#and when he throws some body paint on them well it's game over for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lainiespicewrites · 1 year

Text

Coach Syverson Part 2

I really didn't think I was going to finish writing this so soon but ya'll loved the first part! and I love writing this so here it is the final part with all the good stuff! Also it's 4 am and I probably should have proof read this. but I didn't. Iwas so excited to get it posted because You guys BLEW UP the first part so THANK YOU!!!

Warnings: SMUT at the end, Oral (m and f receiving), (p in v), lots of cusring in the end , so much praising because you know he would!!

Sy was in coach mode with the team as I looked over the sign in sheet and greeted the students that were traveling to watch the game. Most of the students were loaded onto the bus now. Thank God because I was so distracted by him. There was something about seeing him like this, he was so in charge and in control. He had their full attention and he never had to work to get it. He had those boys respect the first time he walked out to the field. But he earned it too. He was such a good coach. I loved listening to the way he spoke with them.

“Alright boys,” I listened as he pulled the team into a huddle before they got on the bus next to ours. “Listen first and foremost I want y’all to go out there and pay hard. That’s what we’ve been practicing. We’ve watched their tape. These guys are a little bigger than you but that doesn’t matter. We’re faster. You come at ‘em low and fast they’re gonna go down. Matt I need your eyes on that ball at all times man! We just about lost some points last week because of misdirection and we ain’t gonna let that happen again right?”

“No, sir! I got you coach!”

“Atta boy! Derek, you keep throwing that ball like you’ve been in practice this week and we’ll be in good shape!” Derek just nodded. Sy smiled. “Alright, now boys I don’t want any messing around in the locker room. You go in, and be respectful, I want them talking about how great of character our team has just as much as they’re talking about how good we play, understood?”

“Yes coach!” The boys chanted in unison.

“Alright, load up let’s go!” The boys started cheering. I smiled. I loved watching him with them. The way he got them all fired up. And he matched their energy. He was so adorable right now. Joking around with the boys and

“Hey Miss Plummer!” right, I’m not a teenager watching my crush, I’m an adult, I have a job to do.

“Hi Caitlyn! Are you ready for the game tonight?” I smiled at her. She was all decked out with the eye under eye black and Tyler's jersey number painted on her cheek in the school colors. She and a few of the other girls made t-shirts and were wearing them to support a few of the players they were friends with.

“So ready!!” She squealed, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She looked over toward the buses where the team was loading the bus with their equipment, where I had been staring off earlier. “He’s so cute isn’t he?” She said, I raised an eyebrow and smirked a little.

“Are you excited to watch Tyler play?” I chuckled.

“Yeah, But I meant coach Sy, are you two finally together? He totally likes you! Everyone knows it! And you two would be so cute together!! The students talk about it all the time. I mean you’re wearing his hoodie Miss Plummer!” Wow that girl talks fast. He likes… no. But if the students see it? Am I really that blind? He bought my dinner, He brings me coffee, he called me his work wife. But I’m not his body type. These things don’t happen. Are my insecurities really that deep rooted that I can’t take the advice I give my students? But still. When I was in school I remember rumors spreading about teachers seeing each other all the time and they usually…. Well actually. Now that I think about it. They normally ended up being true. Some of them were even scandals. I shook my head.

“Slow down sweetheart,” I managed to let out a chuckle even though I kind of felt like I was having a crisis. “Coach Sy and I are friends, I’m just borrowing his sweatshirt because I didn’t have one. It’s sweet that you all care about us so much. I love that. I do. But well, that’s all it is, honey.” She nodded sadly. And looked back at the other bus and over at Sy. He caught us looking at him and smiled.

“Miss Plummer,” She sighed exasperated, like me not understanding my own love life was exhausting for her. “I don’t wanna over step but I overheard him and Mrs. Spencer talking. She came into his class at the end of the day Wednesday smiling and stuff. And like I wasn’t TRYING to eavesdrop but I heard them talk about you and I just couldn’t resist ya know? Anyway, she said she had this idea, she could back out of coming today so he could hang out with you and well…. Nevermind.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Caitlyn, what have we said about gossiping?” I said.

“Girl, It’s true though, that man’s got it bad for you Miss P.” I shook my head and smiled

“Get on the bus Caitlyn,”

“Okay fine, But when you guys get married, can I be in the wedding?” I rolled my eyes. “Guess that’s a no.” She said and stepped on the bus. I looked over one last time. Sy was double checking something on his clipboard while the boys finished up. He looked up and we made eye contact. He winked and I blushed, giving him a little wave before I followed Caitlyn on to the bus. Things took off fast when we got to the other school. Sy took the boys straight to the locker room to gear up because we got a little stuck in traffic. Myself and the two other chaperones led the students to their section in the bleachers and about 15 minutes later we were at kick off. Sy was completely in his comfort zone out there.

Our boys had the ball first. Sy had his couch voice on shouting a couple of corrections from the sidelines. The team made a good play but in the end the other boys were bigger and their defense was strong. We had to settle for three points instead of a touchdown.

The whole first quarter of the game stayed that way. The boys managed to keep the other team out of the end zone. The start of the second quarter the other team had the ball. They made a play and when one of our boys Zach Owens went to tackle the player he lost his footing. It had rained earlier in the day and the He slipped but still grabbed the player by the ankle. He got him down but he ended up at the bottom of a dog pile. Another player reached out to give Zach a hand to help him up, but he fell back immediately when he tried to stand. He was hurt.

I immediately looked to Sy, I was on the first level of the bleachers standing against the railing. I was close enough to see him curse under his breath before running onto the field. The medic followed him out. I walked out to the sideline. Sy and the medic got Zach up but he couldn’t put any pressure on his left ankle. Everyone cheered for him while they walked him off the field. Poor kid was going to be out the rest of the game.

“You’re gonna be alright man,” Sy said as they got him to the bench. “This guy’s gonna wrap that ankle and then you just chill here. Just breathe,” He clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to his place on the sidelines. The boys were starting the next play and already the other team scored a touchdown on us. I walked up to him hesitantly. He shouted something about tightening the defense. I jumped a little. I'd never been this close to him in coach mode. It was kinda hot though. What was I saying? I came up next to him brushing my shoulder against his. He looked over and his shoulders relaxed a little and he smiled when he saw it was me. “Hey Sugar,”

“Is he gonna be okay?” I asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, It’s not broken but he sprained it real good. He’s gonna be down at least a couple weeks. He’s our best tackle.” He sighed softly and his lips quirked up into a sad lopsided smile

“I know, that’s gonna kill us. But the boys can pull through. They’ve got you as a coach.” I smiled. He threw his arm around me and pulled me against his side squeezing my shoulder.

“You’re so damn sweet,” he said. I blushed and turned into his shoulder to hide my face. “You’re freezing, darling,” He ran his hand up and down my arm for a minute “shit,” he mumbled. He pulled out a 10 dollar bill from his pocket “I told ya I pay for coffee tonight, meant to give this to you earlier.” He looked down at me, his blue eyes briefly holding my gaze as he grinned.

“Logan you don’t have to do that,” I said trying to push his hand away. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“You say that an awful lot. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. Now quit arguing with me and take it.” He narrowed his eyes at me and nodded down at the cash in his hand. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“You know, you can be a real diva when you don’t get you’re way.” I said taking it from him.

“Are you complaining about free coffee?” He smirked and pulled me close to his side again keeping me warm.

“No,” I chuckled softly. I looked back at the bleachers watching some of my kids for a second. A few of them were a little two close for comfort. “I’d better get back up there,” I said sadly. I really liked being next to him.

“Yeah, I guess you should.” He left his arm around me a few seconds longer before he finally let me go. He was such a teddy bear sometimes. As I was making my way back to the bleachers I heard. A few of the boys on the team talking,

“OOOOH Coach you look at you,” One of them said

“That was smooth. Can you teach me how to do that?”

“You gonna be gettin some later coach.” The last one spoke. Logan’s voice was stern but still playful.

“Y’all wanna match zach on the bench next week? I won’t hesitate. Watch it! What is that an extra 3 laps to the 5 you were already running on monday Tyler?” He smirked.

“Damn Coach!! You Savage!” One of the other boys piped in.

“You wanna join him, Jake?” He mused.

“No Sir, I’m good!” He spoke quickly and I laughed to myself as I walked back up the bleachers.

I sat with the students for a while breaking up a few young couples trying to get a little too close while they were away from mom and dad. I hated to be a buzzkill but they know the rules.

Sy was back on high alert. At the start of the third quarter the boys were down by 10 points. They shouldn’t have been the refs missed and obvious penalty against the other team for shoving one of our guys. I was definitely part of the crowd that was screaming at that point. But right now Derek, our quarterback had gotten the boys down the field and they were set up for another touch down. They made the play. He threw a complete pass to tyler and they got the points! Every was cheering. With the extra kick good the boys only need one more touch down to get ahead.

The rest of the quarter went by and then only 2 minutes left in the 4th quarter. The team was still down by 3 points. The clock was running out they had 45 seconds left we had the ball but we were only at the 40 yard line. We needed a miracle. But Sy taught our boys well. Derek found an opening and through a perfect pass down the field to Matt. The whole crowd was on their feet. He Caught the pass at the 20 yard line and ran the rest of the way down the field into the end zone with 10 seconds left. We got the touch down. The student section was shaking the bleachers jumping around. The game finished and we let the kids run down to wait by the gate to make a tunnel for the team to run through. I walked down to the side lines to wait in a crowd of people to see the winning coach.

While I looked over keeping an eye on the kids while they celebrated with the team. I held my coffe close to my chest too keep me and my hands warm. I loved seeing Sy like this. This is totally where he belonged. He looked famous talking with the other coaches and people asking him about what he was working on with the team. I over heard two ladies having a conversation a few feet infront of me.

“Their coach is so handsome,” The first one said. She was tall, Thin long blonde hair. Wearing some sporty leggings the looked super expensive and the other teams spirit wear.

“Oh I know! You think he’s single?” The other said she looked similar to the other woman but a little shorter and her hair was darker.

“I don’t know I saw that lady with him earlier but, he’s gorgeous and well, I mean I don’t wanna sound rude but she seemed a little big to be his type.” The blonde said.

“No I know what you mean when I saw him with his arm around here I was like… if that’s his wife… well he could’ve done better.” My heart dropped. I knew they were talking about me. I felt like I was going to be sick. I knew it. Everything, I’d always felt, every reason I told everyone they were wrong. These two just confirmed it. Logan would never see me as anything more than a friend. My insecurities just kept bubbling to the surface the way I felt about my body and what I’d worked on for years all came rushing back. I ran right passed them missing the shocked look on their faces. They hadn’t realized I’d been so close. It didn’t matter they were right.

I didn’t hear him either. Excusing himself from the other men he’d been talking two and calling after me. I ran into the bathrooms locking the door behind me and took a deep breath. You’re not crying not here. You’re a big girl. Hold it in until you’re alone. I calmed myself down and took one last deep breath before walking back out.

Logan was leaning on the wall outside the door waiting.

“Hey Sugar, you alright? You looked like you were gonna be sick? Feeling okay?” Shit I didn’t even know he’d noticed me walk by. I nodded taking another deep breath and staring at the ground.

“Yeah, just um, felt a little off for a second.” I said. “I’ll be alright. You’d better get back to the boys.” He put his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged him off. I looked up and saw the confused look in his eyes.

“I’m meeting the boys at the bus, it’s a late night so we’re headed straight back.” he stated. “You sure you’re okay sugar, why don’t you ride back with me, I can keep an eye on ya. And the boys wanna thank their good luck charm for being here.” he smiled.

“No, I mean. No that’s sweet of them. And nice of you to offer but. It’s not fair to the others. I said I’d chaperone I can’t just leave them short like that.” I said.

“They won’t be Carol will be …”he paused and groaned.

“What do you mean Carol will be there? She couldn’t come tonight.” I was confused now.

“Damnit this isn’t how I wanted to do this. She was always going to be here. Uh she was helping me out… with…”

“Caitlyn was right,” I cut him off.

“I thought she was listening,” He chuckled and shook his head. “She told ya huh? Well cats out of the bag then, I uh,” He laughed and let out a shaky breath rubbing the back of his neck. “I really like you Darlin’, I have for a while.” He smiled sheepishly and bit his lip. My hands were shaking and all of a sudden I felt sick again. This is what I’d always wanted but I didn’t feel real. I couldn’t be here right now. Surely there was a punchline waiting there always was. This was a joke right. Those women from earlier are right around the corner somewhere recording. How could I be so stupid. I shook my head. Tears were welling up in my eyes.

“I, I have to go, they’re gonna need my help loading the buses.” I said and ran past him toward the parking lot. He called after me but I kept walking. When I got to the parking lot only one of our buses was still there. I let out a slow breath and then sighed. “God I’m a fucking idiot,” I groaned.

“I uh.. Sent the other bus ahead” I heard Sy say from behind me. I stood there for a second quietly and then just nodded. “Wait here, I gotta talk to the boys and then we’ll head out,” He said.

I watched him walk over. Some of the boys started to whistle and holler. I couldn’t hear Logan but he shut it down quick. The boys loaded up into the bus and gestured for me to follow. He gave me a soft smile and followed me on sitting in the seat across from mine. Other than the boys celebrating the game in the back ground it was a silent ride home. How did I screw this up so bad. He planned out this whole thing. But, somehow I still don’t believe this. My phone lit up with a text from the girls.

“How was the game? I saw you guys won!” Skyler sent. I needed them right now. I looked over at sy he was scrolling on his phone, or looking out the window, I didn’t know what to say right now. I texted the girls back.

“The game was good, But I’m an idiot.” I replied.

“How so?” Hayley texted back quickly. I poured out everything into the text. They knew why I felt he shouldn’t like me, even if I never said it. So I’m sure that was no surprise to them. I told them about what those women had said. And my little panic attack. Sy telling me how he felt and how I ran off. And when I finally clicked together that he had put this together so he could ask to take me out. And How I royally fucked it all up.

“Oh Alayna, I’m sorry. That really sucks. But have you tried talking to him about any of this.” Skyler said.

“I didn’t have the time, and I can’t, He probably already hates me now and realizes I was never worth it anyway.”

“Stop it dude! I don’t wanna hear that from you. Clearly he thinks you are. He went through all that effort because he wanted to make sure he got the right opportunity. So he would care if you told him! You need to tell him what you’re feeling. I know it’s scary but you have to.” Hayley sent back.

“She’s right Alayna, I know this is hard, but he’s not in this to hurt you, I know people have before but girl, You can’t believe for the rest of your life every man is the same. Pull him aside when you get back. You can fix this. We love you!!”

I knew they were right. But I didn’t have much time to muster up the courage to do anything. When I looked up from my phone we were pulling back up to the school. The team got off the bus. “Alright boys! Get home safe, I’ll see you Monday morning for practice,” Sy said before letting them go. I grabbed my things from the bus and headed to my car. But when I got there I noticed something wasn’t right my shoulders slumped. I’d left a light on when I was searching for a jacket. God I hope it didn’t drain my battery. I got in and tried to start it. But of course. What’s that saying. If it can go wrong it will. I got out and slammed the door shut. “Fuck!” I shouted. I couldn’t help it now the damn broke and I couldn’t help but start crying “I’m so stupid!” I kicked at tire and slammed my fist on the hood of my car. “Ow fuck!” I held my hand that was now throbbing.

“Woah, Hey, What’s going on?” Sy asked coming up behind me quicking after hearing me shouting.

“It’s nothing, I'm sorry. My… battery died. I left a light on. My car won’t start.” I hiccuped trying to control my breathing. He pulled me into his chest and hugged me.

“Okay, It’s gonna be alright. Breath. Good girl. Calm down.” He spoke softly. “Now,” he pulled away slightly to look at me in they eyes. “Do you have jumper cables?” I shook my head

“No I, had some old ones and I threw them out and never replaced them I… forgot.” he nodded. And let go leaving me against his car to go check the tool box in the back of his truck.

“Shoot. Yeah, I thought so,” He mumbled to himself, “Sorry, sugar. I left mine in my garage.” He said. I nodded. “It’ll be fine here tonight, I can take you home.” Again I just nodded. I heard him let out a deep breath. “Did I,” He paused. “Did I do something wrong? I, I just thought... Maybe I was reading it wrong. I was just sure that you felt…”

“I do,” I said cutting him off. “ I do feel the same. I just don’t understand why, you feel the way you do. I …” I didn’t know what else to say I just kept staring at the pavement.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I? You’re gorgeous. Shit, I’ve been flirtin’ with you since I met you. You really couldn’t see it?” I shook my head.

“No,” I said finally looking up at him. “I wanted to. I really wanted to, but I just couldn’t believe that a guy as good looking as you would find me attractive.” I said. He chuckled softly. “Don’t laugh at me!” I pouted.

“I’m not, it’s just, baby, you might just be the dumbest smart girl i’ve ever met. Seriously, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And I coach teenage boys!” I smiled a little. “There she is. You wanna tell me what’s goin on in that pretty little head of yours? He asked. I took a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“I was waiting to talk to you after the game, and I heard these women talking. They were talking about how handsome you are. And if you were single. One of them had said they’d seen me with you on the sidelines. She made a comment about my weight and that there was no way I would be your type. And The other girl said some things too. I felt really insecure. I already didn’t believe that you would be into me but when I heard someone else say it, it solidified it for me. And then when you told me how you felt. It felt like a joke. I felt like I was in high school again and everyone was going to gather around and start laughing. And to be honest. My experiences since then haven’t been great. I haven’t been with good guys. I just I was afraid I was going to be hurt. Honestly sometimes I don’t even know how I do this job because I can’t even take my own advice.” I looked down again. It was a relief to let it all out but if I looked him in the eye I was going to start crying again. I was already weak enough in this moment.

Sy stepped back around the car to where I was standing. He gently put his hands on my hips and pulled against him. He brought one hand up brushing the hair out of my face and resting it on my cheek. “I wish you could understand how wrong they are. I know you don’t not right now. But I’m gonna help you see yourself the way I do Sugar,” He didn’t hesitate any longer. He pressed us further against the car and leaned down pressing his lips to mine. His lips were soft and his body was warm against mine. He kissed me slowly and soft his beard tickling against my jaw. I snaked my hands around his neck pulling him closer. And I felt him smile against my lips. He pulled away slowly eyes fluttering open still holding me against him. “Baby you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. I don’t know what other people have said to you. Or what you’ve been through. But when I tell you you’re beautiful I mean it. And when say I wanna take you home with me, it aint no joke baby. Do you trust me?” He askes staring down at me holding my face in his hands.

“I trust you Logan, so much that is scares me.” I admitted.

“I’d never hurt you like that Darlin’ that’s a promise.” I pulled him down and kissed him again. Harder this time. He groaned against my lips and squeezed my hip pulling me closer. He slid his hand into my hair holding me there as he started to gently suck on my bottom lip. We pulled away to catch our breath and had big goofy grin on his face as he leaned his forehead against mine. “I’d love to do this all night baby,” He chuckled. “But its late and its only gonna get colder out here, I need to get you home.” I blushed.

“Yeah, it’s almost midnight. We really should get going.”

He opened the passenger door of the truck for me and made sure I got in okay before he shut the door and got in on the other side. He started the truck and we pulled out of the parking lot.

“Sy?” I spoke softy.

“Yeah baby?” He looked over just for a second to let me know he was listening.

“Did you mean it, when you said you wanted to take me home with you?” I asked. He literally snorted.

“What do you think?” He smirked taking one hand of the wheel and resting it on my thigh. I could feel my heart rate speed up and I was blushing. How the hell was it so easy for him to turn me on?

“I want to.” I said. He looked like he was about to choke.

“Yeah? You don’t have to Sugar, I didn’t mean… I mean I want you to. But I don’t want you to fee like I’m pressuring you or anything. Shit I ain’t even taken you out yet. Not really.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it softly.

“Logan, I really want to.” I said. He just smiled.

“Alright, baby.”

He drove us back to his place parking the truck in his drive way. “Right this way Darlin,” He smirked leading me up the front steps and unlocking the door. I followed him inside and he quickly shut the door behind him backing me up against it. “You really have no idea what your doing to me do you baby?” He licked his lips looking me up an down hungrily. I’d never seen him like this. The look in his eye was almost, animalistic. And it was so. Fucking. Hot. “Here I was thinking you were an innocent little thing.” He pinned my against the door holding me there in his hands. He leaned down crushing his lips against mine. This was different than the kisses we’d shared earlier , slow and sensual, this was hungry, needy. “Practically begging me to bring you home. You know how long I’ve been thinking about this? Getting you home with me? Under me? Fuck.” he breathed

He pulled me away from the wall and pulled at the bottom of his hoodie I was still wearing. I lited my arms and let him pull it over my head along with my shirt leaving them in a pile on the floor. We walked a little farther into the house. He pulled his shirt off tossing it next to us as he pulled me into his lap on the couch. I leaned back to admire his toned chest running my fingers throught the soft curls there. He slid his hand into my hair groaning into my mouth as he pulled me in for another kiss. He bit my bottom lip slowly dragging it between his teeth. He started. Peppering kisses down my jaw before leaving wet kisses along my neck.

His hands were everywhere roaming over bra squeezing my breasts, running them down my sides and around grabbing my ass. I felt his hand move around my back plaing with the clasp of my bra. “Need this off baby.” He mumbled against my chest. He managed to undo it and I let it fall tossing it to the floor. “Mm fuck yes,” He moaned dipping his head down taking one of my nipples into his mouth and teasing the other with his thumb. I moaned and rolled my hips against his. I could feel his hard cock straining aginst his jeans. He groaned against me giving the other nipple attention.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He said stood from the couch picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Sy!” I Squealed. He carried me to his bedroom setting me on his bed. He crawled on top of me. His hands were already on the waist band of my leggings.

“Is this okay,” He paused. I nodded eagerly and he chuckled. “Good girl.” He pulled them down swiftly with my panties leaving me completely bare infront of him. “Fucking beautful” he said as he starting kissng down my stomach. He nipped at my thigh leaving wet kisses there. He pushed my legs open a little further and pulled me to the end of the bed. I was completely exposed to him but I didn’t care. I trusted him completely. He met my gazed and ran his and up my thigh before brushing his fingers through my folds. I moaned as his fingers brushed across my clit “God damn baby, all this for me? Fuckin soaked. “ He smirked He pressed his thumb to my clit rubbing in rough circles.

“Fuck!” I moaned “Logan please!” I grabed his wrist the sensation already feeling overstimulating. It’s been so long.

“We’ll get there baby.” He teased. Finally he kissed down my inner thigh and brushed his tongue against my clit.

“Oh my god!” I whimpered ran my fingers over his hair as he sucked on my clit. He slid two finger inside me pumping slowly. I squirmed against him but he used his other hand to hold my hips down. God he was so strong.

“Keep still sugar. Don’t make me tell ya again,” He said before going back to work on my clit and curving his fingers in side me pumping them a little faster. I was seeing starts. I pushed his head down holding him there.

“Oh my god, don’t stop!” I moaned. I came hard around his fingers and he slid them out and licked them clean.

“Mm you taste so good baby. So fuckin’ sweet.” He stood up from the bed finally ridding himself of his jeans and boxers. His hard cock rested against his stomach. He was huge. I bit my lip and he chuckled.

“I’ll go easy on you baby,” he said as he started crawling on top of me again.

“Mm wait,” He stopped raising an eye brow. I pushed him back against the pillows and kisses his lips softly. I kissed down his chest and finally settled between his legs. I bit my lip and looked up at him innocently “Just wanna taste it,” He smirked.

“Dirty little girl ain’t ya, mm” he pulled my hair back guiding me down. I licked the length of his cock. He groaned softly. I loved the sounds he made. So deep and almost feral. I finally took the tip in my mouth and slowly started to suck him off. I took him as far as I could letting him hit the back of my throat. He growled. “That’s it baby, good girl.” I kept bobbing my head on his cock and wrapped my and around the base where I couldn’t fit him in. I felt him tug on my hair and pull me up. “That feels amazing baby but I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.”

He kissed me again and laid me down pulling leg over his shoulder. He ran the head of his cock up and down my folds getting it nice and wet. “You ready baby girl?” I nodded. He slowly pushed in. He held him self up bracing him self on one arm. He pushed in slow inch by inch letting me adjust to him. When he bottomed out he stayed there for a minute. “You okay baby?”

“Logan, it’s sweet that you’re asking but please fuck me.” He let out a low growl and pulled almost all the way snapping his hips back into me. I moaned feeling him deep inside me. He grabbed my hip pulling me closer and kept thrusting into me. He moaned as he reached between us finding my clit with his thumb. The rythem of his thrusts and hitting just the right spot had me seeing stars. I came again around him moaning his name and other obscenities falling from my lips. “That’s it good girl.” He pulled out and flipped me over onto my stomach. He pushed back inside of me this new angle hitting that spot over and over again but I was so sensitive.

“Come on baby, you got another one for me?” He growled against my ear.

“Mm I can’t sy, It’s too much,” He reached around rubbing my clit in cirlces with his thumb.

“One more baby, please for me?” He picked up his pace hitting that spot over and over. I Moaned pulling at the sheets beneath me.

“Fuck I’m cumming!” I moaned letting go around him

“That’s my good girl, cum on my cock.” His thrusts were becoming erratic and he stilled and groan cumming inside me. He kissed my shoulder and layed down beside me. He pulled out slowly and pulled me to lay on his chest. “Holy shit,” He breathed. He fingertips brushed up and down my back. He smiled down at me. “You’re incredible. I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up Logan,” I blushed Hiding my face against his chest.

“I mean it, your too good for this world Darlin’,” He smiled and kissed my head. “I’m gonna marry you someday, I know I haven’t even really taken you on a date yet. But baby when you know, you know,”

“Yeah?” I smiled “I think I know what you mean.” He pulled the blankets up over us and held me for a while.

“Good, now get some rest Darlin’” He said running his fingers through my hair. I smiled snuggling up against him.

“Goodnight Sy,” I smiled.

“Goodnight sugar.”

420 notes · View notes

onskepa · 1 year

Note

Heyy!! I have been looking FOR ANYONE WHO HAVE THEIR REQUESTS OPEN CAUSE I AM DYING FOR NETEYAM/LO'AK AND HUMAN READER SOOOO

What if!! The reader (fem!human) is kinda close to spider and they playfight a lot but no feelings just sibling vibes BUT NETEYAM/LO'AK (you can do both or choose whoever you want it's up to you) begin to feel kind of jealous of their closeness and be insecure cause hey think the reader would choose spider over them cause spider is human like her you feel me.

No pressure at all if you don't like this idea. THANK YOU🤍🤍

Hellooooooooooo!! So I have decided to do both! I hope it is to your liking!

General headcanon of _____

Like miles who is nicknamed spider, reader has a nick name called "ninja" due to her just popping up out of nowhere and be deadly silent about it.

A bit of a tom boy but has a femininity side.

Prefers sour over sweet.

Much like spider, ninja would paint her body with blue stripes to fit in with the Na'vi as much as she can.

Enjoys hunting and making traps.

Spider and ninja are the first humans to be born on pandora.

Rather call themselves na'vi and not pandorans.

Fmokx

Neteyam Route!

Being the son of Olo'eyktan aka, Toruk Makto, Neteyam Definitely has some level of confidence and insecurities.

Yes he is confident in his hunting skills and fighting skills, he is good and he knows it.

but one thing he is insecure about, its friendship. He doesn't have many friends since he tends to be busy, and the only times he does enjoy some time off, is when he is watching over his siblings doing who knows what.

Kiri introduced two special humans when they were smaller. Spider, and ninja. They were 4 months apart in age.

spider and ninja were the best play mates to have. Always making up games, tugging, tackling, even ninja who is a girl can stand her ground pretty well.

More often than not would neteyam be slightly creeped out about ninja, having the habit to just pop out and throw him off guard.

However, with time and playing together, ninja and neteyam have gotten to know each other. And it was like that for a good amount of years.

Until they all became teens.

Neteyam began to view girls in a different light. He would appreciate beauty and if he feels extra, would complement a girl.

But for ninja on the other hand. He finds it difficult to say anything to her at all.

Ninja is confident in her skills and more than not, compete with spider on who is the best.

In fact, ninja and spider spend a lot of time together, even with they are not with the sully siblings. They would hunt together, play together, rough house around, all that.

Neteyam began to think that spider and ninja have something going on. Making him feel a bit...unsure of himself.

He wants to get closer to ninja but cant seem to find it in him to ask her or take a moment of her time.

Makes sense that spider and ninja are close since they are the only humans of their age. But it hurts to think that one day they be mates or possibly-

"HEY NETEYAM! I WANNA TELL YOU SOMETHING!!"

Maybe there is a chance after all.

Lo'ak's route!

Lo'ak was proud to say, he is the jokester of the family.

More than happy to bring laughter to his parents and siblings. Not ashamed to be in trouble, and whatever shit he did, he would do it again.

But the thing he likes, he that he isn't alone when pulling pranks or causing mischief.

He partner in crimes? Spider and ninja!

Despite being the butt of the joke, lo'ak time to time would feel insecure because of his human features, and would often go with kiri with play with their human friends.

Spider and ninja are his closest friends and treasures them both close to his heart.

But as time goes in, and when his father is having lo'ak take his training more serious, he is often no able to play or mess around with his friends. Leaving spider and ninja to spend alone time.

It would make sense, they grew up together and live together in the human base.

However, as time goes on, lo'ak would specifically miss hanging out with ninja. He liked how he didn't need to call out for her name. Ninja would just show up.

But, when he sees ninja and spider together, a bit of jealousy would grow in him. Wishing that he was fully human so he can be a lot closer to ninja.

To him, its only natural spider and ninja would be together, and be as one when they become adults. Something he fears to witness.

"LO'AK! COME HERE! I WANNA SHOW YOU SOMETHING!"

Whenever ninja calls for him, it makes his heart flutter.

Fmokx = Envy, jealousy

I hope it is to your liking! I put my best in this one!

235 notes · View notes

laceswan · 1 year

Text

The Spirit of Fate

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

Finnick Odair x fem!dancer!reader

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

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

Epilogue is out!

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

“You’re up.”

“I am. Where are the others?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick, I’m really sorry.”

Terror painted across Finnick’s face.

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

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

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

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

Haymitch looked to him with utmost pity.

“Son, she’s alive. They got her.”

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

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

Haymitch sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coin’s voice boomed through the hall.

“…and Sylke Fairinan”

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

“That’s good, Katniss.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so tired.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

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

Finnick was quiet for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looked unsure of herself.

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

“Do you want it to be over?”

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

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

Finnick clicked his tongue and tilted his head in agreement.

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

Katniss smiled.

“I think I could be happy with him.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That’s why he took Sylke too.”

Finnick sighed before continuing.

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

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

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

“How do you live with it?”

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

She listened, nodding her head ever so slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Is there a problem?”

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

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

“They’re back.”

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

“Finnick? Finnick!”

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

“You’re safe…”

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

“Hi.”

“Hi. It’s been a minute.”

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

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

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

“They what?”

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

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

“We should get you to the infirmary.”

“Okay.”

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

“I was right, you know.”

“Hmm? How?”

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

“You did. You were right to hope.”

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

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

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

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

“Johanna? Peeta?”

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

“Hello?”

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

“Sylke?”

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

“Oh. You’re still asleep.”

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

“Sylke? Are you awake?”

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

“Hey, Angel. How are you feeling?”

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

“Angel? Is everything alright?”

She looked back at him with terror in her eyes.

“Are you real? Are you really here?”

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

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

“We are?”

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

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

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

She smiled, a sad, bittersweet smile.

“How come you unplugged it?”

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

“You said that earlier too. What treatment?”

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

“He came to see you?”

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

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

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

“Oh Sylke…”

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

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

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

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

She looked at him with a grin.

“Of course.”

“Then get up.”

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

“Do you remember?”

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

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

“You alright?”

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

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

Sylke laughed, wrapping her arms up by his neck.

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

Finnick nodded.

“Soon.”

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

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

“What are you crying about?”

“I-I just had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?”

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

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

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

Heartache emerged from her throat.

“He loved you!”

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

“But he…”

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

"Please don't say that..."

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

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

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

“… for his little Syren.”

“Please, just stop…”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. It just hurts, you know?”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“Finnick?”

He chuckled.

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

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

“That’s great!”

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

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

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

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

“Finnick, I need to go.”

His voice was deep, raspy, and barely awake.

“I don’t want you to go.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

“You’re beautiful.”

A little colour came to her cheeks.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,”

“Hmm?”

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

She looked to him with wide doe-eyes.

“Now?”

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

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

“Okay. Just in case.”

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

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

“I like the sound of that.”

She placed a kiss on his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, my prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finnick, are you alright?”

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

“Come back to me, okay?”

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

“I will. I believe in fate.”

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

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

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

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

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

You said you would come back to me

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

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

“Sylke, get up!”

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

“What happened?”

Johanna’s tone was careful and sympathetic.

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

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

“What time is it?”

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

Sylke didn’t move.

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

She still didn’t move.

“Sylke, that means you need to go.”

“I know… I just…”

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

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

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

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

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“Let me take a look.”

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

“Hey, are you alright?”

That was his voice.

“Why do you sound like him?”

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

“Sylke?”

“You sound just like him…”

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

“Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

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

“You look like him too.”

“Angel… I’m right here.”

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

“Oh sweetheart…”

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

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

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

“You’re alive? You’re safe?”

“I’m alive. I’m right here, Angel.”

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

“Hey, look at me, look at my eyes.”

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

“Don’t you believe in fate?”

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

Taglist: @zulpix-blog

90 notes · View notes

holocene-sims · 8 months

Text

next // previous

august 16, 2021 11:00 p.m. grandma ong's house

there’s a strangeness to a quiet enclave in a bustling metropolis, unexpected in the same manner as grant and henry’s long, unbroken brotherhood. nothing about the baseline rustle of neighbors carrying in paper grocery sacks and kids kicking a soccer ball resembles the eternal merry-go-round of life–max-capacity subway cars, clueless and loud tourists, and locals who drift through their day–just down the road. and yet above this neighborhood–and the entire sprawling city–hangs a common thread, a bluish hazy night sky.

“that was wild,” henry says, suppressed laughter bursting forth from deep in his chest, “all day everyone’s defaulted to speaking english because, well, look at you, and you even had me fooled. i actually forgot you kind of speak basic korean."

“the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.”

henry rolls his eyes dramatically but in the same split second, throws an arm around grant’s shoulders.

“i was afraid that soup was going to fly out of your mouth.” grant returns the gesture, though it requires him to lean down so as to not smother henry’s face instead. “too close for comfort.”

“well, in my defense, i was not expecting you to reply to my grandma asking me, “daehyun, i haven’t seen your friend since your wedding. how did you meet again?”

grant shrugs. “we met on a playground twenty-four years ago.”

“on my very first weekend as a resident of the semi-good ol’ US of A. in the opposite situation. i remember being so pissed that my parents made me go out to ‘make friends’ that weekend. not moving, mind you, but making friends. i guess they were psychics, though, because apparently, it didn’t bother you that i didn’t speak your language for at least a couple weeks.”

“people say i could talk to a wall.”

henry laughs again. “you could. you’re very chatty.”

“did it bother you that i wrote you some really, really, really shitty letters in korean in the early days based on online translations i found?”

“no, that was sweet.” no question about it–the joy in henry’s eyes is determined. “they were definitely horrendous, but it’s the thought that counted. you could do better now. oh, and i think i still have all those letters. i should. i did box them up when i moved out of my parents’ house.”

they were, all things considered, never very much alike, beyond the fact they both liked cats but weren’t allowed to have any. henry’s mom was allergic, but grant’s parents despised pets. otherwise, they were polar opposites. grant always liked math and science, wanted to work with airplanes, and preferred to spend his free time with others playing tabletop RPGs and computer games; henry always liked art and history, wanted to be a photographer, and preferred to be left alone to his vintage film camera and pottery. grant’s parents raged when he selected aviation over medicine; henry’s parents and grandparents, all artists, were delighted by his dreams of photography. moreover, grant selectively speaks his mind, while henry rarely minces words.

and still–

the shrill honk of a car off in the distance disturbs grant’s thoughts.

“you really could talk to a wall, but hey, why did you approach me on the swing set that day? you were already busy hanging out with your sisters. and your cousins. why me?”

and still, the two have fused into one. the world turned upside down; grant paints these days, henry has long been a willing dungeons and dragons player, and separation from one another is like losing half your body. if henry walked away now–ended this messy half-hug early–grant would turn to ash.

“well,” grant begins, drawing out the suspense with an exaggerated sigh, “first of all...”

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: henry #it's been a WHILE since i've done a text-based update on this story so i apologize if the tone is off at all #then again this story has undergone quite a few stylistic changes and there's nothing wrong with that #btw i haven't even written anything outside of academic papers in so long i just have not had the spark or energy for a long time #so i'm kind of proud of this bc it took more effort than usual #wow i miss creative writing being 100% instinctual to me jdsfdsklfds burnout is so real y'all and it's got HANDSSSS #insert a NONE OF THIS IS ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR MOMENT IT'S ABOUT THEIR WHOLE FRIENDSHIP comment #hehehehe i love setting up future posts :3 i love foreshadowing :3 #also yes we wait to find out the answer to that last question :) but it's coming #aaaaand we will find out more about henry i promise this isn't it

40 notes · View notes

xwhitenoise · 10 months

Text

obsessed with how richard siken has recycled some lines from older works and given them new life later on.

"I float too much to wander, like you, in the real world. I envy it but that’s the dealio—you’re a train and I’m a trainstation and when I try to guess your trajectory I end up telling my own story." ("The Long and Short of It," 2002)

vs.

"All day the snow falls down, all night the snow. I try to guess your trajectory and end up telling my own story. We left footprints in the slush of ourselves, getting out of there." ("Landscape with Black Coats in Snow," 2015)

"Here is a place for it to happen. A place where I can love you. The letter delivered, the year decembered, the river swum." ("The Long and Short of It," 2002)

vs.

"I'll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger." ("Snow and Dirty Rain," 2005)

(more tucked away under the cut because boy oh boy!)

"He could build a city, has a certain capacity, makes a little bird and then they say it's not a bird and he says Okay, it's not a bird and he and the bird just laugh. I could be talking about anyone." ("Ornithopter," 2001)

vs.

"He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There’s a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place — well then, game over." ("Road Music," 2005)

"History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters, its bottle of gin. History is blue. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to describe a room he is outside of. History says So, we meet again. History says Let me tell you just a few things, maybe. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours." ("Ornithopter," 2001)

vs.

"History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours." ("Little Beast," 2005)

"Like Hansel, we'd like a map, some landmarks, a trail away from doom, more knots in the rope, a ratchet that catches and holds so we don't have to start from scratch each time we want to rise from the floor." ("Ornithopter," 2001)

vs.

"Drew and I are still Hansels lost in the woods, looking for maps, looking for a trail away from doom, but we did what we could for as long as we could." ("Six Point Goodbye," 2007)

vs.

"Together we trace out the trail away from doom. There isn’t hope, there is a trail. I follow you." ("War of the Foxes," 2015)

"There are so many things I'm not allowed to tell you. I touch myself, I dream." ("Dirty Valentine," 2005)

vs.

"There are so many things I’m not allowed to tell you. That’s another reason I’m a liar. And a poet. And very good at my job." ("The Ethics of the Taxonomy," 2006)

"Another friend says the local body is a fallacy. Yet another friend says Aw sweetie, you have your own body so you can do what you want without me." ("Love from a Distance," 2001)

vs.

"His insides and his outsides kept apart with an imaginary line— thick and rude and imaginary because there is no separation, fallacy of the local body, paint on paint. I have my body and you have yours. Believe it if you can. Negative space is silly." ("The Way the Light Reflects," 2005)

"Why make a map? Why do anything at all? Not how, because hows are easy, series or sequence, one foot after the other, but existentially why bother, what does it solve?" ("The Definitive Version," 2006)

vs.

"Why paint a bird? Why do anything at all? Not how, because hows are easy—series or sequence, one foot after the other—but existentially why bother, what does it solve?" ("The Language of Birds," 2015)

"Fact is, the world is full of things that are trying to kill you. We do not walk through a passive landscape and sometimes you need a map to find the food, the hiding places." ("The Definitive Version," 2006)

vs.

"Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory? We do not walk through a passive landscape. The paint dries eventually." ("Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede," 2015)

"If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder." ("You Are Jeff," 2006)

vs.

"So here’s the open window where we pranced around and did our tricks and left these footprints in the snow, performing in this puppet show." ("Close Parenthesis," 2007)

"There are two birds in your head, raven and crow, and only one of them is yours." ("Black Telephone," 2001)

vs.

"A man had two birds in his head—not in his throat, not in his chest—and the birds would sing all day never stopping. The man thought to himself, One of these birds is not my bird. The birds agreed." ("The Language of Birds," 2015)

#richard siken #if you were wondering no i don't have hobbies

35 notes · View notes

miscfandomwrites · 8 months

Text

Fight Me, Bite Me

A/N: Because sometimes we need an arctic monkeys theme for a good sex scene

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Words: 1.6k exactly

Location: Marvel > Bucky Barnes > Oneshots

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

“You’re joking, right?” Wanda asked as I sipped my whiskey.

“Oh, fuck no. I’m just going to prove them wrong.” I replied. She shifted in her seat, shaking her head in disbelief as she took a sip of her wine.

A loud thunk had me glancing back over at the boys. Sam, Bucky, Steve, Thor, Tony, and somehow Bruce had decided on a game of throwing darts…or in the case of the two supersoldiers and god, throwing knives.

I was called a deadeye for a reason. My entire youth was spent as being as ‘rebellious’ as possible, which bled into my adulthood. I finished my drink and stood up. Thankfully the bartender poured me another, and I grabbed it. Sending a wink to the red head, I walked over to them.

They were laughing at something, but paused and turned their attention to me when I was close enough.

“Can we help you?” Tony’s snarky remark had me smirking at him. I casually gestured with my fingers on my drink.

“You’re throwing them wrong.” I told him.

He, along with a few others started laughing. “So? Not like you can throw any better.” He replied.

At that, I grinned. I set my drink down on the discarded pool table and slid my jacket off. As I walked towards the wall, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail. You’ll see.

Tugging the knives from the wall, I twirled each in my hands, feeling the smoothness of the blades. Finally pulling out all five from their scattered places on the spray-painted bullseye, I headed back to where the line was.

Chuckles and remarks were still tossed around all except the two supersoldiers. Both Steve and Bucky were leaning against the pool table, the former with his arms crossed and the latter holding a relaxed stance. I sent them a cheeky wink as I took my stance. I held the other knives in my other hand as I cocked my arm back, ready to throw.

Thunk. Bullseye.

Thunk. Just outside of it, barely.

Thunk. Dead-Center.

Thunk. This knife ended up being embedded in the hilt of the last one I threw.

I dropped my arm down and was met with silence. I turned around, gesturing for the soldiers to move out of the way as I grabbed my drink. Tony started sputtering off about how there was no way I just did that, and started his nonsense again. Steve ended up walking off at some point, and Barnes and I just stood besides each other in silence, sipping our drinks.

Barnes and I had a...tense relationship. I wasn’t around the tower much due to preference and constantly being in the field, but I was just as much of a part of the team as anyone else. We sparred whenever I was there, and for some reason we both fucking hated each other. Rather, in my opinion it wasn’t exactly hatred, rather tension. Sexual tension.

It was fucking stupid how we haven’t fucked yet, but still. Both of the red heads kept trying to push us together. Whether a stupid game of spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven, almost everyone saw the tension and tried to get rid of it. I swear, sometimes if we so much as looked at each other, the tension became thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I didn’t know you could throw like that.” He suddenly said, resting his drink on the table. I hummed and did the same, turning towards him.

“I’ve been able to do that since I was a teenager.” I replied as casually as the look in the man’s eye would let me.

He nodded, taking a moment to glance down my body. I did the same, and when we made eye contact again I smirked. I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on and finished my drink. Running my tongue over the last few drops of the liquor, well aware of the man watching me. I headed to the bar and deposited the glass on the table and tossed a twenty down. I was about to head outside when he caught up to me.

He had pulled on his jacket and was walking next to me as I headed to the entrance. Hell, he even opened the door for me. I went outside, walking past the windows of the bar and glancing at the bar’s name, No Angels. It was a pretty decent bar, given the fact that we could throw knives in it.

I turned the corner, the man still hot on my heels and went down the small dark alleyway. I had many, many hookups here. Some were good, some were bad, but they all didn’t fulfill the desire for him. Not even halfway down the alley I was slammed against a wall, lips crushing mine.

Fucking finally. I thought as a hand immediately threaded through his hair, tugging on it. The other was on his chest, and soon his lower stomach. Fuck, this felt good. Teeth and tongue and the taste of bourbon had me craving more of him. I pressed myself farther into him, and he replied by gripping the back of my thighs, forcing my legs around his waist. I could feel his erection already, hard and warm against me.

He placed kisses along my jaw and moved to my neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh. Small gasps left me as he bit on my collarbone.

I growled as he kept nipping my neck. I needed him. As much as this felt really fucking good, I needed him.

“Barnes.” I half-whispered, half growled. The man’s mouth went back to mine.

“Yes?” He questioned, eyes focusing on mine.

“Fuck me.” I whispered. My eyes were half-lidded and I could feel my dampness soaking through my underwear already. He grinned and kissed and ducked his head to my neck, leaving another mark. Still pressing my back firmly against the wall, he moved his hands to the waist of my jeans. Undoing the belt and tugging them down, he slipped a pant leg off and pressed against me again. The friction of my bareness against his jeans made me moan, and him grin.

His hand trailed down and found me soaking. “Fuck, (Y/N).” He husked out as he slid his fingers through my dripping slit. A hum turned into a moan as he found my clit, making small circles on it with the pad of his thumb.

He kissed my neck, marking me more. Easily, a finger slid into me. I moaned his name as he pumped it in and out, a second soon joining it. One hand on my thigh and the other fucking me, my brain was easily turning into a haze.

I gained enough thought to undo his belt, and palm his erection. He paused as I slid his underwear off of it, and gently spread the pre-come along the slit.

His mouth found mine again and I wasted no time, sucking his lower lip into my mouth and nipping at it. His hand moved out of me and I whimpered at the loss of contact, but when the tip of him met my entrance I moaned. Fuck, he was big.

We kept kissing, kept the tongue and teeth battle going as he slowly slid into me. Once at hilt, I leaned my head back, hitting the wall behind me as I moaned. ‘Fuck, James….” I said as he slowly slid out. His mouth was at my neck again, and I made myself two promises. One, never, ever, fucking get drunk and tell the girls that I had a thing for being marked, and two, this better keep fucking happening.

His slow thrusts turned to faster ones, making me lean my head against his shoulder and biting my lip to keep myself quiet. A particularly deep thrust had me moaning his name, and he paused momentarily and started a pace that hit my g-spot with every thrust. I’ve never felt this much pleasure in my life. No one else could compare to this feeling right now. I felt the coils in my lower stomach tighten and felt him twitching inside of me. Fuck, I’m close.

“(Y/N)” He whispered my name against my throat.

“James.” I whispered against his shoulder.

With that, I came undone. Our lips crashed together as I felt him come inside of me. Moans fell from both of lips as we stayed there for a few minutes, catching out breaths.

Our foreheads pressed against each other, we stared so deep into each other's eyes I swear I felt the universe move around us.

“We should have done that sooner, you know.” I told him. He chuckled and pecked my lips, carefully removing his hands from my thighs. I knew for a fact there would be grip marks, especially with his metal hand.

“We should have.” He replied, carefully sliding out of me. I kept my lips sealed shut, not letting a moan fall from them,

I lowered my legs to the ground again, and we separated to pull on and straighten our clothes. It took a bit, my legs wobbly and the slick running down them was definitely not helping.

We linked arms as we walked out of the alley and towards the parked cars, laughing at the absurdity and finality of what we had done.

#miscfandomwrites #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

21 notes · View notes

scheodingers-muppet · 9 months

Text

reputation (stranger things version) let’s go

…Ready For It? - jancy. the whole “i’ve known i wanted you since we first met” kinda vibe really fits them i think. “some boys are trying too hard, he don’t try at all though. younger than my ex’s but he acts like such a man” sorry steve. “knew i was a robber first time that he saw me. stealing hearts and running off” nancy is really the only character we see *multiple* people crushing on. steve and jonathan, of course, but also dustin, fred, arguably robin.

End Game - steddie. “you and me, we got big reputations” king steve and the freak, two sides of some big reputations. “i got some big enemies” being hated by the school and town and the literal upside down. “in rumors, i’m knee deep” “i’ve made mistakes…but something was born on the forth of july” steve’s huge character arch we see in season 3, over the summer.

I Did Something Bad - nancy. shes realms the only one i can see for this one. the confidence and bad-ass of it really only fits her

Don’t Blame Me - steve. why? because i said so. i fully believe he loves VERY deeply. why? because. i said so.

Delicate - steddie, from eddie’s pov. “my reputations never been worse so, you must like me for me” literal manhunt for him and steve’s making googoo eyes at him. “dark jeans and your nikes” is so steve coded. “i know that it’s delicate” not only is eddie wanted for murder, but also, steve’s reputation would be very delicate; even been friends with eddie could make him a target

Look What You Made Me Do: el. “the role you made me play of the fool” and being used in vecna’s plan. “i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of time” “i don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me” her trust has ben broken so many times and shes had to fight tooth and nail for the trust in her now “the old taylor can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh, because she’s dead” paralleled to el coming back at the end of season 2 completely changed

So It Goes… - jancy, from nancy’s pov. “we breakdown a little, but when you get me alone, it’s so simple” “you know i’m not a bad girl but, i’ll do bad things with you”

Gorgeous: ronance, from nancy’s pov. “i got a boyfriend, he’s older than us.” “you’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much.” and “i’m furious at you for making me feel this way” with how nancy didn’t like her at first. “ocean blue eyes, looking in mine” tldr; nancy’s gay awakening is robin

Getaway Car: jancy. “i wanted to leave him. i needed a reason” and “he poisoned the well, i was lying to myself” about steve. “we were flying but we never got far” and “think about the place where you first met me” with the relationship starting to crumble. “we were jet set bonnie and clyde until i switched to the other side” i like to imagine this as her going to robin but that’s just me.

King Of My Heart: steddieeeeee. okay listen. i love when fics make references to king steve and steve likes the name. i adore royal imagery with them. “we rule the kingdom inside my room” “king of my heart, body and soul” i LOVEEE eddie calling him king steve again, but as like, “you’re the king of my heart” “you’re love is a secret im hoping, dreaming to keep”

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: byler. “i loved you in secret…how were you to know?” “deep blue but you painted me golden” when blue meets yellow in the west. “i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us” i think mike might be starting to realize his feelings for will while he’s gone, loving him even though he’s scared the distance will hurt them. “dancing like it was the first time”

Dress: ronance. why? idk it just fits. nancy and robin get close, become friends and nancy realizes her feelings for her. i can also see elmax if you remove the sexual elements of the song.

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things: steve to tommy and carol. “it was so nice throwing big parties” “it was so nice being friends again…but you stabbed me in the back while shaking my hand” tommy leaving him for billy. i just need to see steve lose his shit, honestly.

Call It What You Want: steddie. idk what you want from me, its so steve talking about eddie before they’re official. “my castle crumbled over night…they took the crown but it’s alright” losing “king” title. “nobody’s heard from me in months” falling down the social rankings and living a more “quiet” life (ie no parties and such) “my baby’s fly like a jet stream high above the whole scene” both eddie looking down on social hierarchy and also eddie perched on his chair during campaigns, being literally above the whole scene. “all the jokers dressing up as kings” billy taking his role. “you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?” steve maybe talking to eddie about how he can “pay him back” for saving his life or something cute like that.

New Year’s Day: stobin. this song has always kinda been platonic to me. but it’s so them. the devotion of always being there, no matter what or why. “please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh i would recognize anywhere” I MEANNNNN

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #el hopper #taylor swift #reputation #rep #almost got all the albums now #just gotta do lover

22 notes · View notes

notbecauseofvictories · 11 months

Text

Halloween Week of Horror (Games)

It’s that most horrible time of year, and I’ve decided to explore the spooky world of text-based games. My list of games is cribbed from this post and this post.

Just a couple today, since tomorrow and Halloween I'm going to focus on some of the bigger names on my list!

GAMEIFY HORROR // DAY 1 // DAY 2 // DAY 3 // DAY 4

DAY 5, my father's long legs, beneath floes, bogeyman

my father’s long, long legs

An interactive horror story about family, unease, and loss.

I suspect I’ve played this one before—it’s faintly familiar to me, though I'm not sure whether it's because I've played this game in particular, or just taken in something similar while trawling the vast depths of the internet. That said, it is truly affective, well-told, well-paced. The grunting shoveling noises, the scrape of the shovel, the familial silence and lack of explanation for why this is happening to you, in your family...it's all very good. Throw in some Junji Ito-esque body horror, plus the absolute banger of an ending, and you've got a great game.

I do wish that you could go deeper into the mother and brother---what they knew, why and how they dealt with that---but I understand that it wouldn't serve the cadence of the story. Still, I would have given anything to see more into where the brother went, why the mother chose to withdraw, and how you-as-narrator deal with those changes.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 4/10, mostly for dread and a little bit of body horror

OVERALL GRADE: A-

beneath floes

Qikiqtaaluk, 1962. The sun falls below the horizon and won’t return for months. You wander the broken shoreline, wary of your mother’s stories about the qalupalik. Fish woman, stealer of wayward children: she dwells beneath the ice.

This might be the first game that genuinely surprised me---not because it was such a radical departure from the other games, but because it was so clear in its vision. The mechanics (clicking for individual steps, the gradual appearance and disappearance of text) and the art (seemingly hand-painted, lovely) made it such a divine example of the form. That fact that it incorporates Inuit stories, history and life, and a certain sheen of almost cyberpunk post-modernism, made it even more divine to live in for a bit.

(There's something about telling horror stories without---hope, maybe? Telling stories when you know there is no escape from them, when even if the girl in white can escape, she will never, ever be saved. Stephen Graham Jones does this very well in his novels, and it strikes me as an interesting approach.)

Also, I chose to kill that kid for his Superman comic every single time, and regret nothing.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 1/10, for a little bit of murder, but just a scoch! Mostly just sadness and storytelling.

OVERALL GRADE: A-

bogeyman

You can go home when you learn to be good.

Whelp, this is it. This is the game that truly, truly won me over. I loved this one---starting with the ongoing question of complicity, as you become the Bogeyman’s favorite plaything even as he abuses you, pits you against the other "children" and forces you to undertake horrible tasks. (As one of the commenters pointed out, you never seen the Bogeyman in full. He is always "a jagged mouth" or dirty hands, or big, enormous, larger than the sky.)

This is also one of a couple games that truly felt open-concept. You could play it many different ways---my first round I chose to keep my fellow captives’ secrets, let Imogen escape, and it felt shockingly good. Even as my character was marched off to their death, even that felt good. I’ve never had that experience playing a game before, where my choices mattered, and I could make the choice to begin with.

As a final note, I'll add that the refrain of "We are truly grateful for what we have," with all its curdling echoes? Fantastic.

SPOOKY LEVEL: 7/10, for mental and physical abuse, creeping dread, and cannibalism

OVERALL GRADE: A

#GAMEIFY HORROR #the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind

32 notes · View notes

monako-jinn-stories · 6 months

Text

Crosshair X Fem!Reader FanFic

It Started with a Vacation

Main Master List

Story Master List

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Four

You wake up early and throw on some casual clothes before meeting up with Sans in the courtyard. He’d asked the day before to join you in picking up Cyar’ika from Mrs. Dure since Codo had to take Tayah off somewhere, and you of course agreed. He’s wearing comfortable clothes that accentuate his physique, and his skin glows beautifully in the early morning light. He turns to you when he hears your approach, and his smile is warm as he takes you in. “Good morning, Queen Monako,” he says, “are you ready to be escorted to pick up your daughter?”

You huff and roll your eyes at his formality, a smile breaking across your lips. “Of course, Commander Sans. Thank you for waking up so early to ensure my safe travels.”

He takes your hand into his and pulls you slightly closer by it. “I’d wake up any time to ensure your safety,” he replies with a kiss to the top of your hand, “and I’d do anything for you.” You can’t help but fluster at his words, his flirting giving you a new feeling since Crosshair left you broken hearted. His hands brushing against your cheek doesn’t help, either. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” you reply, “a bit fitful because I’m nervous about today. I realized half of these games, if not all of them, aren’t really fit for someone Cyar’ika’s age,” you admit.

“I’m sure she’ll still enjoy being there,” he replies, “all her uncles will be spoiling her, so it can’t get much better than that.”

“Well, not all of them,” you correct with a laugh, “there’s about two million more of you that don’t even know of her existence.”

“Alright then, her favorite uncles,” he clarifies teasingly, “since you want to be so accurate.”

“Hey now, I was just correcting you,” you defend with a giggle.

He huffs and folds his arms sassily, saying “whatever,” like a teenager would. You nudge his side playfully before deciding to take off, surprising him before he runs after you. “I can’t protect you if you run from me!” he calls after you, and you just laugh loudly as you enjoy the feeling of the early morning breeze whipping around you.

When you finally stop, you're breathing hard, but your body feels like it’s buzzing. You haven’t had that much fun in a while, even if it’s just playfully running from Sans. When he catches up to you, you’re surprised that he wraps his arms around you and picks you up. You let out a yelp before laughing some more as he twirls you around, holding you up in the air and watching you with his own laughs falling out endlessly.

In the moment, the entire galaxy falls away from you. You forget about the war. You forget about Dohbar. You forget about Crosshair and Cyar’ika. In that moment, it’s just you and Sans, and you feel whole. Your heart swells with love and you want to stay in this moment forever, just you and Sans.

Before you know what’s happening, Sans’s lips meet yours, and your eyes subconsciously flutter closed at the contact. Your lips move in tandem with his, and your hand tangles into his curls. A sigh leaves you as his hands rest on your waist, pulling you gently closer to press into his chest. When he pulls away, his eyes sparkle with so much love, and you can’t help but melt into his hand that is now resting on your cheek.

“Y/n…I love you…so much.”

You blush, the words making a smile paint your face. “I…I know, Sans,” you reply before looking down and swallowing hard. “And…I love y-”

Suddenly, it seems as though time has skipped and you’ve just woken up again to find yourself at Mrs. Dure’s place. The smell of fresh bread baking fills the air as Sans opens the door for you, and when you walk in, giggles meet your ears. “Mama!” Cyar’ika calls out in her small voice, a toothy grin lighting up her face.

“How is my little Cyar’ika?” you ask while walking over and going to pick her up. She notices Sans, however, and bolts away from you to run to him.

“Up!” she commands, and Sans chuckles before reaching down and picking her up, setting her onto his shoulders. “Woo!” she cheers, and Sans begins jogging around the inside, making her giggle even more. Your heart swells again as you watch the two of them, hearing their laughs and the absolute joy on their faces. When he comes to a stop, Cyar’ika’s face is glowing from her laughs, and you can’t help but wish she could laugh like that every day.

“Mama?” she says, turning to face you while holding onto Sans’s head, “can Sans be my papa?”

You gasp slightly, eyes darting to the man who is now staring at you. His eyes are wide and he blinks at you a few times before chuckling and turning to gaze at Cyar’ika. “Cyare, you already have a papa,” he says with a chuckle.

She pouts, her bottom lip sticking out before she shakes her head. “I don’t want that papa, I want you!”

Your heart breaks and you can’t decide how to feel. You love Sans, you truly do, but you can’t take Cyar’ika away from Crosshair more than you already have. She hasn’t even met him yet.

Sans looks to you, his eyes gently asking for help. “Cyar’ika,” you say, “Sans is your uncle, but he can be the best uncle there is. You can view him as a father figure, like how I view Codo as one. Would you be happy with that?”

“I guess,” she huffs, dropping her chin onto Sans’s head.

“Cheer up, Cyare,” Sans says, “I’ll buy you a treat. It is your birthday, after all, and you’re my little birthday princess!”

She giggles again and points over to the counter where the tasty treats are sitting behind glass. Sans kneels down to let her get a better look, and you smile softly as you watch them.

“You really should consider this one,” Mrs. Dure says as she sweeps the floor behind you, “he’s a good man, and a good soldier. He could provide well for the two of you,” she adds while glancing at Cyar’ika giggling in his arms. You look at them as well, and watch as their noses boop together, bright smiles covering both of their faces. The sun gleams in, making them almost glow as they dance around the place, their laughter the most beautiful song to you-

BEEP! Wake up! BEEP! Wake up!

You jump awake, heart pounding as your alarm scares you. You stare up at the ceiling for a moment before you groan into your hands, reaching over and shutting the alarm off. Sighing, you shiver out of bed and immediately change into warm clothes before going to get ready for the day. You don’t notice the flash of lightning outside of your room, but you definitely hear the sound of the thunder as it shakes the palace.

“Oh, for karks sake,” you grumble, knowing that no one will be wanting to have an entire birthday party in the pouring rain. Your troopers deal with the elements enough as it is, plus you don’t need anyone getting sick. And Cyar’ika doesn’t need to track mud through the palace again, you received an angry transmission from Kwol about it the last time.

A knock at your door startles you and you head to answer it as your toothbrush hangs from your mouth. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” Sans says as he grins cheekily at you, “ready to go get Cyar’ika?”

“Does it look like I’m ready?” you mumble around the toothbrush, and he shrugs while chuckling softly.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you brushed your teeth on the way. Though, we might want to make it quick, the rain was sudden and it doesn’t look like it’ll let up any time soon.”

“Perfect,” you reply before going to the bathroom to spit. You rinse your mouth briefly before leaving the bathroom to put on a pair of boots. “I have no idea what to do now. Everything’s pretty much ruined.”

“We’ll come up with something, don’t worry,” Sans says, “the boys are already on it.”

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief, knowing that they’ll come up with something perfect. You huff, remembering a bit of the dream you’d had. You look at Sans as you walk together, and you wish you could see what dream you saw. Or maybe you do, maybe it’s just too soon after Crosshair.

“Y/n?” Sans asks, waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello?”

“Huh?” you say, shaking your head and turning away as your face heats up with embarrassment.

“You were staring at me as if I was the sun,” he chuckles, “did you finally have a moment of realization that I am your true love?”

“Something like that,” you mumble, “I had a dream where you were. We were in love, it was kinda nice.”

“Wanna try it out sometime?” he says, slinking his arm around your waist.

You huff, pushing his arm off of you and smirking at him. “Yeah, just give me about sixty more years.”

Sans lets out a dramatic sigh and flails his arms up. “You’re killing me, y/n,” he says. You just giggle to yourself as he continues to joke around, and when you reach the doors you sigh as the rain pours outside. “Do you have anything to cover up with?” Sans asks, and you nod before heading to a closet to grab a couple umbrellas, making sure to bring the small one for Cyar’ika as well as a pair of rubber boots for her.

The city is empty as you walk to Mrs. Dures and lightning strikes in the distance. Water splashes onto your shoes and you hurry through the rain to make it to the desert part of the city. You can feel the air getting more dry as you get closer, and soon enough sand is mixing in with the grass.

“I’ve always wondered how your planet changes biomes so quickly,” Sans thinks aloud, “it just doesn’t feel natural to me.”

“Dohbar has a lot of secrets that many people will never know or understand,” you reply, “I can’t say I truly understand it either.”

“Really? Not even the queen knows all of her planet's secrets?” Sans teases while nudging your side.

“Nope,” you respond casually, shaking off your umbrella when you’re finally clear of the rain. “Science isn’t really my thing anyway. I’m stuck with boring politics.”

“Would you be into science if you had a choice?”

You think for a moment, considering all the things you had learned in school as a child. You never paid too much attention to anything other than politics and Dohbars history, since you had grown up with your parents pounding into your head that you were the future of the kingdom. “I don’t really know,” you finally respond, “I’d have to go back to school and learn about everything again to know what I’d truly want to do. That is, given I wasn't a queen or Jedi.”

“I think you’d be a lovely model,” Sans says cheekily.

“I know you do,” you reply with an amused huff. “No flirting with me in front of my daughter, she might think that you’re going to become her stepdad.”

“Aww, would that really be so terrible?” Sans questions while throwing his arm around your shoulder.

You jokingly shove his arm off and grin at him. “Yes, yes it would be,” you tease before sticking your tongue out and sprinting off toward Mrs. Dure’s. Sans doesn’t take long to catch up, and soon it’s a race to the destination.

When you reach Mrs. Dure’s, sweat is trickling down you and Sans’ faces. You laugh breathlessly as you both try to catch your breath. “Y’know, you’re the only woman who has ever run from me,” Sans chuckles when he can make words again.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only woman you’ve ever tried to catch,” you snicker back.

“I suppose you’re not wrong there,” Sans agrees before holding the door open for you, “after you, my Queen.”

You walk in with a playful eye roll, the delicious smells floating to your nose. Cyar’ika’s giggles come from the kitchen, and you walk over to the counter and ring the bell to get her and Mrs. Dure’s attention. Cyar’ika waddles out with a tiny apron and chef's hat on, and you giggle sweetly at the adorable sight as she climbs onto a stool. “What do you want?” she asks in a friendly tone, and you put a finger to your lip, pretending to look at the menu.

“I think I’ll have a birthday cake for a special birthday girl,” you reply with a grin. She jumps down, racing to the back, her hat bouncing in her head as she goes.

“She really is adorable,” Sans says with a chuckle, “she definitely gets her cuteness from you.”

“Really? I’m so surprised that you would think that,” you laugh. You hear some movement and look around the corner as Mrs. Dure comes out carrying Cyar’ika’s birthday cake.

“The little princess helped me design it,” she says sweetly while presenting it to you. “I think you have a little artist on your hands.”

You and Sans both look at it in wonder, amazed at how well she had done for such a young age. “Have you been practicing art, ‘Rika?”

“Mhmm,” she nods quickly, “uncle Kwol teach me.”

“Well then, I suppose we’ll have to show him how well you’ve done,” you reply with a smile before looking at Sans. “I wonder if his art lessons are why I’ve always got so much paperwork to do.”

“Maybe,” he says, “I would say it does look like it. I never knew he was an artist, though.”

“All the paintings in the palace were done by him,” you explain, “even original portraits of long dead royals were done by him. Granted, he did copy them with the originals as his subject.”

“Well, I guess there’s more secrets to Dohbar than I realized,” Sans comments before looking down at Cyar’ika. She’s standing at his feet, arms up while doing grabby-hands. “Does my little angel want up?” he chuckles before bending over to hold her on his hip.

“No! Up more!” Cyar’ika says.

Sans chuckles again before setting her down and turning her back to him. “Ready?” he asks, and she nods before he lifts her up and places her on his shoulders.

She cheers and claps before grabbing his ears. “Home!” she says while pulling slightly. Sans winces quietly and nods his head.

“You alright with the cake?” he asks you, and you nod while taking it from Mrs. Dure.

“Thank you for making her cake, and watching over her,” you say to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to the party? We can cover for the profit you miss out on.”

“I would love to, my queen, but you know me,” Mrs. Dure chuckles, “besides, I can’t let my customers miss me. Unless that one handsome clone will be there.”

“Of course I will,” Sans replies with a wink, and Mrs. Dure playfully whacks him with a towel.

“She’s talking about Hunter,” you giggle, “and no. Unfortunately he won’t be there.”

“Ah, well, next time they come to visit, let me know,” she says with a wink, “I’d like to see that fine piece of man again before it’s my time.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Dure,” you say, “you’ll see him plenty more times. We should get going, now, but thank you again!”

“It was my pleasure,” she smiles before waving as the three of you head out.

On the way back to the palace, Sans sings and jokes around with Cyar’ika, making her giggle almost every second of the way. When you reach the rainy area, he slips her rain boots on, even though he’s still carrying her, and holds the umbrella up over them both, with her help, of course.

You can’t help but catch glimpses of them from the corner of your eye and feel a deep sadness. Deep in your heart, you wish you could have fallen for Sans and had a family with him. You know he would be a great father, and a great lover as well. But you’d fallen for another man, and now Sans can only be an uncle to your daughter.

When you get inside, you hurry up and take the cake to the dining area for Ahnimaka to set up with everything else. “Wow! That is amazing!” she says as she admires it, “she really did that herself?”

“Well, at least part of it,” you say while sneaking a roll while she’s distracted. “She told us that Kwol has been giving her art lessons. I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise for you, eventually,” Ahni says while counting over the rolls and giving you a quick glare. “We wanted her to be able to do something quite amazing for you when she was older and have it be a big surprise.”

“You still could, I mean it’s not like I’ll know what it’s of,” you say while stuffing a cookie in your pocket. “I’ll go tell all the boys to come look at the cake, in turns so that you’re not overwhelmed with all of them,” you laugh.

“It’s too bad that there’s not enough for everyone,” she says before a helper comes in.

“Queen Monako, Senator Caree,” she says, “Mrs. Dure has arrived with a…cart full of cake.” You and Ahni exchange a look before rushing outside to see what she meant. It was exactly as she said, there was Mrs. Dure, a bright and happy smile on her face, with plenty more cakes for all of your troopers to enjoy.

“Mrs. Dure,” you say in shock, “when did-how?? Who paid for this?”

“It was a little surprise present for my favorite little niece,” Kwol says while stepping from around the cart. “And of course, I had to make sure all the guests were provided for.”

You look at the amount of cakes in wonder, slowly shaking your head as you do. “Well, let’s get them inside before the rain ruins them,” you say after a few moments. Kwol nods and continues to push the cart inside, and Mrs. Dure walks with you and Ahni to the kitchen. “You two need to stop spoiling Cyar’ika so much,” you tsk at Ahni, “I don’t want her getting used to not working for her earning.”

“That’s a bit bold coming from a queen,” Ahni giggles, “especially when you can give her pretty much anything she wants.”

“Well you know how I grew up,” you reply smoothly, “the king and queen always made me work for everything. Sure, they were not good parents to me, but it did teach me to work for my rewards. I don’t want Cyar’ika to grow up and think that she can just be handed everything. Especially as queen, she’ll have to actually put some work in to rule this kingdom.”

“Y/n,” Ahni says softly while placing her hand on your shoulder, “she’s only one. She can be spoiled at this young age. She can grow out of it, with reduction of the spoils. Let her have a good childhood.”

“I’m not saying she can’t have a good childhood,” you reply, “I’m just saying that she doesn’t need to be handed everything, especially things that she probably doesn’t need. I don’t even remember you doing this for the twins.”

Ahni sighs, moving to grab a plate and start to put some pastries on it. “You’re right. Maybe I’m trying to justify it because we didn’t get to spoil them enough before Ringo was taken to train as a Jedi. And maybe we do it because we don’t want Cyar’ika to miss out on having parents that love her and want to give her the world.”

You pause, letting the words settle and process in your mind. You tighten your fist at your side briefly before releasing it. “Are you saying I’m not doing good enough? That I don’t love her enough? I want to give her more than the world. I want to give her more than this galaxy. It’s not my fault that I am a Jedi and a general, and that I have many different duties on top of being a mother.”

“Being a mother should come first,” Ahni bites back, a rare hint of anger in her tone. “You can leave the Jedi. You can leave the war. You can come back here and be only a mother and queen, but you choose day after day to put Cyar’ika and your kingdom second, behind fighting a petty war.”

“This war is far from petty!” you say harshly, “I didn’t lose Bomber to stand here and listen to you say it’s just petty. I’ve lost so many soldiers and Jedi friends. I’ve seen Masters have to watch their Padawans get slain by the Separatists. I’ve seen clones looking in horror as they realize they’re the only survivor of the squad they had been a part of since Kamino. It’s only petty because it hasn’t reached Dohbar yet. You, Senator Caree, should know the true reach and importance of this war. I hope the day never comes that it reaches us, but if it does, maybe you and Kwol will finally understand what I have to live through every day.” When you finish, you turn and walk from the room, not giving Ahni a second to reply.

You head out to find Jawa squad, wanting to know the plans that they’ve come up with to save the party. When you try to go into the room, however, Uma stops you and shakes his head. “Not allowed in there yet,” he says with a grin, “it’s a surprise for you and for Cyar’ika. Don’t worry, we cleared it with Hex.”

“Well, if Hex approves, then I’m sure I will,” you say with a smile. “Can I get a hint at least?”

Uma opens his mouth to respond, but a hand reaches out of the door and pulls him close. You see Lightweight whisper something into his ear, to which Uma nods in response. “Steele is on his way with Cyar’ika! Just wait here for them, I have to go get into position. No peeking!” Uma says before slipping inside.

You huff and roll your eyes, letting a small smirk cover your lips as you wait for Steele and Cyar’ika. Soon enough, you see them coming down the hall. Cyar’ika has a small look of boredom on her face that causes you to giggle when you look at how tired Steele seems to be. “Did someone wear you out?” you laugh as Steele and Cyar’ika stand in front of you.

“Yeah, she took off her socks and shoes and wouldn’t let me put them back on without a game of catch me if you can,” Steele sighs, and you can see his exhaustion more clearly. “She definitely likes to run away like her mother.”

“I don’t run away, I run towards the danger,” you correct.

“Yeah, away from us.”

“That’s just because I know you’ll be following along right behind me,” you laugh, nudging him in the side before taking Cyar’ika’s hand. “Are you ready for your birthday surprise from your uncles?” you ask, and she grins while nodding excitedly. You head over to the door and Steele holds it open for the both of you. Your mouth drops and Cyar’ika lets out a small surprised gasp of her own. “How did you all get this done in so little time?” you question quietly.

“Kwol let us know last night after you went to bed that the weather wasn’t going to be nice today. Other squads had been taking turns with setting up, and so we got up and took over.” He brings up a hand to stifle a yawn, and you look at him with a bit of concern.

“Did you get enough sleep?” you ask, furrowing your brows slightly. “You can go rest if you need to.”

“I was fine until the little squirt here wore me out,” he chuckles, “I’ll be alright, I promise, y/n.” You nod and head in proper, looking at the massive ball pit that practically filled the entire room. There was a little slide, and then a bigger one that you had to crawl through some weird playhouse or child's rope course type thing to get to. “Oh, this is also just the first of many rooms,” Steele says with a grin, “I can show you the others and then let you play around if you want,” he says while squatting to be closer to Cyar’ika’s height.

She looks up at you and grabs your hand, pulling on it and pointing to the ball pit. “You wanna go play there first?” you ask, and she nods with a grin. “Alright, I’ll be over here keeping an eye out, but you should go play with your uncles,” you say with a slight giggle, looking up to see all the troopers already having their fun.

“Steele!” she says, and he looks at her with a gentle smile, “I wanna do a slide with you!”

“Which one would you like?” he questions while reaching down and taking her hand. She points to the big one, and he chuckles as she tries to run off and pull him along with her. You smile warmly at them, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell as all the other troopers seem to pause and greet her as she runs by.

“She really is something special to all of us,” Sans says, startling you for a moment. “Sorry,” he chuckles, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” you reply with a smile, “and yeah, I can tell. I just hope that everyone she meets will see how special she is.”

“I’m sure they will,” Sans says assuringly, “especially Crosshair,” he adds with a soft smile. “I know everything will work out for the best between the two of you. And she’ll meet her father one day, and he’ll love her more than anything.”

“I hope so,” you sigh, and Sans slips an arm around your waist and pulls you closer.

“I promise you, it will,” he says gently, reaching up and brushing your cheek lightly. His smile is warm, and his eyes are soft. Everything about him radiates love, happiness, comfort, and care. You can’t help but lean into him, letting these feelings completely surround you. Looking up to see his expression again, you’re met with slight surprise at your reciprocation of affection. You give Sans a reassuring smile, and he smiles back happily. You move your head to look away, but his hand stops you from turning fully. “You don’t have to turn away from me every time,” Sans says softly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “It hurts, you know.”

“I know,” you reply, “it hurts me too.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because,” you sigh, “I…my heart…”

“Is for someone else,” he sighs, and he starts to pull his hand away, but you stop it with your own. You look at him for a moment, scanning his eyes to figure out all the emotions swirling in them.

You don’t even realize you’re kissing him until your mind starts wondering if it’s right to do. You don’t even know why you did it, but you can’t stop it now. Your lips move in sync with his as you debate if you do love him somewhere deep down. You press a bit harder against his lips, trying to dig down to that love and free it.

But you know it won’t work. You don’t love him that way, you never have. And you have just been dumped by your actual love, leaving an empty space that you’re desperately trying to fill. You want to feel something like that love again, but you want it to be real. This feeling isn’t real, it’s forced, fake, a shadow of what you do want. A shadow of what you had.

You pull away from Sans and meet his eye for a second before diverting your own gaze. You take a breath, steadying yourself and holding the tears back. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Don’t say that,” he begs quietly, “please, y/n. Let me believe you meant this. That…even just for a moment, you loved me back the way I love you.”

“I can’t,” you say while shaking your head, “I…don’t want you to look back and think that I was just using you to get over my own grief.”

“Is that what you did?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly, “all I know is that…I’m desperately heartbroken and lonely without Crosshair. I still love him, and I want to feel that love again.”

“But you didn’t feel it with me.” Sans’s voice is hollow, and you wish you could give him some sort of comfort.

“I wish I had,” you mumble as tears fall down your cheeks. In an instant, his arms are around you, holding you gently as he always has when you’re like this around him. He lets you nuzzle your face into his neck, crying quietly as you do.

“It’s okay,” he promises, “I will still always love you, y/n. You are the only person in the universe for me.”

“I’m sorry, so sorry, Sans,” you whisper as you pull back to look up at him. He smiles gently and wipes your tears away.

“Don’t be. The heart wants who the heart wants. I know you can’t help it.”

“I wish I could,” you sigh while giving him a small smile. You notice his eyes divert from yours to look at something behind you, and he smiles at you again before nodding.

“Queen Monako,” one of the helpers says as they approach, “there is another ship that has just landed in the palace hangar. I believe it is your special guest.”

“Thank you, Nex,” you say while giving them a warm smile, “I will go greet him now.” Nex nods and gives a slight bow before walking away.

You take a deep breath and Sans moves to stand next to you, nudging you slightly with his elbow. “It’ll all be okay,” he says with a tone of reassurance, “Tech will love her. And I know the rest of that marauding bunch will love her as well when they get the chance to meet her.”

“I just hope that will be sometime soon,” you reply before looking at him again. “I really am sorry, Sans. I had this wonderful dream last night where we-”

“Y/n, my love,” he says, grabbing your hand softly while giving you a loving smile, “I would rather not know. I would prefer to keep my yearning to myself, and not have it fueled by your dreams. It is enough to know that you love me the same in your dreams as I wish you loved me here. Now, go get Tech so little Cyar’ika can meet her geeky uncle,” he says with a chuckle before bringing your hand up to kiss, “I’ll be joining the rest of Jawa squad.”

You nod and head towards the hangar, opening the door just as Tech reaches the top of the steps. “Oh, you did not forget me as I had supposed,” he says as he looks up from his datapad. “Is everything alright?”

“For the most part,” you say while giving him a smile. You look at his arms and notice a present tucked under one while the other holds his datapad. “I’d give you a hug, but…”

“Shall I leave my datapad somewhere else? I would prefer to know it is not in danger of being misplaced among the other guests.”

“Sure, on your ship would be best,” you suggest. He nods and quickly takes it back before heading right back over to you. He sets the gift down and wraps his arms around you, surprising you at the fact that he was the one to pull you in for a hug.

“I…am sorry for, well, my brother’s actions,” he says before pulling back, “I know this won’t mean much, but he did not truly mean what he said. He was simply-”

“I don’t need to hear this from you, Tech,” you say to cut him off, “and I’m not quite ready to forgive him. I still need some time.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he nods, picking up the gift again and giving you a smile before you turn to open the door. “I don’t quite understand your emotions,” he says casually, “I understand them on the chemical level and how they are created by your brain and the chemistry of it, and I understand how they work, but I don’t think I quite know what they feel like. I am mostly aware of them from the descriptions I get from others.”

“That’s okay,” you reply, “some of us are different in that way.”

“You don’t think I am somehow…less than?” he asks, and you pause to look at him, confused by his genuine tone.

“Why would I view you as less than?” you question back, “you’re sentient, are you not? You’re a living and thinking creature. Just because your mind is different, it doesn’t make you less than. Being neurodivergent is not something that is wrong, it is just a certain difference that you have. You’re still amazing, smart, and incredibly knowledgeable. But in your case, you simply don’t feel or understand emotions in the same way as others, and that’s perfectly okay. If anyone tells you differently, send them my way, and I’ll teach them a lesson with the deadly end of my lightsaber.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he says after a few moments of silence, “I am glad that I am still viewed as an equal to you.”

“Everyone should view you as an equal, because we’re all really the same when it comes down to our core. Well, maybe not exactly, but we’re all sentient beings just trying to make our way in the galaxy. Our paths may be different, but I think we all have the same goal–to be happy and content with ourselves.”

“I believe you may be correct in your thinking,” he says as you stop in front of a room.

You open the door and lead him inside. Piles of gifts line the floor, and you do a classic Obi-wan thinking pose as you look for a spot to put the one he brought for her. “I think you can put that over there,” you say, pointing to a somewhat sturdy looking spot.

“I would rather hold onto this so that I can give it to her myself,” he replies, “it is a customized gift.”

“Oh?” you question, “well would you like me to go get her or have Steele bring her here for us?”

“I would like to wait here for Steele to bring her. If the others of Jawa squad would like to join as well, they are welcome.”

“Alright, I’ll have them meet us here and then afterwards I’ll let her tear into all her other gifts,” you say before comming the squad.

Within a few minutes, Jawa squad, Quin, and Trix are in the room with you and Tech. Cyar’ika immediately runs to your side and you pick her up, smiling before turning to let her get a look at Tech. “Cyar’ika,” you say gently, “this is your uncle, Tech. He is your father’s brother.”

“Father?” she questions while looking at him, and he shakes his head while giving her a soft smile.

“Uncle,” he replies while placing a hand on his chest. “Uncle Tech.”

“Uncle Steele!” she says happily as she points at Steele, “uncle Hex! Uncle Aid! Uncle Sans! Uncle Pie!”

Steele snickers and nudges Hex when he hears Cyar’ika yet again mess up Tie’s name. “And to think it’s one of the easier ones.”

“I can hear ya, ya moron,” Tie harshly whispers back. Quin sets a calming hand on his husband’s knee, and Trix just raises a questioning brow at her dad.

“Uncle Tech,” Cyar’ika says somewhat uncertainly after she finishes going around the room.

“Yes, that is correct,” he replies with a smile.

Cyar’ika grins before wiggling around in your arms, signaling that she would like to be put down. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she quickly walks over to Tech and makes a pouty face up at him before sticking her arms up at him. “Up!” she demands, and Tech looks at you briefly, a slight look of fear on his face. “I uh…I have never picked up a child before,” he admits while looking back down at her. “I am worried that-”

“Oh, don’t be afraid of hurting that little rascal,” Steele says with a dismissive wave of his hand, “she’ll scrape up her knees and run it off as if it’s just a little bit of dirt on her pants.”

Tech looks at you again for reassurance and you nod with a soft smile. He gulps before reaching down and awkwardly picking her up. He holds her out in front of him, looking at her from eye level. She giggles as his fingers seem to tickle her, and her feet kick out into the air.

“Do ship fly!” she demands, and Tech looks at you in confusion.

“She wants you to make her ‘fly like a ship’,” you explain with a small giggle. Tech thinks for a second before nodding, adjusting his grip slightly before taking off to run around the room with her held out in front of him. Cyar’ika’s shrieks and giggles of joy fill the room, and soon everyone is laughing along with her as she enjoys her fun with her uncle Tech.

“Alright, put’er down b’fore she gets sick,” Tie says when he catches his breath, “y/n will be awfully angry with ya if she has to take care of a sick daughter on that daughter’s birthday.”

“That’s right,” you laugh in agreement. Tech stops and lets her down, immediately catching her as she loses her balance. “We’ll give her a minute to calm down before we let her open her other gifts,” you tell the others, and they nod in agreement while Hex gives out the comm to all the others.

The rest of the night and celebrations went by quickly from there. After you all had watched Cyar’ika open her gifts, it had been time to eat. After Cyar’ika, you, Kwol, Ahni, Quin, and Trix had gotten your food, Jawa squad and the rest of the 17th dug into the rest. There were no leftovers, and everyone had eaten to satisfaction. The cakes attracted everyone’s appraisal and compliments as they studied the amazing designs that Cyar’ika had done for her age.

Even Tech seemed to be completely enamored with his niece. He could not stop mentioning her silver hair that was exactly like her fathers. He said he even noticed a bit of his snark in her attitude, which elicited a humored snort from you. “Yeah, it’s a lot worse when she doesn’t want to do something,” you had replied after he pointed it out.

“I am sure she is only ever an angel,” he replied back while bouncing her on his knee. To your surprise, he knew how to braid hair, and after she calmed down and was able to sit still for more than 30 seconds, he managed to loosely braid her hair.

“That looks amazin’,” Quin commented when he’d seen it, “I’d like to do somethin’ like that for my lil girl Trix, but she says it’s a part of her Mirialan culture to not let others see her hair.”

“That is correct,” Tech stated before going on a ramble about Mirialan culture, which was intriguing for everyone except Cyar’ika, who ended up hopping off of his knee and wandering over to another group of uncles eager to get their time to talk to and giggle with their little niece.

By the end of the night, the palace was a mess, but no one seemed to mind as they all filed into rooms to rest in. Tech slept in the same room he and the rest of the batch had stayed in on their visits, with Cyar’ika begging to stay and spend the night in the room with him. You allowed her to, since the other night she’d been stuck with Mrs. Dure. Of course, Jawa squad, as well as the rest of the 17th, was jealous of her seemingly new favorite uncle.

When you wake up, Tech is eating breakfast with the 17th and Cyar’ika. Ahni and Kwol are helping the helpers with cleaning, and you decide to join them in hopes that the extra hands, with force sensitivity, would help clean up faster.

“Shouldn’t you be eating with your daughter?” Kwol asks while trying to toss a ball of trash into the trash can. He frowns when it misses.

“I thought you guys might like some help,” you reply while using the force to pick it up and throw it away properly.

“Well, we do,” he starts, “but you do have a limited amount of time with her.”

“I know,” you sigh, “I feel bad and all as well, but…I don’t know. I want to put her first, but with all my obligations…”

“It’s hard,” Ahni offers with a smile. “I understand now, a bit. When the twins were born, I had the hardest time balancing taking care of them and being around them with my senatorial work, but I took every second that was given to me. It’s the best that you can do, besides making it possible to take care of your obligations while being around her.”

“I don’t know how well I could focus on paperwork or official monarchy or government things if I have her in the room distracting me,” you admit with a smile.

“But you can go eat breakfast with her,” Ahni replies with an encouraging grin. “Now go, we can take care of this. Besides, if we need help, we’ll get the cleanup crew on it. There’s two specific squads of troopers who are responsible for most of this.”

“Let me guess, Sans, Hex, Steele, Aid, Tie, and then Uma, Bullseye, Ripple, Skipper, and Lightweight?”

“Precisely,” she confirms with a small giggle, and you roll your eyes while letting your own small giggle slip out.

“I’ll go tell them when I get there,” you say before turning to leave the room. Once you get there, you tell the boys their orders and watch as they groan and complain, well, that is Sans, Steele, and Tie do, before they drag themselves out and go help to clean up the mess. Everyone else slowly ends up leaving once they have their share, and soon it’s just you, Tech, and Cyar’ika left.

“Are you liking your uncle Tech,” you ask her with a smile. She nods vigorously, clinging onto him tightly.

“Stay,” she says, and Tech chuckles softly while running a hand over her hair.

“I am afraid I cannot fulfill your request at the moment,” he tells her, and she looks at him as if he’s speaking another language.

“He said he can’t stay,” you explain in simpler terms for her. She immediately frowns and starts kicking her feet aggressively, and you tell her off gently to get her to stop.

“I will come visit you again soon,” he offers to her, and she immediately lights up and becomes happy again.

“Tomorrow?” she asks, and Tech chuckles again while shaking his head.

“I am afraid I do not exactly know when, but it will be soon,” he promises her. She pouts for a second before he offers her his pinky finger. “I promise,” he says, and she grins while wrapping her tiny pinky around his. You relish in their smiles and giggles, feeling as though a part of your heart that you hadn’t known was empty has suddenly been filled.

***

“Thank you again for coming to meet her,” you say as you walk out to the hangar with Tech. The 17th is loading up onto the Venator, and once you and Tech say goodbye, you’ll be boarding your respective ships and flying out for missions. “It meant a lot to her, and me.”

“Anything for the two of you,” he says with a gentle smile. “Take care, y/n. I hope I will see you soon.”

“Probably sooner than we know it,” you laugh before heading in for a hug. You both take a moment to bask in one another’s warmth before you step away.

“Good luck, y/n, and stay safe out there. Your daughter needs a good mother like you to come back to her, alive.”

“I will do my best,” you reply, “and you as well. She needs all of you guys. May the force be with you,” you say before pulling the hood of your Jedi robe up. You walk over to the Venator, glancing back to watch as Tech flies out, before you continue your ascent up the boarding ramp. Within minutes, you and the 17th are off back to Coruscant, awaiting and preparing for your next mission.

if you enjoyed this, comments, reblogs, and messages are greatly appreciated!

tag list! use this link to be added, removed, or change preferences! @nemesis-eris @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @srryxmate @shitexcuseofausername @imabeautifulbutterfly @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @tacticalsparkles @namesmox @milppa @paige6768 @rintheemolion @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @echoxbuggs @lightning-wolffe @ilikemymendarkandfictional @megafrost4 @darkangel4121 @hedahobbit98 @sleepy-tog @littlemisscare-all @ladykatakuri @that-one-weeb-but-starwars @shadowwing1324 @salaminus @southernbaguette @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @oo-hazel-oo @pshhbam @howlerwolfmax @bloodmoon-bites @misogirl828 @andyoufollowyourheart @tachyon-girl @andrakass2

14 notes · View notes