity. There was a story you’d heard in passing about the girl from last year who refused to shake his hand. She hadn’t had a happy moment since the end of her games. 

“Congratulations, my dear. You are a worthy adversary.” 

The cold blue of his eyes burned like ice in your veins, and you swallowed back the anxiousness that built up in your throat. You kept a pleasant look on your face but in an instant, you could tell he was reading every single inch of you, and knew what you were thinking. He knew you were afraid of him, and the smirk he wore as you responded was only confirmation.

“Thank you, s-sir.” 

“You may be aware, you’ve had an effect on the people in the capitol,” he commented, turning away to take the crown of silver and pearl off of the stand beside him. If this were under different circumstances, you would have taken notice of the beautifully crafted headpiece that was made specifically to suit you. “They find you quite lovely.”

“They must have ap-pprecitated my stylist,” you tried to deflect, feeling even more the prey under a predator than before. The conversations with Finnick, the things he said you were going to be expected to do. It rushed past you, and yet… something felt stuck in your brain, because the weight didn’t hit you yet. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that as you turned, allowing him to place the crown on your head, your eyes met a pair of sea green ones, at the front of the crowd. He looked at you differently than any of these people did, or even had the capacity to. And it made you feel safe. Even in this situation of uncertainty and a path of future turmoil, he was going to be there, so you were going to be okay.

You smiled, genuinely, and for the first time since you arrived, Snow could not read you. 

“I think that they were enraptured purely by you, Mercedes.” But your face still did not change, and he didn’t know why. Why were you so completely happy? He had known for certain from watching the games that you did not win them for glory or for stature. You won them to survive, to exact vengeance. So why were you filled with joy?

“I suppose it was t-the work of my mentor,” you breathed out, never looking away from him in the crowd. He couldn’t hear a word being said, but he was smiling back at you all the same. 

“Well,” Snow turned to catch where your eyes were locked, and now he held an even bigger smirk across his face. The information gained just from a single glance was ever beneficial to a man like President Snow. He hummed when he saw the strand of eye contact, nodding to himself. He didn’t like the way you were suddenly un-bothered by him. Perhaps there was something he could say to change that. “In any case, I hope we can be friends. Perhaps do favors for one another.”

Hearing the word favors made you still for a moment, and Finnick saw it. That was when your skin crawled, and you returned to your previous state of thinking, and feeling.

Something happened, he knew… but he wouldn’t ask. He’d let you tell him. 

He just didn’t think you’d tell him so quickly. After coming off the stage, you didn’t even look at the people passing by, reaching for you and calling your name. It was all noise until you reached him. There was another venue to get to, anyway. You didn’t want to stay long in the first place. 

“You alright?” He whispered, letting you take his arm once more as you both walked through the noise and back to the vehicle. 

“I d-don’t know,” you breathed, trying to keep a neutral expression before anyone noticed. “I need to l-leave.”

“Mags,” Finnick turned to his side, where she stayed right by the both of you. “Help her to the car, I’ll find Arbin.”

“No,” you stopped in your tracks, grabbing a hold of his arm tighter. You were only now thankful for the loud ambience, covering the transparency of this dire situation. “Please, s-stay.”

Mags patted his arm, nodding her head back to the crowd as she dove back into it to retrieve the infamous Capitol rep of district four.

“I’m here,” he soothed, taking your hand and squeezing it as you kept moving to the car. There was a moment of tension when a few nosey Capitol citizens blocked the door he was trying to open. 

“The mermaid! Oh darling you are even more stunning in person,” they rambled, reaching out to touch you, as indecent as it was. The woman’s hands found your other hand, squeezing it, but not in a comforting way like the man beside you. The woman’s husband seemed to eye you up and down from the moment you stepped before them. “Isn’t she just gorgeous?” 

“Absolutely, she is!” The husband gave you a wink and your stomach turned again, the tightness in your chest was making the world spin. The moment the man placed a hand on your shoulder, you felt it ripped away, as quickly and carefully as possible. 

“She’s unfortunately leaving now,” Finnick said flippantly, stepping between them and pulling the door open, making sure they were not going to touch you again. “Thanks for coming out.”

You climbed into the backseat quickly, hearing some gasps of dramatic proportion and words of contempt for Finnick. 

When the door closed, you felt safer, but not safe. You weren’t quite able to decipher the quick change in your emotions. You thought you were fine, even with everything around you. Even with the thoughts of what you would have to endure… so what changed? Snow’s words were only those of confirmation to what you already knew was true. It didn’t change anything. 

You couldn’t meet Finnick’s eyes anymore, and you had no clue as to what would cause your aversion to him. He’s helping you, he’s protecting you. You have no reason to be afraid of facing him. 

“Mercy,” he took hold of your cheek, trying to gently convince you to look his way. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I’m n-not sure. Snow said some t-things. But I expected it…”

He looked at you with a sadder expression, one of pity and condolences, but that’s not what bothered you. What bothered you now was the thought that he was going to see you differently from how he did before, even how he does now. 

If you were shoved into the life that he’d been forced into, would he think of you as tainted? Would he see the marks of capitol citizens and treat you as though you’re a ruined object? Surely, he couldn’t. He’s never looked at you with an ounce of contempt, not even after the arena. So then why do you feel so small and unworthy of his affectionate gaze?

“I know things w-will change,” you kept on, since he didn’t have any words to say. “I just d-don’t want others to look at m-me differently, if they find out.” 

“Merc-”

“I don’t w-want you to look at me d-differently.”

Your eyes, lids and under eye coated with a pearly glaze that had been such a struggle for you and Mags earlier… it began to run with the wetness from the bleary corners and over your cheeks. 

He let out a deep breath, his heart nearly shattering over how your bottom lip quivered with your stuttered words. He saw in you a person that would soon know exactly what it was like to be him, and he hated it. He tucked you into himself closely, holding onto the back of your head and caressing the exposed skin of your back. 

“I know this… feeling. I used to feel it. Nothing ever made it better,” he explained, and as you breathed him in, you waited. Waited for him to tell you that there was no shame in being seen differently, waited for him to say that being seen differently didn’t change the way he would talk to you, or treat you... “But I promise you, none of that could ever make me see you differently.”

You pulled back to meet his gaze, soft and unwavering. You didn’t realize how you trembled in his arms until he ran his hands down the side of your shoulders and down to your elbows. He stilled your movement and leaned his forehead against yours, breathing with you like he did all that time ago before the arena. 

“Snow has power over a lot, but he can’t change the way I feel about anyone, most of all you, Mercy.”

You smiled, the way he spoke opened a new trail of thoughts in your mind that were much more pleasant than the ones from before. How he felt about you, how did he feel about you? You assumed fondly, for the way he held you so gently… but there could be something more. Something that you never thought could be there with anyone. Your past experiences were never kind to you, but maybe this time the odds were in your favor. 

“Thank y-you,” you sniffed, the smile you’d been wearing earlier in the day finally making a reappearance. 

“Don’t thank me.” 

“I h-have to. You’re the reason t-that I’m alive at all…”

“S’just my job,” he mumbled, but you both knew it wasn’t true. He’d never saved a tribute before. He never cared this much. And now, you being brought into this world he just escaped from, he knew what he had to do. 

The scene started to return to normal when the car pulled up to the second destination. 

Time for another show, but maybe this one didn’t need to end in tears. 

“Alright,” he wiped under your eyes and readjusted your hair for you, making it look like nothing even happened. “I’ll stay close, make sure they keep their distance. You’re gonna be okay.”

You nodded, looking out the window at the anticipating guests of the large hall. It was like the crowning ceremony, but maybe a bit more rambunctious. The people, however, seemed a bit tipsy and unserious. It was a proper party, a celebration of their yearly tradition. 

“It’s not too late t-to have a good t-time, is it?” 

He let a genuine laugh escape him, and shook his head. He was still locked onto you, and a part of him didn’t even want to leave the car… but as usual, there were expectations. 

“Not at all.”

-

He walked the halls with a chill down his spine. The last time he’d had a private audience with Snow, his life changed for the worst. This time he’d hoped to feel a bit more power at the prospect that he was the one seeking Snow’s presence. Only time would tell if that feeling of power ever made itself known, because standing before the large and ornate wooden doors, knocking rapidly, it wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

The doors were opened by two house staff, and Snow awaited at his desk on the other side. 

“Come in, dear boy,” he ushered with a smile, even backed by genuine joy, it looked menacing. “Have a seat.”

He did as he was told, turning and watching as the staff left them alone together, closing the doors as they left the room. The cold air of the night was seeping in through the open window, and it took everything in him not to visibly shiver. 

“What can I do for you?” Snow offered, leaning back into his seat, that twisted, gleeful look never washing from his face. “It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down together.”

Finnick nodded, trying to keep the air light, but knowing the second he started in that it would change. He tried not to grimace in the president’s direction, lord knows he wanted to. 

“I have a few questions about the new victor,” he began, his shoulders turning slightly inwards and his posture failing him the second he mentioned you. He was terrified to be doing this. Terrified that it might backfire and you would be punished… but he wasn’t going to let what happened to him now befall you. Any means necessary. 

“If you are wondering about any favors I may ask from Miss Blythe, I’m afraid it’s none of your concern…” Snow’s voice was solid, but not harsh. He spoke forwardly, as he always did, but he was intrigued in the slightest to hear out one of his most profitable victors. “You’ve helped her win the games and usually it is customary after that happens to forget about her affairs, so I ask, dear boy… What plagues you?”

He didn’t know if he should proceed. He was in the lesser seat, with the lesser circumstances. He always has been, victor or not. How foolish of him to think he had a chance at the upper hand. No power comes to those who sit beneath the Capitol’s boot. 

He almost gave up, almost changed the subject… but then he remembered the look you’d given him just moments ago. That sweet, beautiful, shining glance you gave him, wearing a crown of silver and pearl upon your head. He will do whatever it takes to not let that gleam in your eyes be tarnished. It may have survived the hunger games, but he isn’t willing to chance putting it through years of abuse and torment. 

“I know what you plan on asking her to do,” he remembers the way he was once asked, the chill again sweeping over his neck and down his back. He remembers the day it happened, at the end of his victory tour. He remembers his dread, but he continues, anyway. “I’ve come to ask if I could take her place.”

Snow tilted his head, a sort of funny expression was worn. He looked, for lack of a better word, puzzled. It was quite hard to surprise the president.

“I see.”

There was a moment where Finnick could see the gears turning inside Snow’s mind. He was curious as to the reasoning behind it, because surely, if he thought about it for this long, he would not deny him his request? Maybe he’d been returned the upper hand after all. 

“I find it admirable, that you would do favors for me in place of another tribute. I do think, however, I may need remind you…” Snow leaned forward towards his desk, his eyes opening wider as to show his sincerity. “You are not quite as popular right now as Miss Blythe.” 

“I’ve already taken that into consideration. I understand that a mentor’s role in a victory tour is limited, but I can change that.”

Snow’s intrigue did not fall, in fact it increased.

“Do tell, Mr. Odair.”

Finnick almost felt relief. Had the cards finally been stacked in his favor? He doubts it, because he’s not asking for just your freedom, he’s only asking to bear the task of your sexual slavery himself. There’s no such thing as ‘in his favor’ when it concerns Snow.

“I’ve been known to make a spectacle of myself, as you know. Last few years I’ve reigned it in, but I think it might be time for a comeback. Finnick Odair, the mentor who promised himself a victor, and won.”

It was an engaging concept, and a true one at that. Snow thinks he must be telling the truth, but of course, he’s not just one to assume. 

“And did you?” His eyebrow raised along with his question, and Finnick got caught up in it… “Did you promise yourself Miss Blythe would win? Or just a district four tribute?” 

Finnick doesn’t have an answer to that. Originally, yes, he’d promised himself any district four tribute would become victor… and after meeting the pair from the reaping, he thought it would be Lukas… but then you spoke, stuttering and stumbling through a single sentence, and his world collapsed.

“I promised myself a victor this year, and I kept that promise. Miss Blythe just happened to be the more, as you put it, popular one.” 

Snow smirked, not smiled, smirked. He sat back into his chair again, his relaxed position led Finnick to believe that he was in agreement, and he was… but there were always going to be catches. 

“If you can somehow outshine Mercedes Blythe on her victory tour, the responsibilities you wish to take on in her stead will resume. If you do not, you must understand it is a task for the most desired of victors to obtain,” he spoke evenly, as if this were some sort of high honor that victors were clawing at one another to have a chance at. 

“I understand.”

“Good, that’s good.” There was one thing sitting at the edge of Snow’s mind, a question he was positive he knew the answer to, but wanted to hear it for himself. Words were so much more valuable to him these days. “I have one more curiosity I was hoping you could resolve.”

Finnick looked on, Snow’s position changing one last time. He leaned over the desk, holding a tight contact with Finnick’s eyeline. He was staring so ruthlessly, it didn’t even matter what Snow’s question was, he was already terrified to answer. 

“Why would you, after just a year being relieved of your obligations, take up the place of the new victor?” 

His stomach turned. There was no right answer here. If he lies, he looks indifferent. If he tells the truth, he’s given Snow information he shouldn’t have.

“I don’t think she can handle what’s expected of her,” he tried to mix the truth and lies. It wasn’t false, but it certainly wasn’t his primary reasoning. Snow knew it immediately.

“Mr. Odair, we’ve been friends a long time, you need not hide the truth from me… so I ask once more, why have you come to make this deal on behalf of Miss Blythe?” 

“I want to protect her,” was his next attempt, but still not the answer Snow was looking for. The old man felt the boy was trying his patience, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard what he’d been after. 

“Why?”

Finnick looked at the man’s eyes, cold and discomforting, despite the soft smoothness of his voice and tone. He knew that Snow already had the information Finnick tried to keep from him. He knew that there was no use in hiding it, and the only thing Snow wanted was to hear it aloud. Finnick wanted to leave this room, to get back to the celebration and see your gleaming smile again. He wanted to be in your presence and remind himself again why he was doing this. Even now, as he answers Snow by saying the words, he’s reminded. 

“Because I love her.” 

And Snow smiles again, the devious look and raise of his brow gives him away when he chuckles under his breath. 

“Yes, I know you do.”

-

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn @emma-andrea1 @marvelescvpe

#finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick x you #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 11

Everything’s too cold, freezing almost, then it’s just as quickly too hot. She’s been rolling around in her bed for hours, trying to sleep but nothings working.

She looks over at her phone to check the time, it’s only ten at night but she’s been awake since four in the morning and she’s desperate to sleep. She’s tried everything, pills, tea, warm milk, nothing works. Nothing gives her the relief her mind needs.

She’s so frustrated she’s about to cry. She crawls out of her bed and shuffles into the living room. She’s in a hoodie and carries her big blanket with her. If she can’t sleep she might as well try to watch something and hope she passes out that way.

She makes a nest on the couch and tries to ignore the pounding in her head.

She’s sick, really sick. She’s running a fever and her body is aching in places she didn’t even know could be sore. She can’t remember the last time she was this ill… probably in university.

She’s practically begging her own body to just go to sleep.

The tv is playing lowly in the background but she’s not paying attention. She can’t look at it too long or her head starts swimming and she gets nauseous.

She’s already spent one night profusely puking, she didn’t need to do it again.

Her eyes are closed but she’s not asleep. Just resting to the best that she can.

Knock knock knock knock

She looks up groggily and sees Hobie at her balcony holding a small bag.

She motions that it’s open, refusing to get up. It’s a miracle her legs let her shuffle to the couch.

He gives a smile and let’s himself in, kicking off his boots. He walks over to her, leaning down to get better look, “Wow,” He whistles lowly, “You are sick.” He says reaching his hand out to check her forehead.

“I’m probably contagious, you should go home.” She slurs her words and squeezes her eyes shut again. She hasn’t heard her voice all day, it’s thick with congestion.

“Pfft. Not worried. I am worried bout you.” He says softly pulling some items out from his bag.

He sets a small prescription bottle down as well as some Pedialyte. He opens the medication and shakes out two pills for her to take. Making her sit up for it.

She groans as he helps her sit up. He holds his hands out for her and she dramatically grabs them as he pulls her up. He hands the medicine to her and she takes the pills happily.

“Where did you get these?” she asks as he presses the Pedialyte bottle into her hands.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “Know a few people in the pharmacy who owe Spider-Man a favor or two.” He says smugly.

“Now drink.” He tells her, “Know you’re dehydrated. You probably haven’t drunk anything all day.”

She drinks the beverage slowly, when she sets it down she gives him an unsatisfied look. “I had tea today…” She murmurs quietly.

“Ya only had the one cup didn’t ya?” he accuses raising a brow.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to drinking the Pedialyte. The silence answering his question.

“That’s what I thought. Scoot over.” He demands pushing his way onto the couch.

“What no!” She tries to stop him, her voice cracking and rough. “You’ll get sick!” she chastises.

“Don’t care.” He says and helps her readjust.

He lifts the blanket off of her and moves so she’s laying with her head in his lap. He gently covers her again and let’s her move so she’s comfortable.

She’s facing him, eyes closed, one arm wrapped around his thighs using them like a pillow. He gently runs his hand through her hair trying to get her to settle. She hums in contentment.

“Look tired…did you sleep?” he asks softly.

She shakes her head no, “Can’t, I’m miserable.” She whines with a yawn.

He rubs her shoulder reassuringly, “The meds should help.” He whispers, still lightly stroking her hair.

She opens her eyes to look up at him, eyes locking. She’s comfortable, more so than she’s been all day. Every touch has her relaxing even more, almost melting. He’s looking at her in that way that makes her stomach turn and flip. His gaze intense as he looks over her.

His gaze used to make her nervous, like he was searching for something she wasn’t willing to give… Not so much anymore. It’s a comfort, she didn’t know when that changed.

It’s nice to know if she looks out to find him in a crowd, his eyes are already on her. They’ve been looking for her since he played in the pub.

She doesn’t know when, but she does fall asleep on Hobie’s lap. She has fever induced dreams of webs, music, bright colors, and him.

It’s the best sleep she’s gotten in months.

When she stirs awake, it’s early morning light filtering in that wakes her. She’s still on the couch and she’s laying on a very solid form.

She makes a small noise as she rubs the sleep from her eyes and when she blinks through her blurry vision, she sees that she’s on top of Hobie’s very solid chest.

Her face burns as she looks up, he’s still asleep, head thrown back with small snores filtering through.

She breathes a sigh of relief, but finds her heart still racing as she looks up at him.

She almost laughs from how silly he looks, his mouth open as he sleeps, his hands lazily wrapped around her body.

She smiles warmly up at him, and lays her head back down. She wraps her own arms around him and nuzzles her face into his chest. She can hear his heartbeat. It slow and methodic as he continues to sleep. She wonders if his heart beats erratically like hers when they're together.

She finds herself wanting to hear that, wanting the confirmation that he’s just as flustered by her.

Her face warms up at that idea and she tries to go back to sleep, but she’s wide awake now.

She also notices how her body is achy again and that she’s still very congested. She doesn’t want to get up, but she knows she needs to take the medicine and probably drink some water. She groans to herself not wanting to move.

His hand moves up to rub her back comfortingly, “Mornin’…” He mumbles, voice thick with sleep and leans down to press a kiss into her hair.

She adjusts to look back up at him, “Morning, I didn’t know you were stayin’ here.” She says, voice still stuffy and low.

He just grins lazily at her, “Can’t leave ya alone after you finally fell asleep.” His smile turns to a smug smirk, “Ya started cuddlin’ and I couldn’t pass that up.”

She shoves her face into his chest slightly embarrassed, “Not my fault you’re comfortable…” she mumbles.

He just chuckles and tightens his hold on her. She feels his chest rise and shake but she also hears his heart beat quicken. She smiles to herself.

“I need to take those meds again.” She says going to sit up, she doesn’t want to move but she needs to.

“Stay here, I got it yeah?” He tells her. He moves to sit up with her in his lap, as he leans over to grab the pills off the table.

His one arm is wrapped lazily around her but presses her into him. She leans her head into the crook between his shoulder and neck.

“You’re seriously gonna get sick…” she mutters to him as he presses the medicine into her palm and holds the Pedialyte bottle.

“S’fine.” He mutters watching her take the medicine. “Just means you can take care of me when I inevitably get ill.” He grins at her.

She sighs in response and finishes the drink. “I don’t know if I’m this good of a nursemaid like you are.” She says playfully.

He pulls her back down to lay on the couch again, pulling the covers over them, “Sure ya are. You patch me up constantly.” He says softly wrapping his arms around her waist holding her close to him.

She keeps her hands pressed against his chest and nods her head. “Mmm you’re not wrong. You do end up injured pretty frequently.” She says with small concern.

“Oi, oi, oi, don’t say it like that! I’ve not been too beaten up when ya see me!” he complains playfully.

She gives him an accusing look. “You bled out next to my door waiting for me once Hobie…” She reminds him.

“One time. Just the one.” He gives a bright grin. “I didn’t know you the time I literally almost died, had to give myself stitches!” he tells her.

Her face sours, “Don’t tell me that, I worry about you enough…” she whispers.

He scoffs, “Don’t worry about me, promise. I can handle myself, been doing this a while.” He tells her tracing circles into her back with feather light touches.

“Seriously Hobie, I worry about you.” She moves her arms to circle him, hugging him. “I know what you do is important, and I love that you protect everyone… I just want to make sure you’re safe too.” She whispers looking at him.

His brown eyes pierce hers, really looking her over. He gives a soft sigh of resignation. “Fine ya win, ya win.” He shoves his face into her hair hugging her tightly to him, “Just stop lookin’ at me like that…” he mutters.

“Like what?” She replies hugging him just as tightly.

“You know like what, using those big doe eyes on me. Isn’t fair...”  His voice muffled.

She laughs at him, “Hobie what are you talking about?”

He pulls back and raises a brow at her, “You know you do it! That thing with those big eyes of yours, lookin’ at me like it’s the last time you’ll see me or something.” He scoffs pulling her close.

“M’not going anywhere…” he whispers.

She hears his heartbeat again, pressed so close to him, it’s beating wildly.

Her eyes soften and she moves to sit up, she runs one hand up to caress his cheek, her thumb brushing his cheekbone.

“Better keep your promise then.” She tells him, voice soft.

He moves a hand to grip the one she has on his face, he looks at her intensely, “Not going anywhere.” He repeats.

“Good.” She replies and settles back down laying with him.

He runs his hand lazily up and down her back, lulling her back to sleep, but she’s okay with that. He’ll be here when she wakes up.

And the next day after that.

And the next.

She falls asleep listening to his heart.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

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#hobie brown #hobie brown x oc #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x oc #hobie atsv #hobie fanart #spiderman atsv #spiderman fanfiction #spiderpunk #spiderman #mary jane watson #mj oc #my art

[not-harukal524]

↣ VDC Boys x Reader: taking care of you after a long week!

Author’s Note: Work was really rough for me this past week and so I had to make it into a prompt to self-indulge hehe. Reader is gender-neutral and in an established relationship with the character in each section. Wholesome and SFW. Enjoy!

Characters: Vil, Rook, Epel, Kalim, Jamil, Ace, and Deuce

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The tension in your body made you exhausted, and your muscles were braided sore. It was a long week of being on and thinking on your feet, as you were swamped in work and errands alike. It was hard not to have your foul mood seep out of you along with a heavy sigh throughout the week. You’d put on a smile and force a bounce in your step as you successfully completed everything on the to-do list that liked to grow as fast as you checked them off.

You were disappointed to find that it was already so dark as you stepped outside of the library, but the fresh air came with the longing for his presence. The mere thought brought a genuine smile to finally spread across your face, and before you knew it…

ᴠɪʟ sᴄʜᴏᴇɴʜᴇɪᴛ

You find yourself at Pomefiore after receiving a text from Vil, who's been worried about your health all week and had sent you a personal 15 minute yoga routine for you to do whenever you had the time to.

“Even a little bit goes a long way,” he says. Vil put a lot of thought into it, and the routine was easy to execute anywhere you were. It had your blood circulating again to put some energy back into you.

Vil is at the entrance of the dorm and immediately takes any luggage you have, helps you out of your shoes, and makes you feel like royalty. He would not do this for anyone else, and he makes sure you remember that with every kiss he places on your temples.

He’s drawn out an herbal bath for you and makes sure it has your favorite fragrance, and that everything perfectly aligns with your favorite aesthetic. Beauty can ease the soul and bring it happiness, and Vil knows this very well.

He explains the concoction of herbs and such he’d brewed for the bath, and you both know you’re only half listening, but you also both know how much you love his voice and hearing him talk anyways.

“My dearest, you must soak all the way to your shoulders, do you understand?”

There’s a reason he has top marks in potion making, and it’s apparent when the effects of the baths isn’t overwhelming, but rather gently heals you.

Whatever special skincare and haircare treatments you do, Vil not only provides but helps to massage your scalp, dry your hair, and puts on your favorite music to wind-down to. He smiles tenderly as he sees you finally soften up and relax.

His bed is like sleeping on clouds, and you’re asleep faster than you can say ‘pumpernickel.’ * (This is a reference from “The English Roses,” a series of picture books by Madonna because I just know Vil would adore them.)

ʀᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴜɴᴛ

You’re crashing into Rook’s strong outstretched arms and he embraces you warmly, lifting you off the ground and twirling you around with the momentum you used to run at him. He’d been waiting for you patiently outside the library.

He puts you back down, but your legs are so tired that you stumble a bit. “Like a newborn fawn!” Rook says with a gleeful smile.

“Ah, mon coeur, you are vraiment fatiguée!”

You’re giggling as you hold onto him and admit that you’ve worked hard this week and deserve a proper cuddle with him. He’s been cheering you on from afar this whole week to not disturb nor distract you from work.

He’s quiet, sly and observant. Rook managed to slip an extra water bottle onto your desk just when a headache from dehydration would come on, and he knew the perfect encouraging words to put on a small note to slip into your notebooks. Just when you were always about to falter, there was a little something waiting for you.

Rook gives you a kiss, the kind where he holds the back of your head and wraps his hand around your hips. He walks your back to the Ramshackle, and removes his thick gloves as he invites you to climb on top of him like a baby koala.

Ear to his steady heartbeat, you take in his lovely scent, and his strong hands gently rub your back. You relax bit by bit and are lulled to sleep just like that.

He loves to bring your hand that intertwines with his to his lips and kiss every knuckle, and the kisses are so gentle and sweet. “Bonne nuit, my diligent sweetheart.”

ᴇᴘᴇʟ ғᴇʟᴍɪᴇʀ

You’re in the cozy Pomefiore kitchen, and Epel just poured you a bowl of applesauce. It’s sweet with the perfect amount of cinnamon, and the texture is just right. You can taste the love it was made with, and he made sure that it wasn’t too hot either.

“It’s an ol’ recipe meemaw gave me,” Epel explains in a whisper as he lifts his spoon and you both ‘cheers’ with a silverware-clink.

Talking in the kitchen, hunched over your bowls, you recount your busy week and Epel listens intently, making sure you get a chance to rant out your frustrations. He’ll get angry on your behalf for all the inconveniences you’d encountered, and shower you with praises of your mental fortitude to keep pushing forward.

“You’ve come so far and I’m proud to be with someone as strong as you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours earnestly, gleaming with pride. You can’t help but blush.

Before long, the sleep creeps up on you and Epel is happy to provide your sleep-over pajamas that you keep in his closet.

I headcanon that he knows some lullabies from his hometown (A/N: my aunt is from Aomori and also speaks some tsugaru dialect, so she used to sing me some of their lullabies which is why I feel strongly about this lol), and that he’d sing them to you.

Although you might not understand some of what he’s singing through his dialect, his voice is undoubtedly pure and full of adoration for you. You’re small and curled up like a kitten in his chest as he pats your back to the slow rhythm of the song.

He gives you little pecks on the tips of your ears and the back of your neck as you drift into dreamland.

ᴋᴀʟɪᴍ ᴀʟ-ᴀsɪᴍ

“Hey, hey! Up here!” You heard from above as you were making your way back to the Ramshackle, and saw Kalim swoop down and hop off his flying magic carpet.

Kalim goes to sleep early and it was nearing his bedtime but was able to convince Jamil to let him pick you up from the library. He’d been skipping around the dorm as you texted him that you’d hoped to see him that night if he didn’t mind.

The lack of gravity pulling you down and the freeing sensation of flying through the sky has you hollering with joy. Your body was loose and unresisting to the wind that carried you, and Kalim is ecstatic to see you laughing with your whole belly.

Jamil has warned him not to do so, but it doesn’t stop Kalim from swooping into his room from the window anyways. The landing is a bit rough, but a few bruises won’t kill either of you.

You pounce into his large king-size bed with the cooling, high-quality goose feather comforter. Kalim follows suit and comfortably nestles on your chest and there you have it, your favorite weighted blanket.

Playing with his hair, your ankles intertwine and Kalim talks about how much he missed you and recalls every single little thing that reminded him of you from the week.

“I was looking around the storage room and found a tapestry you’d love—remember when we went to see that parade and you liked those flowers? Yeah, they’ve got those on it—”

He can be such a cute little chatterbox, and he never fails to give you that warm, fuzzy feeling. Before you know it, you’ll be woken up with the most extravagant breakfast you can imagine. “I missed eating with you all week!” He’ll exclaim.

ᴊᴀᴍɪʟ ᴠɪᴘᴇʀ

Your phone rings and its Jamil on the other end. His voice immediately brings comfort to your ears as he asks if you’ve finished up yet, and if you’d like to go over to Scarabia for a pot of tea

“I’m not sure if you’re hungry, but there’s leftover kataifi and baklava if you’re interested.”

Anything Jamil cooks is like offerings to the heavens, and you’d be a sinner for not taking at least a single bite. And if we’re being honest, Jamil’s too embarrassed to tell you these weren’t leftovers, and that he’d in fact made them fresh just for you. He just loved to see the smile he could bring to your face.

After settling down in the dorm and taking some sips and bites, Jamil is in his VIP seat: your lap. You’d tenderly comb through his silky smooth hair as you rambled to him about your week.

Every now and then your eyes would meet and a small smile would spread across Jamil’s face, and he’d take your arm and firmly plant a kiss on your wrist. Not even the strongest soldier can withstand his charm and you’ll crumble, red like a bunch of rose petals.

He loves seeing you unfold under his gaze, and he’ll hide a laugh into the back of his hand. Soon he’ll recount his own week sprinkled with silly anecdotes and you’ll be laughing in no time.

“Don’t laugh! It was a nightmare cleaning up after Kalim—you’d think I’d be used to it but he always manages to go above and beyond with his antics every week!”

Eventually you’ll fall asleep and he’ll carry you to his bed and tuck you in.

ᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴏʟᴀ

You’ve ‘run into’ Ace on your way back to the Ramshackle. It’s in quotation marks because Ace was absolutely waiting for you.

“Yo,” he’ll say, shyly waving at you as he casually steps out from the corner of one of the outdoor corridors. “Headed back? You should stop by my dorm.”

It was clearly too late to even consider making your way back to your own dorm afterwards, but you’ll gladly accept. Ace loves to send you memes, photos, and text messages, and has been blowing up your phone, but has missed spending quality time with you.

Ace holds your hands tightly as you both make your way to Heartslabyul, and chatters on aboyt the juicy details from the silly shenanigans he’s told you briefly over text.

He’ll have you laughing all the way to the dorms, but the moment you step inside, he’s acting his gentlemanly best and leads you to the kitchen.

Apparently, he managed to enlist the help of vice-housewarden Trey to make your favorite tart and worked very hard to perfect it for today.

“You better like it! I put my blood, sweat, and tears in it.” ‘What about love,’ you tease. “W-well, of course some of that too,” he’ll give you a peck on the forehead after pulling you closer to him by the hips.

He pours you a cup of tea and makes sure you’re comfortable on the soft sofa and is ready to answer any of your needs. Whether it be rants or snuggles, or just winding down with movies or video games, he’s going to get it set up for you.

ᴅᴇᴜᴄᴇ sᴘᴀᴅᴇ

“Over here!” Deuce’s voice echoes across the path as he raises his hand to wave, forgetting that he’s holding disposable cups of tea in his hands and almost spilling one of them. You giggle and hurry over to his side.

“Glad I made it just in time,” he says as you give him a big hug and he chuckles. Handing over one of the teas, he smiles and all you could think about was how much you missed Deuce.

Holding your hand in his calloused one, he listens to you talk about your week as he walks you back to your dorm. Deuce is listening attentively, as his strange habit of repeating back information he hears in class slips out as you two walk.

Approaching the front door of the Ramshackle dorm, he pauses a bit and you stand still, watching him nervously fumble and try to find his words.

“Can… Can I stay with you tonight?”

Of course he can, it’s what you want! He smiles wide and is relieved to hear it. You cuddle up in bed with him after brushing your teeth together, and eventually play a bit of footsies under the covers.

Giggling ensues until Deuce catches your smiling face, so beautiful and joyful, and his heart melts. He’s cupped your cheeks and closes the gap between the two of you and gives you the sweetest kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that after you pull away, your eyes stay closed for just a bit longer, and there’s quiet in the air.

Deuce, of course, gets a delayed embarrassed reaction and blushes madly, but you’re just as red as well.

Insists on spooning you and gives you a little peck on the back of your neck before you both fall asleep.

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #kalim al asim #jamil viper #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst vil #twst rook #twst epel #twst kalim #twst jamil #twst ace #twst deuce #vil x reader #rook x reader #epel x reader #kalim x reader #jamil x reader #ace x reader #deuce x reader #reader insert

[prettylittleprincesblog]

💚Slut me out 💚

I’ve seen @miscling with her task ask game and decided to write up my own list. If you need a reference for what toys I have it is right here

Please know if I’m sent a task I can still use my safe word and/or push off a task if logistically I won’t have time for it. That being said I am a massive whore and am willing to try anything out!

Also I’ll probably be adding more tasks to this eventually, I want to take a picture of all my collars and let y’all choose which one I wear and how long 😚

🫴- edging! Time to edge for the next ten minutes

🙌- hands up no touching for the rest of the day

🤌- take your thoughts and breath away, choke yourself today!

🫦- put on my nipple suckers for the next five minutes

🧊- chilly! Tease with Coldplay for the next five minutes

🎗️- pick a rope tie that can reasonably be done by myself or make me handcuff myself, bind me up and lock away the key and pick how long i stay bound

🎨- pick a womb tattoo so I can paint it on!

✏️- pick any part of my body and tell me what to write on it

🕳️- pick a toy and stuff a hole of your choosing for the next 15 minutes

🪺- fill the nest, choose how to stuff myself with however many eggs and hold them for the next 30 mins(max 4 eggs)

👏- pick a part of me for me to slap silly for the next five mins 😖

💅- put on some heavy makeup, eyeliner, make myself feel like a real dirty slut

💃- dress up real nice, put on a pretty lingerie piece

🐮- I can only moo whimper and pump my udders for the next thirty minutes

🌀- send me a spiral or a mantra so I can melt all of my thoughts away for the next 30 mins

🧃- you’ve done good so far! Can’t squirt if you’re dehydrated, drink up

🍎- get a lil snack snack, you’re working hard to be a good slut so fuel up

😴- rest up, take a nap

🗣️- confess a deep personal horny thought or fantasy you’ve wanted to try

🗝️- Collared! Pick one of my collars and how long I have to keep it on!

🔗- Linked! Put in a bluetooth vibrating toy for whatever determined time and share the link!

🧠- give me a task not listed!

#ask task #cnc free use #ftm sub #ftm ns/fw #bd/sm kink #cnc k!nk #rough cnc #fr33use #ftm bd/sm #ftm bottom #nsft

[paloma-ascends-into-hellfire]

eating disorder harm reduction

no one ever compiled this so that it what we are doing today. for people with eds and people whose loved ones do. please note: i’m not a doctor. this is a compilation of things from books and ed resource sites.

for people whose loved ones have an eating disorder:

try to make sure they know these things.

try not to force them to eat, they might feel uncomfortable eating in front of people. also, risk of refeeding syndrome.

if their life is in danger and you are seeking help for them, consult the person beforehand to make sure they will be safe and give them a heads-up so that they aren’t startled (especially if they’re neurodivergent! giving them notice will aid control!)

offer them ways of controlling things aside from food - practice consent, include them in conversations, don’t talk about them behind their back, compliment their makeup or hair.

be patient. the person may be irritable from lack of sleep, feelings of depression, worthlessness, etc., or malnutrition.

keep in mind that you can’t tell if someone has an eating disorder by looking at them. people of all weights do - only 17% of anorexics are underweight - and also, men and non binary people can also have eds.

general:

drink lots of water, especially if you’re drinking lots of caffeine.

drink some electrolytes at least once a week - gatorade, electrolyte tablets, coconut water, doesn’t matter, just get it into your system.

if you are getting dizzy or flushed and can feel your heart beating, quick carbs will raise your blood sugar - sweets, bread, fruit, juice, non diet soda, whatever. keep snacks around pls.

your brain uses 400-500 calories daily. eat more than this.

take your supplements!

you still need protein, have an egg or something.

don’t take adderal or insulin unless you are actually diabetic or neurodivergent, because you are raising the price by buying them and denying access to those who need it.

throw a towel over the mirror. it’s not worth it if it’ll cause you anxiety.

try to limit disordered behaviours like body checking, purging, and weigh ins.

practice good dental hygiene.

put your scale somewhere where you have to actively look for it to weigh yourself.

avoid social media and for your sake don’t go on pro ed tiktok or tumblr or twitter or insta.

get a buddy who also struggles with the same thing if possible to support each other.

get regular medical check ups (if you can afford it)

practice things within your control - makeup, hair, clothing, etc.

push your rules - eat 5 minutes before your time, or 50 calories over your limit.

for people with restrictive disorders (e.g. anorexia):

do weight and resistance training at least twice a week to prevent musculoskeletal conditions such as osteoporosis.

don’t drink on an empty stomach.

try to put gaps between fasting periods.

don’t fast for more than 72 hours.

wear lots of layers to keep warm.

eat an extra 100-200 calories on your period if you menstruate.

have a metabolism day.

take care of your hair.

as horrifying as this is to many people, please go to the hospital if you’re experiencing heart problems or if you’re passing out for more than 30 seconds.

for people with purging disorders (e.g. bulimia):

if you would like to purge, wait 15 minutes first.

after purging: drink lots of water - the emptiness you feel is dehydration. don’t brush your teeth but rinse your mouth out, preferably with an alkaline mouthwash or baking soda mixed into water. do something you want to do, like reading a book or watching a show. don’t smoke. don’t have anything acidic. eat a banana or some chocolate or a rice cake to keep your blood sugar levels in check.

if you vomit blood or your vomit looks like coffee grounds, this is a sign of internal bleeding. you could be drowning in your own blood from a hole in your esophagus, essentially. go to the hospital or call 911/999/the emergency number in your area.

stay safe everyone. i hope this helps. also, i do not use these tags - i have them blocked - but i am using them so that people on these tags will find this because they need it most.

#ed harm reduction #harm reduction #ed recovery #pro recovery #notpro4n4 #tw eating disorders #tw ed not ed sheeren #pro a4a #ana trigger #ana rant #tw anorexia #tw bulimia #anamia #⭐️ving #edhr

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 12. Giver Of Gifts [D2]

Pairing: Gruber x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Countryside resort near Darlington

Continuation of: RICKMAS2022 prompts 14. Icy roads & 15. Frosty Glass and RICKMAS2023 Prompt 11. Imperfect Holiday

A/N: Hi darlings! I know I’m a day late, well, like 11 hours late, but my daughter needed me a little extra yesterday (nothing bad, she was just very cuddly and wanting to be literally on me) so when I got har to sleep I was so exhausted I couldn’t finish the fic. It’s a long one 😂 But here it is! And I’ll get today’s fic up later as well, don’t worry! I feel super creative and rested today so I’m going at full speed! 😍👏 But, this is the last fic of Hans and Anna-Louise. It’s been one of the hardest serial fics I’ve ever written, it takes so much with the language use and all that but I have had such a good time writing for these two! I really hope you’ll enjoy this one and how it all turns out in the end 🥰❤

Tags/TW’s: Light One Bed Trope, Kissing, Cudlding, Hugging, Being Left Behind, Secret Identity, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Finding One's Own Value, Gift Giving, Being Spoiled/Cared For, Criminality, Unlawful Actions, Falling In Love, Confessions Of Feelings, Indicates Hazardous Situations, Second Hand Revealing Of Secrets, Worrying, Charity, Fluff, Angst, H/C, Reassurance

Word Count: 6.7k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Our lips parted, my first ever good kiss. Fabulous, wonderful, perfect kiss. And it was with him, the man who not only saved my life and held impromptu therapy sessions over muffins but who also saw me and heard me — a man who I deeply felt cared for me, truly. To kiss him was… a trip. A real trip of every sensation my body was able to feel and no sooner had it ended than I wished to do it again.

“Schnuki, don’t doubt my want of you, or how special I think you are,” he whispered, it came out thick and heavy in his dark rumble of a voice. “I will spoil you in any and all ways I see fit, understand me?” he continued. “I— You are something else, Hans…” He chuckled at that and kissed my forehead in that gentle manner of his tightly groomed beard gentle but firm against my skin. That kiss only felt even sweeter now that I knew how urgently and intensely he could kiss my lips.

“Tell me you understand,” he urged. “I-, I think I understand. It’s difficult for me, I can’t really understand why me, and how it became me, but I’m bloody happy about it either way, is that alright?” I asked, my cheeks burning once more, perhaps I’ll evolve second-degree burns with this amount of blushing? Or I’ll need to chug water, all this warmth will leave me dehydrated. “That’s alright, I’ll make you understand in due time.”

There was a knock at the door and Hans slid out of my grasp. “Go put those on,” he said, pointing to the pyjama set of silk still on the bed. I nodded and grabbed them, heading to the bathroom just as he opened the door and I heard the bell boy announce that he was room service.

When I came back, dressed in the fabulous silk that made me feel wrapped in a cloud, Hans sat on the bed with a tray atop the covers with two covered plates, two glasses of orange juice, and a plump-looking blueberry muffin. “Is that for me?” I asked, pointing to the treat. “Yes, thought you could see if this fancy place compares to that little café.” I smiled at him and he patted the bed beside him, I carefully sat down cross-legged and he lifted off the silvery coverings that kept the food warm.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes wafted up my nose — my stomach promptly growled with desperation to have the goodies. “S-sorry…” “My sweet treat, never apologise for any bodily functions with me. If you’re hungry, I’ll give you food. If you’re cold, I’ll offer my coat. If you need a shower, I’ll rent an entire house for one if needed.” I gaped at him while he smiled cheekily at me, it was nearly a smirk yet not quite. “Ooo-kay,” I said, prolonging the word far more than necessary, but what was I to say to that?

Hans pushed a fork toward me. “Eat, then we sleep.” I didn’t hesitate. Is tarted in on the bacon and eggs, cutting the long pieces of meat and mixing it with the eggs before topping it with a healthy dose of salt and shoving it into my mouth. The flavour burst atop my tongue and I groaned in appreciation. “Best, eggs and bacon, ever, had,” I mumbled as I chewed. “So good.” “Glad to hear it,” he said and started in on his pancakes, his knife and fork moving with steady precision while mine flew in an uncoordinated manner all over the plate.

When the plates were cleared I chugged the juice. I was full, but that muffin looked bloody tempting and I didn’t want to be ungrateful so I grabbed it and took a huge bite out of it. It was good, not as good as the ones at home but moist and flavourful. “Good?” Hans asked and I nodded. “Really good.” I took another bite while Hans cleared away the tray from the bed. “But not quite as good?” How did he know? I never even really ate the muffin last time, did I? No, no I don’t think I did. I was too wrapped up in him and how he held my hand and talked about how I was being treated, I mean, it’s not Ferdinand’s fault, but I think he was madder at Dad and Sis, then again I could be wrong. I’m often wrong, I guess, I never thought Mum would leave, or that Martha would become a dear friend, least of all I’d skip town with a rich German—

“Schnuki?” “Huh? Hmm? Yeah?” Hans smiled gently at me, stroking back a strand of hair by my cheek and hooking it behind my ear. “Lost in thought?” he asked. “Oh, umh, suppose so,” I said. “How did you know about the muffin?” “That it’s not as good?” I nodded. “It’s all over your face, little treat.” “What?” “You talk quite a bit, and you think even more I believe, but your face says everything one needs really. Just have to look,” he said and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Sorry…” I mumbled, looking down at my half-finished muffin while fiddling with the striped paper around it. “Don’t be, I quite like how open you are, and willing to share. Not a common thing these days, you know. You’re a rarity.” I scoffed. “That’s for sure. Imagine if everyone blabbers like me? Gosh, blimey, the world would be a headache-inducing verbal madhouse,” I chuckled, yet it made me sad, to be honest. “I’m not talking of others, just you,” Hans said and leaned over to kiss my temple. “Now, time to sleep.”

He went around the room, turning off lights and making sure all doors were locked before he pulled all the curtains while I got comfy in the giant bed — honestly, it was the softest and most comfortable bed I’d ever laid in. Then I bolted upright as the last light went out. There’s only one, just one, he’ll sleep next to me, oh gosh, he’s going to be next to me!

The bed dipped and Hans indeed slipped in under the cover - the single cover that was made for two people. “Schnuki? Aren’t you lying down?” “Oh, umh, yeah, yeah sure am,” I stuttered out and slowly sank down. “I won’t bite,” he whispered right beside me. “Come here.” He pulled me in, his arms securely wrapped around me while my heart galloped in my chest. I’d never shared a bed with anyone, and sharing a bed with Hans was an experience that had me tingly all over.

“My sweet treat,” he hummed and tugged me flush against his front, spooning me. “H-Hans,” I whispered and he hummed a sound of contentment. “I’ve never… Never shared a bed without any bloke,” I continued and he squeezed me even tighter. “What a lucky bloke I am then.” I don’t know, I think maybe I’m the lucky one. Feels like it, feels like I’m getting some Christmas miracle. A man being a miracle, bloody hell that’s a thing I never thought I’d think.

***

I’d fallen asleep way too fast in his arms. I slept all through the night and when morning came I woke up alone. The bed and room were empty. I did what any sane person would, I buried my smiling face in the pillow and kicked my legs under the cover with a giggle erupting from me. Hans, sweet Hans, and he’s with me! Me! Me? Like, what? I swear if I wake up in some snow mound after having slipped and hit my head or whatever nonsense I’ll go straight to whoever runs this show and strangle them.

The door opened, and faint footsteps echoed through the room. Hans probably thought I was asleep still. “Hans?” I asked, peeking out from under the cover, turning my head to not be buried in the pillow. “Scnuki, you’re awake, good,” he said and a second later the curtains were drawn away from the window and balcony door. “Breakfast will be here any minute.” “We really having it out there? It looks bloody cold,” I said while half sitting up. “You’ll be warm with blankets, and I ordered extra coffee. Black.” “Coffee, god, yes please,” I moaned and dragged myself out of bed to go freshen up in the bathroom.

I rummaged around my bag first though, looking for some fresh clothes to wear. “On the chair,” Hans said while pulling away the rest of the curtains while I looked over my shoulder. There were several bags on the chair, so I scurried over only to freeze as I looked into them. Clothes, shoes, gloves, a purse, and all gorgeous and expensive looking if my eyes served me right.

I grabbed a thick white jumper, knitted with little pearls added in a snowfall pattern from the shoulders and over the chest. “Hans-, Hans this is too much, way too much, and expensive. Are you completely bonkers? Gone mad with a Christmas flu or something?” He only chuckled and walked up to me. “You deserve pretty things, nice clothes, warm clothes,” he said and gave my shoulders a squeeze while I looked at the jumper in my hands. It was way, way, way too much.

“Now, get dressed, and we’ll have breakfast.” “But I can’t wear—” “Schnuki, accept my gifts for you.” I looked up at him, his eyes earnest and his features soft as he asked me to simply allow him to spoil me. I’d never been spoiled, or taken cared of, or even cared for . “In silks…” I muttered, remembering his words from yesterday about wanting to come home to me dressed in silk and finery.

I did as he asked, taking the jumper, some really pretty white jeans with a matching belt of cream and gold before nabbing some new underwear and socks as well. I stopped in the bathroom, before closing the door. “How do you know my sizes?” I asked, turning to look at the cheekily smirking man. “I just looked at you,” he said. “You are very easy to look at, my little treat.” I must have blushed scarlet, my skin was on fire once more and a knock at the door saved me from making a fool out of myself.

I felt like a tenner in my new clothes, the full-length mirror in the bathroom gave me the full view and everything fit perfectly, hugging my somewhat straight shape and perfectly complimenting my skin and hair. I’d done it in a side braid to keep it away and not hide the sparkling pearls at the top of the jumper. I didn’t have any make-up, but I never used much more than some powder and mascara anyway.

Hans had set up our breakfast on the balcony when I left the bathroom. He was on the phone again, this time speaking in German and I couldn’t understand a word of it. His voice was perfection in German though, the harsh language only complimenting his deep voice further. Perhaps I should learn German too? Would be neat, not that I need more languages to talk in but it’s nifty to know more than one language.

I sat down on one of the chairs covered in a thick fur and dragged two of the blankets over my legs. “Coat,” Hans said as I was getting comfortable and I looked up. He was indeed looking at me and then nodded toward the room. I grumbled a bit but got up to fetch my jacket, it wouldn’t make much of a difference but it was cold outside.

I stood stock still in the middle of the room. By the door, where his coat had hung before, was a beautiful winter coat. It was wine red with black fur along all hems and a black belt with a golden buckle around the middle. It looked as expensive as his and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how he’d managed to get me so many things in a mere few hours — and we had both been asleep. The amount of money he’d spent had my stomach twisting, but it wasn’t all bad. There was a warmth and joy there too, that I was worth something to him meant the world to me. Even if he showed his care in monetary ways far from my own reality I wasn’t going to just dismiss his chosen way of showing he cared.

I grabbed the coat and put it on while walking back to the balcony. It, too, fit perfectly of course and the lining on the inside was silky smooth and I felt toasty in it — and pretty too. Hans was still on his call but he spun his finger around, asking me to twirl and with another blush across my cheeks I did as he asked. It was really the least I could do. His smile made me smile even wider while I mouthed “thank you”. He nodded and said something harshly in German into the phone while I got back to my chair.

“Take care of it, we have four minutes, that’s it,” he finished in English and snapped the phone shut. “I like when you talk in German,” I blurted out while reaching for my coffee cup. “Is that so?” I nodded. “How come?” he continued. “Sounds very brazen and, I dunno, large? Like, the words sound large, and it suits your voice. Your voice is really good, you know. I like it a lot, I mean, it’s not a common voice, but it’s perfect for you, and I like it,” I blabbered while fidgeting with the blanket with my free hand. “I’m glad to hear it.” “But, what do you have four minutes to do? I heard you say that yesterday too,” I continued without a break and the look on Hans' face stopped my flow of words.

He sat down, adjusting his coat and grabbing his coffee. “How much did you hear yesterday?” he asked, almost too calmly. “Oh, not much, sorry, was it banking stuff I shouldn’t know about? Like about the stock market and stuff? I heard you mention stocks and time stuff, and you look like a banker so I just assumed,” I said, worry blooming in my gut I had done something he would be upset with me over. But he smiled at me, instantly taking away the worry. “It’s alright. Don’t fret,” he said and sipped his coffee. “I’ll tell you in due time, not now though. Now, it’s time to get some food in you.” And feed me he did. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, little cucumber sandwiches, and different cheeses on lightly toasted bread along with some fruits and juice. I ended up absolutely stuffed.

***

I turned off the shower, after having walked about the grounds most of the day I’d felt a need to clean up when we returned to the room after a lovely dinner down at the main restaurant of the country resort. It had been a really wonderful day and Hans hadn’t asked me to shut up once, he actually seemed to enjoy my blabbering. But I didn’t blabber as much with him, there was no need as he listened when I chatted. The man had patience, I’d give him that.

He was on his phone again, but lying on the bed this time while talking in German. He sounded very precise, as if he were giving instructions or something when I came out dressed in my silky pyjama set. He looked at me with a sweet smile before lifting the cover so I could have it over my legs as I sat cross-legged beside him. His hand landed atop my thigh, his finger stroking circles on the inside of it and I felt as if I would go mad with having his hand there.

He barked something into the phone before slamming it shut, tossing it to the foot of the bed. “Idiots,” he muttered before falling back on the pillow. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” he kept going. “Hey, I know I’m not the brightest star in the sky but that’s a bit mean,” I said, a chuckle to my voice. “Not you, schnuki. Never you,” he murmured without looking at me, keeping his eyes closed while he let out a deep sigh.

I scooted down, laying on my side to watch his beautiful profile. Without thinking I reached up and began stroking the tips of my fingers through his lush beard. He hummed and seemed to relax. But that only lasted a few seconds. “I have to leave,” he said. “Leave?” I asked, alarms blaring in my head like bloody hounds after a fox. “For a few days, I would ask you to come with but the situation requires my undivided attention and you steal it most of the time,” he chuckled, as if he’d made some smart remark. “What do you want me to do?” I asked, fearing and wanting the answer. “Stay here, enjoy every luxury, and wait for me.” “In silk?” I teased and he finally looked up at me, a cheeky smile across his thin lips framed by that gorgeous beard I’d a second ago been touching.

He had me on my back a second later, twisting us so he lay between my legs with the cover between our bodies while he kissed me most deeply. Blimey, he really was a fantastic kisser, and every inch of me felt all tingly. I was turning into the giddy schoolgirl stereotype with him, and it felt good to be able to just relax and be.

“Will you wait for me?” he asked against my lips, only half breaking the kiss. “I’ll always wait for you. I don’t think I’m completely daft by thinking there’s something very special between us?” “My sweet treat,” he whispered, pecking my lips once. “You have no idea how special you are to me. One day, perhaps you’ll see, but until then I’ll do everything in my power to show you.” “Bloody hell,” I murmured. “You’re making it impossible not to fall for you, Hans.” “Good,” he said with a smile. “So you’ll wait here for me?” “Yeah, sure, I’ll wait right here, lavishing in silks and eating the best bacon and eggs.” He laughed at that, a deep and throaty sound I couldn’t ever get enough of. To think, all this became possible ‘cus some bloke knocked me over on the sidewalk, it really is quite the hallmark movie setup. Being the main character for once isn’t so bad.

Hans cuddled me for another hour while he asked how I used to celebrate Christmas, but that conversation took a nose-dive and he ended up pissed at how my family had treated me, so, we switched to talking about our favourite things instead. It was too easy talking with him, just being with him, and I didn’t have to wonder if I’d have to repeat myself, he always listened and remembered.

When he was dressing to leave I felt a knot grow in my stomach. There was still so much I didn’t know about him, where he was going and what he was doing were two of those things. But I didn’t ask, it felt like he didn’t want to share that with me yet. And, if he was a banker, perhaps there were some confidentiality issues with him sharing that stuff with me.

“You’ll be back, right?” “I’ll always come back for you, schnuki.” He kissed my forehead after that, stroked my cheek, and left while I remained staring at the door for a long moment. It felt so empty with him gone but he’d left me a little gift on the bedside table he’d instructed me to open once he’d left.

So, once I got out of my daze, I bolted over and grabbed it. I was as curious as a cat and ripped open the envelope only to find a little note and a wad of cash. Like, a whole wad of it. “Spend it all before I return, I dare you, my sweat treat. Oh, Hans, you’re too bloody much!” I laughed while checking just how much I was supposed to spend, I damn near keeled over at the full two grand he’d left behind. How am I supposed to spend two grand in just a couple of days? Can I give it away as tips? I mean, surely servants don’t earn that much and it’s Christmas time too. Would that count as spending it though?

I went to bed wondering where he was going, and what to do with the money he’d left for me, and how rich the man I was falling in love with really was. Thinking of all the gifts, where he had us staying, and now the cash he’d left behind, golly, it nearly made me uncomfortable to think of. I was a nobody, from a nowhere town, with a less-than-desirable place in life. How was I supposed to be in his life, and be what he wanted and needed? Was I enough for him at the end of it all? I still wasn’t quite sure why he liked me so much, then again, I knew very little of him too yet I was sure he was the one for me — so, was it really so silly to think he felt the same?

***

I’d given half of the money away. I just couldn’t spend it on myself. The concierge had been super helpful in ordering a silly-expensive coat for Hans that I used 800 of the 2,000 on and then I’d used about 200 buying some extra room service, and then some 1,000 as tips for the workers and a Secret Santa fund for the children at the Darlington Hospital which the resort had a little tin for with an information pamphlet about it all.

I also ended up buying a Christmas card from the reception that I sent off to Martha, letting her know I’d left and was doing well with the German gentleman she liked so much. I had reminded her to put her teeth in while eating and not give the fat little dog she loved so much too many treats and then ended it all with well-wishes and a Happy Christmas wish too.

I was lounging in bed two days after Hans had left, flicking through the channels on the TV while sipping some hot cocoa. I watched a commercial for dog's teeth and a treat that supposedly helped keep them clean and then the news came on as I sat myself up, cross-legged with my hands wrapped around the mug tightly.

“Tonight, the unfolding of events at a large Newcastle bank left many shocked. Just an hour ago, four men entered while wearing rifles, and in what must be a record-breaking unfolding of events, in a mere three minutes and fifty-six seconds, the vault had been cracked, emptied, and the men had fled the scene. No civilians were harmed, and no shots were fired. The police were at the scene less than a minute after the alarm was pulled, which was not until after the events had passed.” Gosh, it’s Christmas time, who’d rob people around Christmas? I wondered while sipping my coco, watching the screen. “As the police investigate, we have video footage of the men in question. Four white men, neither of their faces being captured on any of the cameras in the bank, but this is what they look like in the available footage.”

There was hot cocoa all over the bed, it had spurted out of my mouth as a silhouette I’d have known anywhere filled the screen along with three others. “FOUR MINUTES!” I shrieked while looking at the blurry image of Hans’ back, his perfect hair and straight shoulder dressed in that beautiful coat of his seemed to damn near burn my eyes. “The police say these men are extremely dangerous, with witnesses claiming three of the men spoke in German we implore all civilians to be wary and if you should see the men in question do not approach. Call the police straight off,” the news lady said further but I could barely hear it.

My mind ran rampant, spinning with all thoughts possible while the news turned to the next event of the evening. My hands cramped around the mug and I couldn’t stop my bloody lip from trembling or my stomach from filling with the sensation of dread. I’d been a daft muppet. A stupid, blabbering, silly-nilly living in a delulu world where rich German men who cared and listened were honest bankers and no danger to the world at all. Bloody hell! I’m in love with a criminal! I stuttered out a breath, one of my hands covering my mouth. “I’m in love… with a bank robber,” I whispered while I cried silent tears of hurt and worry.

I paced the length of the room for several minutes while trying to shut my mind up. The thoughts were an endless barrage of anxiously hurt and worried words I couldn’t stop. I tried in every manner possible to figure out what the bloody hell to do, how it all had gone to pot, how I wasn’t running toward a better life with an honest man who spoils and pampers me — no, no I was running away from an honest life to be with a bloody bank robber who I knew absolutely nothing about! “God, I’m so fucking stupid!”

The clock struck midnight, and still I paced. Back and forth, back and forth. My mind was in shambles but worse than that, my heart hurt and all my feelings were screwing themselves over to be at the center of attention. Why do I just want to crawl up in his arm, talk it alllll out and have him make it sound sane? Have I lost my marbles? Gone mad? Why am I not legging it right out of here?!

I fell asleep while tossing and turning, trying to make sense of my thoughts, arguing against myself — I mean, I hadn’t exactly seen his face or anything, but I knew it was Hans on that news channel. I knew it. Yet I fell asleep with the final thought of wanting him to hold me and make it all make sense.

***

I was a wreck. Everything was topsy-turvy. I had my bag packed but never left. I’d almost called a cab, yet I never did. I swore myself blue over having spent the money he had left — money I could have used to leave, hide, run away, and never speak a word of any of it ever again. Ha! Sure, as if I could ever keep my mouth shut.

I glared at the fire in the hearth of the room, I wasn’t unfamiliar with keeping a fire going to stay warm so stoking it and lighting it had been no issue. The warmth, that was another thing altogether. I felt cold to my bones, even if I was tingly warm on the outside. My nose was even slightly dusted with sweat from sitting so close to the roaring fire beyond the glass doors. The room was sweltering, the air a bit bad given how much oxygen the fire consumed, and I felt a bit dizzy, to be honest, but I couldn’t make myself move.

It had been three days since I saw the news. I’d gone over every bloody detail of everything since I met Hans several times. Especially the phone calls he’d been on. I could no longer go to delulu land and pretend it wasn’t him, I knew it was, there was no other explanation. How bloody perfect this is. The bank robber and the blabbering missy who can’t keep her mouth shut. He won’t come back to me, will he? How could he ever trust my blabbering mouth? We don’t even know each other! But that thought didn’t sit right with me.

After everything that had happened, I was wholly in love with the annoyingly handsome bloke with his charming smiles and cheeky smirks. No matter how silly that was, how stupid it made me, I couldn’t make myself leave when there was even a small chance he’d return for me. And what then? Hmm? Pretend you don’t know? Keep quiet about his secret so he won’t think you’ll blabber? Come on, Lulu… And why am I calling myself that god-awful name?!

“What the— Schnuki!” Hans' hands were on me the next second, I hadn’t even had time to turn my head when his voice filled the room. “Hans?” I asked, feeling disoriented and half-asleep. “What are you doing?!” His hands left me and he ran through the room in a blur of a grey coat. He threw the balcony doors open wide. Cold, crisp air flooded the room and I blinked rapidly.

He was on me the next second. “Up, up,” he said but then grabbed me and hoisted me up bridal style before carrying me out on the balcony. I inhaled with a gasp, feeling all the drowsiness disappear and my vision cleared while a string of curses (it sounded like) left Hans’ mouth, spoken in German before he sat me down on my feet.

His hands grabbed my warm face, the sweat now chilled by the December air. “Are you insane?” he asked in a rush while his eyes searched mine. “I was cold,” I managed to push out while my head ran away with me — all my thoughts coming back with a rush. “You could have died,” he snarled before tugging me close and wrapping me in his arms. Blimey, he smelled so good. Felt so infuriatingly good to be close to. “So could you,” I whispered. “What?” “Mr Bank Robber,” I only said, feeling too tired to deal with any of it now that he was finally back with me.

He stiffened all around me. “You know,” he hummed darkly, his voice far harsher than ever before. “Hard to miss when you were on the news.” “You recognised me from that ?” he asked, leaning back to look at me with widened eyes. “Pffth, I’d know you anywhere.” “Should I be worried or flattered?” “I don’t know, are you leaving me behind ‘cus I talk too much and you feel like you can’t trust me after everything I’ve trusted you with? Including leaving everything behind after meeting you only twice and knowing absolute piss about you?” My words turned angry, fearful really. “Schnuki, calm down for me,” Hans hushed gently, his features softening once more while he looked down at me as I shook in his arms.

He kissed my forehead. “You shouldn’t tell a woman to calm down, has the opposite bloody effect, ya’ know…” He chuckled at that. “I only said so because you feel very anxious, feel free to go off on me anytime you like, little treat. I don’t mind it.” “Sure, bet you're used to having people screaming at you and around you and blurting out nonsense in the heat of the moment.” “You never speak nonsense, don’t say such a thing,” he admonished. “But I do need to know if my secret is safe with you?” “Pffth, as if I could ever say anything to anyone that wouldn’t be good for the man I... You’re a foul git sometimes, you know that?” “Hmm? How so?” “Leaving me here while going out to rob—” “Inside,” Hans said, interrupting me. Course, right, inside, talking about bank robbing on the balcony where anyone can hear is stupid and dangerous, wow, gosh, I’m fucking this right up from the first minute. Stellar job, Lulu. Stellar job…

Hans closed the door behind us and swiftly grabbed my hand to lead me to the bed. He sat me down before closing the vent to the fire, smothering the flames to near embers, and then sat next to me while taking my hand in his once more. I stared at him, and he looked at me.

After a minute of silence, my tears began to flow. “You’re leaving me behind, aren’t you?” “Tell me why I’m a foul git sometimes,” he countered while squeezing my hand. I snivelled and took a deeper breath. “You just left me here, while going off to rob a giant national bank without a word about it. What if you’d been killed? Or captured? Or just hurt, or whatever? I would have just been bloody sitting her until they would have kicked me out for lack of reservation and money. You just left me behind without a bloody word!”

Hans looked at me, a baffled expression taking over his handsome face. “That’s what I’m a foul git for?” “No. You’re a foul git sometimes ‘cus you don’t talk to me. I talk to you all the time, about everything that pops into my head almost.” I glared at him, but it was hard with the tears and snivelling. “But I know nothing of you, like, not a bloody thing. Are you even German?” I asked, daring him to lie to me with my eyes but he just chuckled. “Schnuki, my sweet treat, my little bean spiller,” he said while tugging me closer. “I’m very much German. And you’re a delightful surprise, know that?” I scrunched up my face, swiping at my cheeks. “What?” “I was going to tell you, in due time. I mean, can’t really continue hoaxing you. You’d want to know about the money, my trips, my never staying in one place for long, and such things, no?” I nodded. “Yet here you are, a snivelling mess bawling about me not telling you from the very first moment I’m an international criminal, a successful one mind you,” he said with cheek to his voice and a smirk I couldn’t help but chuckle at.

Hans turned slightly, making us nearly come face to face on the bed. “I knew you were special the moment I met you. Just something about you,” he said and my shoulders softened at the sweet words. “Didn’t think you’d be quite this sweet and understanding, but I’m glad to have been wrong for once.” “You’re not getting out of this by sweet-talking me, spill the tea. All of it. If I’m going to follow an international criminal all over the bloody globe I’ll be damned if I don’t know everything, ‘kay?” I said, feeling as if the world had turned upside down. “I won’t let you leave me behind like everyone else. You’ve ruined any chance of that with everything you’ve done and said so far, I don’t want to be the abandoned puppy anymore.”

Hans kissed my knuckles, letting his lips stroke over them a bit before he lowered our hands again. It sent a shiver down my spine and I really had gone completely bonkers because of him. Not any worse a life than what I had, better even perhaps. Always wanted to see the world, maybe I’ll get to do just that now, even if it is with a criminal, I’ll be safe. I know it. “A dime for your thoughts?” I smiled at the wrongful expression. “Just thinking about seeing the world and being safe, I think I’ll be more safe with you than anyone else.” “An international criminal?” “Well, yeah, sure, but you’re not just any criminal, are you? I mean, obviously it’ll be harrowing and less than fun at times, I’m sure you’re not always staying in posh settings like these,” I said, waving my hand about the room while Hans nodded reluctantly.

“But still, I think you’ll keep me safe, won’t you?” “Always, my sweet treat.” “And, I haven’t recalled a single lie you’ve told, that I know of at least.” “Never lied to you.” “Yeah, I know, and that makes me feel better about this whole thing. I mean, not your fault I didn’t press on the whole bank man thing, right? And besides, you treat me like… like I mean the world to you and you’re always listening, and talking to me like you’ve really heard what I said and you’re very caring, and sweet, and just, yeah, good, you know? It’s not like—” Hans kissed me at that, interrupting my blabbering that had turned faster with each word as my anxiety and need to explain myself as fully as possible shot through the roof.

He stopped my scrambling thoughts and kissed me until I was relaxed once more. “Didn’t mean to stop you from talking, you’re free to talk as much as you need, but you were getting too anxious, schnuki.” “T-Thank you,” I exhaled. “You’re right, I just… Just need to explain myself. I always feel a need to explain myself.” “I understand.” “Yeah, no, sure, I know you do, I’m just sorry I can’t stop myself, I know you understand, and you don’t mind, and all that, and I’m really grateful for— Oh, right, you know, sorry…” Hans chuckled at my embarrassed smile and stroked my cheek once more with his warm hand.

“Do you want to join me, then?” he asked, no pressure to it, just genuine wondering. “If you don’t mind.” “I want nothing else than have you with me at all times possible.” “Then yes, yes, please. I want to be with you, Hans.” “And I with you, but we’ll have to work on that anxiety of yours. Sometimes you’ll have to be on your own, but I will always come back for you.” “Promise?” “I promise.”

He held me tight, kissing the top of my head while I drew a deep sigh of relief, feeling like an overfilled kettle boiling too wildly, all my emotions spilling over. “You gotta cool it with the whole giver of gifts thing though… I couldn’t spend the money you left behind, I gave half of it away…” “I knew you would… You’re goodness and sweetness, all wrapped up like a delicious treat and that wrapping will be of the finest kind imaginable. I’ll make sure of it.” “Hans!” I scolded with a laugh. “I will always spoil you, schnuki. You deserve nothing less than the best of everything, always.” Then I hope you’ll enjoy the coat I got for you… A gift from you to me, became a gift from me to you, don’t really know how valid that is but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Now, my little treat,” Hans said after a moment, “how would you feel about spending Christmas in Alaska?” “Alaska?!” My eyes were wide with something I could only think to look like unbridled joy. “It’s perfect for the winter holiday, no?” “I’d love to,” I confessed. “Thought you would,” he said with one of those charming smiles and a twinkle in his clear eyes.

Blimey, I was going to Alaska with an international Criminal. What a way to spend my first Christmas away from home. Bloody hell I wanna call Dad and tell him to fucking shove his mints up his arse, I was going to see the whole damn world with the man of my dreams. “I think I made it,” I mumbled into Hans' chest. “Whatever you thought before those words, I agree, sweetie. I feel the same way,” Hans whispered before holding me even tighter while I inhaled the wonderful scent of him.

“I… Hans, I love you…” “Schnuki, my sweet treat, my Christmas miracle,” Hans said in such a deep tone it was difficult to hear him clearly. “I love you too, since the moment you smiled at me for the first time.” I shivered at the sweet words and buried my face in his neck. Life was so perfectly imperfect I couldn’t keep the laughs and tears from spilling over. I was where I was supposed to be, where life would take us I couldn’t even begin to think about but I knew, no matter what, Hans would always come back for me and I would always be his. My gentleman criminal.

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: I just love this serial fic so much, gosh, feels so good they sorted it out and have mutually agreed they re to stay together and just-, travel the world and care for each other and just-, waaaaaaah! 😍👏 I know I was a day late with this one, I'm really sorry but I hope you feel these nearly 7k makes up for it - and you'll still get today's fic later today as well! I'm gonna write at record speed today - have to, my entire weekend is full of Christmas celebrating (I'll squeeze in some writing as often as possible so you'll get fics daily though).

Gosh, feels a bit sad to say bye-bye to these two, maybe I'll revisit them at some point in the future but I can't make any promises. It's really difficult to write this one for me (the literal language use I mean) so we'll see. I kinda like leaving them here too - it's a sweet ending that's closed but also open 🥰

Q: What's something you really enjoyed/liked/feel good about that happened or you did during 2023? A: for me, it's a few things but publishing my OW writing is probably the biggest thing really 🥰👏

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky  @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #rickmas #hans gruber #gruber x oc #hans gruber fic #christmas fic #alan rickman #rickmaniac

[fangbangerghoul]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you for the tag @bearlytolerant!!!

Ghoul looking badass as usual.

15 lines will be below the cut!

These are from a little bit of everything that contain Ghoul.

1. “No, I didn’t see how it was relevant” They responded trying to shut it down. 2. “What’s…what’s the strangest encounter that you’ve had?” Ghoul asked curiously. 3. “It doesn’t matter they are dead.” She said flatly as she pulled an olive sweater on that she had found and a pair of loose cargo pants. 4. “I don’t remember asking for homework to stay here.” She said in defense, and he let out a small chuckle before returning to his Leader of the Crimson Fleet persona. 5. “Welcome back. I am already feeling myself becoming less-.” Ghoul’s hands greedily ran up the sides of her curves and back down to her lovely thighs. “Lonely. Do I get a name for tonight or should I make one up?” 6. “The only pretty little thing is going to be your cock on the side of the street if you don't step the fuck back.” Ghoul growled as she parted her feet slightly trying to subtly reposition the weight of her body. 7. “I had it under control.” Ghoul said getting defensive and crossing her arms.  8. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answer’s too.” Ghoul muttered with the same annoyance she had towards him earlier. 9. “Would you like to do the honors?” She invited him to a caged match with a playful smile.  10. “LET ME GO” Her voice was guttural and hoarse, from the rage and the dehydration. “I WANT TO FUCKING KILL THEM ALL! EVERY FUCKING PERSON OUT THERE!” 11. “You’re cool.” She said with finger guns held up and sounding a bit defeated at not being able to find normal words.  12. “I can’t do both?” She asked sarcastically before she just placed her head on his chest, surrendering to her original plan. 13. “4000 and if you can wear something pretty, I’ll dine you before I bend you over.” Her words were as smooth as the shot she was about to take. 14. “Fucking kill me already.” She said to herself with such boredom that it made the corner of her lips curve slightly. 15. “Are you fucking satisfied yet? Or do you want me to moan your name too?” Ghoul coughed out hoarsely and spit a bit of blood onto the floor.

Hopefully these are a window into her soul. A lot of these you can check out from my Masterpost that have links to my AO3 content.

I'll tag: @avani-telvanni @eridanidreams @therealgchu @booburry @spookyspecterino @5oh5 @toxiclizardwrites @order-of-the-eye

#ghoul vibes only #15 lines of dialogue #oc #starfield fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction

[i-eat-worlds]

okay worlds i need your medical knowledge again.

i have a character in an apocalypse setting with no professional surgeons or doctors or hospitals in reach. they have a burn from below the left hip to the ankle, covering almost the whole leg. they have access to pharmacies, medicines and bandages, as well as five other people to care for them. i'd like the burn to be third degree, but I also need them to survive.

what is the worst degree of burn I can give them? is a skin graft possible for someone with limited medical knowledge to perform? what are the treatments, how long would it take them to get out of critical condition, and how would I ensure they survive without a professional doctor?

burn traits right now are flexible. if I can't burn their whole leg that's okay lol

thank you worlds I appreciate you <3

- @whump-kia

Thanks for the ask Kia!

disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, I’m just a nerd. Take all of this with a grain of salt. Or several.

Okay, so the severity of burns is determined by a two factors: How much skin in burned (measured by the percentage total body surface area burned. You’ll see it abbreviated as TBSA) and how deep those burns are (first degree or superficial, second degree or partial thickness, or third degree or full thickness).

The burn you’ve described (in my unprofessional opinion) would be about 18-15 % TBSA. Keep in mind that the burns wouldn’t be only third degree, their edges would be second degree, and it would sorta “fade in.”

It’s also important to take into account which areas were burned. Burns to the face, hands, genitalia, or major joints are more severe. Your injury includes a knee, which is another area of concern.

Other important things:

For a variety of reasons, burns consume a lot to fluids. Your character is at risk for dehydration and hypovolemia. In non-apocalyptic environments, they’ve be given copious amounts of IV fluids to replace what they’ve lost. This is primarily a concern in the first 24 hrs.

Hypothermia is also a concern. One of the skin’s big jobs it to insulate the body. If a large surface area has been damaged, your character will start to loose heat. They make things called “burn sheets” to help with this. They’re sterile and are designed to insulate and not stick to burns. If your character has access to a pharmacy they might have some of these.

Cytokines are a proteins that affect the immune system. They’re released when the body experiences a significant injury, like a burn. Sometimes, too many are released, causing a condition called cytokine storm. This results in feelings of fatigue and nausea, a fever, and a drop in blood pressure. This is seen around 48-72 hours after injury.

Eschar is a hardened tissue that can develop with severe burns. If the burn encircles a limb, the eschar can put pressure on the limb, cut off blood flow, and cause compartment syndrome. This doesn’t always happen-the skin can also slough off. This is sometimes called “skin slip.” I would not google photos of this unless you are brave. Infection is another big issue. Infected burns will be purulent, smell awful, and be extra painful. Burns are prone to tetanus, so I hope your characters booster it up to date. Infection can eventually lead to sepsis.

———

Treatment:

In the environment you’re in, treatment is going to consist of having your character drink lots of fluids, keeping the burn covered in clean, sterile dressings, and providing pain medication if available.

Their mobility is going to be limited, and they’re going to need help to meet a lot of their basic needs: toileting, nutrition, etc.

Without access to a hospital, there’s not a whole lot that can be done. You mentioned skin grafting, and that’s basically a hard no. It’s extremely painful, creates another open wound, and carries a high risk of infection. A surgeon doing a skin graft in this situation is unadvisable, a non-surgeon attempting this procedure is highly unadvisable. It’s best to keep them warm, hydrated, and comfortable, and keep the burns clean and covered.

———

If you want a better, more probable good outcome, I would change a couple of things. First of all, I would reduce the amount of surface area the burn takes up. Having the burns of just on the thigh and the calf would remove the knee from the equation and make the injury less severe. Furthermore, I’d make most of the burns second degree. You can have some smaller areas of full thickness burns, but second degrees will heal quicker, and, because they leave nerve endings intact, they’ll hurt more! More superficial 2nd degree burns should heal in one-three weeks, and deeper 2nd degree burn might take as many as nine weeks. If the burn takes longer than two weeks to heal, it will likely scar.

Hope this was helpful!

Sources:

Blood on the Page by Samantha Keel (cannot recommend this book enough)

StatPearls: Burn Evaluation and Management

StatPearls: Burn Evaluation and Resuscitation

Cleveland Clinic: Second Degree Burns

Cleveland Clinic: Third Degree Burns

Physiopedia: Burn Shock

#worlds babbles #ask stuff #burns #long post #injuries cw #if you’re a real medical professional feel free to add on I’m here to learn!

[thepancakewitch]

Stairway to Heaven

A fic dedicated to my friend, Stray!

SFW - Gaolang x Reader

In the humid climate of the bustling city, it was hard to find respite in the madness of it. The constant whaling of cars, babies and fire engines, the congested sidewalks that made getting anywhere a nightmare, crowded public transportation with way too many creepy guys, the only safe place was my apartment. Unfortunately, it was located on the 20th floor. The elevator was usually just as crowded, so I always opted to climb the stairs to get back to my oasis. I hardly ever saw anyone taking the stair well. It was more like a cement box with little to no air flow, often being hotter than outside, even in the highest temperatures. Anyone who passed each other sort of nodded and smiled to one another; we were comrades in the pit of hell known as our apartment stairwell.

And today was pushing me to my limits. 15... Only 5 more... My lungs felt like they were on fire, trying their damnedest to pump air into me as I ascended. Gripping the metal support pole, my arms pulled the rest of my labored body up. Each step exhausted me harder and harder. Why was this so hard today!? As I got to the 16th floor, I felt my legs give out as I tumbled backwards and blacked out.

I awoke, in a panic. The worst place to be passed out as in a stairwell with no security cameras! That was practically asking for someone to steal their belongings, or worse yet... I tried to assess my surroundings. It was the hallway. But not my own. Squinting my eyes to get them to adjust to the bright light from the windows, I could make out the numbers for the floor. 4...45!? How on earth did I get to 45!? A loud scream from across the hall awoke me.

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GAOOOOOO!!! I GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I noticed a man running down the hallway; I felt immediate panic as I tried to scurry away from him. A hand gently rested on my shoulder, pushing me back down.

“You’re awake. Are you alright?”

His accent was as light as his hand was on my shoulder. I peered over to the man closer to me; how did I not notice this giant before!? He was extremely built, but his expression and attire didn’t seem to match him at all on first glance.

I scooted away, laughing. “O-Oh yes, no need to worry. Thank you very much for getting me out of the stairwell but-” My awkward escape was interrupted by the running man, who skidded in front of us and threw out both of his arms.

“HEY LADY! Are you feeling BETTER!?!?!”

“Y-yep! I was going to leave...” I felt imprisoned by their auras alone; a quiet strength and a raw, unfiltered, burning passion for STRENGTH as well! Was I safe? Something about the duo told my gut instinct I was fine, but being around strangers was never a good idea. Especially in the city.

“WELL YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE!” The running man shouted, waving his arms frantically.

“Don’t say such threatening things, Saw.” The other looked up at him with his tired expression, slowly standing up. He had been kneeling by me the entire time I was out, watching over me. “I’m sorry for commotion. We saw you passed out on the stairwell and we brought you up to our floor to make sure you were alright. It seems like you were dehydrated.”

“WHICH IS WHY I GOT YOU THIS WATER BOTTLE FROM OUR APARTMENT!!!!!!” Saw nearly threw the bottle onto the ground, but resisted the urge as he shoved it into my hands. “DRINK UP!”

I never felt so aggressively looked after in my life. Cracking the seal of the plastic cap, I sipped slowly and felt a bit of the haziness leave me. I leaned against the wall, still sweating from the adrenaline rush of waking up to a charging man. Exhaling loudly, I took in more as my body began to cool. “Thank you both very much. I appreciate not having 911 called... y’know how pricey they can be.” I waved my hand a bit, feeling awkward around the pair. Not a very good first impression.

“I EXPERIENCE IT ALL THE TIME!”

“I don’t believe you have any serious injuries, though you might want to keep an eye out for concussion symptoms.”

“Huhh really? She didn’t seem to hit her head too hard...” Saw deflated, folding his arms.

“It can’t hurt.” Gao looked to me, giving me a very faint smile. “What floor are you on?”

“...20.” I spoke, Saw’s face lighting up at the realization he could help more. I quickly intervened in his future plans. “I think if I chill out here for a bit longer, I’ll be fine. You two have enough for me already.” Wasting strangers’ time to take care of me when I failed to get enough water in, why was I like this!!

“Oh, what were your names again?”

“YOROIZUKA SAW PAIIINNNNGGGGG!!!”

A pose followed with a beam, pointing back to himself. “And he’s Gaolang.”

“Gaolang Wongsawat.”

What seemed like a break in the clouds to allow a ray of holy light down, Gao’s stone cold face slowly broke to give another smile. I witnessed two miracles today. I was eternally grateful, as I knew I’d probably never see these two again... or anything to their caliber. How could anything hold up a candle to these two?

“Well thank you both very much, I don’t know where I would be or what I would have done without you.” I stood up again on shaky legs. My body wasn’t at 100%, but 70% ought to get me back to my apartment. “Uhm, have a great... rest of your stay in the city!” I laughed awkwardly, trying to exit the hallway as soon as I could.

“YOU TOO!!” Saw screamed out in response, his mouth opening as far as it could.

Gaolang picked up on the subtlety of my embarrassing attempt to detach, quickly adding in,

“Our apartment is always open if you wish to see us again.”

I nearly fell down the stairs again as I peered back to see the pair smiling at me and inviting me into their apartment. Three miracles!? Surely I was overdue to die soon, because my luck was running out!

Our new routine became my winded ascent to their floor, all forty floors, as soon as I came home from work. Saw and Gao were constantly cooking for each other. I was learning so much about their respective sports, how Muay Thai worked, and their respective countries. Gaolang even began to smile. Over time, the trip up began to take less and less out of me, soon resulting in a much faster trek up.

I managed to catch up to Sawpaing in one instance. It took him a second to decipher if he was going slower, or if I had actually gone stronger.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

He boomed, excitedly putting his hands on my arms as he shook me wildly.

“YOU DID IT!!!! YOU CONQUERED YOUR GREATEST ENEMY, THE STAIRS!!!!!!” He quickly, turned, rushing up the stairs. “WE GOTTA TELL GAOLANG!!!”

Kicking open their apartment door, Saw screamed at the top of his lungs. “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

I followed suit, waving as I caught my breath again. While I did get better at the stairs, it was still quite the work out.

“OUR FRIEND DEFEATED THE STAIRS!”

“That’s why I invited them up to our apartment in the first place.” Gaolang quietly sipped his tea with usual, bored expression. I... had no idea how to take this news. Shock, disappointment, bewilderment...

“This was all an exercise routine!?” I yelled out. “Why?”

“I was worried for your health in the long run.” He calmly set down the cup, looking down. “What if we weren’t here the next time that incident happened?”

FOUR MIRACLES! FIVE? I couldn’t count anymore!

“Wow that’s really smart, Gao.” Saw puffed, genuinely impressed by his rival.

“Well... I...” I was at a loss of words again. “Thank you so much!”

“I hope you don’t take this as a sign to avoid visiting us though. You need to keep your training up.” The Thai boxer grinned, leaning back a bit on his floor cushion. The light of the setting sun began to illuminate their apartment, giving it an ethereal look. Gaolang was practically glowing in it. Saw began screaming again, patting my back repeatedly. As I was budged by the excited patting of Saw, I realized I had another, if only temporary, oasis in the city. The apartment on the 45th floor.

And the staircase? Just a stairway to get to heaven.

#Mabel Writes #Gaolang x Reader #gaolang wongsawat #Kengan Ashura