#giggling‚ swinging my feet‚ twirling my hair etc etc

[kaikamahine]

oh nothing, just wanted to make sure you saw my beautiful rook children. carry on.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Can i js say the way u write the hitchhikers series makes me giggle, twirl my hair, swing my feet,etc..🙄

this is the best compliment i’ve ever received 🥰 thank you mwah

[softersinned]

da astoria is so fucking obnoxious about being married. ellis walks into a room and she's twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes. you walk up to the inquisitor's throne and she's curled up in his lap playing with his hair. you come to vigil's keep to seek an audience with the warden commander and astoria's sitting on his desk swinging her feet and giggling. she thinks he's the best thing that's ever happened, not just to her but in general and to the world. she hates being thought of as just an extension of someone else but she WILL insist on everyone remembering that she's ellis cousland's wife the second she hears the slightest disrespect towards ellis, the couslands, the grey wardens, amaranthine, ferelden... she encourages and actively produces propaganda suggesting that she is, as inquisitor, the second coming of andraste herself but the second someone calls her the bride of the maker she says "actually the bride of the hero of ferelden. yeah he's my husband. i bet you've heard of him. isn't he great." she'd die for him she'd kill for him either way what bliss etc etc. if you don't know she's married to Thee Ellis Cousland she will make sure you know by the time she's done talking to you.

[fatallyfalling]

Little Talks ~ ♆

“ almonds, honey, and that insufferable smirk “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

warnings: alcohol, typical Hunger Games themes, mention of forced prostitution, slight language, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, Finnick is obviously lovesick, bit of flirting, etc.

{{ word count }} 2.2 k

{{ prompt }} The Capital party swells with music but all either of you can think about is finding the other and sneaking off for some peace and quiet.

{{ a/n }} i was kicking my feet and giggling the entire time i wrote this !! also this switches between Finnick and your pov’s ! i wanted to test out how that would read but this is the tooth rottingly sweet fluff i promised! usually i try to keep Reader more gender neutral but descriptions lean more fem this time around, i hope you enjoy! <3

The Capital revelry was in full swing, swelling music from a string quartet on the dance floor and long banquet tables piled high with hors d’oeuvres and various sparkling cocktails. Colorful lights danced through the outdoor gardens, sparkling off absurd ice sculptures meticulously placed throughout the courtyard.

The Capital district of Panem really spared no expense when it came to a party.

Finnick Odair’s jaw set as his eyes scanned the event, picking a speck of dust from the lapel of his emerald blazer. He’d been ‘bought’ for the night by a high-profile heiress. The sickly scent of her overpowering perfume stung his nose, and her laugh was more like the honk of a goose.

Not caring for whatever the heiress hanging on his arm was squealing about with the other elites nearby, he kept his eyes searching for a particular face. A firm grip on the champagne glass between his fingers. Admittedly, he hoped you’d show up. Unable to stomach the idea of getting through tonight without your sweet smiles or mildly tipsy laugh. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of your meetings he looked forward to them. Maybe you were running late.

In the meantime, the victor plastered a faux smirk on his lips. Dimples pressed into tanned cheeks as he feigned being interested in the ludicrous conversation before him. He could keep up the act, endure sticky unwanted Capital fingers as he had many times before. But his heart squeezed at the idea of your absence.

The extravagant festivities continued on.

A few twirls across the cramped dance floor, rounds of false flattery, and three glasses of champagne later Finnick finally lands his eyes on you mid-waltz. His heart lurches up into his throat, severing his voice mid-lie as you practically sparkle under the lights. You're adorned in dozens of water droplet-esque crystals. Variations of noir, silver, and even hints of icy blue fill the expanse of the silky midnight blue garment. You shine like the night sky above him. The victor swallows thickly, shoving down the rising warmth in his chest. The alcohol must be getting to him. Forcefully tearing his eyes from your form after a moment the Darling begrudgingly returns his focus to the heiress, finding himself defenseless in her manicured clutches and heavily intoxicated breath for another excruciating hour before finally managing to slip away for a much-deserved break.

You're distracted however, conversing with your client's stuffy business partners when the sudden ghost of a touch to your bicep from behind and a flash of bronze hair sweeps through your peripheral. Your gaze flickers to the familiar tall male as he moves past the garden gates into the shadows beyond. Politely, you claim to require the washroom and make your escape, handing off your half-full champagne glass to your client. They down the bubbly drink immediately, causing you to purse your lips, but you know you'll have a few more drinks later.

To be discreet, you don't follow the same path Finnick took, opting for a longer trip around the banquet tables. Snatching a few citrus tarts with a napkin on your way. Normally you refrained from the bottomless sweets but the pastries weren’t often an option and you knew the victor of District 4 liked them. Your heartbeat drums inside your ribcage as you sneak behind a set of peacekeepers in their crisp white uniforms and helmets and out the gates. The music of the lavish party fades to a muffled thrum as it recedes, your gaze flickers across the cobblestone path but no one’s there. Confusion forms a crease in your brows as you continue your steps.

Pausing in an alcove with a small fountain made of marble surrounded by green hedges, you start to wonder if you had mistaken who you saw. At least you were certain that the sweetheart of the Capital was in attendance to tonight’s revelry after passing fleeting glances back and forth the past hour. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth your brows sew up as you peer out the alcove one last time with a sigh. Maybe you really had imagined it.

That is until a strong arm wrap around your waist from behind and you just about drop the small parcel in your grasp while a hand covers your mouth to muffle your shriek of surprise.

Instinctively you throw your elbow back into the ribs of your assailant earning a pained “Oomph!” and immediately you’re released, whirling with a raised fist aimed to strike again you gasp only to be hit with that all too familiar almonds and honey scented cologne.

“Finnick Odair you prick!”

Annoyance laces your tone as that insufferable smirk defines the bronze-haired male’s dimples. An arm wraps around his middle to rub your point of painful contact.

“Geez, hello to you too~” The Darling all but purrs with a step closer.

Rolling your eyes your shoulders relax, “You’re lucky I didn’t mess up that pretty face of yours.” You quip, also taking a step forward. “I’m regretting getting you a treat I hope you know that.” Your own smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, gaze softening as you meet those sea-green irises. Mischief sparkles with a hint of something you can’t quite place.

“A treat?” Your fellow victor hums, quirking a brow with a slight tilt of his head. He looks almost as adorable as a puppy waiting for a biscuit. It’s an effort to smother the warmth licking up your chest making your ears burn red. “Yes, and I won’t make you do any tricks for it~,” you remark while handing over the napkin encasing the delectable contraband. Finnick chuckles at your comment while taking the small parcel and unwrapping it. Those sea-green eyes light up as the small tarts appear, his gaze flickering to yours as his coy smirk melds into a genuine smile.

“My favorite,”

Humming in agreement you tuck a few flyaway hairs behind your ear, sucking your bottom lip again in an amused smile at his elated expression. The tanned male gives his thanks while tasting the sweet and sour pastry, a deep but pleasured hum emitting from his throat. That fire in your chest spreads and you try to brush it off as the alcohol making you think he looks more handsome than usual tonight in his emerald suit. His bronze waves were tousled in a way that set your heart hammering again.

The emerald blazer he wore complimented the warmth on his skin, charcoal dress shirt beneath tight fitted, although undone almost to his navel, showed off his toned physique. His slacks matched the blazer in a similar lean-fit fashion with a pair of black dress shoes.

“I see your stylists decided to cover up this time? Can’t say I’m not jealous.” You sigh, trying to keep your eyes on his instead of the skin peeking out of his unbuttoned shirt. You’d seen him in less as his stylists very much enjoyed objectifying the poor man. Personally, you preferred when they chose the more “simplistic” route.

Finnick huffs another laugh, biting his tongue in order to not comment on the low-cut nature of your dazzling silk ensemble or the revealed plush of your thighs. Unbeknownst to the figure before him, the struggle to keep his focus on your eyes was deemed a challenge as well.

“You look divine ~”

Maybe it was liquid courage, maybe his heart had finally had enough and spoke up but the blaze burning your ears and cheeks was worth all the risk and then some. Your ears always flushed first when you were embarrassed or flustered. Finnick took immense pride in regularly being the cause of that response. You playfully shove his chest away, an embarrassed scoff sputtering from your lips painted a deep maroon.

“I look ridiculous, Odair,”

“Mm, no - I think you’re stunning~,” Your name drawls off his lips like sugar. Placing the remaining tarts on the cool rim of the fountain the space between you closes, sharing breath as the Darling’s thumb and forefinger gently graze your chin to tilt your head up to his. Finnick’s cheeks are rosy, champagne on his tongue and the corners of his eyes crinkling under a cheshire smirk. His other arm snakes around your waist to bring you against him.

“Finn…?”

Your eyes grow wide, and the fire in your chest roars into an uncontrollable blaze. He was mere inches away, one wrong move, and your lips would brush. His touch was warm. You wanted to melt and inhale that almonds and honey scent forever but you couldn’t. You tried to rationalize that your bronze-haired friend was tipsy and not grasping all of his senses but you knew how well the victor handled his drinks. Your brows sew up as you gaze into those sea-green eyes.

Friends - that’s all you were to each other… right ?

Right ?

Finnick knew he should pull away. Teetering over the edge of a very, very fine line that he didn’t know if he’d be allowed to return from if crossed. But your scent was intoxicating, your fingers were icy on his hot chest, a sensation he didn’t notice he relished in. Surely, you were able to feel his rapidly beating heart beneath his heated skin. He didn’t know what exactly he was doing or what exactly he wanted but he did know, the adoration he felt towards you was immeasurable and true. If he could die with your lips and touch engraved on his bones he’d give anything and lie in the dirt himself.

Hell, he’d dig his own grave in this very garden if you asked.

But… he couldn’t mess this up. As much as he wanted you his stomach churned at the possibility of rejection and destroying the one good thing he risked everything to have.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” The victor chuckled, his finger moving to flick your nose before pulling himself away from the embrace. You blinked rapidly and took a sharp inhale while he stepped back. It was an effort to try and steady his own breathing. Adjusting to lean against the fountain, Finnick shoved his hands deep in his pockets and averted his gaze to his shoes, hooking one ankle over the other.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to punch the male or kiss him.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Crossing your arms over your chest loosely, you shift your weight to one foot. Shooting him a pointed yet playful glare. There’s a tension in the air, of words unspoken and missed chances. But that fire in your chest doesn’t diminish in the slightest. “So I’ve been told,” Finnick chirps, his brows bouncing and his smile softening.

A silence falls for a moment before you move to lean next to the male on the fountain. Your thighs become all but more exposed as silk slides against your skin. Finnick silently curses himself. He will not mess this up. If all he could do was love you from afar, he would do it. He couldn’t lose your companionship or those sweet smiles and witty remarks.

He had to preserve this.

To preserve you.

The shock of his realization was sobering, but the tight warmth in his core remained. Shifting his gaze from the cobblestones to the starry sky above, colorful lights and loud music still thrumming from the distant party. The stars sparkled more out by the sea, but select constellations were visible from here. The moon was full and glowing as if she’d brought her best show for the elite attendees across the garden.

“We should get back soon…they’ll start to notice your charisma is absent.” You sigh, trying to humor the situation. But as you lay your head on the Darling’s shoulder, he knows it’s the last thing you want to do. Tilting his head to rest on top of yours, his eyes flutter closed to inhale the evening air, your scent still mixed with his cologne and the greenery around the alcove.

“Not as much as the absence of your dancing,” A dry chuckle rumbles his chest, the vibrations moving through your cheek.

“I’m an awful dancer.” You shoot back. But it was a fact. No matter how many tries or attempts you ended up stepping on your clients’ toes more than once in an uncoordinated mess. It was almost a surprise you had clients at all sometimes. You wished you didn’t have any at all.

Finnick hums, picking up the forgotten tarts and offering one to you before biting into the last one. You oblige. The tart is tangy on your lips. A hum of enjoyment goes through you as the tarts are quickly finished.

Neither of you wishes to move. Really, you hope to run and never look back. But you can’t.

“I’ll see you in there,” Finnick murmurs, pressing a fleeting kiss to your temple before standing. He offers a dramatized bow before taking his leave, that insufferable smirk once more flashing his pointed, too-white teeth.

Your cheeks are blazing again, your face falling into your hands to regain composure.

You were falling deep down a rabbit hole you knew you couldn’t escape from, but you weren’t so sure you even wanted to anyway.

“Shit..”

{{ tags }}

[expectyaytions]

Can you do #49 and #51 for SweetVee? Preferably in the same Drabble bc I think it’s funny contrast lol

Sorry, this is a few days late!

-//-//-

#49 - “Your voice is sexy.”

“Your ass is sexy”

&

#51 - “Seriously the chimney?”

“The squirrel can’t win.”

He woke up early, starting the coffee pot and unloading the dishwasher. He was still tired from baby proofing their apartment the night before. He hadn’t realized how many electrical outlets there were, or how hard it was to install a baby gate. He poured a bowl of cereal and added cream to his coffee. He could hear the shower turning on upstairs. Jughead and Betty would be by in less than an hour to drop off Ophelia. He headed upstairs, almost falling over the baby gate. He stepped out of his boxers and opened the door to their master bathroom. The sound of “Penny Lane” filled his ears. His wife’s nude body was blurred by the foggy glass. He opened the glass door and joined his wife under the warm spray. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, “your voice is sexy.” He whispered into her ear. She turned smirking,” your ass is sexy.” She proved her point by grabbing it. He wrapped an arm round around her and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. His other arm held the wall for support. She moaned into him and he was a goner. They spent the remnants of their shower connected at the hip. Sweet Pea pulled on a pair of jeans and a black tea shirt while Veronica verbalized the pros and cons of wearing leggings, jeans, a skirt or dress. He made the bed while she pulled out options. When she was finally quiet he voiced his opinion.

“Well you know we’ll be keeping up with Ophelia all day, so I’d wear something comfy that you don’t mind getting dirty.” She nodded, hanging up the dress and skirt.

Betty and Jughead showed up at 8:00am on the dot. They were the punctual people around. Their eight month old was tucked into her car seat sucking on a pacifier. Veronica had just finished her yogurt and granola when the doorbell rang. Sweet Pea was pulling out the toys and baby swing they kept in the living room closet for whenever their friends visited. Betty and Jug let themselves in calling out, altering their arrival. They convened in the kitchen.

“Veronica, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in leggings before.” Jughead commented looking impressed and puzzled all at once. Betty rolled her eyes at her husband. She pulled out a sheet of paper detailing Ophelia’s usual feeding and sleep schedule. There were doctors numbers on the back along with FP and Alice’s cell numbers. Betty had also added the best way to warm up her breast milk and reviewed it as she piled it into the freezer and fridge.

“We’ll be back before dinner!”

“Take pics!”

“Duh, we’re going to need your input on which house is the best.” She gave Veronica a hug before squeezing Sweet Pea. “You guys are life savers. Thank you so much.” Jughead had put the car seat on the table. Both parents kissed her cheeks and smoothed her hair before being pushed out the door. Ophelia just stared at them sucking her pacifier and clutching her blankie.

“This going to be easier than I thought.” Sweet Pea said.

“You probably just jinxed us.” She smacked his chest with the back of her hand before reaching in and unbuckling the baby. She rested her head on Veronica. “She smells so good.” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes but indulged his wife leaning down to smell the top of his god-daughter’s head.

“Do all babies smell like that, or is it just organic, all natural, earth is best stuff Betty uses?” Veronica shrugged. They walked to the living room and sat on the couch. Ophelia was a quiet baby, she always had been. Veronica put her on the blanket they’d laid on the floor they scattered toys around it for her to reach and explore. She was just starting to get an itch to crawl.

“Do you care if I go to the office and make a few calls? I want to make sure everything is in order for the upcoming week at the office. Sweet Pea nodded reached for his coffee beside him. Ophelia played and gurgled with her toys, he joined her on the floor making noise with the hard plastic rings and his fingers. She’d smile and giggle in delight. At 11:30 he picked Ophelia up and they headed into the kitchen for her first feeding. He followed all the instructions, checking the temp, before finally giving her the bottle. He headed to master bedroom and sat in their fancy chaise while she feed. She looked like Jughead, except for her hair and nose -those were all Betty’s. He’d been nervous about messing things up. He was worried he’d get everything wrong and she’d cry the entire time. But so far she was very calm. She started to drift off as the remaining milk dwindled. He lifted he’d and burped her based on what he’d seen Betty and Jughead do and the YouTube videos he’d watched last night while Veronica finished up at the store. He laid her on center of their bed surrounding her with pillows. He laid next to her, pulling his phone out to snap Betty and Jug more photos. He and Veronica had never really discussed having kids. There would be the occasional - I hope our kids don’t inherit your clumsiness, or I hope they have your nose, eyes etc. They had been married for almost two and half years. He felt himself dozing off.

Veronica completed her phone calls. She still needed to make a conference call with a designer in LA, but that wasn’t until 1pm. She walked into the living room expecting to see her husband and god-daughter, but found nothing. She searched the house before finding them both asleep on the bed. Sweets had his arm curled over Ophelia. She had both her hands above her head resting on his arm. She melted at the sight, and quickly pulled out her phone to snap pics. They looked so angelic. She sighed before deciding to get some more work done while the pair napped. She headed back to her office and pulled out some fabric swatches that had been sent to her from the Italian office.

He was awoken by a small whimper and as he opened his eyes a teeny body colliding with him. When he looked down Ophelia’s eyes were wide and her bottom lip trembling. He blinked a few times before pulling her pacifier out his pocket and into her mouth. He pushed himself off the bed and Ophelia was quick to lift her her arms up and grab for him.

He scooped her up and they headed downstairs for bottle number two and a diaper change. While the bottle was warming he laid out the changing pad and pulled out diapers, wipes, lotion and rash cream. He’d seen Jughead do it and he’d even done it a few times under the Jones’ guise of “practicing.” Now, he was happy he’d done it. After taping up the diaper and cleaning everything up, they returned to the kitchen. He talked to her in his baby voice and blew kisses on her tummy as she giggled at him. She eagerly reached for the bottle once it was in her sight. Her pacifier slipped from her mouth leaving a long line of drool. “Cute,” He muttered. He couldn’t he took a nap. He hadn’t done that since college. Eyeing the clock and noticing it was 2:15, he decided to make lunch for himself and V. He’d waited until Ophelia had finished her bottle, burped her and then went to find the vibrating chair this she liked. Once she was set up on the counter with her toys and chair, he got to work making turkey burgers. She gurgled to herself, and he sang the few disney songs he knew - most of which were from The Lion King. She laugh and drool at him as he sang into the spatula. He’d used his phone to actually play the songs. Veronica joined them, Just as he was dressing the burgers and adding chips.

“Look at you two, having all the fun without me.” She kissed Ophelia’s head before kissing him on the mouth. She joined him for the last bit of “Circle of Life” and he twirled her around. Ophelia squealed from her chair smiled at them. They settled in to eat at the countertop, turning Ophelia to face them. The chatted and made faces at Ophelia.

“Do you want kids, V?” She swallowed the chip in her mouth.

“I think so. I mean assuming you do too?” She smiled nervously.

“Yeah, I’d like to.” He kissed her. “Let’s talk details tonight?”

“Okay,” she smiled, “I’m finished with all my work, what should the three of us do for the next few hours?”

“I think Ophelia mentioned to watch the latest Disney film her godfather picked up.”

“Oh really? That sounds doable.” He picked up their plates and everything from lunch and put them in the sink, while Veronica took Ophelia out of her chair. Sweet Pea was lying to himself if seeing Veronica with a baby didn’t tug at his heart. He set up the dvd and they all snuggled onto the couch. Veronica laid with Ophelia on her chest and her feet on Sweet Pea’s lap. Ophelia rolled around before sitting and reaching for Sweet Pea. She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck and grasping his tshirt. “I guess what they is true.” Veronica piped up.

“What’s that?”

“There’s nothing sexier than a man with a baby.” He laughed and attempted a seductive wink. Ophelia stayed put while the couple watched the film.

“Seriously, the chimney?” Sweet Pea loud whispered, and shook his head.

“The squirrel can’t win.” Veronica laughed. “I’m getting a little too into this.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“I think I could get used to this. You, me, baby and animated children’s films.”

“It's not going to be this easy. Ophelia is rare.”

“I know, but still.” He beckoned her with his hand and puckered his lips. She sat up and kissed him and snuggled into his side. They stayed that way for the remainder of the film. They were watching the special features per Sweets request when Betty and Jughead called out. The couple found them in the living room.

“Well isn’t this a sight.” Betty gushed.

“She’s an absolute angel.” Veronica told her. “Did you guys find anything you liked?”

“Oh my god, let me show you these two we looked at that I loved!” Veronica stood up and together they headed towards the kitchen. Jughead sat beside him.

“How awful was it?” Sweet Pea asked. Jug just looked him. “That bad huh?

“It was so boring. Betty knows what she wants and such. I told her all I want is an office. She suddenly knows all these wood types, and colors, and types of houses like cape cod and ranch and colonial. And i’m standing there like wood is wood - how can tell if its oak or maple or cedar or whatever.” Sweet Pea laughed.

“I Tivo’d the latest Criminal Minds, you want to watch?”

“Fuck yes. I’m so sick of HGTV. Did you know there is an entire show dedicated to people buying tiny houses?”

“What’s a tiny house?

“You don’t want to know.” They settled in, Veronica bringing them each out a beer and a bag of chips before returning to Betty. “Have you seen the latest development on the golden gate killer case?” Sweets asked.

“Yeah! I can’t believe they finally caught the guy - a cop no less. You have to listen to this new true crime podcast I found - I think you’ll like it. I want to incorporate some of the banter they have into my next novel.”

“I’ll have to check it out. I liked the other you found - the Australian one.” Sweet Pea couldn’t but think maybe someday soon, there’d two babies hanging out with their dad’s watching crime tv.

[underimagines]

)fusion anon) i meant gem!au but i added the soulmate part to let you know theyve been together for a while now

No Problem! **bolded You/Your/Etc. is from the fusion’s POV - M.M.

Original Prompt: Reaction to S/O requesting to fuse with their SOULmate?(UT Skelebros, ADT Trio)

Undertale-Sans:

it’s a little embarrassing, but he’s got two left feet, hun. musta’ left his right one back at home. But if you want him to try that badly, then he can put in a little extra effort, just this once. It’s a slow-dance, the both of you just twirling in circles, before you lean your heads forward & gently knock foreheads. Your eyes flutter closed, & when You reopen them. You’re standing tall. Tired, but tall. You realize that Your hoodie has one open pocket, allowing You to hold hands at all times. You’re always blushing because of it.

Undertale-Papyrus:

GASP!!! DATE-MATE, what a saucy request of you~. He gladly accepts, sweeping you into a tango that has you both seeing stars & trying not to trip over your own two feet. There’s something so sweet in his movements, the way he guides you with his arms, stepping around you until your back is pressed to his chest. Then he tilts his head down, just as you tilt yours up, & the world goes white. Then You open Your eyes, & the world is new.

Adulttale-Frisk:

They agree almost immediately, & grasp your hands, swinging you around & around & around, like two children playing ring-around-the-rosie. You both end up dizzy & giggling, stumbling into each other in what has to be the world’s messiest hug. It’s the warmth of the embrace that triggers it, & when You stumble onto Your backside, you’re still laughing. Hugging Yourself, leaping to Your feet. The world is Yours to explore now, let’s make the most of it.

Adulttale-Chara:

They ask you again & again, if you’re certain this is what you want. The last time they “fused” with someone, it did not end well. But you assure them it will be okay. &…they trust you. It’s foolish, but true. So they allow you to hold them, at arm’s length, as you step around each other in caution. It’s only when you suddenly give them a little tug forward & they stumble into you that you finally get somewhere. The world bursts black, then white, then…my goodness. This certainly is something. In fact, You don’t feel half bad. You feel…at peace. How nice.

Bonus!Adulttale-Asriel:

He’s extremely shy about it. He’s fused many times, & none of them ended up well. But he trusts you. After all, there’s no one in the world he trusts more than you. So, for you, he’ll do it. You hold each other close, turning & stepping in tandem in something close to a waltz. His hand comes up to stroke your hair, just as you lean into press your face to his neck. Everything goes warm, the world melts into a rainbow. Your eyes open. & You’re crying. Oh, of course You are. It’s all so new. But You’ve never felt so good. So…whole, before.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Bound By Honour - Chapter 5

Pairing: Eric/OC *Sarah* Fandom: Divergent/Insurgent Rating: M - Some very expressive content within the depths of this post.

Eric has the best hand in all the factions, but can’t seem to get to grips with his life as a parent to two grown Dauntless members. The honour is passed to Sarah as she battles with the woes of an unruly daughter and a wayward son. Balanced with a intricate web of personal struggles and outsiders, can they stop their family from falling apart?

A/N: I’m sorry for the delay. Some of you may well know that I’ve been distracted, and I will be taking a lengthy break from writing fanfiction. I have some things I want to do for myself and I feel I’m ready and it’s about time. I will still be around to chat etc, just not participating in uploading fics, at least until my current muse ends anyway. Thank you for reading and supporting me for so long.

Tags: @singingpeople@equalstrashflavoredtrash@pathybo@beltz2016 @ariwolff14@lostinthebeans@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995@jojuarez26 @tigpooh67@mom2reesie@lilu46 @murmelinchen @lauraaan182

“And how’s school, Eliza?” Sarah asks over a stew Mary had made earlier that day. She wasn’t meant to stay for so long but it just ended up being that way with Mary telling her that Eliza would be home from school soon. She had felt obliged to stay, seeing as her husband Mark was also away during the weeks now because of her own son.

Eliza was a pretty brunette with long brown ringlets loosely falling by her ears. Her mannerisms were faultless as she sat straight, holding a spoon that seemed too large for her hands. Mary wasn’t forceful with correcting sloppy behavior, Eliza had seemingly picked up her mother’s ways through instinct. It was nothing like how they were brought up. It felt calm and peaceful, an easy home to belong to. In fact, it wasn’t even like Sarah’s home, because of the constant play on parenting and Eric’s obnoxious ways.

“I love school, Auntie Sarah.” Her voice is so small and quaint. It makes her think of April and how different she is to her cousin. April has never been quaint or delicate, the quirks of her father had taken her genes and entrapped them. Though April didn’t have height on her side, her attitude carried her much further. If only she could learn how to embrace it.

“I also remember someone who loved school,” Sarah says, hinting to Mary who grins quickly at her. “You remind me of her so much.”

“Is that my mommy?” The little girl questions, tilting her head shyly while they watch her.

“Yes.”

With a small giggle, they grow quiet, finishing their food. Sarah politely props her spoon in the bowl and sighs. “Thank you for dinner. It’s nice not having to make it myself. It tastes better.” It was also earlier than she was used to. Most nights, Sarah’s family were never really ready to sit down to eat until well after eight.

“We should do this more often…” A wry smile forms on Mary’s face. “I also like the fact that the leftovers get delivered by Eliza to Mother.”

“I still haven’t been to see her.” Sarah feels guilty, but not that much. She hadn’t been in the mood to visit Meredith; it would be question upon question, insulting Eric to the tenth degree, and moaning that April and Jack never visit

“That woman is as hard as nails, she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon…” Mary strokes her daughter's hair. “Why don’t you take the bowls out to the kitchen for me? Then when you’re finished, go up to your room and sort your things out for tomorrow.”

Eliza swings her legs down from the long bench and walks over to Sarah on the other side of the table, hugging her quickly. “Good night!” Then she gathers the bowls and heads for the kitchen.

“She’s growing so quickly,” Sarah comments, staring off after her. When Mary doesn’t reply, she frowns over to her. “What?”

“What’s going on? I know you. I know that look. I know the tone. I know the heaviness.”

“Work’s been a little strange. I’m working with Erudite and the new… maybe new Leader.” Sarah fidgets, leaning her arm on the table. “He’s not what I expected. I feel out of my depth and intimidated, I suppose. What’s also strange is that Eric seems to have every confidence in me. I thought at first that he just did it as a way to swindle Erudite while he was busy patching up Candor. I showed him some other information about another major problem, a serious problem, and he hasn’t mentioned it. Maybe I’m just overthinking… I seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“Overthinking what?” Mary asks, watching Sarah’s eyes remain on the table.

“Everything…” Eliza reappears and they wait until she vanishes upstairs. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course! You can tell me anything. Do you want a drink or something, though? A hot drink?”

Sarah looks out to the sun setting. “No, it’s getting late. I can’t have another relapse of last time.”

Mary scoffs. “Go hard or go home Sarah.”

“You’re not funny.” But she does laugh a little. “I’ll just come out and say it… Blake is being suggestive.”

“And Blake is who again?”

“He’s Blake Hammond, the guy from Erudite that I’m working with. It may just be me, but I feel his persona towards me is mixed. It’s like… it’s like I can’t work him out.”

“So, you mean like, flirting, or...?”

“Sort of. His words are all work related. But it’s the way he expresses himself - his actions.”

“Mommy! I can’t find any hair ties!” Eliza shouts down the stairs, sounding like she was about to descend any minute.

Mary snaps her head over her shoulder. “Honey, just wait two minutes!” Her eyes flicker over Sarah for a moment before she gestures for her to continue. “And?”

“Well, that’s it.” But she begins blushing. “He kissed my cheek after I accepted his work proposal. And he touches my hands a lot,” she rushes, realizing how immature it sounded. “I can’t explain.”

“Have you given him any reason?”

“Nothing at all.” She shrugs, frowning for a moment and then her eyes widen at Mary. “He must be half my age. He knows I’m married.” Sarah bites her lip still under her sister's scrutiny. “Eric doesn’t know any of this. And I can’t tell him. How could I possibly? It sounds preposterous just telling you.”

“I could have guessed that. But to me, it doesn't sound like anything to be worried about. Maybe that’s just what he’s like.” Mary smiles, trying to comfort her older sister. “It may be a big thing to you because you’ve always had Eric breathing down your neck, let alone the chance to interact with, I’m guessing, single and successful men.”

“I have an active social life, Mary. I’m not locked away.” Sarah rolls her eyes. “There is something off with his behavior,” she stresses.

“He hasn’t technically done anything. And as you say, he’s all words, about work from what I’m understanding.”

“It’s his disclosure.”

“Do you... like him?”

It takes Sarah by surprise, scrunching up her nose, she exclaims, “Oh gosh, no!”

“If it happens again, maybe then you should say something.” Mary smiles at her. “Everything is okay with you and Eric, though?”

Sarah thinks about the extra effort Eric has put in lately, especially when he had taken it upon himself to help April the other night. “We are more than fine,” she reassures her sister. She pauses for a moment, wiping a crumb from the table. “Can we keep this between us? I just needed to get that off my chest. And it’s not particularly something I can approach Eric with.”

“You don’t even have to ask. A problem shared is a problem halved. You sure you don’t want anything?”

Sarah stands up, straightening her skirt. “No, I’m going to make a move. It’s getting dark. And I think Eliza is waiting for you.” She finds her boots by the door, slipping her feet inside, and then pulls on her long cloak, shrouding her head with the hood while her sister watches with clasped hands. “If you hear anything from Mark about Jack, let me know as soon as you can.”

“All I know is that signal is bad and they are extremely busy. I barely hear from Mark as much as I’d like,” Mary lies. But it’s for the sake of Sarah’s state of mind, so that can’t be a bad thing…

They hug quickly, and as Sarah steps onto the graveled path, she waves over her shoulder, the light from inside dying with the door closing.

It’s colder than she had realized, the night sky clear and freckled with masses of stars, the moon bright overhead and appearing as if it leads the way home. Of course, Abnegation is like a ghost town, the opposite of Sarah’s Dauntless lifestyle. Most of the people here would be dining with their families and tucked up by nine, not long after their children’s heads had hit the pillow.

Sarah knew this route like the back of her hands. It took her through a patch of abandoned buildings and old streets. She admired the way nature had tried to claim back some of the carnage left behind; growing through the brickwork and sprouting in the cracks in the sidewalk. She even thought the space between Abnegation and Dauntless was like a different solitary world. It was usually the place where the bulk of her thoughts were left to run wild and the only witness of her dreaming was the sun or moon itself. The old buildings were like long forgotten whispers of the past, only still present to be remembered for what was - like gravestones, sad but beautiful.

But something has Sarah peer over her shoulder. Not once had she ever feared walking the short track home, but like the connection she processed when people's moods changed, the same feeling slipped down the back of her neck unexpectedly.

She increases her pace a little more, no longer able to wander in her thoughts - when she hears a sharp scrape behind her. She gasps, having heard it so evidently, twirling round to… nothing. Staying completely still, though her breath left raggedly through her open mouth no matter how hard she tried to control it, the old street remained silent.

After the initial fear, her anxiety creeps in. “Get yourself together, Sarah…” she whispers to herself. “This is stupid.” Turning and heading back towards Dauntless once again, every piece of her skin is on alert. The urge to run ahead screamed in her thighs, but her mind kept her locked with indecisions and uncertainty of why she actually should if there was nothing physically there.

She doesn’t need to be convinced further when the sound of rocks scatter behind her. She grabs the front of her skirt and sprints without looking back. Turning a corner, she pushes herself up against the cover of a building. What sounded like debris is now large striding footsteps, approaching closer and closer. Peering down the dark street to her right, a path set away from her destination, she doesn’t know where it leads, or at least can’t remember precisely in this moment as adrenaline pumped through her veins and blocked her thoughts. Her fingers grip into the concrete behind her and she prays the person will pass without noticing her. The fight or flight instinct was a terribly blurry line between possible stupidity; standing up to whoever was coming behind her, or maybe a chance of escaping and unknowing.

She decides to face her fears, stepping out determinedly, though shaken and comes face to face with… Thomas. She doesn’t hesitate and throws herself into her younger brother’s arms.

“What are you doing?” he questions while chuckling as if she was insane for embracing him so tightly.

“You frightened me!” She whacks his back for good measure.

“I’m sorry. I just saw Mare and she said you’d just left and I didn’t want to miss you.” She still doesn’t let go. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now.” Standing back she wipes her nose, beginning to smile as the threatening feeling evaporated. She even laughs. “God, I feel so stupid.”

“I’m not surprised. You looked it.” She whacks him playfully on the arm. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I thought I was being followed or… I don’t know!” Putting a hand to her hip, she breathes deeply. “Can you walk me home?”

“I would be delighted.” Enthusiastically, he guides her hand to the crook of his arm and covers it with his own. Sarah feels safe like this. Her once small and young brother; the one she used to protect from all the happenings of the past, now a strong man she could rely on who had changed roles with her. How things had changed. But his next words make her blood run cold. “I only saw you step around the corner, thank god I did, as I don’t think I would have spotted you.”

Sarah quickly calculates the time between when she had stopped and gazed down the path, back towards Abnegation. She swallows dryly. “Just now?”

“I sprinted the whole way. I got my daily dose of exercise.” He continues talking aimlessly, and Sarah peers back behind her, Thomas dragging her forward. What was that?

Sarah opens the door to the apartment and Eric is sitting at the dining table. He’s passive when he sees her, appearing as if he has been waiting. There is no work in front of him and his phone is under one of his hands. “You do realize you have a phone, right?” he asks sarcastically. But she ignores him, unwrapping herself from her long cloak and kicking her boots off. 

Eric stands up and rounds the table, waiting a few feet from her.

“April?” Sarah questions.

He shakes his head before replying, “Nightshift.” She doesn’t miss the cocky lift in his lip from his own doing. “Double shift, too.” He seems proud of his own trifling.

Sarah pulls out her hair, unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress. She kicks her boots to one side, rolling down her stockings and lifts her dress over her head in one fluid motion. Standing still, Eric inclines his chin, another way of asking what she was up to.

For the final revelation, she unclips her bra, dropping it to the ground. That’s where Eric’s eyes flick to and then back to her face. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Stop talking,” she says tremulously. Her last garment is her underwear, flung carelessly without breaking his eye contact. “Take your clothes off.”

Eric stares blankly at her for a moment. Ever so slightly his eyes narrow, his hands reaching up to undo his uniform. His jaw is set as he strips away his top layers, revealing a solid body etched with tattoos and specific marks gained from his line of work. As he breathes, his muscles flex under his skin as if in anticipation of her next move. And he takes a wide, confident stance under her perusal.

When she doesn’t move, he goes for his belt, but that is when she steps forward. “Wait.” She pads over, instantly caught by the close heat of him towering over her, a nervous shake tinging her fingertips. Unclipping his belt, she slides it from the loops of his pants. “Keep this.”

It’s an unusual request that throws him. In his pause, she unbuttons his pants, sliding them down his legs, then straightens, allowing him to remove them.

And then she offers her wrists to him with a mild blush on her cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s happening right now. But I’m not going to question it.” His voice is steady, pulling his belt tight over her desired destination. Tugging on the strap, she tags him along with her and he holds onto the belt until they reach the bedroom. Wrapping the loose leather a few times to secure her, he already knows what she wants.

Eric pushes her onto her front, moving up quickly behind her, and Sarah pants in anticipation. Rubbing the tip of his cock slowly over her clit, he nudges forwards to feel her center when he passes, easing his way in.

Sarah gathers the sheets into her fists, just as he charges forwards. She whimpers semi-consciously, arching her back, trying to spur him on, listening to the raggedness of his breath as the slow strokes are abandoned for hard thrusts; Eric’s control and awareness slipping. Sharp jolts knock her stability, constantly squirming to readjust as his grip tightens on her hips.

“Harder,” spills from her lips. But it’s not what she wants. Eric does what she says, a grunt escaping from his effort. “Harder, Eric. Harder.” Sarah was coaxing him, coaxing him to understand. “Harder!” When his palm connects with her thigh, half playfully, half in frustration it seems, she entices him further. “Yes, like that.” She turns around only to make eye contact, to tell him it was okay. “Again!” 

The sound as his palm meets her skin, echoes in the air and she mewls, enjoying the sting. “Again!” And he does so on command. She can feel her body tightening, along with the build-up of guilt and stress she felt and pushed away on a daily basis; it all beginning to unravel. It gets to a point she doesn’t even comprehend what’s she’s saying, murmuring the same word over and over.

It’s only when Eric stops, she glances over her shoulder, irritated and unsatisfied. He’s sweating, panting, rubbing at his temples. “Eric… what-”

“I’ve come, Sarah.” His tone is something she’s barely ever heard before. He’s disappointed.

Lost for words, she awkwardly rolls over to face him in the transcending silence. “What? You mean…”

“You made me come. The way you were talking. What you were saying.” His face is pained, almost disgusted with himself. “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

Did she say that? “I… I…” It’s a fiery burn of embarrassment and loathing for herself that forces its way to the surface of her cheeks. “That’s not…”

“You made me take you like a whore!” Eric explodes, beginning to pace, constantly rubbing his face. “You’re my wife!”

“Exactly!” she retorts. “I am your wife. I… I…” She obviously wanted this, but not with this outcome. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of her over-exhilarant actions. “I am not a whore, Eric!”

“Then don’t make me fuck you like one!”

Sarah’s mouth drops open. Ultimately, she had caused this; she had done this. Eric had his kinks and they were never exactly conventional with their lovemaking but he was always in control. She had taken it to another level, something he wasn’t happy with. In her shame, she pulls the sheet up to cover herself.

Without another word, Eric heads for the door. “Wait! Where… where are you going?” Could she fix this? She could try if she could only talk to him for a moment. But deep down she knew he couldn’t, not in this raging state he was in. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” Eric slams the bedroom door shut. Sitting in the silence of their bedroom, Sarah doesn’t move; she doesn’t cry, doesn’t wallow in her own pity. What she felt, she deserved, and she embraced it.

Jack’s busy staring up at the ceiling. The pain is manageable, causing his mind to be restless. Most of the night he had all the time to think, which he usually wished for. But right now it was too much. Too quiet. 

Hearing the door open to his small room, he glances over slowly to Chip smiling. “Came to see the patient. The others sent their regards,” he explains, his eyes traveling to Jack’s arm supported up to his chest to help aid his shoulder. “It suits you.”

Jack scoffs, sitting himself up further. “I’m done with this place.”

Chip strolls more into the room and touches the array of different wildflowers beside Jack’s bed. “Interesting… I would be more surprised if we hadn’t have gone on our woodwalk. I take you for a nature guy now.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Day off.” Chip shrugs, taking a seat on the spare chair next to his bed. “Kind of missed my grumpy friend.”

“You should be with the others.” Jack’s voice is husky, low, almost sounding defeated.

“The others are all doing boring shit or sleeping. Plus, half are still working. I’m just lucky I was picked first. They get the day off tomorrow.” They stare at each other too long until Jack looks away. “And I’m not going anywhere before you say it.”

“Why do you bother?”

In confusion, his friend’s face scrunches up. “What?”

“Why are you here? Why do you bother?” he repeats, sharper than before.

“I can see past the evasive front you put on. It’s getting rather boring now, Jacko Smacko.” Chip pushes from the bed to tilt in his chair. He seems to remember something and pulls out a notepad and pen and begins scribbling. “Jenny asked about you.”

“Great.” He rolls his eyes, his voice laden with sarcasm. “...I’ve been thinking about her the whole time I’ve been in here.”

“What have you been thinking about?” Chip mumbles and Jack looks over to his friend’s tongue sticking out the further he gets into whatever he’s scribbling. He doesn’t acknowledge him, or the fact his question is heavily prying as per usual.

“Honestly?” he asks after a moment. “I’ve been thinking about capping the dick who shot me.”

Rotating the notepad to a weird angle, his friend's voice is almost absent when he says, “You’re going to have an awesome scar.”

“I keep thinking…” He feels himself becoming irritable and hot, letting his head fall back onto the pillows propping him up. “...About my mom.”

Chip pauses now. “I don’t know whether to ask as you told me not to talk about your mom-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jack interrupts him and sighs. “I just keep thinking about her. I think about April too.”

“No offense, but I’ve never liked April. She’s such a bit-” He looks up at Jack and licks his lips. “…She’s a horrible person, man.” Chip looks down to his notebook. “She tipped a drink purposefully over me once in the Pit. We were in initiation together. She branded me a loser and…” He touches his hair, messing the top of his dark, sandy locks; a thing Jack noticed he did when Chip got nervous. “...She made my life practically hell. Typical class A bully.” He snorts to himself and begins scribbling quicker than before.

It shouldn’t be Jack’s burden to carry the guilt of what April’s done in the past, but he can’t help it. “Mate, you are not the only one. She’s my sister and at times I find it hard to like her.”

“She turned that entire class against me and ever since I’ve been trying to win back people’s respect because of her. She wasn’t that bad with anyone else. I was the only one. Do you have any idea what that is like?”

“I’m sorry.”

Chip inhales sharply, meeting Jack’s gaze, and this time neither breaks it. Obviously, an apology on April’s behalf was not what he was expecting. A smile reflects on both their faces slowly, and Chip turns the notebook to show him. “I’m a little rusty. Not my typical notepad either, it’s a bit small. And ignore the page lines, that’s-”

“You drew me?”

“I like to draw emotions… expressions. It just so happens you have so many of them.”

Cautiously Jack studies him. He’d never met anyone so persistent and open by Dauntless standards.

“You’re even doing it now,” Chip mentions with a smile and points at his friend to emphasize his point.

“Habit,” he mumbles quickly and looks down at his free hand.

“Shall I get coffee?” Chip asks, a coarseness to his voice as he drags himself out of the chair.

“Definitely,” Jack replies and watches Chip leave the room. A heavy feeling of confusion washes over him as he glances at the notepad left open on the chair next to him.

Sarah decides to have lunch back at the apartment with the pitiful hope Eric would come back to find her. He hasn’t. She’s aware of the sound of April banging around in her bedroom getting ready for the day after her night shift. 

She sips a coffee, something Eric had got her accustomed to years ago as April makes an appearance, almost dashing by. “Hi, April,” Sarah says with a smile, putting down her coffee cup.

“Oh, hey mom,” she chirps back with a head of bouncing waves. Her eyes land on Sarah’s cup and she comes directly over and snatches it up, sipping it. Sarah was used to it by now.

“I like your hair.”

Vainly, April pulls on a strand. “Thanks! I thought it may be a bit much… You don’t think so, right?” Expectantly, she looks at her.

“I’ve always said you should leave it natural.” Sarah gets the vibe she is about to leave at any minute. “How was work last night?”

“Long, boring, irritating. The usual.”

“Will you sit with me for a minute?” April seems surprised, biting her lip, but does so anyway.

“Where’s dad?”

“I… I don’t know.” Sarah scoffs sadly, peering down to the table.

“You’re not going to cry or anything, are you?” April rolls her eyes. “You know I’m not good with that stuff.”

“No, no! I’m fine. Turn around and let me see the back,” she motions to her hair. April does so, her frame slender and petite from this angle and Sarah revels in the slight attention she has from her daughter, scrunching the ends. “You know, my little sister Elizabeth, Lizzie, your aunty, had very curly hair. I think you two would have gotten on really well, she was... something. You share a lot with your dad, but with her too.”

“Nobody really speaks about her,” April says quietly. “Mary gets all teary whenever she thinks about it or if it’s mentioned.”

“It’s... a hard subject.” Sarah tilts her head, still tending to her daughter's hair.

“What happened? I mean, I know it was an accident…”

Sarah has always avoided the facts as the children were always too young, but she couldn't find fault in the open truth anymore. “We were too late.” She stops, and April turns to face her questioningly. “Me and Mary went to find her after she ran away. The stupid girl wanted to be with the factionless. She couldn’t stand living with Grandma and Grandpa anymore. We found her, but it was too late.”

“Was dad there?”

“He has always been there.” It’s one thing she couldn’t fault him on. Still to this day, she couldn’t work out if Eric saved her that day; stopping her from devotedly crossing the train track to get to Lizzie.

“Is that what happens when people die? They just get forgotten?”

“It’s not that we have forgotten her. She was so full of life, she wouldn’t want us moping around.”

April’s blue eyes narrow. “That’s where you and me are different, mom. When I die, I hope people can’t live without me.”

“Don’t say such a thing! I couldn’t live without you. And I’m sure your father would have the same reply.” April shakes her head, looking out towards the door. “April,” Sarah says sharply. “It’s not forgetting about someone, it’s genuinely just time. It never stops. It never ceases.” She grabs her hand and holds it. “I wanted to keep you small forever, but without time, you wouldn’t have turned into the young and beautiful woman you are today.”

“Forced compliments make me cringe.”

“I’m serious. No matter what, you will always be my little girl. Can’t you see that?”

“This is a real nice mother-daughter moment, mom, but I’m going to be late for work.”

Sarah holds her hand tighter. “Please don’t shut me out anymore. I need you just as much as you need me.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you didn’t need Meredith. So, how could you possibly know about how much we need each other if you hardly had a mother yourself?”

“She’s the exception, not the rule.”

“You’re just like dad, rules to suit yourself - like Jack, for instance. Don’t try and fool me, I know you wish it was me out there and not him. It’s written all over your face, day in and day out.”

Sarah snaps her hand away as if she had been burnt. “How dare you say that!”

“But it’s true!” April stands up, knocking the table. “And you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, I guess that you and dad have had another row. The quicker he sees you for what you are, an Abnegation, the better. You’ve changed him. I hear all these great stories of this incredible Leader and I never get to see any of it! Why are you forcing yourselves to click with each other? You don’t match!” This was something April had kept submerged and she really couldn’t have picked a more harrowing time to vent them. They were her most inner thoughts and opinions on Sarah’s situation - and it was crushing. More so, because she couldn’t grasp what love is; what it took for them to finally find each other for who they were, sounding like the many bitter people who put themselves in the way of their relationship before. She didn’t see her; her mother, a person willing to see past any front April tried to depict. A friend; Sarah spent so many nights praying to be. All she ever saw was gray. “...And when he divorces you-”

Sarah is possessed with such an awful hurt which unpredictably drags itself to the surface, that she stands up and slaps April’s face with force, just as the front door clicks and Eric steps into the room. Whether his face was like thunder before, she doesn’t know.

April lurches towards Sarah threateningly and Sarah loses her nerve, cringing back.

“April!” Eric bellows. The young girl pants in anger, a red swelling on her cheek from her mother’s hand, the payment of her awful words, and storms past him while all he does is watch.

“I… I didn’t mean to do that…” Sarah runs a hand through her hair, pushing flyaways back in place. “You didn’t hear what she was saying…”

“Have you gone mad? Have you lost your mind? I come back to talk, at the very least, and see you taking a swipe at April now?”

“She was saying hateful things. She loathes the very ground I walk on over something I can’t control. You know what she is like!”

“Oh yeah, I know. But I also thought I knew you.” Eric wipes at his mouth quickly, an irritable fashion he usually did before he exploded. “If you want to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me, not our daughter.”

“You’re defending her?” Sarah says exasperatedly, throwing her arms up. “No… no… Of course you are. I’m stupid to think otherwise.”

“You’re acting pretty fucking stupid right now.”

“I wonder why!” Nothing short of hysterical was the only thing Sarah could begin to describe her tone of voice.

“That’s a question I keeping asking myself!” He steps forward and Sarah’s arm shoots out to stop him.

“She wants you to divorce me!”

“Oh, she does? Is that what you think I’m going to do? If you do, you don’t know me very well either. I took my vows seriously, Sarah.” He proceeds to approach cautiously all while she stands numbly with her outburst, hand to her forehead. “Do you want me to?”

She looks up at him. “No, of course not...”

“At least we’ve got that settled. You’re listening to a lonely girl’s cry for help with a plate load of shit waiting for you back at the office. If it’s too much, just say so.” The head tilt with his reply is a test. She’d seen it so many times now. She knew he had expectations of her and she didn’t want to fail him. He looked completely fresh in his uniform, down to his spotless boots. And she felt sweaty and disheveled, her nerves trip-wiring while he always managed to make it seem effortless.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers defeatedly.

“What for?” His voice is low, not threatening anymore, almost comforting.

“I’m not strong. I’m not like you.” It started to give her a sense of why Eric was how he is. Until put into a similar position, she couldn't fathom her mind being drafted into different sections. She’d always been primed with tasks that were never too much of a responsibility. Yes, she sounded for the council in Abnegation on other topics people relied on, but never to this difficulty of Erudite. With the added effects of April and Jack, it was a recipe for personal and professional disaster. “I try, I really do.”

“Sarah...” As always, he lets his fingers tuck her hair away, gently tilting her face up to him. “I’ve always wanted you for who you are.” He shrugs. “Maybe, at first, I couldn’t quite get that. But I see it now. And always have since. I don’t want you to be like me, sweetheart.”

“But I’m not weak,” she stresses.

“No. You certainly aren’t.” He scoffs, his hands leisurely enveloping her waist. “Who else could stand me for nearly eighteen years? If anything, I feel kind of lucky.”

“Last night-” she rushes to say but he interrupts her.

“Forget about last night.” He dismisses it with a wave of his hand and swiftly cradles her head, pulling her forward, his lips in her hair, he lets her rest in the crook of his neck. “Forget about it. And forget about April too, she’ll get over it. Plus, I have something to show you.” She pulls back to the picturesque sight that is his smirk.

Eric had guided her to the Leader’s suite and covered her eyes as the elevator appeared on their floor. He walks her slowly as she grips his wrists, anxious and a little excited about what was in store that was so top secret that he couldn’t just say. 

“You’re scaring me a bit,” she comments, her hands gripping his wrists tighter while she is constantly driven forward by his chest hitting her back.

“That’s alright,” he whispers close to her ear. “Being scared makes you hold me closer.” He pushes up purposefully from behind. “And it reminds me of a time, years ago, down in the dark of the basement when we were trying to find those shitty panels.” His hands tighten on her skin as he mumbles, “Your wide eyes, open mouth, that quivering break in your voice.”

“There was no way, at the time, that you were thinking that.” She scoffs and laughs at how she remembers Eric back in the day. “You were stomping your feet, and you were mad that you had to go and fix the problem yourself.”

“How do you know exactly what I was thinking?” He bites at her neck suggestively, and as she flinches to stop him, he keeps his hands steady over her eyes. “No looking.”

“I remember thinking, ‘what would he do if I reached out and touched him’, as we were descending the steps. I was truly frightened then. I couldn’t see my own feet.”

“Honestly, I was hoping you would.”

Sarah beams, biting her lip to control herself as they swayed to a stop, the familiar waves of heat beginning to tighten pleasantly in the pit of her stomach. “Can I open them now?”

“Hold on.” It sounds like a door clicking open and Eric flicking on a light. A strong smell of fresh paint and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on entranced her senses in a rush. It made it almost impossible to wait any longer, Eric was really drawing this out, until he says, “Okay, you can look now.”

Sarah opens her eyes and gasps.