#I doubt anyone knows but it used to be ship sink or drink but I wasn't sure how that would translate over to the hellsite | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

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Author’s Note: Here it is, the long awaited one-shot that ended up a mini story in length. This wasn’t a planned idea, just something I went with and this is the result. I know this fandom is starting to shrink due to the show ending, but I hope those of you still here are having fun!

Masterlist

Summary/Pairing: Ivar x Reader In which Ivar thinks he’s found a daughter of the goddess Rán

Wordcount: 9642

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut NSFW

The night was warm and still when Ivar made his way down to the stretching shore. It was a difficult trek the older he became because he had to wade through the sand that seemed to double his weight and sap his strength. After all that effort, he was reminded why he put himself through such a trial when he came into the blessed solitude. When he was a boy he had found an old fishermen's dock that was no longer used, and it was a quiet place he could go without being bothered. Sometimes he would look out at the water and imagine all the lands that were waiting for him to bring them terror and glory. When he was feeling less ambitious after drinking with his brothers, he would lie back on the creaking boards of the dock and gaze at the stars and wonder if the gods were watching in forethought.

His mother told him it was the sea that would take him from her. Her eyes would grow empty yet full of sadness, and he could only watch without being able to comfort her. Ivar wanted to journey, and he assumed his mother's vision meant that either it was by ship or drowning that he would be taken. When one entered a longboat to go raiding, the chance of a storm crashing down was always a possibility, but it was a risk worth taking for honor and legacy. He loved his mother, more than anyone, but he could not stay in Kattegat forever. His fate was out there waiting, and he needed only to extend his hand to take it.

A sudden movement in the water broke his focus and he looked out over the dock to the rippling surface. His eyes adjusted, and he thought his mind had gone when he recognized the whites of a pair of eyes staring back at him. There was a person in the water, bobbing just to their nose above the surface. At first, Ivar reached forward with his hand. They must have been frozen to the bone in the frigid sea. Kattegat's waters never warmed, even in summer.

When he looked at his hand cast forward, he felt foolish. With his useless legs, he couldn't swim. His upper body strength might support him a moment or two, but then sink and be wrapped under in the weeds before he could take a breath. He withdrew his hand only to find the eyes were no longer where they should have been.

Ivar scooted closer to the edge of the dock, searching the black water for the face he thought he saw. He rubbed at his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't slept well enough, or maybe he had ingested something spoiled during the last meal. He chose to believe his senses were sharp. They had kept him alive this long, and while trying to match his brothers no less. His eyes did another sweep of the shore before he called out, "I know you're there. You should know you cannot hide from a son of Ragnar."

His legs that dangled over the pier were parted, and a figure came straight out from the water to rest its arms on his thighs. Ivar flushed when he saw the figure was womanly. A beautiful and terrifying face, with large silver eyes, peered up at him. He had mistaken you for a woman, but you were something more. The hair that tangled down to your waist dipped into the water, and below was not a pair of legs kicking. Black scales with a pearlescent shimmer. You were one of Rán's creatures, or perhaps a daughter to the goddess herself.

"Ragnarsson," You spoke, and he was struck dumb by your voice. "Few may hear the siren's song calling."

Ivar's eyes shot to your hand as it trailed up his leg. Your nails were long, and there was a transparent webbing between your fingers. What surprised him even more than your strange claws was how gentle your touch was. It was a caress barely felt through his trousers.

"Who are you?"

You smiled. "I am (Y/N)."

"I am Ivar."

"I know you," You replied, and your sweeping hand switched to cupping his cheek. "You have your father's eyes and spirit."

"You know Ragnar Lothbrok?" Ivar asked while leaning into your touch. Your hand was warm despite the brisk waters you waded in.

"I know many faces of your home. I like to watch and learn from your people. Your father was a gazer too, but his eyes were to the horizon. You search the stars and night sky."

When you began to pull away, Ivar grabbed your hand and brought it back to his face. "Do you know my brothers?"

"I have seen them, but my song does not reach their ears. You are unique."

Ivar simpered. He could hear what his brothers could not. While they were off in barns and clearings, playing under the skirts of thralls, he was alone in the quiet of the night with a goddess. The sea had chosen him, though youngest and deformed.

"Why have you sought me out?" He asked, desperate to have his hopes confirmed.

"I wish to talk with you, and learn more of your kind. But we must always meet under darkness, for many of your people would rather hurt me than trust me."

Ivar knew why. Fishermen told tales of beautiful women taking sailors to the water, down to the sea bed of Rán's hall, never again to surface. He did not think you had the malice to do such a thing to him.

"How do I know you'll return? Is this even real?"

He couldn't help the creeping doubt from springing forth, and you flashed him a look of pity before plucking the knife from his belt. That got his attention, and he lurched forward to reach for the thing, but you held no ill intent. Instead, you pulled your hair over your shoulder and cut free a length to give to him. It was softer than any wolf pelt, and he clutched it tight to his chest.

"Giving a lock of hair to another can be one's undoing, so believe that I will return or curse me should I ever be treacherous," You said, and you slid his knife back into place before dragging your hand down his thigh. His cock gave a twitch, and your grin told him you knew. "Farewell Ivar."

You slipped back into the water like a needle through silk, and he was only able to catch a glimpse of your tail before you disappeared into the deep.

ooOOoo

Ivar went back to the dilapidated dock every night, and true to your word you would be there waiting in the water. You only approached once he took his place at the end of the pier, and Ivar would keep his legs apart so you would come rest between them. As you spoke of things unimportant, he would weave his hand with yours, playing with your fingers and the thin membrane of webbing. You would return the affections with little pets of your own, and you always left a kiss to the corner of his mouth before parting.

The lock of hair you had given to him was always with him. He had braided it together into a bracelet that he wore everywhere on his wrist. If his brothers thought anything about it, they never voiced such concerns. Ivar presumed they figured he had found his own thrall to be with, and as distracted as they were with Margrethe, they didn't dig further into his affair. His mother had noticed the thing as well, and always she would give it a long stare. Ivar always anticipated her to ask, but she avoided mentioning it as if it were a matter too delicate to speak of.

Ivar wished he could bring you to meet his family if only to brag to his brothers that you had chosen him. But he knew that could never happen. They would fear that you were a deceiver after his life, and his mother would have you killed to keep him safe. She probably would never let him near water again.

"Ivar," You called, clasping both hands on either side of his face. "Your mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Sorry," He said, looking away momentarily. "I just was thinking what it would be like to live our lives together."

"Come with me to the water," You suggested, and you gave a small tug on his arm that scooted him closer to the edge. He almost let you drag him in before he grew hesitant and pushed back.

"I can't swim like this," He said, scowling at you and then his legs.

"I will keep you safe." Ivar searched your face for any deception, but he only saw your smile. "You don't trust me?"

"I do," He said quickly. "But I…"

You heaved yourself upwards on the dock until it was just the tip of your tail whipping strokes in the water. Ivar caught your bare torso against his chest, and he flushed as your breasts pressed up against him. You were practically sharing the same air, noses brushing together as you steadied yourself in his arms. Your eyes met and you breathed a laugh that eased his previous concerns.

"We won't go far. I just want to show you that your legs aren't the burden you think they are."

You weren't pleading, and Ivar was intrigued by your suggestion. He gave you a short nod, and that was all it took for you to wrap your arms around him and haul him down into the depths. Your strength was surprising, but the admiration was banished from his mind the moment the cold water soaked straight through to his blood. He thrashed his arms, grabbing for purchase at imaginary aids that weren't there. When he tried to let out a shout, he swallowed saltwater. The sea was going to take him, just as his mother feared.

No. You were there, and you had never left. Like a spark to wood, Ivar was enveloped in a new warmth, and he floated to the surface with your arms around him. He took his first breath of air, but his throat was raw and he sputtered and choked. Your lips closed over his while he continued to cough, and it was as if you pulled all of the water out from his lungs. He didn't know if it was a real kiss, but he wore a shy grin as you pulled away.

"Breathe," You instructed. "Breathe, and look up at the stars you love."

Ivar first looked back at the shore and realized you had kept your promise. You had only taken him out far enough so his feet wouldn't brush the sandy floor. He then craned his neck up to the sky and found the familiar sight of his stars. They were the same out in the water as they were on land, a comforting thought for when he would one day sail away from home. The sky would always be there.

"Lie back and let the water hold you," You whispered in his ear from behind.

Ivar didn't know when you had maneuvered around to his back, but he continued to put his faith in you as you guided him down gently into the water. He was lying face up with his body floating across the surface weightless and free. You joined beside him, and together you shared in the silent night, bathed in the moonlight with the motion of the sea carrying your bodies. Ivar forgot for a moment about his broken legs. Drifting there beside you, he felt whole.

"You didn't answer me before," He spoke up, and you watched him with curiosity. "About us living our lives together. Is it possible?"

"There are those of my people who have given up the sea's blessing to live on land. Some may even live among your kind, though I doubt you would recognize them."

"How did they do it?" Ivar was sure even the dumbest farmer in Kattegat would have noticed a child of Rán flopping about.

"When my people choose to live a life as a land dweller, they simply have to go ashore. The blessing of the sea will fade, and in place will be a soft and weak human body, " You explained, and you turned your eyes away from him. "But the sea is vengeful and she hates those who leave her waters. Once the blessing fades, we can never return to her currents, or else we would be reduced to nothing more than foam that settles into tide pools."

If you were to be together you would have to give up everything you knew to be with him. Ivar wanted to ask this of you, but he was afraid of your answer. Being a prince as well as his mother's favored son meant he never had to work for anything. What he wanted he got, and always in plenty. If you refused him, he feared the rejection and what his reaction could be. He wasn't beyond forcing you out from the water onto dry land if it meant keeping you for himself. Better to not ask now. It was too early to demand so much from you.

He heard you shift in the water, and you were at his side again while supporting his back with your strong hands. "You don't want to ask me?"

Ivar shook his head. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"I know you will soon, Ivar. It's in your eyes, they darken with hunger."

"What would you say if I did?"

He let out a shiver as you righted him back into your arms, holding him in your embrace that let him know you were in control. "I would say that you could also give up your life to be with me. Right now, I could take you down there, and you would never again have to worry about dragging yourself upon the land."

The idea of never having to crawl again was tantalizing, something he had always wished for, and yet...even if he was with you, he knew he wouldn't forget all that he would leave behind. He wanted to show his people he could lead and conquer better than any man, even without working legs.

"I couldn't," He murmured.

"Then it is good I did not ask, and nor will you ask it of me. We will take comfort in the joy we have now, and forget everything else."

You met his eyes with your own. Silver, just like the treasures that were brought back over from raids. Ivar refused to fluster under your gaze, even though your peering felt like a piercing dagger. He wanted to appear self-assured, and not as some young lad who needed you to hold him. He pulled you close and planted a clumsy but heartfelt kiss. Your lips were cold but your mouth was warm, and he tried to keep up with your feverish pace as you devoured everything from the kiss.

When you clapped your hands on his cheeks, Ivar could feel himself trembling, and he knew it wasn't because of the kiss. Your mouth left him, and he tried to find your lips again. You placed a finger to his mouth to stop him and gave him a shake of your head. "You are like ice. I've kept you here too long."

"Not long enough," He retorted before sneaking another kiss on you.

You laughed while gently prying him back. "You have your father's confidence."

"Good, maybe you can find out what else of his I have." He gave you his best wolfish grin.

"We'll have our time," You promised, and you secured an arm around him before starting to swim back to shore.

The water seemed to grow colder as you glided through it and by the time you made it back to the pier, Ivar couldn't control his shivering. You urged him up onto the dock, and your concern had made you grow quiet. Ivar didn't mind that you fretted over his well-being, but he missed your smile.

"How will you make it back home?" You asked while looking over him to where the edge of the town was barely visible through the treeline. It was a long way off.

"I've travelled further," Ivar excused, though he had his trepidations. His damp clothes were sticking to him, and his hair felt like grass after the thawing in spring. The cold made his muscles tighten, and he wasn't looking forward to pawing at the ground with stiff hands.

"Go now, while you have the moon's light to guide you."

"When can I see you again?" It was becoming more difficult each time he had to leave you, and his thoughts revolved around when you could be together.

"I'll come back until I feel you no longer wish to see me." You reached your hand out to him, and Ivar took it, bringing it to his chest.

"That will never happen."

What he was saying must have been madness. Maybe you were Rán's daughter, and you had him under a spell. If you did, he didn't care. He would gladly stay under your enchantment. It was a warmth all his own, and a happiness he didn't have to share or contend with his brothers over.

"Goodnight my love." You placed your lips once more on his hand before returning to the sea.

Ivar did not watch after you as he usually would. It was a luxury he couldn't afford. The desperation to get inside by a fire drove him to turn towards home, and he struggled through the terrain as fast as his dragging would get him. He only passed by drunks and stragglers that did not give him a second glance upon realizing who he was. Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple. No one important.

He huffed his way up the stairs of the Great Hall, nudging on the doors with his shoulder until they parted. A low fire was burning in the pit, and his mother was asleep on her throne. She was still all done up from the last meal, and he realized she must have waited up for his return. His guilt propelled him forward, and he went towards her instead of his room. Careful not to wake her, he collapsed on the furs at her feet where sleep found him quickly.

Ivar didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he was startled awake by screaming. It took him a moment to realize it was his voice shouting, and he had jack-knifed into a seated position, clutching at his lower right leg. He knew he had broken a bone, and his mother, who was alert at his side, knew it as well. She called for two able-bodied guards to take him back to his room, out of sight of the thralls who had now gathered. None of his brothers were about, and he was relieved to be spared the humiliation. The weakness of his body during moments like this was only for his mother and the healers.

He was placed down onto the fur-covered palette in his room with one of the guards already off to fetch a healer. His mother was already trying to soothe his agony with her words, and as she brushed the hair on his forward she grew a frown.

"You're burning up," She said, feeling his forehead and then his chest. And your clothes are damp."

He swatted softly at her hand, frustrated with her observations but with never enough ire to cause her any harm. "Go away."

"Ivar, where do you go? All of these nights you leave my sight and no one knows anything about it." She plucked at the bracelet of your hair on his wrist before he jerked it out of her reach. "Who is this woman you see?"

"Get out, please," He begged. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, and he didn't know if it was from the fever or the pain in his legs.

He was spared any further argument from her when the healer entered with three other thralls to assist. With soft voices, they were able to make her leave, at least until they finished addressing his fracture. Ivar would have felt awful at banishing his mother from his side if he could summon any other thought that wasn't about the hurt he was feeling.

The trek back through Kattegat had proved to be too much, but he didn't regret the night spent with you. In the water under the stars, and in your arms sharing kisses was where he wanted to be. He kept those thoughts in mind as the healer got to work on setting his leg in place, slathering it in a warming salve before wrapping it tightly in bandages.

"My Prince, you will need to stay in bed for the next few days to give the bone time to mend."

He gazed up at the rafters of the ceiling with contempt. How was he supposed to stay put knowing you were out there waiting for him? He couldn’t let the time pass and risk losing you, but he would need help.

"Go and bring me Ubbe," He instructed one of the thralls who shuffled out of the room at his request.

The healer continued to try and force some foul brew down his throat that he cursed her for at every turn of his head. Ivar knew he was notorious for being difficult to treat, but this healer had stuck through the bad times at his side. He admired her tenacity. If the situation was reversed, he would have given up on himself a long time ago.

After he had taken a large enough dose of the revolting stuff, he was left alone. The medicine made his head foggy, and he drifted in and out of consciousness while waiting for Ubbe to arrive. His eldest brother was best suited for the task in mind because he was soft when it came to Ivar's condition. Hvitserk didn't care about his legs either way, and Sigurd made a point to disparage him at every turn so he was definitely out of the running. Ivar guessed they had to all be out to the hunter's cabin. Following the commotion he had caused in the morning, one of them would have heard about it by now if they had been in town. It was nothing new really. He was used to being left behind.

Just as he was about to slip into another fitful bout of sleep, his door was forced open and in came his brother. He looked out of breath from running at least half of the distance back. Poor, gullible Ubbe.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Ivar started to explain as he forced himself to sit up. "Another broken bone."

"Mother says you also have a fever," Ubbe retorted as he took a seat at the end of the palette.

Ivar groaned. He hadn't estimated that his mother would be playing watchdog. "She got to you already?"

"She's worried about you."

"What else is new? She always worries about me," He grunted out as his leg twitched in pain.

"It's not just her this time. We all are concerned. You disappear at late hours and you're always tired. Even Hvitserk has noticed, and haven't you realized that Sigurd no longer says anything to you? For him, that's practically a defeat."

Come to think of it, Ivar couldn't recall the last verbal sparring match he'd shared with his third brother. Had his time with you sapped him of his usual energy?

"I need your help with something."

"Alright," Ubbe agreed with a nod of his head. "What is it?"

"When night falls, I need you to go down to the water. There's an abandoned dock if you follow the shoreline westward. Wait there and call for (Y/N), and tell her what has happened to me."

"Is she the woman who gave you that?" Ubbe asked while indicating to the bracelet on his wrist."

Ivar nodded as he began to twirl the thing around. It meant more to him than an arm ring. It was proof you had chosen him. "She's a daughter of Rán."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see for yourself when you meet her." He smiled something Ubbe couldn't understand.

"Feel better, brother," Ubbe said softly as he made his exit from the room.

Ivar could feel the headiness of the brew still working, as he was pulled into visions of you. Together you danced under the moonlight. He could recall the feeling of working legs even though he'd never had a pair before. You glided with him in his arms, but Ivar could not see if it was feet you stood upon or you had somehow managed to balance on the tip of your tail. The strangeness made him privy to the knowledge it was just a dream, but he allowed himself to be carried away in fantasy regardless.

Sometimes his mother would pop inside to have a check on him. Her long hands caressing his forehead and pushing back his hair made him feel like a boy again. The worry on her face had settled now that he was no longer writhing in pain. They only shared in a handful of words while the healer continued to tend to him. It was their special connection, a bond she did not have with his brothers.

When night came and darkness fell, Ivar sat himself up against the wall and waited for Ubbe to return with word of you. It was the first time in a long line of sneaking away that he didn't escape to go find you. A strange emptiness filled him at the thought, and he rubbed at his eyes to combat the sleep that threatened to take him. He couldn’t miss the update about you because he had fallen asleep.

A thin stream of silver light poked through a cut out in the roof of his room, and he imagined you in the water beneath the stars. He wondered what your reaction would be to learning of his injury. Concern he hoped, and not pity or regret for the night they had shared.

As Ivar's thoughts began to spiral out, he was relieved from further gloom when the door opened. Ubbe had returned, and he had on a perplexed frown that furrowed his brow.

"Well, did you speak with her?" Were the first words out of Ivar's mouth.

Ubbe shut the door behind him before coming further into the room. "I called for (Y/N) and waited on that pier, but no one ever came, Ivar."

He took a moment to juggle that information in his head while Ubbe looked on with worry. You never showed. Had something happened to you? Perhaps you were riddled with guilt about taking him in the water or you had seen Ubbe from a distance but did not approach. That had to be it. His brother was a stranger who did not hear your song as he had.

"I have to go there."

Ivar threw the furs off and started to twist to the side. His broken leg protested the rapid movement, and he grunted through his struggle. Ubbe was already at his side pushing him back. He latched onto his brother's arm and tried to shove him off, but even his upper strength had waned and he ended up flopping back down like a lifeless fish.

"You can't leave this room like that," Ubbe scolded. He took a seat down beside him, preventing him from trying something foolish again. "You'll end up losing that leg entirely."

"What's that matter? I'd be no worse off than I am right down."

Ubbe sighed. "I understand you care about this (Y/N), but I don't believe she would want to see you harm yourself this way."

Ivar knew you wouldn't. That's why he had to see you again and be surrounded by your love. "You could take me there."

"We'd never make it past the throne. Mother has seen fit to have eyes on who comes and leaves your room. I think she is looking for the woman to blame."

"(Y/N) won't come here," Ivar said and he could see the confusion on Ubbe's face, but he didn't elaborate. "I've probably lost her forever now."

"If she truly cares for you, she'll still be there," Ubbe argued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "When you are well enough, I promise I'll help you back to the dock."

Ivar knew from past experiences that it would take many moons before he'd be fully healed. His eyes closed as angry tears threatened to fall. Why had the gods cursed him with these horrible limbs? The faults of his parents should not have fallen onto him. It was a cruel fate.

When he didn't continue to speak, Ubbe must have assumed he had fallen back asleep. He crept back to the door and exited the room as softly as a mouse scuttles through the kitchen.

Once he was alone, Ivar opened his eyes and took off the bracelet from around his wrist. He held it close to his lips, feeling the silk strands as he kissed the braided band. Maybe you could sense him reaching out. He decided to keep it enclosed in his hand and across his heart. If you were calling out, he would feel you in his sleep.

ooOOoo

In the many days that went by, Ivar became more frustrated with his leg. His broken bone was mending, but not fast enough that he was allowed out of the great hall. The slow progress had him taking out his anger on everyone, and they must have felt as trapped in with him as he was feeling about being locked up.

After a brief appearance to sit down to a meal with their mother, he had not seen his brothers again. This time he could admit he was to blame, and that they made the smart decision to cut and run back to the cabin. He had made the meal as uncomfortable as he could manage out of some need for vengeance. While they were free to run about Kattegat with their thralls, he was stuck in bed with wrinkled healers painting noxious salves on his body. He couldn’t be with you, so he chose to be spiteful.

Even his mother began to show signs of being fed up with him. Her smiles were now close-lipped, and she would linger by the door when she visited to make a hasty exit. He had yelled at her only once, and it had to do with her wanting to leave him just like everyone else. Ivar knew that wasn't true, and the moment she let out an anguished sob he had apologized.

Rather than continue to hurt those around him, he knew what he had to do. His leg was well enough that he could crawl again, and if he secured it tightly in his leather bindings it should protect the bone from any trauma as he moved. He had to get down to the pier himself and find you again. The call from the sea had him more desperate for water than a man dying of thirst. No thrall or guard would dare refuse him, and even his mother would not be able to stop him from going. He was doing this for her as well, even if she wouldn't see it that way. After causing her tears, he wouldn't be the reason for any more of her sorrow.

He needed the light to travel, so he began the trek from his room when the sun had only just begun to kiss the horizon. Much of the activity in the great hall had died down once the last meal had been served, and many of the thralls had already gone off to the barn. His mother was not on her throne. Ivar smirked at his good fortune and made for the doors as fast as he was able. Once he had them nudged shut behind him, he began his descent down the stairs. It was the most difficult part of the journey, guiding his body down feet first so his leg wouldn't bounce on every step down.

By the time he had cleared the treeline, the sun had set further and shadows were popping up in every corner. Ivar was more winded than he would normally be due to being bedridden, and he was mindful that he would have to work on building back the strength he had lost. But none of that mattered now. The dock was in sight. He had made it. He went together well with the solitude of the place, and when he sat perched on the end the creaking boards welcomed him home.

"(Y/N)," Ivar called out while searching for any ripple in the water. The surface remained still as glass, and he frowned while giving your name another shout.

Perhaps it was still too young in the day. He waited for the complete pitch of night to hit while letting his mind run wild with all the things he wanted to tell you about. It would be like a reunion of two lovers, and he couldn't fathom how one could be separated from their woman while gone on raids. Of course, his mother and father detested one another's presence, so it must have come as a balm to be away from one another.

The clouds parted from the moon, and one by one the stars surfaced in the sky. He called for you again, then held his breath to listen for any break in the water. Instead, he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, and over his shoulder, he saw Ubbe approaching.

"I figured you would try coming back soon," Ubbe said once he stood at his side. "How's the leg?"

"Stiff," He replied tersely. "What do you want?"

Ubbe took an uninvited seat beside him which caused Ivar to shift over. There wasn't nearly enough room at the edge of the dock for both of them, and the wood groaned with the added weight.

"I never told you, but I've been coming back here every night after you sent me to search for (Y/N)."

Ivar frowned. "Why?"

"Because I saw how important it was to you to get that message to her, and I wanted to help. I might not be able to take away your pain, but I will still be your legs where I can."

Ivar looked at his lap as the heat built up in his face. He never knew how to take to his eldest brother's kindness. None of the rest of them had it, but from Bjorn's mouth, it was said that he inherited it from Ragnar.

"She never came back, did she?"

Ubbe shook his head. "She must only come for you."

"I don't think so," Ivar said as he looked out at the water. "It's been too long, and I've missed my chance. I don't think she'll come back."

"If she cares for you as you do her, I'm certain she'll be back."

Ubbe's words floated off him as he gazed down at the black water. He was struck with an irrational idea to force your hand if you were near. Before his brother could react, Ivar threw himself off the dock and into the water. It wasn't deep this close to shore, but it was enough that he began to sink. Ubbe was quick to follow, and Ivar tried in vain to bat away his saving hands. He was so desperate to have you come back that he would risk drowning. What a fool.

"Idiot," Ubbe cursed as he dragged them both up onto the sand. "What were you trying to do?"

Ivar turned his head away as he coughed up water. He felt embarrassed by what he'd just done and angry that it didn't earn him anything more than soaked clothes. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand, and you won't help me to," Ubbe said, and his tone lightened from annoyance to mild irritation. "I need my little brother back. The one who's smarter than me at every turn, and doesn't make me fish him out of the sea."

Ivar started to laugh. It began in a quiet snicker and grew deep from his belly until Ubbe joined him. Neither of them knew what the humor was in the situation, but Ivar felt it was better to give in to the urge. He wanted to forget you weren't there, and giggling like a child with his brother in the sand was a good way to accomplish that.

"Should we head back?"

Ivar gave his leg a tug with his hand. "The bandage has soaked through and is starting to fall off. Guess I'd better have it looked at."

Ubbe crouched down beside him and indicated for him to climb up on his back. "C'mon, it'll be faster."

For once Ivar didn't argue. He couldn’t benefit from another disagreement, and he didn't want to be in wet clothes longer than he had to. Ubbe or Floki were the two he trusted most to support him. Hvitserk had dropped him one time, and he refused to let that happen twice. Sigurd never offered.

Once he was secured up to Ubbe's height, they started back home. He chanced one last look over his shoulder for as long as the water was in sight, clinging to the idea that you would spring up from the depths. The only movement out there came from the wind and the tide.

Neither brother spoke another word, but Ivar suspected Ubbe knew he had taken that last glance. How could he not? He wasn't ready to give up on you or accept the idea that you had abandoned him. Thoughts of you being in harm came to him, and he to banish those away because of the helpless feeling they gave him. You were a daughter of Rán, and the sea couldn't hurt you. Repeating it enough times had to make it true. As they journeyed through the night back to Kattegat, Ivar clung to the hope of seeing you again, and his thoughts warmed him up and dulled the pain until he found rest.

ooOOoo

Time passed by for Ivar and the pain in his legs dulled back into its usual ache. With his bone mended he could return to training with his brothers, and hunting up by the cabin. While his physical injury may have healed, it was not so for the throbbing in his heart. He had gone for sparse visits to the abandoned dock again, with each ending in the same sorrow until he had decided to give up going back. What's more, your bracelet that he had never let out of reach had vanished one day. Perhaps you had never been real, and he had dreamed you up.

What more could the gods take from him? First, it was his legs, then his father, and recently he was drifting from his brothers due to their infatuation with Margrethe. It was his mother he looked to as his constant, but she had grown distracted by visions. It was now common practice for her to disappear to her room after the last meal, when not so long ago she would be the last to leave with a chalice of wine. All of this left Ivar alone, and his thoughts had become unbearable. He needed something to dull the noise, a distraction.

More than anything Ivar longed to keep up with his brothers, and that's when he decided he wanted to fuck a woman. He approached Ubbe with the request to convince Margrethe. She had a pleasant face, and she didn't resemble you. If she had taken three of the other sons of Ragnar, he should be no different. Ubbe appeared torn when he first asked but did agree, and Margrethe was hardly in a position to refuse.

Now that the moment was approaching, and he was being brought over to the cabin by boat, he wondered if he would be the one to refuse. From what he'd always seen, men loved to hump a beautiful woman. It's what led to his parents' affair and marriage. So what was wrong with him that as he grew closer to the destination he felt ill? Ubbe certainly wasn't sharing the sentiment. He wore a dumb grin and was humming an old song to himself.

"You're happy I'm about to lay with your woman?" Ivar asked.

Ubbe laughed. "Margrethe isn't my woman, she's still a thrall. But I am happy because this is a good day for you, brother."

The day is still young, Ivar thought with a bitterness that was ingrained in his bones. Was sex such a powerful thing that it would shift who he became? Other than to have children, Ivar never dwelled on the matter. He'd never had a lover, and the closest he had come to obtain such a relationship was with you.

The boated jilted back and forth as it hit shallow water. Ubbe tied off by a tree before coming to fetch him. He was to be carried by his brother to his first tryst with a woman. Not nearly as humiliating as crawling he supposed, but the difference was negligible.

As they passed through the threshold of the abandoned cabin, Ivar stole a look around the place. It smelt like fire and driftwood, and there was a bed that had been piled thick with furs. The flame burning in the hearth let him know that Margrethe was already there.

Ubbe deposited him down on the bed and turned to get a look at him. "I'll leave now so you can be ready for her. Relax and enjoy yourself."

Ivar swallowed. That was easy for any of his brothers, they all had working parts. A handful of times he had felt his prick twitch and stiffen, but it was never a long event and he had never dared to try to take himself in hand. It was silly, but he was afraid of his cock.

He began to disrobe with haste, not wanting Margrethe to walk in on him without his trousers and his legs exposed. Once he was free of his garments he threw the heavy furs over himself and clutched them at his waist. All he could hear was his heart pounding, and he kept his chin tucked into his chest, straining to listen for the woman in the cabin.

She came to him from behind in light, cautious steps. Perhaps she was nervous, or his trepidations had seeped into the air and spoiled the mood. Ivar resisted the urge to peek until she stood at the side of the bed. When he glanced up he saw that she wore a fisherman's net as a veil. Her features were distorted, but he could make out the subtle difference that alluded to her being anyone other than Margrethe.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered and hoped.

You lifted back the thin mesh from your face, and you put on a dazzling smile. Ivar had never seen a better sight, not the first sacrifice of spring or the storms of Thor could hold a candle up to you. You donned a crisp white gown that was cinched at the waist with a strap of brown leather, and your hair was a wild tangle of waves. He had never seen you without your sodden tresses.

You took your first step to come closer, but you lost your balance and fell onto the bed in his awaiting arms. This was where you belonged.

"Shit," You cursed, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "I was supposed to be beautiful and graceful, but these legs are too light. If I run fast enough, I'm sure I could soar like a bird."

"You have legs?" Ivar exclaimed while pulling you onto the bed beside him with all of the strength he could summon. "Let me see."

You swung your legs across his lap, careful not to rest any weight on his thighs. He hitched the skirt of your dress up to your thighs, exposing the new flesh. His hands didn't know where to touch first. This must be the work of the gods. In place of your magnificent tail were two gorgeous limbs that he was happy to smooth his hands over. You wiggled your toes, content to observe Ivar as he studied you.

"How is this possible?"

"I told you my people can choose to abandon the sea. Now I'm a soft creature like you," You said while giving his arm a playful squeeze.

He caught your hands before you could pull away and placed a kiss on each of them. They no longer had the webbing or claws, but there was a strength to them that he could feel under your touch. "Where did you go? I tried so many times to find you, and I even sent my brother."

"You had your life up here, and I had mine below," You said as your eyes grew vacant. "When I did return to the surface, I could no longer find you. All of these things left unsaid caused us to miss each other."

"Then why are you here now, like this?"

You reached for his wrist, finding it bare. Ivar knew what you searched for. "You no longer have my precious gift. Did you think I turned treacherous?"

"I misplaced it. I would never have thrown it away, even if I thought you'd left me."

"I know," You said as you ran a hand down his bare chest and over his heart. "You were in more pain than I understood that night. The blue in your eyes."

Ivar tensed. "How did you learn about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"My mother…" Ivar knew his mouth was hanging open in question, and he snapped it shut to regain composure.

"She found your bracelet. It was her voice I could hear beckoning me to the land. She must be a powerful woman to do such a thing."

You didn't have any animosity in your voice, but Ivar couldn't help but feel angry for you. His mother had taken your life from the sea by force. He had considered the heinous deed himself for a time, but he would have never risked your resentment. What if that came to pass now that the unthinkable had happened?

Ivar couldn't keep himself from looking at you now. He wouldn't let you go a second time. "She said the sea will take me. Perhaps you are meant to stop that from happening."

"Or maybe I am the sea," You said, shifting your hips as you hovered over his lap. With a firm shove you had him down flat on the furs, and he nearly lost his air as your thighs squeezed at his waist. "Come to take you myself because I couldn't stand the thought of that Margrethe touching you."

And then Ivar realized...Ubbe had known he was taking him to you. You had been on land long enough to learn to walk and find out about his pathetic setup with the thrall. His face flushed and he turned his head to the side before feeling your fingers grasp his chin. You tilted his face back around, and he saw only tenderness.

"I know the weariness from being alone. My heart has been there as well."

"You'll stay?" Ivar knew he sounded a touch petulant, but he did not want to suffer another morning with you vanishing.

"Until the gods bring you home and the sea turns me to froth, I will remain by your side, Ivar Ragnarsson."

He didn't know who's lips touched first, but when your mouths connected, it was like being awash on the deck of a ship. You were a cool drink of water with the tang of salt, and Ivar threaded his hands through your hair. The more his hold tightened, the more it pulled him in like reeds in a marsh.

You withdrew slowly, and you held his gaze, even when he wanted to look away from the thrill of what you'd just done. With careful hands, you shed the veil from your head, and then the dress, all collecting into one pile on the floor with his garments. You were naked before him. All of your scales were gone in place of smooth flesh and pleasing curves. Ivar knew he was gaping at your breasts, how they rose and fell with each rapid breath you took. As you gave a coy grin, you peeled back one corner of the furs and slithered your way in beside him. You pressed up against his side, and his body went taut as you tangled your legs with his.

"Is this alright?" You asked while your toes brushed up and down his shin.

"Yes," He said as a puff of air escaped him.

It was stifling hot under the covers, and your hand seemed to sear his flesh as you dragged it up to his thigh. Your fingers just teased next to cock before brushing up his abdomen. Ivar shifted, his hand reaching yours to halt your motions.

Your eyes flashed to his, and you smiled with patience. "Tell me what you want."

"I…" He paused, unable to form the words, and he could feel himself losing his nerve. With a tighter grasp, he took control of your hand and brought it back down to his half-hard prick. "I just want you."

"You have me," You murmured back as your hand began to fondle his shaft. He continued to grow in your hand, and Ivar let his eyes roll back at the feeling of you working him. His cock had never been so stiff, and his free hand clutched at the furs as he tried to recognize everything he was feeling. Fluid was beginning to bead out at his tip, and he struggled to push you back.

"S-stop," He sputtered.

You pulled back with a shy expression, and you were breathing just as hard as he was. You enjoyed what you could do to him. "Are you alright?"

Ivar bobbed his head, not sure if he agreed or not with your question. "I was losing control too soon, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"Is that all?" You rolled yourself on top of him, pushing back the furs while the cold air of the room pebbled your nipples. Ivar looked up at you in awe. "Touch me then."

Your slick center was rubbing on the base of his shaft now pressed up against his stomach, and he could feel his hips give a few practiced ruts. He saw the flash of delight in your eyes, and you hummed out a moan that was as long as a horn that bellowed in war.

"I'm still adjusting to this new body," You panted. "I've never felt like this before."

Ivar felt a strong sense of pride for bringing you these new experiences along with him. Even though he lacked the skill, he had a newfound confidence that had him reaching for you. His hands felt rough and clumsy against your untouched skin, squeezing and pawing to see how much pressure to apply and where. Your breasts were soft and pliable while your backside was firm and rounded, and you leaned further into him as he grasped onto your cheeks. You placed a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat that had him moaning. He wondered if you could hear his heart racing.

"Please," He choked. "I need to feel you."

Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you pulled back to watch his face as you clutched his cock. Lining it up with your slippery center, you brought your cunt down to the hilt. Ivar was under no delusions that he would last long or immediately be worthy of infamy in bed like his brothers, but being surrounded by your wet heat, he thought he'd cum right then. As you sat up straight to readjust, he let out a gasp. You did too, only when his eyes cracked open to get a look at you, your eyes were shut and your face was screwed up in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" You whimpered, hands grabbing at his chest. It seemed everything about your human body was new.

"For human women, it does the first time." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you down onto the bed with himself still connected between your legs. It would be difficult for him to manage this way long, but it would be better for you this time. "I've got you."

Your eyes were blurry from unshed tears, but he could feel you relax in his arms as he began to set a slow pace. On the first withdrawal of his cock he could see a small amount of blood seep out which he regretted feeling thrilled about. You were his now, and he was yours.

The strength in your legs was unmatched, and as you grew more comfortable you squeezed at his waist with your knees. He knew his end was already in sight from the tightening in his balls and the burning in his gut. You had thrown your head back, hair tousled and mouth open to show your sharp teeth. It was the only telltale sign that you weren't a human, and he bought his lips down on yours to explore the fangs with his tongue. You teased back with little nips, and you gave a harsh tug on his hair that separated him from the sloppy kiss.

"Fuck," He breathed out, and his hips began to lose rhythm. "I can't go much longer."

You ran a hand meant to soothe down his back, but it only spurred him on. His hips snapped at a frenzied pace with his thighs smacking against yours. Nothing could stop him chasing the feeling of his release, and with a few more pumps he felt himself empty deep inside you with a profane groan. All of the strain he'd put on his arms to keep from balancing on his legs gave out, and he collapsed on top of you. Your hot skin stuck to his, and he could feel you twitch beneath him.

"Sorry," He whispered embarrassedly. He rolled off of you and his cock made a wet pop as it slipped out from your folds. "You didn't get to finish."

You rolled onto your side to look at him, still breathing fast and on the precipice of your release. "Forget that. This was about you getting to enjoy me tonight."

Ivar shook his head as he turned into you. "But I want you to enjoy me as well."

His hand dove for your core, chubby fingers fumbling around in your wet pussy that was now a mix of your blood and his cum. This was the first time he had felt a woman's warmth, and he watched your reaction as he felt around your lips and the tiny bud at the top. When he stroked over it with his thumb your legs jerked and you whined. He continued to swirl his digit around the nub while experimenting with varying degrees of pressure. You were now experiencing his love for you, and he could read what you enjoyed most with how expressive you were with your body. He settled into a comfortable pattern, and your hand shot down to join his when he hit a perfect cadence.

"Yes...there," You cried.

Ivar plunged his longest finger into your depths as you began to wither and shake. He could feel your pussy clamp down on him as you came, and he knew he wanted to feel that on his cock next time. Your eyes blinked rapidly as you started to calm, and he withdrew his hand, only to bring it to his mouth for a taste. You watched him in rapt attention.

"A warrior tastes the blood of his enemies in battle, so should he not also taste his lover's in bed?"

You brought your hands back together with his and pulled yourself against his chest. "If the gods willed it, then let it be so."

You laid in silence together, and Ivar felt your little puffs of air even out as you fell asleep. He pulled a fur over the both of you, the fire had long gone low and the night air colder. Indeed the gods must have willed it. Ivar now knew he was favored by the gods above all other sons of Ragnar. You were a daughter of Rán, and you had chosen him. His mother knew it as well, or else she wouldn't have summoned you back into his arms. In his heart, he had already forgiven her for taking the bracelet.

The sea had come to take him, and he had gone willingly into the mouth of the current. It was comfortable there, like a never-ending waterfall over rocks beating him down onto your altar. You opened it up and took him in, and now you were both drenched.

The cabin grew cold and black, and Ivar went to sleep beside you that night with the comfort that the stars still shined overhead, and that when dawn came he would not have to face another day without you.

Taglist

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#ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings #history vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar smut #ivar ragnarsson #ivar angst #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Loose Lips Sink Ships (Soran X Swift!Reader)

Request: The Next Instalment of the Swift!Reader Universe where everyone finds out that the reader is dating Emily and Lindsey. Basically, 5000 words of the reader getting caught in compromising positions, having deep conversations with her sister and teasing some too invasive fans.

Other Parts of the Swift!Reader Universe

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Taylor considered herself a very perceptive person, especially when it came to you. From the time you were little, she could read you like a book. She knew to look for the tilt of your head when you were curious, or how you scratched the back of your neck when you were nervous.

But this, she had never seen before. Your thumbs twiddled on your thighs, patting out an erratic pattern that didn’t match any of your favorite songs, and your feet were tapping out a completely different beat. You also kept tucking your chin, completely refusing to make eye contact with her.

It wasn’t just tonight either. It was for the entire week you had been staying with her in her Manhattan apartment. She didn’t know if she could take another three weeks of you sneaking off to the terrace to make phone calls at midnight.

She sighed, turning away from the stove to lean over the island, taking a long drag from her wine glass and eyeing you carefully.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You blinked up at her with owlish eyes.

“You’re acting weird,” she added with a shrug, turning to whatever she was making on the stove.

You took a large gulp of your drink and swallowed hard. You didn’t think you had been that obvious, but then again Taylor knew you better than anyone (well, there were two people who probably knew you as well as she did). Soon enough they would be just as good at getting information out of you as Taylor was.

“I’m just tired. Pre-season and national team duty are kinda kicking my ass,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, praying to god that she would take this excuse.

She nodded, tapping the spatula on the side of the pot before turning back to you and picking up her glass again. “I’m sure the media pressure isn’t helping that,”

You shrugged.“Everyone just expects me to be you, and it’s a lot sometimes,” You mumbled, absentmindedly circling your fingers over the rim of your glass.

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. She could tell you weren’t telling her everything, but if this was the route you wanted to take, then she wouldn’t miss a chance to reaffirm you.

“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” She said softly, reaching across the island to gently grab your hand.

You finally looked up at your sister, echoing her sad smile, and noting the worried crinkle by her eyes. “It’s not really your fault,”

She nodded. “I know, but all I can do is tell you how amazing you are as many times as I can,”

You held her gaze for a few more seconds, her seriousness giving you no reason to doubt her sincerity.

It didn’t matter what the media, or your family, said about your career. Taylor maintained that you were just as good, simply because you were you. She was your greatest champion and most trusted confidant.

You nodded, and she squeezed your hand before turning back to the stove. She knew pushing you to talk about what was really bothering you wouldn’t help. You would come to her when you were ready.

You watched her thoughtfully as she put the final touches on dinner, checking on a tray in the oven and stirring the things on the stove.

You were comforted by the familiarity of it, but the little voice in the back of your head reminded you that you also enjoyed this position when it was a different blond cooking for you (and the way Lindsey teased her while she cooked).

The three of you had been together for nearly eight months, and recently you had all decided that maybe it was time to stop hiding. The first step was telling Taylor, but you weren’t really sure how.

Your heart thumped in your chest at the thought of your two favorite women. Your girlfriends, you reminded yourself. They made you feel so many amazing, and terrifying things you had never felt before. Taylor always sang about those emotions, and you wondered if this was what she was talking about.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked softly, and Taylor paused her stirring on the stove. That was always the cue you used when you wanted to have a serious conversation. When you were nervous about whatever the answer would be. The last time you had asked that you wanted to know if she would be upset if you skipped college in favor of going pro.

Her opinion mattered to you more than anyone else’s.

“You know you always can,” She said, avoiding looking over her shoulder (towards where she knew you were worrying your lip between your teeth).

“How did you know you were in love?”

Taylor paused, a pan halfway out of the oven, at the completely unexpected question. She should have seen this coming, she had seen the way those two looked at you.

She cleared her throat, straightening and setting the hot pan on some oven mitts on the counter, before turning her full attention to you. She took in how you seemed so hunched in on yourself, your eyes still glued to your glass.

“Well, She made me feel warm and bubbly like there was a hot spring in my chest. When anything happened, she was the first person I wanted to tell,”

You blinked up at her, your eyebrows furrowing. “Like you were addicted to her? Like when she smiled, it finally felt like you could breathe?” You rushed out and Taylor let you, giving you to work through your emotions, before she pulled you into a tight hug.

You had a very bad habit of bottling everything up and pretending that you were fine (something she was sure her career choice - and your mother- didn’t necessarily help).

“Did you feel scared of how much she made you feel?” You leaned into her touch, sighing when she ran her fingers through your hair.

“In the beginning it did, but then it was freeing when I realized that she would be there to catch me,” Taylor said, kissing the crown of your head.

You closed your eyes. You didn’t doubt that they would catch you, but the feeling of falling was terrifying. You were in deep and keeping it from your sister was difficult.

“Dinner looks amazing and I’m starving,” You mumbled, and you felt Taylor sigh. She had gotten a little out of you, but definitely not enough to curve her curiosity. All in good time.

“Let’s eat,” she said, kissing your hair and standing to make you two plates. She still had 2 weeks to get the rest of the story out of you.

****

You were in absolute heaven. Trapped in between the two warm bodies of your girlfriends, one set of lips moving with your own and another trailing kisses lightly down your neck.

Emily and Lindsey had spent one of their free days (between Adidas and other sponsor commitments) hanging out with you, and you couldn’t be happier. You spent the day exploring the city and checking off a massive list of stereotypical couple things the city had to offer. It had ended in a very romantic dinner at a little pub on the lower east side, and now some amazing kisses in your room at your sister’s apartment.

Lindsey’s hands slipped under the front of your shirt, her nail scratching lightly up your tummy and ribs as she pressed herself further into your back. You sighed into Emily’s mouth, tilting your head to both give her a better angle on your mouth and give Lindsey more room in your neck.

“Hm, we’ve gotta stop. Tay will be back soon,” You mumbled when Emily pulled back and turned you so Lindsey got her turn too.

You felt Emily sit up behind you to get a good look at the clock. “You said we had till 12, it’s only 11:15,” you could hear the smirk in her voice, even as she kissed your ear and made her way down to the patch of skin on your neck she knew drove you wild.

You bit your lip. It was one thing to ask your sister for relationship advice, and a complete other for her to walk in on it.

Lindsey gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna stop?”

Emily paused as they both waited for your answer. It was sweet and comforting how they always made sure you felt safe and that you were enthusiastically consenting to whatever you were doing.

You shook your head and pouted. “No,”

Lindsey sent you a very indulgent smile, her thumb gently rubbing over your cheeks. “Then less talking, more kissing,”

You giggled into the kiss, a shiver running down your spine when Emily continued her ministrations in your neck.

You hummed into the kiss, very much enjoying how their bodies felt pressed into yours. God, it was like you just couldn’t get enough. It was so easy to lose track of time with them. It wasn’t until a loud slam of the door and your sister calling “Y/n, you here?” That you finally pulled away from the women.

“Shit! You two have to hide,” You squeaked, practically leaping from the bed. You threw Emily’s pants and Lindsey’s shirt towards the women on the bed, who were moving way too slow for your liking.

“Where?” Emily asked, tripping as she tried to hastily shove her legs inside her pants, while simultaneously glancing around your room in search of a suitable hiding space.

“I don’t know! Figure it out,” You said over your shoulder, taking a deep breath to hide your panic before you exited the room.

You carefully closed the door behind you, she would have zero chance of getting any information out of you).

“Hey kid, how was your day?” Taylor asked from the couch, looking over her wine glass at you. She opened her arms, and you immediately went to burrow into her.

“The best. I went out exploring,” Your entire face brightened (Taylor wondered if it was because you got to experience the city, or from the person, she was sure you experienced it with - ie the person(s?) who had left the hickey’s all down your neck).

“Where’d you get that shirt?” She asked after a few minutes, pinching the grey sweatshirt (which conveniently had a number 9 and the USWNT logo on it).

You blinked down at your outfit, your eyes widening, at your outfit, a pair of Emily’s Thorns shorts and Lindsey’s sweater.

“Oh, Umm,” you stuttered, racing to come up with a response when a bang echoed from your room.

Taylor’s head snapped in the direction of the sound “What was that?”

“Nothing Tay,” You winced at another loud thump followed by several giggles.

She raised an eyebrow at you and stood to go investigate for herself. She didn’t mind you bringing a significant other home (especially if they made you this happy) but she didn’t want them hiding from her.

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to go find them for myself?”

You crossed your arms like a petulant child and pouted. “I also spent the day with Emily and Lindsey,”

“And?” Taylor asked, slightly confused. She liked the women and she thought you knew she would approve. Hell, she had practically given them the shovel talk already.

You sighed, hunching your shoulders. “They’re hiding in my closet because we were making out when you came home,”

Taylor giggled at how absolutely pitiful you sounded. She patted your shoulder “Well, I think the closet is a terrible place to hide. How about you get them out here,”

You nodded and stood to go retrieve the girls, slightly afraid of what Taylor was going to say to them.

“And y/n,” she said just as you got to your door.

You paused and turned towards her “Yeah?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m happy that you’re so happy to be dating them,”

You smiled so wide that your cheeks started to hurt. It felt like a weight was lifted off your chest. No matter what happened going forward, Taylor supported you (even if you were sure she was about to give them one hell of a shovel talk and set up some serious boundaries).

You nodded and entered your room. Perhaps it was about time that you all came out of the closet.

******

You weren’t quite sure how you always got yourself into these situations. Maybe it was that you, Em, and Linds barely got to see each other outside of camp during the season, or maybe it was because the three of you were so sickeningly in love that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.

Whatever it was, you, Emily, and Lindsey couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself (especially after you came out to your sister).

Even now, with the no girlfriends rule at camp, you found yourself pinned to the elevator wall by Lindsey’s hips, thoroughly enjoying the way Emily’s tongue was exploring your mouth (shivering slightly when Lindsey hit the sensitive spots on her neck) (with no idea how they thought this position was comfortable for them).

You were so engrossed in your kissing that you didn’t hear the ding of the elevator, or the doors beginning to slide open.

“Holy shit guys, at least let the girl breathe,” Kelley’s cackling caused all three of you to jump, and Lindsey to inadvertently knock heads with you.

“Fuck,” Emily hissed, working her way out from between Lindsey’s arms and your chest.

“Ow,” You mumbled, rubbing your forehead l, as Lindsey used a thumb to lift your chin so she could look at it. “You alright babe,” She asked softly.

Kelley laughed louder at the mess that was the three of you trying to untangle yourselves from each other, ignoring Alex’s glare (teasing someone while their cheeks were as red as yours were wasn’t something she felt comfortable with).

“Shut up Kelley,” Emily grumbled, pulling you off the wall so she could hug you from behind. You leaned back into the woman, taking whatever comfort you could. The three of you knew it was time to tell the team, but you hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

“How long has this been going on?” Alex asked softly after a few minutes. There was no way the three of you could be so comfortable around each other if this was a new thing.

“Almost a year,” You said, shyly looking up at Lindsey, who placed a very sweet kiss on your cheek while Emily placed the same on your other.

“Does Taylor know?” Alex asked at the same time Kelley said “I’m gonna need an exact date,”.

Alex slapped the back of Kelley’s head. “Not the time Kel,”

“Yeah, Taylor knows and is super cool with it,” Lindsey said softly, squeezing your hand.

Alex tilted her head, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded.

“Good, because I didn’t want to have to try and keep it from her,” The forward smirked, and you felt more heat in your cheeks. You all promised you would never mention that incident again.

“She was terrifying last time we saw her mad,” Kelley grumble, rubbing the back of her head.

“That was because you let Y/n surf in giant waves on her first time out,” Emily snorted, nuzzling her nose into the space behind your ear. Alex smiled softly at the sight of you so relaxed.

“Are you three going to tell the team?” She asked.

“You might have to if you are going to continue playing tonsil tennis in the hallways,” Kelley added, only for Alex to slap the back of her head again.

“We hadn’t really talked about it yet…” You mumbled. Both of your girlfriends squeezed you (Lindsey getting your gains, while Emily tightened the arms she had wrapped around your middle).

“Well, could you wait like 3 days? I have 20 bucks on you three taking until the middle of camp to come out,” Kelley asked, scratching the back of her neck. You rolled your eyes. Of course, they would have bets on you, but you weren’t about to bend over backward for it.

“You knew?” Emily screeched. Kelley cackled nodding wildly.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Alex laughed. Anyone with eyes could see that you were head over heels for the women and that they were falling just as hard as you were.

*****

The internet fucking sucked. You knew that and found it relatively easy to ignore the mass chatter of the online world, but then again you had never been a part of such a disgusting report by some shady internet reporter.

All you had done was gone to lunch with Shawn Mendes, and someone had snapped a picture. The two of you had become good friends after spending so much time together on the 1989 tour. Now some random reporter was commenting on how you had confirmed your new relationship. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were anyone else, but Taylor’s fandom had blown up the small town reporter’s article.

Now they wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone.

“We’re not going to respond to it,” You huffed, crossing your arms adamantly in front of your chest, effectively pushing your plate of pancakes away. You squinted at the vets sitting across from you, completely baffled why they thought you would take any other route.

Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder righted, while Emily leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “Of course not, but wouldn’t it be fun to send the fans on a little goose chase anyway?”

Your ears perked at that. Taylor’s fans were always so fun to mess with. They made it so easy, particularly because your sister had trained them to always look for clues (that most of the time exist).

“And we have been talking about wanting to come out,” Lindsey added softly.

Your expression soured. You didn’t want to do this as a reaction. You wanted it to happen naturally.

“I don’t wanna do that in response to some asshole who doesn’t understand boundaries,” You pouted.

“But what if we did it our way?” Lindsey and Emily both asked at the same time. It was scary how in sync they were most of the time.

“Like get the team involved, tease the fans. At least show them that you don’t play for Mr. Mendes’ team,” Emily shrugged, trying to act like she didn’t care, but you knew she did.

You couldn’t help but smirk. You did love to mess with the fans.

“If you do wanna mess with the fans, I have the perfect picture” Tobin chimed in, giving you that little push you needed.

Emily raised her eyebrows at the woman, ignoring the glares the rest of the vets were sending her way. “Didn’t see you as a prankster Toby,”

“It’s artsier than anything else…” Tobin grumbled, flipping her phone to show you the photo she was talking about.

It was of you, Emily and Lindsey during a morning hike the team had taken. You were laughing, while both of their heads were tucked into your neck. You were the only one clearly identifiable, but it was clear you were smitten with whoever you were with.

“Ooo, I like that one,” You said, suddenly feeling excited. It was bound to send the fans into a frenzy because you couldn’t see who was making you smile so wide.

Tobin nodded and began typing out the post, before flipping it for you to read and ok. You giggled at the tag line “only those two knuckleheads could get you to smile this wide before your morning coffee”.

“Good?” Tobin asked, and you nodded enthusiastically. It was perfect, and coming out this way- with the help of your team- felt amazing.

“I have one too. You guys are too photogenic,” Christen said, pulling up her phone and begging to scroll through her photos (much like the rest of the team began to do). Were you guys really that obvious? No wonder they had bets going.

*****

Your teammates were having way too much fun. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering how private the women normally were, it must have been nice to get some time sending the fans on a wild goose chase. You were also surprised at how many photos your teammates had taken of you and your girlfriends. And just how many of those photos were perfect for the little game you were playing with the fans.

You could identify yourself on all of them, but Emily and Lindsey weren’t clear at all. But it was plain to see that you were very in love with whoever was sitting next to you.

“Did you see Alex’s picture? It's amazing!” You said, wiggling excitedly between your girlfriends. The three of you had taken a break from the team and decided to cuddle while you watched the fans go insane. (It was honestly one of your favorite places to be).

“Pshhh, no Pinos is totally the best,” Emily snorted.

You pouted. She nudged your side and placed a very sweet kiss on your pouty lips.

Alex’s photo of Emily and Lindsey throwing you into the ocean was totally better than the one of you shoving and chasing your girlfriends with birthday cake-covered hands.

“No, Kelley’s is totally the top picture in the bunch,” Lindsey smirked, nudging your chin with her nose from your other side.

You blinked up at her and looked at the photo of one of your favorite goal celebrations. You had literally leaped into Emily and Lindsey’s arms, but you were at least 3 feet higher than Lindsey’s head in that picture.

You bit your lip. It was a very good picture, one of your favorites actually, but there was one that topped them all for you. “They’re all pretty good, but I think I’ve got the best one,” You said softly, pulling out your phone.

It didn’t take you long to find the picture in question (it also happened to be your lock screen). You were smiling brightly at the camera, the reputation tour stage (lit for the song Dress) clearly behind you, trapped between Emily and Lindsey kissing each of your cheeks. Your girlfriends looked over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of your phone.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Lindsey asked softly. There was no hiding or pretending in that photo. It was open and honest (and a great picture of a fantastic night).

“Yeah, it’s like speak now or forever hold your peace,” Emily added, and you could practically hear her eyebrow raising.

“No, but I don’t wanna hide you two,” You shrugged. It was the balance you sister had worked her entire career to achieve. Hiding away meant that there was no commentary about your relationship from people you had never met (loose lips sank ships after all), but it also meant avoiding the little things that you longed to do in public.

You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready to face the media, but your desire to be with your girlfriends the way you wanted was just so powerful.

“You know we’ll wait as long as you need us to,” Lindsey said, using her thumb to tilt your chin and look you in the eyes.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving her concerned blue ones. “I know but, like-. I wanna be able to hold your hand or kiss you and not have to worry who's watching. I want to be able to take you on dates, and not care about if a camera can see us cuddling. I want to be able to post about how great you looked in a game, or for your birthday. I don’t want to hide,”

During your rant, Emily had wrapped herself around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands flat on your belly (which never failed to calm you down).

“We know darling, but once this is done, it can’t be undone,” She said softly.

You threaded your fingers through hers, glancing down to avoid Lindsey’s appraising stare (you never could get anything past them). “I didn’t think you were a Shakespeare fan,” You mumbled.

“I’m full of surprises,” Emily said, kissing her favorite spot just behind your ear. Lindsey cracked a smile too “we both are”.

“I know,” You nodded suddenly serious, as you carefully extracted yourself from your girlfriends and began to type up the Instagram post.

You passed them the phone when you were done, idly twiddling your fingers now that you didn’t have anything in your hands. “I’m gonna do it if you two are alright with it,”

“We’re fine with whatever you choose, we love you and just want you to be comfortable,” Lindsey and Emily both said, rubbing your back and arm respectively in a comforting motion.

“I know, and I love you too. Let’s do it,” you said clicking the button and closing your phone. You didn’t need to watch the comments roll in.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning that you would see your sister had also decided to chime in. And you couldn’t keep the smile off your face at her simple caption- love my sister and her girlies. For sure the best squad ever.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #soran x reader #soran imagine #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #taylor swift fanfiction

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auramindedd · 3 years

Text

I Like You - SMAU*

Part 10

CorpseHusband x FemReader - Y/N

warnings: cussing

notes: uhhh,, idk where to take this series, but ima just go w the flow igs 😭 also,, i completely give up on adding the small details like the likes, comments, replies, and the times on tweets so i’m super sorry if it bothers you lmao

it’s also pretty long,, mostly writing rather than the smau, butttt i really like this one 🥺

——————————————————————————

“When’s Rae gonna be home?” Corpse asks, playing with his hands.

“She’ll be home tonight, I just don’t know at what time. Why?”

“Uh... I- I just... I don’t know? I’m kind of nervous?”

“Corpse, Rae is your friend. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get a hotel room for you not too far away from here?” You suggest, 100% willing to pay for a hotel room for him if he wouldn’t feel comfortable being here with Rae here.

“I wanna stay here- with you... If that’s okay with you, of course.” There’s a slight blush on his face, it makes you smile a bit.

“Yes, I want you to stay here, too. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” You grab his plate, stacking his on top of yours, taking them to the sink.

“No, no. I can be on the couch tonight, I don’t sleep anyway.”

“Corpse, I’m not gonna have you sleep on that uncomfortable ass couch. Come on, we’ll figure something out. Wanna watch a movie?” He nods his head. You grab his hand, or more so his fingers, leading him to your room.

You turn the lights off, turning your fairy lights on instead. You tell Corpse to get comfortable, fluffing pillows for him, letting him lay back.

You know Corpse would be a bit anxious and nervous, not something you’d ever blame him for. You’re surprised you’re not being awkward or nervous. You’ve been trying your best to keep Corpse comfortable here, making sure he isn’t getting too nervous.

“Can we watch High School Musical? I have the stupid ass songs stuck in my head, childish me is coming...” You ask, not wanting to torture him with such a movie. Well, it’s not a bad movie, but you’d understand if anyone’d want to shoot themselves in the head while watching.

“Of course, baby.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach from the nickname. You sit closer to the TV, wanting Corpse to be comfortable rather than you.

Suddenly, you feel a hand around your waist. Corpse pulls you to him, letting you lay next to him. He looks at you, smiling. You smile back.

“Corpse, can I ask you a question?” He hums, indicating for you to go on. “That one time, you didn’t answer me for two days... You told me it had been because I was too ‘pretty.’ I didn’t believe you, and I still don’t. Why didn’t you answer me, like for real?” You don’t ask this in a bad way either, you’re just genuinely curious.

“I- uh... I’m going to be 100% honest, Y/N, but I don’t wanna scare you away.” He says cautiously, hesitating to go on.

“Corpse, you could never. I’m too attached already.” He chuckles, letting out a sigh.

“I like you. Like, like like you... I liked you before even seeing your face, but after, wow.” Silence. Deafening silence. But honestly, you can hear your fucking smile. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled so hard in your life. “Y/N, baby, say something, please.”

“Corpse,” You look up at him, probably scaring him with your smile. “I like you, too. Like, like like you.” He chuckles, but it’s more of a chuckle of relief. If that’s a thing?

He pulls you close to him, letting your head rest on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, his breathing, trying to match yours with his. You slowly drift off, your eyelids getting too heavy to keep open.

———

You wake up in Corpse’s arms. He’s gently stroking your side, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Good morning,” His voice is raspier and deeper than it already is. You didn’t know that was possible.

“Good morning,” You say, yawning softly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, snuggling closer to him.

“So fucking cute.” He mumbles, softly chuckling.

After a while of just laying there in Corpse’s arms, you decide to check social media and your messages. Already, Twitter is going crazy, assuming quickly that you and Corpse are dating. It’s not anything you didn’t expect, but it’d be nice if people didn’t jump to conclusions.

You decide to tweet a good morning, feeling good about today. And sadly, very unfortunately, you decide to text back the group chat - something you’ve been dreading to do.

Corpse is there, reading the messages, but you don’t mind.

You kind of, accidentally, and very stupidly put yourself out, but it’s all good, nobody said anything besides Brooke. You all have a drunk Among Us lobby to get to.

After getting ready, Corpse getting his laptop and mic ready in another room, you join the Discord call. Corpse joins quickly after. Surprisingly, nobody says anything about you two being in the same apartment while greeting each other. You don’t doubt that someone will say something soon.

“Let’s all take a drink - to Corpse and Y/N holding hands!” Alex exclaims, clinking his glass on his mic. The rest cheer, pretending to clink their glasses as well. You sigh and laugh a bit, but nonetheless, you’re gulping down a glass of champagne.

“Alex,” You say, catching his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey. No fucking.” Karl says, and you can hear him slap his hand to his mouth after realizing what he just said. The lobby bursts into fits of laughter, but the one you’re trying to listen for, Corpse’s. It’s silent on his end.

“Karl, how much have you had to drink?” Dream asks, slurring his words. Didn’t this game just start?

“I had like 3 beers?”

“You fucking lightweight.” You tease. “Dream, you’ve been drinking too...”

“Yeah, we might’ve pregamed an Among Us game.” He admits shamefully.

“Didn’t expect less from you two,” Rae says, adding a disappointing tone to her voice for effect. She starts the game, despite the sad protests from Karl and Dream.

Crewmate.

You pout, wanting so badly to be Imposter. You’re a good liar to say the least, and people easily fall for your sweet, innocent voice. It’s funny, pathetic even, which is why you want at least one good Imposter round.

“Whaddup, baby,” Corpse greets you in Nav. Dream follows behind him, Karl coming in shortly after.

“Hey, my beautiful alcoholics!” You greet cheerfully, earning groans from them both. Oh, how fun it’s going to be teasing them.

“At least she called us beautiful.” Karl says, walking out of Nav with Dream, leaving you and Corpse alone again. You get back to doing your task, connecting the ship with the dotted lines and whatnot.

“Am I beautiful?” You can hear the pout in his voice, it’s cute.

“Gorgeous, stunning even.” You say before walking out of Nav, smiling to yourself.

This round is pretty uneventful, along with the next few. But after about five rounds, you’re all incredibly drunk after playing some drinking games.

“No balls,” Rae dares. You’re Imposter this round, and Rae’s made you her personal hitman. She’s telling you to kill Karl, but he’s innocently doing his tasks.

“I have three actually.” You defend yourself, not making any sense at all.

“Three what?” Sykkuno comes in.

“Three balls,” Rae answers.

“Okayyy then...” Sykkuno drawls, leaving you two alone. Corpse comes along, the second Imposter. Oh, how convenient.

“Hey, Corpseee,” You greet, making it so fucking obvious.

“Oh my God!” Rae exclaims. You sigh, facepalming yourself. “Corpse kill Karl, Y/N kill Sykkuno.”

“Woah, since when did we become your hitmen?” Corpse backs his astronaut up.

“I’m not killing Syk!” You whisper-yell.

“Okay, then you kill Karl and Corpse can kill Sykkuno.” You can hear her shrugging as if it’s no big deal, but literally, Karl and Sykkuno are the sweetest people to you.

“No, I’m not doing it, Rae...” Corpse still hasn’t said anything. He’s watching you and Rae go back and forth, whisper-yelling even though anyone would be able to hear you.

“I’ll call you two out.”

“You’d never,”

“The emergency meeting button is looking real sexy right now.” Ugh, fuck the stupid smirk you can just hear in her voice.

“Fine, we’ll do it.” Corpse says. He goes and kills Sykkuno. You hesitate killing Karl, but he already watched Corpse kill Sykkuno so, unfortunately, you have to.

You and Corpse run away, leaving Rae to report the bodies.

After you and Corpse vouching for each other the whole round, nobody putting sus on you two because well, you sound so innocent and sweet even while being shitface drunk, you two win, earning groans from everyone in the lobby except from Rae.

“To be fucking fair, Rae had me and Corpse be her hitmen sooo, you can blame her if you died.” The lobby starts yelling playfully at Rae.

———

After finally finishing streaming, Corpse comes into your room, plopping down onto your bed.

“Gosh, I’m gonna have the worst fucking hangover tomorrow.” He murmurs into your pillow, hugging it close to him. You jump onto the bed, sitting next to him, playing with his hair. He doesn’t mind, or you don’t think he does.

“It was fun,” You say, smiling to yourself. You love spending time with your friends. You can’t imagine how much fun it’d be if all of you got together in real life.

“It was,” Corpse yawns, looking up at you, smiling as you keep playing with his hair. He gets up, settling himself into your bed again, pulling you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around him, snuggling yourself closer to him.

“We should probably eat something... And get ourselves some water.” You say, knowing that tomorrow’s hangover is going to be a bitch.

“I don’t wanna let go of you.” Corpse whines. You try getting up, but he almost throws a fucking tantrum. Quickly, you get out of his arms, running out of your room, giggling like a fucking maniac.

“Y/N! Please!” He shouts softly, trying not to wake Rae. He runs after you, following you into the kitchen. You run to the other side of the counter. He goes left, you go right - vice versa.

“Corpse, we need food and water.” You say, trying to grab pans out of the cupboards while he’s trying to get you. You can’t help yourself from giggling. Rae will kill you if you two wake her up.

“I wanna hold you,” Corpse pouts. Gosh, he’s going to be the death of you.

“In a sec, I can make us something real quick.” Drunk Corpse obviously equals Clingy Corpse.

“Fine,” He sighs dramatically, sitting on a stool. You grab pans from underneath the cupboards, pulling out some bread and cheese. Grilled cheese is easiest and it’ll take the least amount of time.

As you’re plopping bread into the toaster, Corpse snakes his arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your neck. There’s the slightest stubble, making you giggle.

“Corpse, I can’t cook with you on me.”

“Yes you can, I’ll help.” So stubborn...

You take the bread out of the toaster before it gets too toasted, putting it on the buttered pan.

It was a mission to finish the food to say the least. Corpse demands you eat in your room that way he can hold you. You put on The Promised Neverland, watching the TV as Corpse watches you. But honestly, you don’t mind.

You two fall asleep in each other’s arms again. And you don’t think you’d ever be able to fall asleep without being in his arms again.

——————————————————————————

Taglist - comment or message me to be added.

Sorry for not updating, I have to go through a bunch of posts. I’ll update in the next post.

* if you’re name is in bold, i couldn’t tag you. *

@letsloveimagines @liljennyx3 @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @blackheartemojivibes @lo-manburg @walkingonchairs @strawberrydonkey @tayloryorkscurls @bluepancakemix @prettylittlealiengirl @yeetmymood @victoria-a567 @loraleiix @moonlightsimp @jades-bullshit @teenloves @greenie-of-shield @fanworrior @thefvckvp @bigdaddysatan @mirahg @rosy-feels @arossebyanyothername @kitsamii @lollipop0605 @happyyyandcrazyyy @maraudingmarauder @stickystrawberrysyrup @majasophieanna @ilovejjmaybank @starstruckllamapuppy @owl-llie @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @in-fucking-deed @a-dot-dev @rjsmochii @boiled-onionrings @neenieweenie @vvenusblue @bellomi-clarke @smiithys @londonskies @16marie @leah-0207 @officiallyunofficialperson @wineandionysus @fanficlover99

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Tags - ignore::

#corpse #corpse fic #corpse husband #corpse husband fic #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband smau #corpse husband social media au #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband scenarios #smau #social media au #imagine #among us #cute

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gatefleet · 3 years

Text

Gut Punch

DC Comics: The Flash: Leonard Snart, Mick Rory

WordCount: 982

(T)W: Loss of a loved one

Requested: No

A/N: I wrote this not long after a family loss, it's based on what I was going through and channelled into this one shot

Loss, it’s like a punch to the gut, sometimes it doesn’t hurt then other times it’s like you take another hit and it hurts like hell, other times it’s like a dull ache. That’s the thing with loss, sometimes you forget that you felt or have loss, forget the pain, the hurt, the emptiness that accompanies it… all of it.

Then, sometimes, it’s all you can ever feel and you can’t remember a time when you didn’t feel it. And that’s what losing family is like. Sometimes you wish you could take their place, that way their loss is never felt, other times you get so angry at them for leaving that you feel guilty. Sometimes you want to curl up in a ball and disappear or cry yourself dry, cry the pain away, other days you forget that they’re gone… forget that they left you behind and expect them to walk through the door, to comfort you, at any moment, but then the reality hits… it hits you like a ton of bricks and your heart sinks achingly and you don’t know how to breathe or even think without them.

That’s how I felt when Snart finally let me out of the hold on the waverider and told me what he done to my brother, to Mick. Mick had been there for me my whole life, and because he made a decision to save the ship, save the crew, they punished him for it. If it was anyone else on the waverider who made that decision they would have been given the benefit of doubt and they wouldn’t have been banished the way Mick was. I couldn’t look at Snart, I couldn’t look at any of them. I had to get away, leave them all behind, I was so angry at them, especially Snart. How could he do that to Mick, to me, he knows what Mick means to me and I know what Mick means to Snart, I wasn’t mad at him for volunteering to take my brother – I would rather that Snart done that than Rip - I was mad at him for not defending him while I was lying unconscious in the MedBay. I locked myself in his room and cried, I cried hard. I looked over at the present that Mick had left for me because we lost track of what day or month we were on with all of the time travelling and he feared he’d missed my birthday. I couldn’t bring myself to open it let alone look at it, but I couldn’t throw it out either, it’s the last thing my big brother gave me…

“Miss Rory, Mr Snart is outside the door, shall I let him in?” Great. The last thing I want is to see or speak to anyone, especially Snart. Why won’t he just leave me to mourn my brother in peace? Snart’s voice came over the intercom “Remi, come on, open the door. Let me explain! Let me talk to you!” “Gideon, lock the door, I don’t want to talk to anyone. Especially Snart.” “Certainly, Miss Rory”. Lying on Mick’s bed with the intercom turned off is so quiet. It feels like it was just yesterday that Leonard, Lisa, Mick and I were all chilling out and having a laugh and a drink at the Hole in the Wall bar drinking beer and playing pool. Pool teams generally consisted of sibling’s vs siblings or boy’s vs girls, either way it generally ended with Mick or Leonard trying to cheat, Mick generally by slightly moving the white ball or Leonard very subtly putting you off with slight ‘innocent’ touches that make you question whether or not he actually touched me. I missed those days. Missed hanging out with Lisa. There was a bang on Mick’s room door, I assumed that Snart had talked Palmer into using his Atom suit to try and break down the door.

I finally got up off Mick’s bed and went over to his stash of old records that he must have taken when we went on one of your time travelling escapades. I doubted very much if Mick had even looked through them let alone listened to them. I pulled out one which looked vaguely familiar and placed it on the old record player that I had spent a month and a half trying to fix for Mick’s birthday. It was highly unlikely that it would work but someone should try it out, right? The crackling of the record player as I turned it on and placed the needle at the start of the track was almost deafening in the stillness of the room. When the music began, it was quiet and subtle but eventually blues music echoed through the room and once the volume button was discovered it was easy to drown out the sound of Palmer trying to break through the door. I lay back down on Mick’s bed with my head buried in his pillows. It was the sound of the door finally being pried open which made me jump with a start, that’s when I realised that the record player had stopped, then I noticed Sarah and Kendra standing in the doorway.

GIF Credit: @zaritarazi

#dc comics #the flash #Leonard Snart x reader #Mick rory x sister reader #captain cold x reader #heatwave x sister reader #leonard snart #captain cold #mick rory #heatwave

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Rewatching RWBY there's this chilling lack of empathy through the volumes that I used to just wave off. Yang has no empathy for Tai, Blake is just entirely about what Blake needs, Weiss almost kills a woman at a party and her takeaway is 'my dad is mean so I'm going to run away'. Qrow sinks hard into depression in vol. 6 and Ruby's reaction is to yell she's never needed him. No one has EVER helped a civilian. It's so prevelant. Knowing how 7&8 go really changes the earlier writing.

I think there was a great deal of well-written empathy in the early volumes — after all, this cast was designed as the kind, well-meaning heroes — but that care was expressed almost solely within the group itself. Ruby sits by Jaune in the hallway and says "Nope!" to his self doubt. Weiss offers Ruby a hand up after she fails to kill the death stalker. Yang seeks out Blake and gets her to open up about what's bothering her. Now, I want to emphasize that there's nothing inherently wrong with this. It actually makes perfect sense. These are our main characters and they're written as peers co-habiting the same space. Of course whatever emotional growth we get, which automatically includes moments of compassion, would be directed towards each other. Similarly, the dynamics originally introduced — that of teachers and parents — likewise (rightly) puts the burden on the adults to provide the comfort, not the other way around. Port snaps Weiss out of her arrogant mindset. Ozpin reassures Ruby about her leadership worries. Tai is there to support his daughter when she's recovering from a lost limb. That's the natural order of things, so to speak.

The problem, to my mind, begins to occur when the group exits those dynamics. They're no longer students, they're licensed huntsmen. They're no longer kids, but equals who never needed adults in the first place. They're no longer doing things for themselves and their friends on personal downtime, they're doing them for the community at large as a profession (to say nothing of the world-altering war they've insisted on shouldering responsibility for). That's what a huntsmen is meant to be, a defender of the people, not someone who uses that power for personal interests alone. All of this is a huge change from where we started out: cutesy kids going off on comparatively low-stakes adventures because one or more of their teammates are invested, only just beginning to realize that they're signing up for a job where their desires come second (that fireside conversation at Mountain Glenn).

This change invites — demands, really — that the audience read them differently too. Qrow's spiral in Volume 6 is a good example of this. If Ruby is demanding to be treated not just as an equal in terms of maturity and experience, but also as the primary leader of this group, then the viewer expects her to treat her uncle as an equal too, not dismiss his hardship. I've seen numerous fans defend that arc with some version of, "He's her uncle. He's supposed to take care of her. He's failing" but that, according to the show, is no longer the dynamic. Qrow is now just a member of Ruby's team, someone she's responsible for as their leader. It's easiest to see the problem if we switch out Qrow for any of the other members. If Blake developed a drinking problem, do we think Ruby would just shout at her until she magically got over it? If Jaune endangered the group, do we think they'd all be angry about it, rather than trying to figure out the source of what caused the mistake? We don't even need to think hypothetically for that one because we saw it on screen. Jaune attacked Oscar and drove him off, not just threatening him, but arguably endangering the whole team by requiring a search party. Fans have long insisted they had to steal that airship right then because being in Argus was too much of a risk, but if we buy that reading (which I personally don't, but), then that means Jaune made things exponentially worse by forcing them out into that super dangerous city, rather than allowing everyone to stay hidden inside. He made a massive mistake which, according to the logic of Qrow's arc, should be met with frustration, disdain, and eventual demands to get over his anger at Ozpin or ship out. But, of course, he received nothing but concern. Yang was worried about him, not Oscar. The search becomes about his grief for Pyrrha and his team's willingness (as well as Pyrrha's family member) to provide more comfort. Suddenly, the tendency to express care solely towards those within the group becomes a flaw the story won't acknowledge.

And then it spirals. The thing to remember is that no single act here is bad on its own, especially when we consider that yes, we want flawed characters. Rather, it's about the pattern. Ruby is allowed to get mad at Qrow for his behavior and chuck her scroll in frustration. She's human. I'd be crazy frustrated too. However, if Ruby is meant to be written as a caring, sympathetic character, she should not only respond to the situation with frustration, yelling, a refusal to listen, and demands that he follow her lead, no questions asked. We can, and should, acknowledge that Weiss was the victim during that party. Her father was hurting her, the woman was beyond insensitive, Weiss was triggered in regards to a horrific event, and her power acted on its own. However, if we want to write Weiss as a compassionate, mature huntress to-be, she should acknowledge that she nearly killed someone — even an asshole someone — and vow to work on her control because she's not willing to put someone in danger like that ever again. Both of these moments have a "They could have been handled better" response attached to them — the former more-so than the latter imo — but these moments are made far, far worse due to later events in the show, events where the characters are cruel without any justification attached. Weiss didn't mean to attack that woman, but she did mean to ignore Whitely and threaten him with her weapon. So once we see that, it informs our understanding of what came before it. "Oh. The fact that Weiss never reacted to nearly killing someone isn't just a bit of missed potential, it's an early indicator that she... doesn't seem to care. If she endangers people, threatens people... that's fine with her." The group has a right to be frustrated with Qrow. The group did not have the right to magically steal Ozpin's entire life story, assault him, and blame him for the world's problems until he felt his only course of action was to run from them. So when we see that it becomes, "Oh. The fact that the group treated Qrow so poorly isn't just a one-time mistake born of a stressful situation and young adults being out of their depth in regards to alcoholism. They really will just abandon anyone the moment they start making mistakes." Anyone outside of their group, that is.

To say nothing of how all of these moments interconnect. Yang's recovery isn't just about getting used to not having an arm, it's about getting used to having a new one. Weiss' party isn't just about nearly killing someone, it's about not committing manslaughter because someone else stepped in. The Volume 6 arc isn't just about trying to escape with the Relic, it's about trying to get it somewhere safe. Fans frustrated with Ironwood's treatment don't harp on these details out of some desperate attempt to make him look good post-murder spree, rather, they recognize that he's a character that's been around since nearly the beginning, originally written as a good guy, and thus has accumulated a number of key connections with the cast. So when none of those connections are acknowledged during an arc about trust... that makes the group look very uncaring. Yang doesn't care that he gave her the arm, Weiss doesn't care that he saved her from hurting/potentially killing someone, Qrow doesn't care that he's trusted Ironwood for years (in a rival-bros way) and that they've been heading towards him this whole time. And when Ironwood begins to spiral, they don't do anything to try and help him, let alone acknowledge that their own choices, that lack of trust and empathy, had a hand in getting them here. "But it's not their responsibility to fix him!" Isn't it? Even a little? Just as human beings seeing an ally struggling under horrific decisions and circumstances? Sure, they don't have to try... but that doesn't make them look very heroic to my mind. And we can't even shrug that off by simplifying things with, "Well, Ironwood is evil now so who cares about him." They simultaneously don't care about finding Qrow who is missing, then captured. They don't do anything to try and find their missing teammates, with the exception of sending May to do it instead. They don't help the army fight off the grimm. Don't try to make sure Pietro and Maria had portals to escape through. Barely hesitate when the newly resurrected characters goes, "Kill me. That's the easiest thing for everyone." And these are just a few of the big ticket moments. It doesn't even begin to cover all the details we get that paint a picture of, "Wow okay. They just really don't care about people outside the group, huh? I mean, they say they do, in a life-or-death way, but they're not putting forth effort to show it on a daily basis."

And if you pick up on all that, if you acknowledge how much the group has changed based on where they started out, you might wonder when in the world that started. Surely we didn't just flip a switch around Volume 6. So you re-watch early stuff and, sure enough, there are moments that feel like setup for what's to come later. Not intentional setup (quite obviously), but a lack of care towards details across the series that, once the dynamic changed, became far, far more pronounced. Characters should be at least somewhat recognizable from start to finish, especially characters who have only experienced about two years of in-world time, so if we now get to see Ruby blandly commenting on all the people who are dying, or Weiss using her weapon as a means of coercing her little brother into doing what she wants, or Yang and Jaune dismissing Ren until he gives in to their point of view... we're going to look for the beginnings of that behavior early on. As you say, we were able to wave all those little details off due to a number of important factors. Now though? Now they feel like they hold a lot more weight, simply by virtue of that early material proceeding what we have now.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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soundwavereporting · 3 years

Text

a coswave first date fic ft. miscommunication and cultural differences

“Hello Cosmos.”

“Uh, hi.” Cosmos looked down at his maybe-friend-slash-definitely-landlord, who was staring back at him, unreadable as always.

They lingered in silence for a moment.

“You called?” Cosmos managed, finally. While Soundwave’s hospitality certainly didn’t feel like a farce, this was the third time he had asked Cosmos to help him during his off-shift.

First, it had been installing an energon dispenser in one of the habsuite blocks. The next time, he and Soundwave had spent half the night planning the station’s duty roster for the next month.

“It is good to see you.”

“You too.” Already feeling uncomfortable, Cosmos shifted in place, feeling the sting of the finally-healed welds on his armor.

“So…” Cosmos said, after another moment of awkward silence. “You needed help with something.”

Soundwave nodded. “Your assistance: greatly appreciated.”

“Sure.” Cosmos wasn’t entirely certain how much he believed Soundwave. He was happy enough to help out, but there was just something so strange in the way Soundwave looked at him, as though he expected him to do something other than pull up a seat next to Soundwave and pick up a datapad.

Soundwave pushed an energon cube over to Cosmos, who cracked the seal and gave it an experimental sniff.

“You got the refinery fixed?”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave seemed to sit up a little straighter. “However, there is now a shortage of spare parts.”

“I can make a trip to Cybertron,” Cosmos said, without thinking. It wasn’t like there was anyone left on Cybertron who would care one way or another if he showed up, but it also meant Cosmos wouldn’t be pressured to return to active duty with the Autobots—or worse, stay on Cybertron with King Starscream or whatever he was calling himself lording over everyone.

Besides, it would be good to get off the station. Even after the few short weeks he had spent recuperating from Galvatron’s attack, Cosmos had already begun to feel like the station’s walls were closing in on him. He didn’t think he would need to leave so soon, but…

“I haven’t been cleared for active duty yet,” Cosmos said, almost apologetically, but there wasn’t a reason for him to feel bad. Was there? Soundwave had told him he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Cosmos, riding on the heady combination of pain suppressors and adrenaline, had just nodded. He was very sure that once Optimus called him back to the Ark, the invitation would be rescinded.

But Optimus hadn’t called him back. Personally, Cosmos thought he had been doing a good job of ignoring that fact, and was immediately irritated with himself for thinking of it. He had hoped the relative quiet and tentative peace between the Autobots and the humans and the Decepticons would have

Or maybe he wanted Cosmos to reach out first. Which would be weird. He probably had other things to worry about. That was it. Cosmos archived the thought.

“You should not push yourself,” Soundwave said, as though he hadn’t asked Cosmos to help him install an energon dispenser in a habsuite just last week.

“Yeah,” Cosmos said. “About that.”

There was a quick beat of silence before Cosmos realized Soundwave wasn’t going to interrupt. He still hadn’t gotten used to the mech’s apparent willingness to listen to him. If he was being entirely honest, most of the Decepticons on the station were generally willing to listen to him—bad jokes from the birds aside.

“I’m a little confused about…this.” Cosmos gestured lamely to the datapads on Soundwave’s desk. “It’s not that I don’t mind helping you out—I really don’t. But, uh, why me? If I’m not doing enough around the station, I can pick up another shift, but I feel like you have better things to do with your time than spending your evening with me going through paperwork—not that I mind spending time with you. I just…don’t see the point?”

Soundwave stared at him.

Cosmos felt his spark sink, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Clearly, there was a misunderstanding.”

“Clearly.” Cosmos wished the itching on his welds would stop. “About what, though?”

“Soundwave thought…” Soundwave trailed off, gripping one datapad so tightly Cosmos feared the screen might crack. “Soundwave: believed these meetings were the start of courtship.”

It was Cosmos’ turn to stare.

His systems stalled as his processor struggled to make sense of what his audio receptors had clearly heard.

“Misunderstanding,” Soundwave repeated, clearly desperate for Cosmos to say something. “Clearly. Soundwave: apologizes.”

Cosmos hadn’t failed to notice the flood of unease that teeked Soundwave’s field—and he had no doubt that Soundwave could feel his shock.

“Autobots do not date?” Soundwave sounded genuinely surprised.

“Not like this.” Cosmos tried to think back to the few dates he had been on over the course of the war. There had been stops at the dispensary, a kiss in a hallway that had been ruined because someone had noticed them, awkward flirtations between him and his on-ship contact that ran their course a year before he ever returned to base. “You thought we were dating?”

Soundwave nodded glumly. “My assumption was clearly incorrect.”

Cosmos laughed. He forced himself to set down the cube.

“Dating?” He said. “Me?”

“Affirmative.”

“Is this a Decepticon thing?” Cosmos asked. “Like how every Decepticon is required to memorize Megatron’s poetry before they receive their badge? We sit down and do paperwork together?”

“Laserbeak, Buzzsaw: lying.” Soundwave said, but continued before Cosmos could feel properly irritated at the birds. “Soundwave: made incorrect assumption that Cosmos was familiar with c—” Soundwave stopped, and didn’t seem to be able to say the word a second time. “Precursors to romantic relationships.”

“Excuse me for not thinking organizing a schedule was very romantic,” Cosmos said, then immediately regretted it when Soundwave winced.

“Apologies.” Soundwave looked like he was one wrong word away from running out of his own office.

“No—wait.” Before he could move, Cosmos reached out and grabbed Soundwave’s arm. He felt Soundwave stiffen under his touch. “Crap. I’m sorry for saying that. I was just, uh, surprised. It was rude. But you were asking me out on a date? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay. Look, I’m not—I’m not upset?” Cosmos didn’t think he was upset. Irritated, yes, at not noticing it earlier, irritated that Soundwave hadn’t brought it up until now, but not…upset. Probably. “It’s a little flattering, I guess.”

Was it? Entirely aware that Soundwave was pointedly staring anywhere but him, Cosmos studied Soundwave. The mech wasn’t bad looking, and if he was being honest, it wasn’t as though Cosmos hadn’t thought about it. It was just very, very far down on the list of possibilities.

And he liked spending time with Soundwave—not just because Soundwave apparently liked listening to him talk. He had seen hints of a quiet, earnest energy hidden beneath Soundwave’s normally stoic nature that surfaced on the rare occasions he strung more than two sentences together.

“Why don’t we go out for drinks?” The words were out before Cosmos could think about them properly. “You know. To get to know each other better.”

“Romantic…drinks?” Soundwave spoke as though the idea was entirely foreign to him.

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, Soundwave gestured to the cube resting in front of Cosmos.

“Oh. Oh.” He hadn’t thought himself prone to nervous laughter, but for the second time that day, Cosmos laughed. “Yeah, I guess that counts.”

Before he could second guess himself, Cosmos removed his battlemask and downed the cube in one go, desperate to buy a minute to think. He set down the empty cube.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Soundwave…is Soundwave.”

Cosmos waited.

“Third in command of the Deceptico—” He imagined Soundwave frowning before correcting himself. “Former third in command of the Decepticons. Founder of Sanctuary Station.”

Cosmos supposed he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Request: Cosmos shares information.”

“Right. Uh, I’m…Cosmos, obviously. Currently serving directly under…Arcee, I guess, since Prowl’s gone. No one ever really cleared that up. Um. That’s…about it.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Hah. Yeah. I bet you guys didn’t have people up and leaving your side unexpectedly.”

“You would be surprised.” Soundwave indicated his head at the datapads. He seemed to relax incrementally, and Cosmos found himself doing the same.

“So.” Cosmos said a moment later. “When we first met…you said you had good hearing.”

“You remembered that.”

“It wasn’t exactly forgettable,” Cosmos admitted. “What did you mean by that?”

The ensuing moment of silence was awkward but…not as awkward as it had been earlier. Cosmos decided to count that as a win.

“Soundwave requests…” Soundwave trailed off. “Explanation be rescheduled to the second date.”

“Second date, huh.” Despite himself, Cosmos felt the hint of a smile beneath his faceplate. “Since the first one went so well?”

“If Cosmos is willing.”

“I think I am. Maybe after I get back from Cybertron?”

“Soundwave: would like that.”

Besides, Cosmos thought with a small amount of relief, there was something comforting about dating someone who also had a battlemask.

#coswave #transformers #mine;#soundwave #cosmos #idw #exrid #(technically set pre-prowlcoswave but. you don't need to read that au to read this ;;)#((it will go on ao3 when i think of a title))

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

“Are you drunk?”

Summary: [Number 50 from the prompt list: “Are you drunk?” “Not nearly enough.”] Contains season 2 spoilers. Din is having a hard time letting go of Grogu but reader is always there to help him. Din realizes just how much he needs a hug.

Warning/Content: Alcohol consumption, fluff, angst, drunk Din. Din is uncharacteristic and soft in this. Unestablished relationship but there are feelings there.

It’s been days since the child had been returned to the Jedi and Din has been gone for close to the same amount of time. While he vowed he’d be back, that he would never be able to part with you as well.. it was doubtful, every minute felt like an hour, with no communication it’s amazing you lasted this long already. It’s hard to blame the man for wanting to be alone, the first person he’s cared about in years is gone, and it weighs heavy but then again before you and Grogu all he knew was the lingering silence that came with it, so being alone wasn’t that bad.

Just the way he walked that day was different, feet move heavily not steady and silent, the helmet never goes back on, he feels restricted enough, Boba’s ship was filled with a silence that made everyone tense, no one dared speak.

It hurts though, the Mandalorian has always been at your finger tips, so close but so far. It’s back and forth, while he would love nothing more then to admit he can’t live without you. Grogu has always been the first priority, there was never time to fully act on such feelings. There were shaky moments of meaningful touches, almost kisses but something seemed to always get in the way and now it seemed like your biggest regret. Fearing the worst that something had happened, you’d never feel those lips against your own or worse..

Your eyes never seem to leave the beskar staff as it still leans against the unused chair of the kitchen table… He wouldn’t leave it right? Like forever and leave you here without a word?

His blaster which was thrown almost as simultaneously as he walked through the door mumbling he would be back still in the same spot. That was almost three days ago and now you felt your lip quiver, seriously doubting his return. But then again the Mandalorian has no promise to you, while he had admitted the harboring admiration he holds, it was never talked about, it’s too touchy, there’s always more important things to do. The Mandalorian didn’t do feelings, actually avoided them at all costs.

The planet Boba had brought you to per Din’s request is peaceful, it’s beautiful and filled with deep forest and clear waters but it’s loud, parties parade the streets every night, drinking, laughing, bright lights that make it almost impossible to sleep as they move to the beat of the music. It’s the total opposite of what Din is, he’s quiet, calculating, hates big crowds but maybe it’s the change he was looking for, somewhere in all this chaos would hold the answers to all his questions. Somehow he felt safe enough here to keep you in the Inn by yourself for days, leaving more than enough credits for food and pretty much anything your heart would desire.

During the first day of his disappearance you decided to go shopping, there’s a small marketplace during the day when the town is peaceful, so lovely it’s almost impossible to believe that it turns into one giant rave at night. The beautiful satin dresses that lined with varies of shapes and lines, and bright strange colors that match the planet so well.

You’re wearing one now, it’s a little uncharacteristic of you. Not typically a fan of them mostly because they’re not very practical when it comes from hiding a baby from the empire especially with all the running and blaster fights but this one fits well. It’s dips into your chest, the tops of breast swells pressed against the tight fabric, thin straps across your collar bones reveal the smooth, sun-kissed skin (the beautiful land irritates your skin just a little but it’s a good sting), it shapes your curves in all the right ways, the dress ends mid thigh but the right leg has a small slit that just goes a little more further giving the illusion of beautiful, endless legs. Truthfully, you probably were never going to wear it but found yourself running out of clothes, everything you ever owned was destroyed along with the crest.

The ending of the dress is nice though, just enough fabric for your fingers to reach and fiddle nervously while you try and read the pages of the book in front of you but you just can’t seem to concentrate, looking from words to the door with hopes today will be the day he finally makes his return. The chair is uncomfortable, unforgiving as it digs into the center of your back but it gives the perfect sight of the door, you can’t find it in your heart to move.. just in case.

It seems as if the Maker himself has heard you as the clicking of the door lock makes you stiffen, fingers tightening around the binding of the book as you hear pounds inside your ears. The Mandalorian stumbles through the door way, movements slow and shaky as his fingers yank the helmet from his head to release his untamed, greasy hair, eye blotched with dark circles clearly exhausted but it’s the lost look as he looks at the floor confused as he really, really concentrates on walking straight, one foot in front of the other flat hands reach out to steady himself but still manages to still trip but then there’s a giggle, a small, joyful sound that makes your jaw almost drop. Never in all the months spend in the closed, tight quarters have you heard that sound.

“Are you drunk?” The words leave your lips immediately, shock written all over your features. While you never heard a giggle, there were moments close to it but never, ever did you think the Mandalorian would drink… It’s normal for anyone else but him. The small divests that form at the end of his smile, sinking in his cheeks makes it hard to breath, so handsome and he doesn’t even know it.

“Not nearly enough.” The dimpled smile points towards the floor trying to concentrate on his next step as you can’t help but think how he managed to come back to you like this. He’s distracted, hasn’t even had a few extra moments to steal a glance in your direction but when he does he almost doesn’t notice at first, looking back down but his head almost snaps back at you, eyes soften almost immediately.

He stands only a few feet away now, not hiding the way eyes shift from the softness of your thighs, up the fabric that just fits so nicely against unrevealed skin as the skirt of the dress hikes higher and higher up soft skin until it reaches the perkiness of breasts. The imagine alone is now going to be forever stained to his brain, mouth drying as you blush under his lingering gaze. “Mesh'la.”

Even through his own drunk haze he can see the confusion against the soft curve of your face as fingers reach out to your flexed knee, limp against the chair as fingers grasp it. His fingers tingle with the feeling of the smooth skin up until they reach to cup the outside of your thigh right where the dress ends, fiddling the silk of the fabric with gentle tugs. The messy curls are now inches from your face, swollen lips from being wrapped around the rim of an open bottle for days, you try to hide the way the close proximity makes your nose wrinkle from smell of booze. Eyes lower as you mutter, “Are you alright Din?”

He chooses to ignore the words only now sinking to his knees in front of you, using his body weight to spread legs for he can fit inside them, rest his head against your lap, unsure eyes meet your own, nerves coat his throat. Lips move under your knee, a small kiss that makes your chest stop momentarily breathing, he’s never done that before.. kiss you. “It means beautiful.. I love this dress, you look pretty.”

It catches you off guard, freezes any movements except rubbing his chin against the fat of your inner thigh. It’s not sexual, anything but he’s looking for comfort, seeking it in the warmth of your skin that molds so perfectly against his own. “Pretty girl, you always look so, so pretty.”

The words send your skin into an absolute fit of heat but you don’t get much time to think about it before he’s turning from you, still between the warmth of your legs but now his back touches the chair as fingers nimbly pull at the chest plate of beskar letting it fall to the ground with a clatter but he doesn’t seem to care to much as he’s pulling at the laces of his boots but failing with an audible groan of annoyance. “Do you need help Din?”

“Yes pretty girl.” The nickname sticks, makes it almost impossible to meet his eyes due to the shyness that hazes over you. Standing up to move sends him back into the chair with small thump but grumbles as he sits up to watch you sit in front of him, pulling the string of the laces loosely. Skin feels hot under his gaze, never leaving the soft curve of your nose, frustration that wrinkles your forehead, the corner of his lips turning expanding across his cheeks at how cute you are?

Even though It’s been almost a week since he’s broke the creed and a long ride to take in the hard brown eyes, the cute bump on the bridge of his nose that slightly wrinkles when he smiles, like the one that touches his cheeks now. “You need to sober up Din.”

“Mmmmmm.” He presses a finger against his temple like his brain is working extra hard to think as a goofy grin meets your gaze. “No.”

You can’t help but feel the small grin tug at your lips, eyes peering up to meet his. It hangs in the air, the lingering unspoken situation that has your own chest feeling heavy, the only reason he’s so intoxicated. Yours is heavy but his feels absolutely crushing, makes it hard to breath, to feel anything but deep numbing pain that makes his lips quiver, eyes welt with tears. Emotions were..difficult for Din, almost every day was a fighting battle to keep them at fingertips length but the quiet moments in between soft glances from you throughout the whole ride to this planet filled the gaps, snapping something inside him, suddenly he felt everything.

The loss of his son had hit him like a ton of bricks but only opened how he felt for you, it all hit him so suddenly he could barely breath, think straight, he had to get away to clear his head but his heart just hurt too much.

“You know you can talk to me? I’m always here for you.” The words stop him for a second as he takes in the sights of you, pulling at his boots to free his aching feet. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to remember the pain the alcohol numbs, he just wanted you. Despite how much his finger twitch to touch your cheeks, pull you close against his body he’s confused, frustrated maybe?

It makes him embarrassed, cheeks tingle pink at the thought of touching you but his hands were stained red it would taint your innocence to press them to the soft skin of your collarbones, run them over the smooth bony prominence, touch your cheeks no matter how much he wanted to.

Sighing you lean forward, closer to his face at his silence. The internal fight is not hidden from his features, his brows creasing with thought, lip tucking into his bottom lip while unsure eyes meet his trembling hands. It’s instant, not giving yourself a second to think about it as you lean over, warmth spreads throughout his whole body as you sit on his lap, arms wrapping around his trunk until they lace together against his back, forehead resting against his neck with a sigh. “I’m here Din.”

With those three words he feels his eyes sting, chest moving faster and faster as nerves pinch his face but there’s a sudden warmth that fills his chest, makes his heart thump extra loud against ears. The crushing feeling temporarily lifted as finds himself leaning closer and closer to you until his cheek presses against your hair. Long arms closing any distance between the pair, trapping you between strong arms. It’s a soft cry one that makes you want look up to tell him everything is going to be okay but decide it’s probably best to press a small kiss against the thick tunic, right over his heart. Din Djarin has never hugged another person since he was a child but with you, all his problems seems to disappear, your smell calming nerves, your hair against his face reminding him that you’ve always been here, will never leave no matter how hard he tries to push you away. Din never realized how much he missed hugs until now.

Soft tears drip off pink cheeks, forming in the small dips of where your clavicle and shoulder meet, the chest underneath you stutters and heaves but you can’t miss the words as they move so freely past his lips. “I haven’t hugged someone since I was a child, I’m glad it’s you pretty girl. Thank you..”

Tag list: (on my masterlist as pinned post if you would like to join) @victias@altarsw, @coonflix @mudhornchronicles @buckysalefty @capsheadquarters @godohammers @ilikemymendarkandfictional @rogertaylorsfalsetogivesmehives @maileecabudol @fangirlmendes @mermaidbrina @nikkixostan @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin fan fiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandolorian imagine #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian

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writingisartdarling · 2 years

Note

Ship drabble challenge: #7 for Chelsie? 😊

Hi there Anon! To begin with, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for receiving your ask. I really enjoyed writing this little one-shot :)

I got around to do a bit of writing yesterday and now that I have the chance to open up my laptop and upload this little story on Tumblr (and fanfiction.net in a few moments), I thought I’d use it to my advantage!

I hope I’ve managed to write this so it’s at least a bit what you expected when you sent me this ask! And hopefully it’s alright that it got a bit longer than supposed, not really a drabble anymore, whoopsie! But now, enjoy <3

Let the story begin!

Downton Abbey, a few hours into 1926

The eventful last hours of 1925 had now brought them into 1926. The house and its inhabitants were slowly lulled to sleep by the falling snow outside, their dreams filled with all the marvellous things the new year would bring with its arrival. Happier times for some, a fresh start for others. Perhaps a little bit both to the rest.

The only sound in the otherwise quiet house was the housekeeper’s chatelaine clinking against itself as Elsie Carson made her way towards the house’s main hall. She made sure she had locked the front door. And yes, it was locked. With a last glance around the room, to make sure everything was in perfect shape, she turned off all the lights; complete darkness soon surrounding her. One would have trouble finding their way around in the dark, but Elsie Carson knew the house by heart. She pulled open the green baize door, entering the servants’ staircase, carefully placing her feet on the stone steps as she made her way towards the servants’ quarters.

She could feel the strain of the long day weighting on her shoulders and sighed; she’d have to take it a bit slower tomorrow. But doubted such a thing would be possible- No. She knew it wouldn’t be. She reached the bottom of the staircase, taking a mental note of anyone who might still be up. The servants’ hall was empty, and the only lights turned on in the whole downstairs seemed to be in the kitchen and in her husband’s pantry. Mrs. Patmore would undoubtedly be still up, waiting for her. But it was late, and Elsie thought it’d be best to let her friend go to bed. Morning would come soon enough.

She made her way to the kitchen, finding the cook sitting by her desk, drinking a cup of tea, she presumed.

“Oh- you’re back.”, the cook said upon seeing her in the doorway.

“I am. Everything’s locked, and I’ve turned off the lights upstairs.”, Elsie said quietly as if trying to keep the house from waking up.

“Hmm.”

The cook yawned, trying to cover her tiredness with the palm of her hand.

“Go to bed Mrs. Patmore.”

“I was waiting for you to come down.”, her friend replied.

“I know. But I’m here now.”, Elsie smiled faintly.

The cook slowly stood up, taking her now empty teacup to the sink. She would let Daisy wash it in the morning, there was no need for her to do it now. She’d be sorry in the morning in case she didn’t turn in now.

“Very well.”, said Mrs. Patmore.”I’ll go up then.”

The housekeeper just nodded, and she dropped her face to look at her shoes; unable to hold the cook’s gaze for longer.

“Take care of him, won’t you?”

Elsie lifted her gaze to meet her friend’s. She could see just how sorry she was of this turn of events written on her face…There was no need for words to explain it.

“Yes. I will. Of course I will…”, Elsie swallowed, and a few moments passed before she continued.”Good night, Mrs. Patmore.”

“Good night, Mrs. Hughes. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The cook then turned to head up the stairs, only stopping to give her friend’s hand a gentle squeeze before she disappeared into the dark passage. The very tired Elsie Carson was left standing still in the empty kitchen.

She moved slowly as she clicked off the lights in the kitchen, now the only light guiding her was the one shining from under her husband’s pantry’s door. Elsie was about to open the door but stopped herself. She tried to listen for any sounds but heard nothing. He must be asleep, she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally knocked on the door and not two seconds later, pushed it open.

He was sitting in his chair, his slightly trembling fingers tapping against the wooden surface of his desk. He didn’t lift his gaze to see who had entered his office at this time of day- well, night. She knew he knew it was her and so she didn’t say anything, waited for him to speak up first.

It didn’t take him too long.

“I thought you had left for the cottage already.”

His voice was quiet and the tone of it distant.

“No.”, she simply replied.

He remained quiet; his eyes fixated on his fingers.

“But-“, Elsie said gently.”It’s late. We ought to be on our way already.”

She was studying his face. It was as if he wasn’t in the room at all…

“Let’s go home, Charlie.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the mention of home or his name that made him lift his gaze to meet hers. But in the moment, it didn’t matter. And once again, she stood there, waiting for him to speak.

“You must think me silly.”

“Why on earth would I?”, she asked, not understanding where he was aiming with his statement.

He shrugged, bringing a heartbroken frown on her face.

“Well, I don’t think you’re silly.”

She heard him huff and a silence fell between them again.

“It’s an end of an era.”, he spoke after what must have been minutes.

“I know. But it has been a wonderful era.”

“Maybe. But when the clock strikes six in a few hours, I will not be sitting behind this desk, nor waiting on the Crawley family. I’ll be just a useless old man, supported by his wife.”

“That’s not true.”

“You say that because you want to believe it’s not true.”, he mumbled, fidgeting with a pen that had only moments ago rested next to his hand on the table.

“No. I say it because my lovely husband is not a useless old man, and certainly not supported by his wife.”, Elsie insisted, her eyebrows sown together with worry.

“Well- be that as it may…”

He let the pen fall from between his fingers as the trembling, that had been only slight moments ago, overtook his hand. Instantly he was tucking the trembling hand on his lap to hide the shaking from his wife. Even if he knew it was completely in vain.

It broke her heart, seeing him feeling a need to hide his condition from her. She was his wife, and she loved him, there was no need to hide anything from her.

All she could do was stand still for a moment…That was until she couldn’t stand to watch his silent suffering anymore. Her legs took her to his side with a few long strides, the sounds of her heels hitting the stone floor and her chatelaine clinking echoing in the room. She knelt on the floor before him, her knees giving a loud protest, but she paid them no attention.

“What are you doing?”, she heard him ask.

“What do you think I’m doing, Mr. Carson?”

He remained silent, watching her plant a sweet kiss to his palm. The trembling instantly got lesser and lesser, kiss by kiss.

“I don’t know how to make you feel better, darling, and I won’t try if you don’t want me to, but please remember; nothing could ever make me see you differently.”, she whispered, still holding his hand, her other one resting on his knee.”I am your wife, and I love you so very much.”

She watched a single tear appear to the corner of his eye, making her want to brush it away, but he was quick to do it himself.

“Do you really mean that?”

“How many times have you caught me in a lie?”, she decided to ask him back, a loving smile on her lips.

“Not very many.”, he said without the slightest of hesitation.

“Then there you have it. I meant every word.”

He gave her a weary nod, trying his best to keep his tear at bay. However, with not much success…

“Oh Charlie…”, his tears didn’t go unnoticed by his wife, who quickly stood up from the floor, a quiet ‘pop’ coming from her knees as she did so.

His face was wet with his tears, his body shaking as he sobbed into the quiet of the night.

“Shhh, my love. It’s alright.”, her hands found their way to cup his face.”It’s alright.”

She repeated the words so many times that she lost count.

“You’re alright- we’re alright.”, she whispered, her forehead against his.

“I’m so sorry.”, he cried.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about…I’m right here.”

Eventually his tears ran out, leaving him shaking as he tried to gather himself back together. She was planting sweet kisses to his forehead, her hands still cupping his cheeks. She pulled away only when she was sure he was not crying anymore.

His eyes were red, and his face was wet, making her face wet as well, but she didn’t mind. She was so sorry for him…So sorry indeed…

She heard him swallow another wave of tears and she leaned to kiss his lips.

“I’m so sorry.”, he mumbled when they broke apart.

“Don’t be. I’m your wife, you are allowed to cry in my presence.”

He forced a smile. And so, she showed him one of her own.

“But you do look like you need a hug.”, she whispered, brushing that stubborn loose curl from his forehead.

He let out the smallest of laughs at this; it was music to her ears.

“I wouldn’t mind one to be honest.”

And he didn’t need to ask twice. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her chest. He hid his tear-stained face against her bosom, holding her tightly. She sat herself on his lap, running her fingers through his hair and whispering soothing words to calm him.

And that’s how they stayed for a long time…Letting both their scars heal. And when they eventually made their way back to their cottage and climbed the stairs up to their bedroom, she kissed him goodnight and held him through the night. Because even if they weren’t ready, morning would come. And she knew he needed the strength to face it.

#downton abbey #ship drabble ask #downton abbey chelsie #chelsie fanfiction #you look like you need a hug #the carsons #elsie hughes #charles carson #carson x hughes

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bartramcat · 3 years

Text

CSI/GSR: Long vs. Short Term Arcs

Okay, this is very off the cuff and inspired to some degree by @addictedtostorytelling and the discussion of Morgan and Greg and Hodges. Some stray things:

We know that the only thing decided about Sara Sidle pre-show was that she was meant to be Grissom's love interest.

At some point, before CSI continued to be a ratings juggernaut that Zuiker figured Grissom would go deaf, and that would be how the show would end.

When Grissom turned Sara down in Play With Fire, TPTB had decided that was going to be the end of that.

Things no one could have predicted:

The overwhelming worldwide success of the show, necessitating a workable resolution to Grissom's deaf storyline.

That no matter what, whenever Grissom and Sara are onscreen together, there is "something" there.

Billy and Jorja both were invested in GSR.

It seems to me the combination of the above is what gave us Season 4. In terms of GSR, a case could be made that they were starting all over again in a serialized novel sort of way.

Now I confess to knowing absolutely nothing about the Harry Potter novels, but, in my youth, thanks to Masterpiece Theatre, I did read all of The Forsyte Saga and Trollope's Palliser novels. What serialized novels have in common is that, for the most part, each novel stands on its own, but the author feels the need to continue to explore aspects of his characters beyond the original scope of the original novel.

In that regard, I suppose we could see 1-3 as a kind of GSR entity on its own. Grissom gets promoted and brings the girl he loves to Vegas, only to discover he can't have both the job and the girl. Beginning in 2, Grissom has two simultaneous arcs: the fear of going deaf and his unresolved feelings for Sara, with the first further compounding the complications associated with the second. What he doesn't discover until season 3 is that his "push me/pull me" relationship with Sara drives her to another man, a fact which utterly devastates him to an extent he could never have imagined.

Still, it is the deaf arc that is of more overriding concern: if he can't hear, he not only loses his job but also his entire sense of self at that point in time. Resolving his feelings for Sara will have to be backburnered, so he decides not to punish her for getting a life, as, at that point, he has no life to offer her, since he's not even sure what his life will be.

Meanwhile, back in Saraland, she discovers Hank is a dog and ends the relationship. If GSR were bad soap opera, the fact that Sara was seeing Hank would have been seen as a primary impediment. The thing is it never was. To me it's just one more nail in the Sara low self-esteem coffin. Also, if it were soap, the lab explosion and Grissom's unconscious revelation of his feelings for her would have led to some kind of positive resolution. The problem is that Grissom's deaf arc is still in play, not to mention all of his other relationship with Sara fears.

Sara misreads the situation; she thinks, finally, he might be ready to take the plunge, but she's completely wrong. By bringing their relationship to an either/or position, she basically pushes him into outright rejecting her, thus ending this phase of their arc. Ironically, Grissom's deaf arc gets resolved in the very next episode, but, by then, he really thinks it is "too late."

The thing about 4, besides it being incredibly hard to watch Sara descend into the abyss, is that, for the first time, the show makes it unequivocally clear that Grissom is both sexually attracted to Sara and in love with her. (The first doesn't always imply the second, although we learn later, for Grissom, it does.)

While Homebodies explores Grissom's fears that he won't ever be able to keep his loved one (Sara) safe--perhaps foreshadowing--Invisible Evidence certainly spells it out that his attraction to her is as physical as it is intellectual and emotional. I doubt anyone could watch those "pin me down" seconds out of context and not think that was a man who was about to fuck the shit out of her. (Of course in context it can't happen, but the desire is certainly there.)

Overall, however, outside of that, Grissom goes out of his way to distance himself from Sara: that "too late" thing again. Then the show throws Butterflied at us (and him), wherein it is made abundantly clear he is in love with her and regrets turning her down. What he doesn't know is that she hears everything he says, which twists the knife. She wasn't wrong: he does have feelings for her, only those feelings aren't strong enough for him to risk it, to take a chance on love.

So what we have for the rest of 4 is Grissom continuing to distance himself from Sara under the misguided belief that he has killed any feelings she had for him, while she continues to sink into depression and alcohol dependence. Given his distancing, he seems unaware that something isn't right with her until late in the season, and then it hits him between the eyes and in the gut in Bloodlines.

In a weird way, 4-6 is the inverse of 1-3. If Season 1 begins with a lot of light-hearted flirtation (and off the charts sexual chemistry) and ends with a seemingly insurmountable rift between them, 4-6 begins with the rift and works its way to their becoming an actual committed couple in a seemingly stable relationship. Of course the frustrating part is that the show neglected to tell us when, where, and how, although it's pretty evident that, for Grissom, Bloodlines is the catalyst for him to try to rebuild their relationship. I do not think he did so thinking the end result would be a "beautiful life" with Sara. More than likely, the best he hoped for was for them to be friends again.

As an aside, in the middle of 1-3, we have Cassie James, Grissom's personal Cassandra, telling him "You don't know what you need until you find it." While Grissom's "need" for Sara is couched purely in work terms throughout 3, season 4 into 5 shows a man who has seemingly come to terms with the fact that he both loves and needs her. The first half of 5 shows him far more in tune with her, and they begin to be comfortable together again. While I think he is perhaps at a place where he might occasionally daydream about the possibility that someday they might be together, I also suspect he thinks that ship has sailed.

And that is why he is completely floored in Snakes. Seemingly out of nowhere, she more or less tells him she's still in love with him, although, unlike in Play With Fire, she has no expectations that he can ever reciprocate her feelings. She, too, thinks that ship has sailed, but, now, she is reconciled to that fact.

I suppose the question for me has always been whether or not he goes to her in Nesting Dolls and tells her that it matters to him, not as her boss but as a man, why she's so angry, if Snakes doesn't happen. A large part of a believable narrative is that one thing must naturally lead to another. As a narrative arc, from 4 to mid-5, we get the following:

Invisible Evidence makes it clear that these two people are still sexually attracted to one another, even though neither one would consider acting on it at this point.

Butterflied confirms Grissom is in love with Sara and regrets turning her down.

Early Rollout tells us Sara may have a serious drinking problem.

Bloodlines is Sara at her lowest point, having been pulled over for a DUI, which signals to Grissom just how miserable she is.

In early 5, they begin to rebuild their camaraderie, with Grissom occasionally kind of sort of flirting with her, in his fashion.

Snakes confirms that, despite everything, she's still in love with him.

After her meltdown in Nesting Dolls, Grissom goes to her and coaxes her to tell him her deepest secrets, after which he comforts her, although what transpires between them after he takes her hand, like so many things GSR, is left vague.

It's always been curious to me that after their conversation in Unbearable that the curtain is drawn on exactly what the nature of their relationship is. I have always read, from Big Middle on, that they act like a couple, albeit a couple in the workplace. We get very little entree into their private interactions, so when and how they became lovers is open to individual interpretation. It isn't until the final scene of 6 that the show bothers to tell us they are lovers, and, judging by their interactions in Way to Go, have been a couple for some time.

I don't know about anyone else, but I think they seem married in that scene: completely comfortable with each other in a way that more or less screams that scenes like the one we are finally privy to have been occurring for a while.

In any event, 4-6 is a pretty remarkable journey in GSR land, as the two characters move from barely being able to speak to one another into a full-fledged love affair.

The amazing thing to me is that both the 1-3 and the 4-6 segments follow a logical progression, with each small insight or revelation explaining both choice and behavior--and leading into the next arc in their relationship.

It really is good stuff.

#csi #csi: las vegas #gsr #gil grissom #sara sidle #grissom x sara #mytext

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Ben Solo x Female Reader

A/N: This is a heavy chapter, Hux is just not coping 🥺

Warnings: lots of feelings and angst, implied suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4411

Read Chapter 21 here on AO3

Masterlist

The day your husband woke up will never leave you. His body seemed to come to life before your very eyes, choking on his tubes, arms flailing against the wires as he tried to get his bearings. It wasn’t until you grabbed his face making him look at you, his beautiful green eyes dull and sunken but something sparked in them when he saw you. Hearing your voice calmed him and he lay back down, his eyes fluttering with sudden exhaustion and sinking back into sleep. You refused to leave him, not caring or paying attention to anything else on the base so much so that Poe dragged in a cot for you to sleep in. Rose and Finn would come in, bringing food and sometimes they’d stay and keep you company but everyone was so busy adjusting to a new way of life and making room for all the people that were now residing on Ajan Kloss.

Mitaka was the person you saw the most, he had recovered from his surgery and he told you how he had saved Armitage after he was shot, immersing him in the strongest solution of bacta he could find and moving him over to the Finalizer. He had then turned the ship against the Final Order, taking significant damage and finally arriving here only to plough the dead ship into the surface of the planet. Most of the time he just sat with you watching over Armitage like a silent guardian.

You were taking one very rare break from being at your husband's side, feeling the sun on your face and the breeze in your freshly washed hair. You felt the tightening of your belly but wearing the light clothing that had been given to you meant you could hide the changing shape of your body for a bit longer. You heard a noise, slowly opening your eyes you saw Kylo approaching. He looked different, the scar that you had traced so many times with your eyes was gone and he looked similar to when you had first met him, except now he was dressed like you. A shirt, leather trousers and boots, his hair was longer than you remember and his expression was softer, sadder even. He stopped a few large paces away, his eyes locking with yours when he saw you watching him.

“I heard what you did,” you said, turning back to bask in the light of the sun.

“I remembered what you asked me, how you asked if this war was over soon.” You dipped your head and scuffed your boot along the floor.

“What of it?” You asked.

“I remembered the desperation on your face and that’s what drove me to end this.” You let out a soft laugh.

“Don’t fool yourself.”

“It’s true!” He exclaimed, stepping towards you but you turned your angry gaze to him making him stop once more.

“You could have ended it at any time!”

“No! Not after he, him, Palpatine made himself known, if I had stepped down and disintegrated the First Order he would have swept in unchallenged and taken over the Galaxy yet again!” His expression was pleading as he tried to get you to see. “I had to wait, I saw the opportunity after Rey died and I took it. I had a choice and I hope I made the right one.”

“I guess we will see,” you replied, beginning to make your way back.

“How is Armitage?” He called after you but you didn’t stop.

“Like you care,” you shot over your shoulder suddenly wanting to be a million parsecs from him.

Hux’s recovery was slow but most of that was because he refused to talk, he would eat and drink and even walk around, using you to lean on but he would not talk. It frustrated you, making you grind your teeth in annoyance whenever you asked him a question and he stared into empty space like you weren’t even there. He got stronger but his nightmares got worse, his entire body would shake, sweat would drench his bright hair and he would yell so loudly. It ripped you to pieces seeing him so broken but refusing any sort of help. His body grew stronger by the day, no longer using you to balance himself and the walks you took lasted for up to half a day as though he couldn’t bring himself to return to the base.

You moved you both out of the medbay and into a hut, they were everywhere spreading far and wide to accommodate the people that now called this place home, the Resistance and First Order finally living in harmony. You felt a swell in your heart every time you looked at the encampment, a sadness that littered your soul when you realised the massive scar that now rendered the Galaxy. Many of these people didn’t know who their families were, where they came from. Some had nothing left and like you, nowhere to go. What had really been achieved except for the pain and suffering of all these people?

You sat up one morning, instantly noticing you were alone and panic slithered through you. You rushed out of your hut, barely pulling your boots on before you were charging into the jungle. Each pound of your heart matched the hurried rush of your feet and you retraced the paths you took with him everyday, but he wasn’t there. You tried to calm yourself but knowing how damaged he was inside you kept thinking the worst so you pushed yourself harder, struggling through the jungle only to happen upon the lake where the Finalizer still sat, dead and lifeless.

You nearly cried with relief when you saw him, his red hair a crowning glory in the early light of the day, his arms crossed as he stood like a statue surveying the broken remains of what used to be his home. You slowly approached, highly aware of how similar this was that rainy day on the estate.

“Are you just going to stand there My Lady?” You sucked in a breath, your eyes closing in relief at the sound of his voice, your heart beating with joy for the first in months.

“I do not mean to intrude,” you breathed hating the way your voice wavered with emotion.

“You’re not,” he replied but still he didn’t take his eyes off his ship.

“I’m so sorry Armitage,” you whispered.

“I should be the one apologising,” his face twisted with anguish and he turned away from the sight before him. “I’m sorry I ever married you and dragged you into this.”

“Please don’t say that!” It took you a moment to realise he wasn’t stopping and you hurried after him but he stayed just out of reach until you both got back to the hut. “Armitage!”

“You should just leave me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I should stay here and face whatever punishment they deem fit.”

“This isn’t all on you, you can’t take responsibility for the entirety of this war!”

“Someone has to,” he muttered.

“It’s not your fault! I refuse to lose you again!” You almost screamed, making him look at you in surprise. Many emotions flitted over his face before he settled on that blank expression you knew so well.

“Why are you fighting so hard for this?” He asked dully.

“Why aren’t you fighting hard for this?” You cried back.

“You’re better off without me,” he shouted. His expression now one of distress as he ran a hand through his hair. “Everything is gone, everything I’ve worked for, fought for it’s all gone!” You went to reach for him but he pulled away from you, backing into the wall. “You don’t want me, you don’t need me. Just leave me alone!” Tears streamed down your face as his voice cracked, your heart was breaking from his words.

“You are worthy of love, Armitage.” He smirked and shook his head.

“How can you say that? How can you say that after what I did?”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he moved further away from you. Disgust lacing his features but you didn’t know if that was because of you or himself.

“Of course I had a choice. I could have gotten us out of there if I so wished.” His gaze rose to meet yours. “He got you out didn’t he? So why didn’t I?”

“Armitage please!” But he was beyond reason, lost in the hatred of his actions.

“You are better off without me, go to him, Kylo. He’ll look after you far better than I ever could.”

“Armitage, wait!” You followed him out of the hut, painfully aware that everyone in the vicinity was awake and listening to your conversation.

“No, nothing else you can say will change my mind…”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurred out loudly and you saw his back stiffen when he jolted to a stop, the few people you could see made shocked faces and disappeared into their huts. Finn and Rose paused to the side no doubt holding their breath as they watched the scene unfold before them. You wanted him to turn around, you wanted him to run to you, lifting you in the air with excitement but you knew he was going to be conflicted about this. Finally he did turn, his eyes on your hands as you twisted them nervously.

“Is it mine?” He asked stiffly. The question had you sobbing, you expected it, of course you did but you had hoped he wouldn't sound so indifferent about it.

“Y-yes.” He nodded before striding off. Words failed you, watching him leave you like this shattered your heart into pieces, littering the floor with your pain. You wanted to scream, to ask him to come back to face this with you but he was gone.

“C’mon sweetheart. He’ll be back.” Poe gently guided you back to your hut, you had no ideas where he had come from but you were grateful to him.

“How can you be sure?” You asked quietly, wiping your face.

“Well for one he’s got nowhere to go,” you glared at Poe through your tears but he at least had the sense to look ashamed at such a comment. “And two,” he continued. “For all his faults, Hugs is loyal to you. He’d never admit it to anyone, probably not even himself.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said softly.

“What’s that? I’m right? Yeah I’ll take it,” he smiled kindly at you. “I’ll go get some caf. I’ll be back ok?” You nodded, the smile leaving your face as soon as you were alone. You heard him talking to Finn and Rose, their voices trailing off as they walked away. You gently put a hand on your stomach, hoping Armitage came back soon. Poe came back and spent some time with you but you couldn’t follow the conversation, your eyes trained on the door waiting for Armitage to come back. Finally he made his excuses and left you alone, but it didn’t last long.

Your thoughts scattered when the door opened and you stood up, a flush creeping over your skin, a name on your lips but you couldn't utter it. Because it was the wrong man.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked incredulously.

“What do you want, Ben?” It still felt strange to call him that.

“I had no idea,” he rumbled.

“Yes you did. It’s why you saved me. Isn’t it?” He was too big for your space and you wanted him to sit down but you also didn’t want him to stay. “On the Finalizer, sending me to the Resistance you were giving me a chance with this baby.”

“I couldn't see you get killed!” He snarled curling his hands into fists. “I waited for Armitage to betray the First Order, his beliefs, to prove his love for you and he didn’t.”

“Because you would have killed him as soon as he put a foot wrong!” You hissed at him, trying to keep your voice low.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I guess we will never know.”

“Please, leave me alone. He won’t come back if you’re in here.” You turned your back on him, hoping he’d get the message so you missed the crestfallen look on his face. The way his large hand went to reach for you but then he thought better of it and moved away.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” You turned to reply but he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You paced, watching night fall beyond the walls of your little space, the fauna coming to life in the darkness and you sighed, trying to hold back the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you yet again. You just needed to know he was alright. Your legs tired and you finally lay down, closing your eyes but sleep didn’t come so you stared at the door, tracking the rough wood yet again until he came back.

You sat up on the bed as the door slowly opened. He stepped in, his boots dragging on the wooden floor with each step, he didn’t look at you and instead rested heavily against the closed door. The fire had died down and there was silence outside indicating everyone was asleep. He slid to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and thumping his head gently back onto the door. He looked exhausted in the dim light, his clothes slightly muddy like he’d been out trekking, his hair was wind swept but still as vibrant as ever. You ached to hold him close, to breathe your love into him so he could feel it but you knew he’d probably reject it right now. He was hurting, still coming to terms with the loss of everything he thought was important. He was having to rebalance, finding out the world did not run on the need for power and dizzying heights of control took time getting over. Nevertheless, you slowly slid off the bed kneeling just a few paces away from him, your hands clasped neatly in your lap as you gazed at him with sorrow filled eyes. The need to speak was driving you crazy, words filled your mouth before filtering out into nothingness not making it past the barrier of your lips. His eyes were closed, a pained expression pulled on his face and for a moment you thought he’d fallen asleep against the door when he shifted. His eyes opened and you rushed him, pulling him into an embrace that for once he didn’t fight. Neither of you spoke, taking the time to breathe each other in, accepting the first moment of comfort you had taken from each other since he had woken up in the medbay. He was warm and firm in your arms, alive and breathing as he wrapped an arm loosely over your back.

“Come to bed,” you whispered. “Please?” He had been sleeping in a chair no matter how many times you had offered him the bed he had refused to take it, until now. He stood almost swaying as you led him over, making him sit down so you could remove his boots and muddy trousers before letting him slip under the covers. You went to move away to let him rest alone when his hand shot out and grabbed you.

“Stay?” He asked softly and you tried not to smile. He moved over as you got in, not sure if he wanted to be touched or not but that uncertainty was banished when he pulled you tightly into his embrace and for the first time in a long time you felt contentment.

You awoke early again, feeling refreshed after a deep sleep because Hux hadn’t had a nightmare. You slipped out from under his arm and got dressed in some fresh clothes casting one last look at him you smiled before heading off to get some breakfast.

Poe was up early, sorting through the fresh supplies that had been brought back on the Falcon last night.

“Morning sweetheart, you look better.”

“I feel better,” you responded. “The trip was successful then?”

“We need to do another, even with people leaving to find their own way through the Galaxy there are still some arriving here because they have nowhere else to go. This lot won’t last us that long,” he commented.

“But it will do for now, you should be proud, General. You have created a safe haven for those who would end up wandering lost.” Poe sighed and you placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You know I will help if you need me to.”

“You already have your hands full,” he replied quietly.

“I am hoping my news will help him sort his priorities.” Poe’s eyes lit up and he grinned.

“A little bit of good news amongst the stress, how are you feeling? Here take some extra food,” he offered you.

“Poe I can’t, you have so many people to feed…”

“Would you just take it?” He growled, forcing more pouches into your arms. “I’ve got bottles of water as well…” you waited patiently as he retrieved a little crate and you placed it all in there, activating the hover mechanism on it.

“Thank you Poe.”

“Go go, I’m so busy,” he said, smirking, giving you a wink and making you laugh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to the very tedious task of counting!”

“Yes, thank you!” He called after you, picking up his datapad.

You had a little bounce to your step as you made your way all the way back to your hut, opening the door and guiding the crate in, you didn’t see Armitage sitting up at first. You closed the door and turned to give him a smile but the scene before made your blood run like ice in your veins.

“Armitage?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed running a hand over a blaster. “Where did you get that?” You asked quietly, panic licking its way through your body as he looked up at you. He looked so lost, his eyes were red and his pale skin blotchy, his red hair had lost its fire looking lank and dull as it slanted over one eye, his stubble was more pronounced today showing that he hadn’t attempted to shave.

“I just took it.” Your heart began to beat loudly, your pulse roaring in your ears, you wanted to call out for anyone but you didn’t know how he was going to react.

“What do you want with it?” You asked in hushed tones. He tapped it into his hand and you saw the safety was off, the panic heightened, thrumming through your body until it felt like all your hairs were standing on end.

“I didn’t know at first,” his voice was gravelly and tired. “But then I realised this could be it,” his shoulders rose and fell with a shuddery breath. “The answer to everyone’s suffering.”

“No one is suffering anymore,” you crouched down, slowly resting on your knees so you were on his level. “The war is o-over Armitage.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m still fighting?” He snarled. To your surprise he stood, the blaster gripped tightly in his hands and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were losing him.

You watched him pace in the small living area growing more agitated by the second, mumbling more to himself than you. “I am suffering, I feel so useless, there is nothing to aim for, not goals to achieve. No order, no control, nothing to strategise, no one to fight, I feel myself going crazy…” he stopped and looked down the barrel of the blaster. Your breath stilled, an ache bloomed in your chest as the seconds slowed to a crawl. Thoughts of getting up and knocking it from his hand flashed through your mind but you knew you’d be too late. “This is the only answer I’ve found,” his eyes dragged to you. His brows rose for a moment in an expression of sorrow as he took in your tear stricken face. “I’m taking responsibility….” No! You wanted to scream but the sound got lodged in your throat when his finger squeezed the trigger. You closed your eyes expecting a light, a bang, the sound of him falling to the floor, anything. But there was only silence.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door smashing into the wall and Ben came in, his chest heaving like he’d been running, his hand outstretched as he held Armitage in an invisible cage, he wrenched the blaster out of Hux’s frozen grip and tossed it out of the hut.

“What are you doing?” Growled Hux and his eyes blazed fiercely at the force user.

“I came to stop you,” Ben huffed, still catching his breath.

“How did you know?” You flinched as Ben pointed at you but his gaze was still locked on the ex-general.

“I could feel her heart, breaking from across the encampment.” A gasp left you as strong arms wrapped around your terrified form and Poe hauled you off the floor, also out of breath.

“I’m sorry sweetheart we came as fast as we could,” he breathed into your ear.

“Just let me go with dignity!” Hux glared at Ben as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“There is no dignity in this Armitage. You have someone who loves you, she wants you. Don’t throw that away, the chance of a life because the First Order no longer exists.”

“The First Order was my life! It was all I had!” Shouted Hux.

“And look what you have to replace it,” Ben snapped, gesturing at you clutched in Poe’s arms. “Don’t be a fool, don’t let your fathers ambitions rule even now. Because then it really all would have been for nothing. These people helping you would be for nothing.” Hux sagged to the floor with a grunt when Ben released him.

“Are you alright?” He asked angrily, turning his back to Hux. You nodded, shaking Poe off and rushing to your husband. You knelt next to his folded form, you wanted to reach out and touch him and you felt the frustration rise that you couldn’t touch him. Even though right now it was all he needed to remind himself he had you, he had reasons to live.

“You need to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving you…” started Ben but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are. Go.” Poe tugged on the bigger man’s arm, his hazel eyes locked with yours for a moment before giving in and following the pilot outside. Your hands over your husbands shaking form but frustration made you move. Using all your might you pulled at him, making him sit up.

“Armitage!” You grabbed his face making him focus on you. His entire being quivering with pent up emotions ready to be released, his green eyes blown wide but they looked at you as he tried to keep himself together. “They’re gone, you can let go.” He sagged with relief against you, his face crumbling and you hugged him close as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I can’t look at their faces anymore,” he whimpered. “All I see is what I’ve done, over and over again written in their eyes, in the words they say, how they act…all I see is the hurt that’s been caused, all because of me.” You held him close as he silently sobbed into you, giving him the outlet he needed without a word.

“It’s not you, this doesn’t fall on you.” You shrugged him off your shoulder, making him focus on your face. “Promise me, promise me you won’t pull that shit again!” Your profanity made him raise his eyebrows in surprise even through the storm of his emotions. “I need you, we need you,” you stressed softly. “Armitage please,” you rested your forehead against his pulling him close to you. “You are loved and needed and I will say it until you believe it.”

“What if I never believe it?” He whispered.

“We’re family. I know you’re not used to that, you feel alone, I feel alone! Our home is gone, all I have is you. And I can’t…..I can’t lose that. Please don’t make me!” You covered your face with both hands trying to stifle the sobs that shook your body. The feeling of utter hopelessness wrapped it’s fateful arms around you dragging you down into the dark abyss you’d been holding at bay for so long. You wanted to ask him why he wasn’t letting you in, to let you help him but you knew it was pointless. You went to get up, to move away or leave, just to distance yourself but your eyes flew open when you felt his fingers curl around your wet hands. He pulled them down from your face, his gaze searching yours, his expression sad as his mouth opened.

“You are my home,” he whispered.

“Armitage…”

“You want me to talk, I’m talking.” You hiccuped a breath at his firm tone, an echo of the man he used to be finally shining through, but he was right. You’d spent all the time trying to get him to open up. You should listen to him now. He reached for your cheek, his long fingers gently wiping your tears away. “Starkiller, The Finalizer, Arkanis, none of them ever felt like home after I met you. Took me so long to see it,” he murmured. “To see how you helped me face myself and now,” his gaze flicked down to your stomach. “Now you are making me see something I never thought I’d see. How can I be a parent?” You saw the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his brows tried to pull down for a moment. “What if…what if I….become like him?”

“You could never!” You reached for him, bringing him closer until his forehead pressed into yours. “I know you’re scared, don’t make that face, you are allowed to be. I am. I’m scared.” You bit your lip as you chose your next words. “It feels easier to walk away but it’s not,” you said firmly, threading your hands into his hair. “If we face this together we can do it, Armitage. We can get each other through this.”

#general hux x female reader #armitage hux x female reader #echoes of the heart #general hux x you #general hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess #cw: suicidal thoughts

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venusandromedadjarin · 3 years

Text

Darling

Alive, part two

18+, soft!Poe if you squint, drinking, fluff, dom!Poe, smut... a whole lot of smut, light bondage, edging, begging... Poe is just a hot husband and his wife pissed him off so now it’s payback time, 3.5k words

The cantina erupts in shouts and whoops the minute the two of you step inside, Poe's hand wrapped tightly around yours as he flashes his dazzling smile. You feel the heaviness in your chest lighten marginally as you see everyone you took off with from the base this morning, all of them smiling at the two of you. General Organa’s words echo in your mind, no one was lost today. She was right, and you hadn’t even let that sink in until now. No one’s picture was added to the wall today, and you glance at it, the heaviness lightening a bit more when you see the number of frames hasn’t changed. Poe squeezes your hand, and you glance up at him, a smile tugging at your lips.

Red-Ten’s voice booms over the room as he lifts a bottle above the crowd, “To the Damerons!”

You can feel Poe’s chuckle as his shoulder’s shake with it, his hand tightening as he surges forward. People clap their hands to your backs, throwing out compliments about your flying and his leadership. When you see Red-Six, you break away from him to hug her tightly. She returns the hug, nodding as you thank her for saving your life today.

“Just doing my job, Sergeant.”

You slap her shoulder, “Don’t Sergeant me, Numa. We’re drinking tonight, come on.” You clamber up on a stool, stepping onto the bar and reach a hand down to her. Taking it, she follows you, throwing her head back to laugh, her Lekku swaying with the movement. Poe’s eyes find yours from below, and they shimmer in the low light as he watches you live. Something he hasn’t seen in a long time, and it suddenly strikes him, too, that everyone came back today.

General Organa strolls into the room and crosses her arms when she sees the two of you on the bar, both of you stilling as the bar grows quiet, waiting for her to say something. She slowly shakes her head, a grin spreading on her face as she comes through the crowd and announces, “Orson, first round is on me. The squadron deserves it. Congratulations on a successful day.”

The whooping that breaks out is so loud it drowns out her words as she slaps Poe on the back, Finn laughing beside him at whatever she says. You see her nod towards you before quietly exiting as the shots begin to be passed around. Two of Orson’s six large, green hands reach up to give you and Numa the small glasses, filled with clear alcohol. Once everyone has one, you wink towards her and lift yours up, “To the Rebel Scum!”

No one misses a beat as they echo you, laughter ringing out once everyone has downed the liquid. It burns down your throat and you grimace, swiping your lips with the back of your hand.

The evening goes on like that more or less, rounds of shots being passed out as you all eat at varying times before drinking some more. While Poe and Finn wager against some other people in a game of Sabacc, you bid Numa to cover for you as you slip out of the cantina. Technically, going outside at night is frowned upon, but you risk it and slide out the vented doors into the cool air. The base keeps the doors slatted open to improve air circulation and temperature at night, since D’Qar cools down significantly when the sun drops. The air is a welcome presence after being inside the humid bar. For a few minutes, you just stand outside the doors and look up, staring at the planets you can see in the sky. Finally, you push yourself forward towards the field that the base uses as a tarmac. The sight of your X-Wing makes you groan as you walk towards it, the sticky fire retardant still sliding down the sides of it. With hesitation, you decide to climb up the ladder, shuddering when you see the inside is full of the light colored goo. Hopping down, you walk around the ship and survey the damage. The entire left engine is gone, having blown up and all, and the left wings are severely damaged. Luckily the body and right side is mostly intact, though the canopy is cracked. It would take weeks for you to fix it, maybe less if Poe helped, which you’re sure he would. Sighing, you walk over to Poe’s X-Wing to asses his damage. It’s definitely less severe, but the right side is charred and cracked, the wings bent enough that they don’t match up properly. At the very least, it’d be easier to fix than yours.

You climb the ladder to his cockpit before sliding down into his pilot’s chair, the canopy open so you can sit back and look at the sky. It smells like him: leather and oak mixed with a slight hint of gasoline. It’s a scent you would never grow tired of having in your senses. Looking around his cockpit, you notice a fading picture tucked under the edge of one of the control panels. You gently pull it out of the metal it’s wedged under and study it in the dim light. Smiling, you realize it’s the picture Rey took of you and Poe the day you got married. On the back, it has your’s, Rey’s and Finn's initials signed on it. You wipe a tear from your cheek, realizing how fiercely you miss your best friend, before tucking it back into its spot.

“You’re always right here with me,” Poe’s voice makes you jump, your hand flying to your mouth as you yelp.

“Maker, you scared me,” your eyes close as you try to calm your heart beat. He just chuckles and smooths your wavy hair down, his hand gentle on the crown of your head. “What are you doing out here?”

He looks down at you, humor dancing in his dark eyes, “I’m checking on you. What are you doing out there?”

You smile and point upwards, the stars lighting up his features as he looks up. You’re struck by how handsome he is, especially with the grey hair starting to streak his dark curls. The scruffy beard he’s growing makes him look older, but in the best way possible, and his smile makes your smile grow.

“I don’t know why General Organa ever doubted your ability to be a pilot when you first joined the Resistance, you always have belonged among the stars,” he whispers, still looking up.

You duck out from under his hand and grasp it with your own, bringing his wrist to your lips. He lets out a low sound when you kiss the sensitive skin, your tongue darting out to taste him. “If I remember correctly, you also doubted me,” you whisper against his wrist.

Poe chuckles and looks down at you, “I never doubted you, darling. I had never met anyone as bright as you and I was terrified of how quickly this lifestyle can dim that light.”

You catch his eyes, gazing at him through your lashes, your breathing hitched. Even after being with him this long, it takes you by surprise when he speaks about you like this. You and Poe never had the luxury of a slow and sweet romance. It was frantic and intense because of the Resistance, the constant fight, the constant fear of everything good coming to an end. When you both realized you felt the same way, that was the end of it, nothing was the same. It was quick and fiery, at risk of ending before it ever got the chance to start. But at times like this, after a successful fight, after the hope of the Resistance being rekindled, you are reminded of the reason you fell for him in the first place. He’s fierce, stubborn, and rough around the edges sometimes because of his cocky nature… but underneath all of that, Poe Dameron is a romantic, kind man who had to become tough in the face of adversity. This is a man who wore his mother’s wedding ring on a chain, waiting until he could give it to his life long partner. Somehow, the Maker allowed it to be you.

“I love you,” you whisper up to him, scared of breaking the silence too harshly by speaking. He grasps your hand in his and pulls you up gently, kissing you gently before climbing down the ladder and looking back at you.

“Let’s go home,” he smiles up at you and you nod, scrambling out of the cock pit and down to him so you can take his hand again. “I love you, too.” You squeeze his hand as the two of you begin the short walk back to the main building.

The sweet talking is forgotten the moment the lock bolts your bedroom door closed, one of Poe’s hands palming at the key pad to dim the lights while the other is cupping the column of your throat as he kisses you. You only see two other people on the walk back, by some mercy everyone is either still getting drunk or in bed, which meant the two of you are finally, finally, alone. A soft whine escapes your lips when Poe’s other hand meets your hip, his fingers digging into you as if he’s afraid he’ll float away if he doesn’t hold on for dear life. You shudder at the thought of finding your husbands fingertips bruised into your skin in the morning. He slowly pushes you back towards the bed, his tongue dipping into your mouth to twist with your own. As the back of your thighs hit the mattress, he pulls back just enough to mumble against your lips, “You drove me insane today, woman.”

Biting his bottom lip, you tug slightly before smiling against his mouth, “What are you going to do about that?”

You bite back a groan as his large hands slides under your leather jacket, slowly pushing it off your shoulders and down your arms. His mouth works on your neck the whole time, hot and heavy against your skin as he nips and licks you. You sigh when he removes himself from you completely, blinking up at him as you watch him walk over to the desk and open the bottom drawer. Poe pulls out a belt and turns toward you, gazing at you with his brown eyes as he folds the leather into makeshift cuffs. Your pulse jumps as you watch him, heat pooling between your legs, and you fight to not press your thighs together. His voice is low when he breaks the heavy silence, rasping against his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Lay down.”

Crawling up on the bed, you follow his instructions, waiting for him to tell you what to do next. Instead, he comes over and grasps your wrists, pulling them above your head and positioning your hands in between the headboard slats. He slides the cuffs on you, pulling on the belt to tighten it before checking to see if it’s too much. You nod up at him, and he checks the headboard, making sure it won’t move too much and hurt you. Poe steps back, watching you as your breathing picks up just by being restrained. The way he’s looking at you is almost feral, his eyes darkening as his pupils dilate… and neither of you are even undressed yet. You’re vaguely aware that he can probably see your nipples hardening under your thin t-shirt as he moves to the end of the bad, slowly untying your boots and pulling them off, followed by your socks. His large hands grasp your ankles, pulling you towards him and making your arms strain against the bindings. The tension makes you worry at your bottom lip, the heat in your core intensifying. He slowly slides his hands up your legs, the callouses on his palms catching on the heavy fabric. By the time he actually reaches your waistband you’re trying not to roll your hips, searching for some sort of relief to the dull ache spreading through your body. His thick fingers quickly undo the buttons before dipping below the waist band, pausing as he looks up at you and you crane your neck, and then he’s pulling. Ripping the fabric down his legs like it might burn you if he doesn’t get it them off quick enough. He nearly chokes when he sees the lacy black underwear you’re wearing, licking his lips before he’s tearing those off you too. You lift your hips to make it easier and you shudder when the cool air hits your clit, the wetness on your thighs and pussy becoming shockingly cold, making the ache in your core even more intense. And Poe… Poe just watches as you squirm, your forearms straining as you pull at the belt.

Finally, he starts undressing. His boots clunk as he kicks them off, his leather jacket makes a soft thud as it lands next to them. His shirt is haphazardly tossed across the room by one hand as he unbuttons his pants with the other. He strips his socks and briefs next, his eyes never leaving yours.

You’re a wreck and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Finally, he’s back on the bed, kneeling between your thighs as he parts them roughly, his hands gripping your knees and pushing them apart. Your chest is heaving at this point, the fabric of your shirt sending bolts of heat down your spine as your nipples rub against it. Poe leans over you, his cock dragging across your stomach and your back arches off the bad, chasing the feeling of his tip and the pre-cum that’s glistening on it. He just smirks down at you before gently pushing your shirt up, his fingertips barely brushing your skin as he bunches the fabric until it’s halfway over your head and covering your eyes. The more you squirm, the more your arms pull at the shirt and the more it darkens your vision. You huff in frustration and he tsks, “You’ve been walking around the base all afternoon with your tits on display underneath that thin fabric?” You smile, your top teeth dragging over your lower lip as you bite it, and he groans, a low rumbling sound that is heavenly and turns you on even more.

Then you’re yelping as he tugs at your nipple with his teeth before moving on to suck a hickey into the meat of your breast. He repeats it on the other side, your back arching as you try to chase the pleasure it brings. You feel him lay down between your legs, kissing down your stomach before nipping at your hips. He hooks your knees over his shoulders and then he stills. He just lays there, his lips pursed as he blows on your clit and makes you shudder, his hands digging into your hips and holding you down so you can’t lift your them to meat his mouth.

You’re breathless as you beg, the words coming out in between your groans because the waiting is just too much. “P-poe, please. Pl-lease do someth-thing.”

That’s all it takes.

He licks you, moaning as he drags the muscles through your folds and tastes you like he’s never tasted anything sweeter. His tongue dips in and out of you, circling your hole and making you squirm. Then he flicks it out against your clit. And you pull so hard at the belt you think you might pull a muscle in your arm, but his hands never leave your hips and you can’t chase his mouth for more of that beautiful feeling. All at once he’s sucking, sending shivers through your body as your thighs tense up and you do your best not to squeeze his head. You’re so close, teetering on that edge, the pressure coiling in your abdomen, pulling taught and tight and ready to snap-

Then he stops.

You think you must yell, or at least throw a curse word out at him, or something.

Before you can even stay mad that he brought you to the edge and refused you, his finger is inside of you and your hips come of the bed, pushing it in deeper. He curls it against the spot that makes you see fucking stars, and then he’s fucking you with it before adding a second. Curling and thrusting and sending you towards that edge again.

Right as you start to tremble, a soft whine escaping your parted lips, he stops again, your walls fluttering around his fingers, searching for the slightest movement to send you careening off that edge. You feel tears prick at your eyes, the coiling pleasure in your abdomen raging so hot that you think you might actually cry.

But instead of tears, you cry out as Poe simultaneously adds a third finger and sucks on your clit. Your walls clamp down around his fingers as he fucks you through it. Your eyes flutter closed underneath the blindfold, and you’re sure they roll back, as your hips jolt off the bed, chasing his mouth and that hot tongue that sends electric shocks down your spine and through your limbs. You’re trembling, definitely squeezing him in between your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to care as the coiling, tight rubber band of pleasure snaps so hard that it feels white hot.

When you finally come down, he’s still drinking you up, lazily licking you and moaning into your folds. When he stops, he leans his head against the apex of your thigh, his facial hair tickling the already sensitive skin, as he watches his fingers slide in and out of you, shimmering with your juices. Even though you can’t see him now, you’re well aware of his fascination because he’s done this before. You gasp when he finally drags his fingers out of you fully and crawls over you, leaning down to kiss you as he pushes the t-shirt all the way up to your wrists. His tongue dips into your mouth, both of you moaning as you taste yourself on him. When he breaks away from you, you look up at him with big eyes, “Let me touch you.”

He smirks, kissing you once more before moving back between your legs and positioning his dripping cock so that the tip rubs your clit. “No,” Poe watches you as he slides his dick against your clit, making you pull at the belt and throw your head back, biting back a moan. Then he’s moving again, positioning himself before sheathing his cock in you with on thrust, his hips snapping against yours. You cry out, the pain and pleasure mixing low in your torso and coiling into the start of another orgasm. You wrap your legs around him, hooking your ankles behind his back and he palms your knees, spreading you and using your legs as support as he pounds into you. The way his hips dig into you with every thrust has you seeing stars already and you can tell by his furrowed brow and heavy breathing that he won’t last long but he reaches down to thumb at your clit anyways, pushing you towards your release again. “Cum for me.”

And you do. It overtakes you before you even have the chance to fight it, coursing through you and firing every synapse in your body at once, it overwhelms you so much that you barely make a sound as you squeeze his cock. Your eyes close and you pull at the bindings, your wrists aching under the pressure and all the while, he fucks you through it, his pace never faltering as he continues to hit that spot inside you that makes you feel like you might be on fire in the best way possible.

He doesn’t cum until you start to come down, your walls finally letting up just enough for him to tense inside you and paint them with himself. He collapses against you, shuddering as he nips at your nipples, low groans bubbling from his throat as he finishes pumping himself into you. He shakily reaches up to loosen the belt as he pants against your chest and you immediately pull your hands out to reach for him. You rub your hands through his hair, trace your fingertips up and down the curve of his spine, knead his shoulder muscles… you do all of it, just reveling in the afterglow of orgasms and in the fact you can touch him now.

Poe finally turns his head so his cheek rests against your sternum, whispering against your skin, “Don’t get tired on me yet, darling. I’m not done with you.”

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron

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notveryglittery · 4 years

Text

absolutely smitten

summary: sometimes your coworkers are ridiculously in love but too dumb to make a move so obviously you've got to give them a push in the right direction. wc: 4,700 / ship: roman/patton (royality) content: human au, actor au. patton-centric. some crying, some kissing. mutual, oblivious pining. confessions of ~love~! background talyn, joan, remy, and thomas. background brotherly moxiety, romantic analogical, and frenemies(?) moceit. janus is kind of an asshole (but that’s patton’s opinion dot vine). author’s note: so, sometime in october 2019, i saw this post by @sirasanders for the first time ever which was, frankly, a Crime. because it had been posted in february 2019 and the fact that i had gone that long without seeing/being tagged in a royality post? Illegal. anyway, i was struck with inspiration and began writing and sure it might have taken nine months but... here it is! i'm really proud of it! i hope you enjoy!

many thanks to @rosesisupposes for beta reading!! <3 read on ao3!

— — —

Patton was not a morning person. Sure, he liked the idea of sunrises and consistent schedules and having time to make himself a big breakfast. All of that, however, required waking up. So to put it more accurately, Patton was not a waking up person.

Usually, all it took was a cup of coffee.

Thankfully, that part was never something Patton really had to worry about. The sweet, sweet bean elixir was delivered to him personally each morning sometime after arriving on set. Something he did worry about, though? Constantly? Nearly every hour of every day? Just what exactly he and the bringer-of-drinks were.

Like… yeah! He and Roman were… friends? They were coworkers for sure, without a doubt, and Patton liked that a lot! Working with Roman never failed to brighten even his darkest days. Patton could arrive on set in the lowest of moods and sometimes all it took was one warm smile from Roman to melt the icy feeling in his veins. Sometimes, it was the way Roman would slide up next to him at the catering table, moaning about how hungry he was, asking for Patton’s opinion on what he should treat himself to. Sometimes, Roman would take Patton’s hand and lead him to The Sanders Couch and Roman would sit and then he’d pull Patton down onto his lap and they’d just stay there for a bit, Roman combing his hand through Patton’s hair and singing quietly… If Patton was being honest, that was the easiest and quickest way Roman helped him to feel better.

Just friends, though! Right?

Roman remembering Patton’s usual go-to orders from Starbucks didn’t mean anything. He was just being courteous. Maybe it wasn’t even that; maybe it was just Roman wanting to make sure Patton would be at his peak during their scenes. Actors had such bad reputations after all and the last thing Patton wanted was to be a nightmare to deal with on set. He was grateful, really, of all Roman did to help him!

He just wished he wasn’t so confused.

“Patton! Good morning!”

Okay, time to put all those confusing feelings away.

Talyn’s bright grin and brighter hair never failed to impress Patton. Maybe one day he’d learn their secret to feeling this energetic so early in the morning but until then, he’d just have to keep wishing for the day coffee chains lowered their prices.

“Morning, Tal,” Patton responded, unable to help himself as he reached out and ruffled Talyn’s colorful locks.

They grumbled and swatted his hand away. “I’d be offended that you don’t seem to realize how much time this takes but I don’t think you even know what a hairbrush is.”

Patton pouted and reached up to tug on one of his curls. “I’m hurt.”

Talyn huffed, a sort-of laugh that reminded him of Virgil, and rolled their eyes. “I’ll be extra gentle with your makeup to make up for it, then.”

Before Patton could express appreciation for the play on words, Talyn was swept up and away in a blur of blue plaid and orange. He was pretty sure it’d been Joan, given how they were scarcely seen without their tell-tale flashy beanie.

While interacting with Talyn had helped Patton wake up a little bit, he was already feeling the heaviness of being up early weighing him down again. The reminder of the scene they were supposed to be filming today probably wasn’t doing him any good, either. Not only was it going to be a lot of crying, which was already exhausting on its own, he and Roman were supposed to kiss. Patton was supposed to kiss the possibly-maybe-wouldn’t-it-be-nice love of his life.

His cheeks went hot at the very idea and Patton all but slammed his face into his hands and screamed into his palms.

“Easy, buttercup, wouldn’t want you bruising, hm?”

Patton lowered his hands and glared at Janus over his fingertips.

“Oops,” Janus smirked and stepped back. “Didn’t realize you haven’t had your coffee yet.”

Patton frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “Is it that obvious?”

Somehow, in the time it took him to blink, Janus had moved, loping around Patton with a contemplative hum. One of these days, he’d learn how Janus managed to get around so fast.

“Look,” he said, draping an arm over Patton’s shoulders and pointing, “right there.”

One of these days, Patton would stop falling for Janus’s pranks.

Today was not that day and so when Patton directed his gaze towards where Janus was gesturing, he was provided the very startling sight of Roman coming in from outside. He was practically glowing in the sunlight, his hair was tousled from the wind as if he’d rolled out of bed but left it intentionally disheveled, and they’d just made eye contact and so Patton saw clear as crystal the way Roman’s smile curled up so easily and prettily.

Oh no, he was so pretty.

Patton ducked out of Janus’s hold and bolted away, towards his dressing room.

That… could have gone worse? Yeah, he could’ve tripped while running away and face planted and made work super difficult for Talyn and ruined the whole shoot today and everyone would be mad at him for wasting their time—

“Patton?”

By absolute sheer willpower, Patton didn’t scream.

“I’ve got your caramel macchiato.”

Patton was going to melt.

“Extra extra espresso.”

Scratch that, Patton was already melting.

“Thomas said it looked like you’d need it.”

Wait, what?

Patton opened the door to handsome Roman, considerate Roman, lovely Roman, and spoke before his brain could get any more mushy at the sight of handsome considerate lovely Roman. “Thomas hasn’t even seen me today?”

Roman held the reusable tumbler out for Patton to take. “Extra caramel, too.”

Patton took the offered drink and if it weren’t for the fact that this happened nearly every morning, he’d surely have dropped it the moment his and Roman’s fingertips brushed. Thankfully, he’d gotten used to it by now. Mostly, his heart reminded him when butterflies took flight in his stomach. Right, yeah, mostly. Anyway.

“I’ll see you in a bit, then,” Roman said and Patton was probably imagining the soft earnesty in his tone. He tried to dial down his high hopes.

“In a bit, then…” Patton managed, smiling sweetly, before stepping back and closing the door.

By some miracle, he didn’t sink immediately to the ground despite definitely feeling like a melted marshmallow. Instead, he drained half of his drink and then finally let himself scream.

In a bit turned out to be a couple of hours. It wasn’t anything Patton wasn’t familiar with but that didn’t make it any less agonizing. An indie film meant a smaller crew which meant Talyn could do the makeup on only one actor at a time. Fortunately, the scenes today weren’t very extensive which meant less folks to work on. Unfortunately, the scenes weren’t extensive because they were all plenty aware of how emotionally draining they’d be and had essentially planned for it. Crying came pretty easily to Patton so he wasn’t worried about that part. It was the after: the headache, the puffy red skin, the sore throat.

Talyn muttered as they worked, wondering why they were even bothering with makeup when it was all going to be ruined by the end of filming, anyway. In the reflection of the mirror Patton was sitting in front of, he could just barely see Roman getting his hair fixed. He was gesturing, no doubt telling a story of some sort; Remy had to keep pushing his hands back down anytime they got in the way. Patton was sure the hairdresser was scowling as he worked. If anyone was less a morning person than Patton, it was Remy.

“I love that smile as much as the next, Pat,” Talyn said, sighing, “but I don’t need it just yet. I can’t work when your eyes are all cute and crinkly.”

He murmured a quick apology and schooled his expression into one carefully blank. Talyn got back to applying his eye makeup. It didn’t take much longer before they were finished and Patton was sent on his way to get his hair done next. He and Roman passed by each other and Patton did his best to not swoon quite so obviously when Roman grinned at him. This part went by considerably quicker given that Patton could no longer see Roman in any reflections and that Remy had no patience for anything taking longer than absolutely necessary. He was finished before Talyn was with Roman which meant Patton could head off to see their director for any final adjustments or tips.

Thomas looked like he’d been through the wringer and the day had barely begun. Patton was frowning as he approached, wondering if anyone had told Thomas that his shirt was inside out.

“Morning, kiddo,” Patton greeted, coming to a stop beside him.

Thomas startled, nearly dropping the script he was holding. “Patton!”

“Oops,” Patton said sheepishly, “didn’t mean to spook you.”

Thomas waved the papers dismissively. “Nah, I oughta be better aware of my surroundings. Especially with someone like Janus around.”

Patton scowled. “Yeah, he got me this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thomas responded and Patton did not like how cheeky he looked all of a sudden. “That one seemed more like a treat than it did a trick.”

Patton really wished he didn’t blush so easily! He couldn’t even try and cover his face because then he’d risk messing up Talyn’s hard work. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway,” Patton interrupted loudly before Thomas could keep teasing him. “Has anything changed with filming today that I should worry about?”

Thomas shook his head. “Nah, we’re still all on the same page.” He hesitated. “Sorry that today’s gonna be so taxing on you guys.”

“I’m just hoping we can get it done in one take.”

“If you don’t, Talyn will have to fix you up again,” a new voice said, effortlessly joining their discussion.

“Speak of the Devil,” Thomas muttered.

“And he shall appear!” Patton finished for him before turning to Janus with a glare. “You know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Janus shrugged carelessly. “Joan’s looking for you,” he told Thomas, as if backstage and onstage weren’t small enough for Joan to find Thomas relatively easy on their own.

Still, Thomas shot Patton an apologetic look and went off to find his best friend.

In a near perfect match of their earlier interaction, Patton faced Janus with crossed arms and a frown. “Could you stop messing with me? I really don’t need it on top of everything else going on today.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to, dear Patton,” Janus said sweetly, all faux innocence.

Patton tried to not let it get to him. The two rarely got along, even on their good days, and Janus knew this, which meant he especially delighted in bothering Patton on his bad days. There really wasn’t any reason for them to be like this except that Janus had been why Patton nearly missed his audition for this film and he’d never apologized and Patton was still holding a grudge.

“Darling, is he bothering you?”

Before Patton could react to the question, an arm slid around his shoulders. The body he was pulled against was warm and firm and smelled of cinnamon and oh no.

Janus was smirking wickedly.

“Roman,” he all but purred. “I would never bother the object of your affections. I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Patton.exe has stopped functioning.

The conversation continued, if Janus’s moving lips were anything to go by, but none of it processed for Patton. Roman’s what? Surely they weren’t talking about him? No, it was just Janus playing another one of his mean pranks. It had to be! Roman couldn’t like Patton back because if he did… well, if he did, that meant the kiss they were supposed to share on screen today wouldn’t be quite so one-sided and… and that would mean Patton’s feelings weren’t entirely unfounded… Roman did always bring him coffee. He was there for Patton’s low moods. His smile was sometimes so sincere and soft that Patton thought he might melt anytime he was on the receiving end of it.

Patton blinked and tilted his head up just a bit so he could get a better look at his knight in shining armor. Thinking back on it, Roman was often there to help save Patton from Janus’s crueler comments or jokes. He encouraged Patton through each scene, eyes bright and eager when the camera wasn’t pointed at him. He looked a little tense and Patton wondered if he was angry with what Janus had implied or… or if he was embarrassed to be called out on his feelings.

His gaze returned to Janus and he blinked again. Sound started to filter back in. Janus sneered at him.

“Back with us, then?”

“Alright, folks!” Thomas' voice rang out then, commanding attention. “Let’s get started! If we finish early today, I’m treating y’all to ice cream!”

A chorus of cheers followed as everyone moved to get where they needed to be.

Patton slipped out from Roman’s grasp and gave him a grin that he hoped wasn’t as shaky as it felt. In theory, Roman liking him back should have been a good thing. So why was Patton feeling so icky all of a sudden? Was it because, if it were true, Roman hadn’t been the one to confess? It was hardly fair of Janus to go around sharing other people’s secrets.

“Places!”

Patton snapped out of his daze to find Roman standing in front of him. He looked concerned.

“Hey, deep breaths, okay?” He took an exaggerated one to make a point and Patton found himself mirroring it. The slow exhale lightened the weight on his shoulders.

Patton nodded and Roman smiled at him. It was that sincere, soft smile that made Patton melt and, gosh darn it, hadn’t he already done enough of that this morning?

They hurried to their spots. The script was playing through Patton’s head, his lines and then Roman’s following lines, and Patton’s reactions to each line. He focused on the scene and the reason his character was upset and how it’d feel if he were experiencing it personally. One take. They’d get this finished in one take and then Patton could have ice cream and go back to his hotel room and take a nice long nap.

It was easy to forget everything that had happened earlier once he was onstage. Patton had no trouble getting into his roles most of the time; it certainly helped having someone like Roman opposite him. Roman was the best actor he’d ever had the pleasure of working with: self-assured and reliable and knowledgeable. The confidence he exuded was often contagious. The lights came on and out of the corner of his eye, Patton saw the red light flashing on the cameras. Roman winked at him and Patton only resisted giggling like a lovestruck teenager because Thomas had just called “action!”

It went as effortlessly as it usually did. Roman recited his lines with nary a mistake. Patton worked off of him easily, responses slipping from his tongue before the worries or fears of messing up could even try to take hold. The cast and the set around them faded away until it was just Patton and Roman - Patton’s character and Roman’s character - and this moment and this scene and these feelings. He could feel the tears spilling over, his heart felt as if it were being squeezed in his chest, his throat closing up with choked back sobs. Roman’s expression only aided in Patton’s despair; he never wanted to see Roman this miserable ever again.

It felt like a dream, the way Roman’s hand came up and cradled his cheek so gently and carefully. He wiped away a few of Patton’s tears with his thumb. He wasn’t sure which of them leaned in first, just that his eyes slid closed before Roman’s lips met his. Strangely, Patton’s first thought wasn’t incoherent screaming. It was that Roman tasted of peppermint. Then it was who knew kissing distracted so well from crying? Finally, eventually, it was incoherent screaming.

“And cut!”

They didn’t leap away from each other as if electrocuted, though Patton’s surprise at the reminder that they weren’t alone did shock him. Instead, they separated slowly, Roman’s hand drifting from Patton’s face to his shoulder.

“You’re… you’re a really good kisser, Roman.”

It wasn’t until Roman’s face went bright, bright red that Patton realized what he’d said.

“That was great, guys!” Thomas exclaimed, slinging his arms around them both and shattering the fragile space between them. “We’ll look over it real quick for any glaring mistakes but I think it went perfectly! We can fix the little things in post. I think you both deserve a break.”

“Thanks,” Patton squeaked, shooting up from where he sat. “Bye!”

For the second time that day, Patton bolted away and to his dressing room.

The door had barely slammed shut behind him before Patton was diving for the countertop he’d left his phone on. He was calling his second emergency contact and throwing himself into the pile of beanbags, cushions, and pillows in one corner of the room, all in one breath.

“Hey, Pat,” answered the low, rumbling voice of his brother.

Even if Patton had wanted to coherently explain what was going on, he couldn’t have. The words came tumbling out of his mouth without any sense and he kept cycling back to “kiss” and “Roman.” It didn’t help that he was half-sobbing, half-laughing, and all-panicking. At some point, he thought Virgil might have covered up his end of the receiver and spoke to someone else, but Patton was too flustered to be sure.

“Okay, bud, let’s take a minute to breathe.”

And so Virgil counted his younger sibling through several deep breaths, inhaling four and holding four and exhaling four. Once Patton had calmed down, Virgil asked him to repeat what he’d tried to say earlier.

“Oh. Ohh, right, that scene was today.”

“Virgil,” Patton said very seriously, pacing the room back and forth. “I… I think he likes me back.”

“Nooo,” Virgil responded and Patton frowned at his tone. “Really?”

“Why’d you say it like that!”

“Dude… Roman’s crush on you is as obvious as your crush on him.”

“His what?!”

“I’m sorry to say that you got all the gay disaster genes.”

“Tell that to your unsigned Valentine’s Day confession card to Logan.”

“Hey! We agreed to never mention that again!”

There was muffled speaking on Virgil’s end of the call and Virgil snorted. “Oh, that’ll be fun,” Patton heard him say in response. Before he could ask what would be fun, there was a knock at his door.

“Patton?”

By absolute sheer willpower, Patton didn’t scream.

“Answer it before I die of tension,” Virgil deadpanned.

Would it really be so bad if he did? After everything that had happened today, it really did seem like Roman might truly like him back… Sure, Patton wanted to bury himself into a hole and never leave out of embarrassment because of what he’d said after the kiss, but… It wasn’t like they were finished filming. Patton was going to see Roman again, whether he liked it or not.

“I’m hanging up now, okay?”

“Okay,” Patton whimpered. He was frozen a few moments longer, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“I can come back later,” Roman said, voice muffled. “Or not at all, if you’d prefer that. I don’t want to make you uncomf—”

Moving faster than he thought he was physically capable, Patton dropped his cell, and lurched across the room. He yanked the door open to handsome Roman, nervous Roman, sheepish Roman, and acted before his brain could get any more conflicted at the sight of handsome nervous sheepish Roman. “Please don’t leave.”

Roman went from worrying nervously at his lower lip to a small hopeful smile. He looked… strangely vulnerable. Patton wanted to protect him from everything bad, just as Roman had supported and kept him safe in the past.

“Hi.”

“Uhm… hi,” Patton replied. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped back and gestured for Roman to enter.

For the time they’d been working together, neither had been inside the other’s dressing room. Actually, Patton hadn’t gone by Roman’s at all; maybe his was the one with the star-sticker-decorated door. Roman caught sight of Patton’s Comfort Corner and sent him a curious glance.

“It’s better than a chair?” Patton answered with a half-shrug.

“It’s like The Sanders Couch,” Roman said agreeably.

“Did Thomas ever tell you the story behind it?”

“Which one?” Roman asked, laughing. “There’s so many. He has it sent with him to every filming location, you know. Apparently, it’s magic.”

Patton’s apprehension was falling away slowly but surely and he thought it amazing how even being near Roman had that effect on him.

“May I?”

Patton blinked, confused. Roman gestured to the corner.

“Oh! Yeah! Yes, of course.” Patton hurriedly responded, stumbling a little over his words.

“May…” Roman rubbed the back of his neck and Patton didn’t understand what he could possibly have to be bashful about before remembering oh, right, he likes me back. “May we?”

It felt like Patton’s whole body was submerged in scalding hot water. “O— okay,” he squeaked. Before he could melt on the spot like his jelly-wobbly legs wanted him to, Patton joined Roman in settling cozily amongst the beanbags, cushions, and pillows.

It was like second nature to them. Without even meaning to, Patton gravitated towards Roman, curling against his side as if it was right where he belonged. Roman’s hand was carding through Patton’s hair before they’d even fully got their legs positioned just right. In the time that Patton had made this dressing room his own, he’d added frequently to this pile, and he knew for a fact that there was room enough for two people to lounge on it without having to sit too close. As if he weren’t already in a tizzy, realizing how easy it was for him and Roman to be like this… Well, it was a miracle he hadn’t fainted already.

“So…” Roman began at the same moment Patton exclaimed, “I’m sorry!”

Naturally, Roman looked bewildered.

“I should have told you sooner,” Patton barreled on. He pointedly avoided looking up, instead keeping his gaze trained on his hands folded in his lap. “I was just… scared, I guess? Mostly of rejection… uhm, duh… But also of ruining this movie for you? I didn’t want to make filming difficult for… well, for anyone! And I didn’t want to risk doing that just because of my silly feelings.”

“Silly?” Roman echoed.

“And I know it’s not something I need to apologize for,” Patton continued in a rush, “but I’m still so sorry that Janus said what he said. A… about me being the, uh… your… Well, you know. He didn’t have any right doing that.”

Roman laughed, sounding a little incredulous. Patton wasn’t sure what part Roman had trouble believing. It was true, after all! The very idea of someone spilling Patton’s crush without his say-so was absolutely horrifying.

“If I’m being completely honest?” Roman began, shifting just enough that he could cradle Patton’s cheek in his hand and tilt his face up. “I don’t think I’d have had the courage to do it myself, anyway.”

He… He was being genuine, Patton realized with a start.

“You’re the most courageous person I know!” Patton argued.

“I am also terrified of rejection,” Roman amended.

“Now hold on, if I’m scared of rejection and you’re scared of rejection, then who’s flying the plane?”

Roman laughed so hard, Patton was jostled by it in his embrace. It was a sensation he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“Regrettably, I think that Janus is our pilot.”

Patton pouted. “Don’t like that.”

“We might owe him a thank you.”

“Don’t like that!” Patton repeated.

“Well, how about something that you do like?” Roman suggested, still holding him so carefully, still looking at him with such a sincere and soft smile. Still, there was just a hint of trepidation in his tone, the tiniest bit of unease in his eyes.

Patton realized awfully late that neither of them had actually, completely declared their feelings yet. He sat up in a hurry, placing a hand on Roman’s chest, and taking a deep breath. He thought it might give him at least a moment to sort his thoughts so that he could give Roman the confession he deserved. He thought wrong.

“You!” he practically shouted. “I like you! So much! It’s ridiculous! It’s exhilarating and scary and wonderful and well, I mean—” He stuttered to a halt, dissolving momentarily into breathless giggles. “You’re so considerate, do you know that? You care so much and you have so many little ways of showing it! And oh my god, you’re the best coworker I’ve ever had. You’re so full of passion and dedication, it’s an absolute joy to act alongside you and, and—” Again, Patton paused, but this time it was thanks to Roman’s slack-jawed awe. Raising both arms, Patton took Roman’s face in his hands and squished his cheeks a little. “And don’t even get me started on how handsome you are.”

In the time he’d known Roman, Patton had never seen him speechless. Patton was worried that he’d broken him. The seconds ticked by until, eventually, Roman made a sound akin to a tea kettle whistling. He slowly leaned in and down until Patton had to let go, instead opting to wrap his arms around Roman’s neck. With his face hidden now in Patton’s shoulder, it became clear how hard Roman was shaking.

“Was that too much?” Patton asked quietly.

Roman mumbled something but Patton couldn’t have understood it if he tried. Maybe he just needed a few minutes to collect himself. After some time, Roman did emerge, looking a bit more calm. Patton hardly had time to worry what this meant for him before Roman pulled Patton’s hands loose from where they’d been curled in the hair at the nape of his neck and held them gently in his own.

“I like you,” he started, oh-so-seriously. “I think I like you more than I like theatre?”

Patton gasped.

“Hush,” Roman teased, stifling a laugh. “I wake up some mornings and make it out of bed just because I know I’ll see you. It’s so easy to exist around you. I’ve never felt judged or hurt by you; you’re exceedingly kind and thoughtful. I cherish all of our moments, whether candid or staged. You’ve brought stability to my life in a way I never expected and I can’t tell you how important that is to me. Your grumpy pre-caffeine face cheers me up more than the sun in the sky does!”

“You hush,” Patton muttered, only able to fake offense for a few seconds.

“When Thomas takes us all out for ice cream, could we share a sundae?” Roman requested and he almost sounded shy about it. It made Patton’s heart flutter.

“There’s no one else I would want to banana split with,” Patton quipped.

Roman dropped Patton’s hands and groaned, planting his face into his palms. The last of the tension in the air vanished and Patton finally felt like he could breathe a little easier. He leaned back a little, trying to keep it together.

“Aw, come on, that was really just the cherry on top!”

Roman’s response might have been muffled but that didn’t hide the sound of his grin.

Patton shimmied and wiggled his way out of the Comfort Corner until he was back on his feet. “I hope you aren’t considering Taking Back Sun-dae,” Patton said, putting on his best pout.

“Oh my god,” Roman managed before he broke and fell into a fit of laughter.

Patton gave in too, though he was slightly distracted by the sight of Roman so carefree and happy. That was another thing he’d have to get used to, he supposed… Not that he minded. In fact, Patton decided as Roman eventually got up and pulled him into a tight, warm hug, he was really looking forward to it.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #romantic royality #royality fan fiction #ts deceit #patton sanders #roman sanders #human au #dani writes

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renegade-skywalker · 3 years

Text

still living rent-free in my head at all times are Atton and the Jedi Exile...

---

It was strange being on a ship like this - small, cozy, meant for shipping cargo instead of armies. Eden's room on the Harbinger had been devoid of any home-like comforts, and while this hunk of junk lacked any finesse, something about the ship’s exposed parts grounded her, settling her nerves. She ran her hand along the vessel’s unfinished walls, almost tasting its metal tang in her mind, as she made her way back to the cockpit, comforted by its imperfections.

The ship was modest, boasting only two dormitories and a cramped common area that also shared square footage with the ship’s lone refresher. Something about it seemed familiar, lived-in, though Eden knew she had never been on a ship like this. It was as if she had seen it in a dream.

“How’s she doing?” Atton’s voice crept from the cockpit, sensing Eden’s presence as she approached. Eden smirked, wondering if her footfalls were really that heavy as she daydreamt.

“Surprisingly well for someone who just lost a hand,” Eden said as she entered the cockpit proper, watching her own left hand as she flexed it in and out of a fist. “Not like you’d care, though. Right?”

“Heh, true,” Atton mumbled, still fussing with the ship’s controls. “Of course the only space-worthy ship on that sorry ball of magma would be twenty years old, and rigged to boot. This thing is a relic, you know that?”

“What makes you say that?” Eden asked as she sidled up alongside the navigational chart, glowing white-green as it enticed her towards its map. The display was outdated, she had to give Atton that, but nearly everything she’d come into contact with on Tatooine in the last few years would have been considered ‘old’ by industry standards. “Rigged, I mean, not old. Old is obvious.”

Atton glanced at Eden over his shoulder, his eyebrows shooting up across his forehead, disappearing into his hair, as he allowed himself a brief moment of surprise. Eden smirked. She’d only known the guy a few standard hours and already she had developed a hobby of catching him off-guard.

“The commands, mostly,” he said eventually, turning back to the console, “Most ships have standard commands depending on the make, but this one seems to have been coded in a specific key. It’s not impossible to decipher but it’s annoying, to say the least.”

“Coded?”

“Common in drug-running, it’s a defense tactic of sorts. Instead of an alarm system to alert the authorities, it's meant to dissuade anyone from flying it at all by making it complicated. That, and it’s meant to reroute system logs so it’s harder for anyone snooping around to access the ship’s navigational history. Hey, while you’re over there, do you mind-?”

“On it,” Eden confirmed, already keying in a sequence. But the map before her only jolted, as if glitching momentarily. She tried again. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Atton affirmed, turning full in his chair this time. “Have you tried-?”

Eden typed in another sequence and looked at Atton again, shrugging more emphatically.

“Like I said, nothing.”

Atton slumped in his chair, looking at the screen from his vantage point, baffled. “Weird.”

Turning around again, Atton began typing furiously away at the pilot’s console, muttering to himself as he made quick calculations and tested other sequencing commands, inputting codes and apparently coming up empty judging by the unintelligible syllables that escaped his mouth in response.

“I thought you said it wasn’t weird for drug-running vessels to do that?”

“It isn’t, it’s just… the system would have given you an error code, or something. The fact that nothing happened is weird. We’ll have to try some back-end codes if we have any chance of unlocking the nav chart, but we can worry about that later. Or not at all, since I plan on taking the next transport off Telos as soon as we land. If that’s even an option.”

“You and me both,” Eden said, still playing with the galaxy map, marveling at the expanse of it all. It had been a while since she’d traveled, and longer since she considered how big the galaxy even was. “Any idea where you’d want to disappear?”

“Disappear?” Atton tensed at that, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he adjusted his ribbed jacket. Eden expected Atton would want to leave as many lightyears between him and whatever had landed him on Peragus as he could manage, but maybe there was more to the story.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said after a few beats, trying to act cavalier. “I have a few places in mind, though sharing them with you kind of defeats the purpose of vanishing without a trace.”

Atton glanced back at Eden, his eyes wide before he snapped his attention back to the console computer again, muttering, “No offense, or anything.”

Eden laughed lightly, the feeling almost alien given everything that had happened of late. Quickly quieting, she bit her lip and allowed herself a breath before picking up the conversation again, oddly at ease.

“None taken,” she said, “No witness, no crime, right?”

“Something like that,” Atton laughed, though a clear sense of uncertainty laced his voice. “Though I’d argue all three of us are just as guilty of blowing up the entire economy of this sector. I flew the ship, sure, but it was only to save all our skins.”

“I appreciate that,” Eden said, “Though I’d counter and say that Kreia’s assailant is to blame more than the three of us.”

“Hah, right. Try telling that to the Republic officers that eventually arrest us at the ends of the universe for the impending fuel crisis of the century.” At this Atton truly laughed, the weight of what had just happened finally sinking in. “Shit.”

“Well, it’s not the first time I was responsible for something that would affect the entire galaxy for decades to come,” Eden sighed, her finger lingering over the green dot the chart labeled Dxun - moon, quickly changing the subject before Atton could question whether she was being earnest or not. “So what do you think this ship was used for before we hijacked it?”

“Drug-running, I’m guessing, but I doubt Kreia had anything to do with that. Though I’m curious…”

“Curious about what?”

“How someone like her would acquire a ship like this.”

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Eden shrugged as she finally abandoned the navigational chart and sunk into the co-pilot’s chair. “An old woman looking for any means of solo transport with little money? You see the way she dresses, I doubt she has a fortune at her disposal. I’m sure a spice runner with a price on their head would part with as few credits as they could spare if it meant an easy way to dispose of their crime-history-addled ship.”

Atton made a face at this, considering her logic, but did not tear his eyes away from the pilot’s console as he continued to type away.

“I guess the only thing I’m left wondering is whether Sleeps-With-Vibroblades was on her tail before or after this ship’s acquisition,” Atton laughed at his own joke. “So… what happened?”

Atton didn’t tear his eyes away from the screen but only gestured to her vaguely. Eden paused, looking down at herself, confused, and back up at Atton again.

“To what?”

Atton tsked.

“Don’t give me that. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So - where’s yours?”

Eden narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in utter confusion as she wondered how Atton went from how Kreia came in possession of this ship to… lightsabers. The fact that Atton couldn’t see her facial journey to better understand her bafflement didn’t help, either.

“Let’s leave my lightsaber out of this,” Eden sighed, “It’s a long story.”

“Oh? I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber. Guess I heard wrong,” he quipped, acting coy.

Eden rolled her eyes.

“So, were you a single-hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?”

Now Eden knew that Atton wasn’t only preoccupying himself with the ship’s unique code language for the sake of deciphering it but was also using it as a means to avoid her gaze while he asked the usual questions other spacers did upon suspecting her affiliation with the Order. Typical.

“Double,” she answered dishonestly after a beat, watching Atton side-long for his reaction.

“Hm,” he said, unexcitingly, “I hear the twin blades are harder to master, but they can make enemies stampede over each other running for cover.”

Eden crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes now as she watched Atton do his best to appear nonchalant, truly annoyed with him now.

“You know quite a bit about Jedi for being so averse to them,” Eden accused, but Atton only snorted in response.

“I fought in the war, remember? It was hard not to notice,” Atton said, “I saw a lot of Jedi use double-bladed sabers first-hand, gave them more slaughter per swing.”

Eden winced, unhappy to have the memory revived in her mind’s eye at the mention of it.

“You didn’t go red, did you?”

Eden wanted to roll her eyes again, but instead she paused, a wicked smile taking over her face.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere. "Redder than a laigrek’s eye.”

Atton jolted out of whatever he was doing to avoid her gaze and actually jumped in his seat, and Eden couldn’t hold her serious expression long enough to relish in the longer con she’d planned the moment the words passed her lips.

“Maker, you’re pathetic,” she laughed, “What color saber do you think I had? I’m curious if you can guess correctly, Mr. ‘I Drink and I Know Things’”

Atton smiled unsurely, trying to appear in on the joke despite the fact that Eden had actually managed to startle him.

“Lemme see,” he said, affording her an honest glance after gathering his wits. Atton looked her up and down, assessing what he could of her upper half that was visible to him from the pilot’s chair with an expression of mock intrigue, an idle hand stroking his non-existent beard in thought. “I’d say green, but that might just be because your eyes are green, so I’m gonna nix that guess and say… blue. No - yellow.”

Eden only raised her eyebrows in response, crossing her arms even tighter over her chest.

“Purple? Violet? I dunno, those colors are the same, right?” Atton asked, shaking his head. “Are there… more colors? Sith are easy to guess, but Jedi--”

It’s was cerulean, she thought with an internal laugh, realizing the inanity of it. Neither blue nor green, but pale and somewhere in between. Single hilt but dual wielded. Both her long and her short sword were the same shade of pale seafoam, wanting to emulate Kavar’s blue saber, truest blue as the Guardian he was, but also green in honor of her brother and her then-Master, Atris, the only Master willing to teach her then, even if it was as an Historian, a role that wholly did not suit her.

“Wouldn’t you know? I thought you fought alongside the Jedi.”

Eden was calling him out now, but Atton only laughed, trying to buy himself time while he thought of another witty comeback, ultimately failing.

“Well, whatever color it was, sure would be nice to have it now. Might make those Sith think twice before coming after us.”

Eden shook her head, even if she understood where a spacer like Atton was coming from.

“A lightsaber wouldn’t make a difference, trust me,” Eden relented. “Sure it’s better than a blaster, but it would only put more of a target on our backs.”

Atton paused, really considering Eden now as he soaked in her words, perhaps surprised by her response.

“Fine, forget I said anything.” Atton turned away from her after a moment, shaking his head. “Better get comfortable, though. It’s a few days’ ride to Telos. We’re not out of this just yet.”

Eden nodded, turning the co-pilot’s seat all the way around to view the hallway behind her. Her eyes traced the piping on the walls as they led into the dark, where the passage turned slightly before opening up to the security room, wondering what Kreia was doing now in the dormitory she had claimed.

“No, we’re not,” Eden affirmed, her eyes still fixed on the shadow of the hall, but her mind far away, stuck somewhere between the past and present. She wondered what had become of her twin sabers, if either still remained. One, she’d left at Alek’s feet. The other she’d staked into the hideous statue at the center of the Coruscant Council chamber. “Not by a long shot.”

#atton x exile #kotor 2 #atton rand #the jedi exile #star wars #fan fic #my writing #as I finally approach this scene in out of the abyss I found myself just writing it before I even finished exploring peragus lmao #but peragus is a drag I think we can all agree on that

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