#and bc I miss the warmth & comfort & ease of conversation that don’t exist in my life anymore

[tonystarkstan]

hey just a fun question. for Science. do you ever get over your first love and how long does it take?

[ironmandeficiency]

home

pairing: achilles (oc) / reader

word count: 2256

summary: sometimes a deviation from a simple routine can yield highly pleasant results.

req: May I request a short drabble (or whatever you feel like writing) for Achilles with 3 or 6 from the first prompt list? Thank you JJ, I love you - @roseofalderaan (3- smiling into a kiss, 6- chasing someone’s lips after they pull away)

a/n: i went with both bc both is good (and also bc this boy deserves all the love ever). read all abt him here!

“will that be all, commander?” you questioned. your workday was drawing to a close and you wanted nothing more to get your nightly escort home and wind down from yet another stressful day at the office. the nightly ritual had begun not long after you got this job and befriended the coruscant guard, some of them sticking a little closer to you during the day when possible.

but only one ever walked you home, claiming that the streets he worked to protect every day were no place for someone so… unsullied, he would say, guiding you home with a steady hand on your back and a smile hidden by his bucket. his soft laugh would bring yours bubbling to the surface like a simmering pot of homemade soup, nourishing your soul and leaving you full of joy and… something else.

thoughts of one of said guardsmen had you zoning out while fox was talking, very likely giving you another task to complete before the people you’d need to go to left for the night. you had spotted him over fox’s shoulder from where you stood several feet from him, having a gentle conversation with hearth and a few others. it made you so happy to see him bonding with his brothers this way, getting the attention and care he deserves from those closest to him.

fox notices the distracted, glazed look in your eyes and knows that you’re not hearing a single word he’s saying. looking over his shoulder, he’s quick to realize why: achilles. “that’ll be all,” fox assures you with a hand on your elbow before turning to take care of the task himself. he can give his younger brother this much happiness, what little bit he’s able to get. “get home safe.”

ever since he joined the guard, fox worried for achilles. he was too headstrong, had seen too much in so few years that he wasn’t going to let this assignment beat him into the submission that allowed many others to cope day to day. it would have made his life a little easier, fox believed, but it would have also made him believe he was unworthy of the joy found when with you.

when you’re dismissed, you make a beeline to where your trooper stood bucket in hand, a gentle smile gracing his lips. maker, he looked so young when he smiled. you’d do anything to keep that smile on his face. lacing your fingers with the hand not holding his bucket, you smile at him and his eyes are immediately caught by yours.

achilles was the first to speak, hand squeezing yours as he felt himself ascend to the stars when you smiled at him. “are you ready to go, cyar’ika?” hearth notices the way some of the weight rises from his vod’s shoulders when you’re nearby, the smile he wore a bit more genuine.

“i’m more than ready, ‘chilles. it’s been a long day and i’m ready to be home.” he nods and bids his knowing brothers a farewell for the next while. until you got to your front door, every iota of his attention would be devoted to you and only you; the way your bright smile alone could power galactic city, the sparkle in your eyes when he said something that brought out your laughter. he’d walk every kilometer of this planet if it meant he could keep seeing such unbridled joy radiate from you.

but these moments — these little pockets of time where he was someone more than who he really was, yet nobody significant all the same — would tide him over until the next one arrived with the same inevitability as waking in the mornings.

conversation was a swift river, flowing freely within its confines. there were things you both believed should never be said; they served as the riverbed, the bounds within which conversation flowed. everything else, the things you were allowed to say, were the water. they were powerful and clear in intention yet stayed within their bounds. the two of you floated along it with ease, letting the currents sway you however they willed. there was never anything to fight against, never with him.

he recounts the day’s most notable and happy events (a shiny’s codpiece detached while trying to rescue a tooka from the top of a vendor’s stall, and hearth was glitter-bombed when trying to give fox dinner) with his usual spark of animation, leaving out the darker events that always serve as reminders of his harsh reality. you don’t need to be tarnished by his sadness, the daily struggle he and his brothers face simply because of the circumstances of their existence. that wasn’t your fight to take up arms in, not your sadness to feel.

no, he couldn’t dim your light with his permeating darkness.

it’s why he still hasn’t kissed you the way his lips ached to, why his hands haven’t held your hips as he tasted your honeyed smile for the first time.

you told him of the menial tasks that had been made more than you bargained for when you stumbled onto two maintenance workers snogging in an elevator, the small muffin that was gifted by the commander of the 420th on his way to the office of his senator friend, and the way it paired well with your lunch. achilles hung onto every word and the way he could hear your smile in every syllable, saving it for lonely nights when he needed something to distract him from himself.

the thing about time is that when you don’t pay attention to it, it’s quick to make haste with its passing.

sooner than either of you would have enjoyed, the door to your apartment was in front of you, a beacon of home tinged with an afterglow of loneliness that seemed to never leave. yes, all of your belongings were here and your bed was housed within those walls, but none of those things made it a home. something was missing, but exactly what that something was had yet to be discovered.

his hand fell back to his side, the sight of your door a reset button to his decorum. your hand was colder without his in it, you noticed for the first time. you didn’t like knowing this and desperately yearned to get that warmth back immediately despite the fact you were walked to and from work by the man in front of you every day and it’d only be a few hours until you’d feel it again.

you couldn’t wait hours to hold his hand again, to be surrounded by his radiance in all its glory. in a bold move you never thought yourself capable of, you extended an invitation you’d mulled over for weeks.

“i’ll, uh, see you in the morning—”

“would you like to come in?”

achilles was stunned. why you would want to invite him into your home? this place was your sanctuary, your respite from the workday and from all expectations the world thrust upon you. he didn’t believe himself worthy of such an honor, but only a fool would look a gift blurrg in the mouth.

so he followed you inside slowly, eyes flicking around the entire space to drink up everything he could. this was an opportunity to know you better, to see you at your most comfortable. “welcome to my humble abode, make yourself at home.”

there was a soft-looking blanket draped across the back of your couch that he imagined you curling up under on cool nights spent watching holofilms. photos of you and your friends covered the walls, smiles bright and abundant. there was a bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter that he was eyeing and you were quick to notice how his attention was drawn to it. “you can have some, if you’d like. i have plenty to share.”

how were you so generous with what you had, being so willing to share everything you owned in this vast galaxy with a clone? better yet, how were you real?

a pink lady apple was snagged from its former resting place and relieved of a bite-sized chunk. achilles hummed in enjoyment of the sweet-tart flavor that invaded his mouth as he joined where you sat on the couch, hand patting the space beside you. he obliged and was able to wedge himself between you and the arm of the couch but only when he leaned a little closer to you than he would have ever dared to outside of this safe haven.

you two sat in almost-silence for a while (achilles was still enjoying his apple, after all), a small bit of his weight pressing cozily into your side with one arm resting on the back of the couch. to be honest, you weren’t sure what to do now that he was here. so much time had been devoted to how you’d get him inside that there was not even a vague idea as to what you were supposed to do now.

the armor he wore did nothing to ruin the coziness of the moment, still being able to enjoy his company and the comfort his presence brought you. it was a big reason you felt so safe when walking home (besides the fact he had a blaster and was very proficient in wielding it). his apple core was soon the only thing left and it was gingerly set upon the endtable beside the arm of the couch he was close to, but after that there was stoicity.

neither of you knew where to go from here.

you turned to face him to ask if he wanted to watch a holofilm the same time he turned to ask you whether he could have another apple and wow you’d never been that close to his face before.

achilles drank in the proximity like a parched man on tatooine, branding the image of your slightly blushing face into his retinas for later enjoyment. then you laughed softly and he was a goner, an honest to maker goner. he was going to say something, he swears he was, but it slipped his mind for the moment. you were too busy biting your bottom lip and letting your chin fall, depriving him of those eyes he saw every time he closed his.

he couldn’t have that.

his fingertips took your chin, lightly lifting it back to the angle it formerly was posed at, where he could see your eyes and the smile behind them. in turn, your eyes were flitting between his eyes and lips that you were positive weren’t that plump before… were they?

then he pulled your chin ever closer and closed the vast centimeters that had kept you apart.

you weren’t sure how your lips had been able to resist the magnetic pull of his for so long now that they were together. truthfully, you had no clue how you were going to pull apart now that you knew what they felt like against yours. it was sweet velvet bliss, the taste of him. the pink lady mingled with something else that you knew had to be all him and oh stars was it intoxicating.

pulling away? since when was that an option? if it hadn’t been one before, it became one when you needed to breathe again. his lips chased yours, desperate to keep the blessed point of contact that he’d never wanted with anyone before you. the intimacy had your mind spinning.

he liked it, he actually liked it. he genuinely enjoyed that kiss and was wanting to continue kissing you, and who were you to keep him waiting? the magnetism won yet again and as he pulled you into his arms, you could feel him smiling into the kiss and you smiled back just as lovesick as he did.

muscles were slowly beginning to notify you of a dull ache caused by an angle you were unused to. you ignored it until feigning ignorance was no longer an option. it was time to move.

leaving the living room was an olympic effort. what if the boat in your river grew holes the moment one of you rose from the couch? how would you save the boat and not get washed away by the current? the answer was simple: get a bigger boat.

armor was shed and sleepclothes changed into before you guided him to your bed where you opened the blankets up for him, beckoning him ever closer and into your waiting arms. any hesitance was nowhere to be found as he crawled into the bed and wrapped himself around you. once he was under, time was taken to find a comfortable way to sleep. comfort was found with surprising ease, like he had been climbing into this bed for eons instead of seconds.

the change in environment did nothing but allow you closer to each other, nothing being damaged like you had both feared. in your bed, under your blankets and on your pillows, he still tasted of the same pink ladies and honey and clove he did on your couch. he still held your face in one trained hand that had known little more than violence before you came into his life.

as you carded your fingers through his hair, his other hand being held tenderly to your lips with all the affection you could muster, the final piece came together. achilles was what your apartment was missing, the building turning into a home at long last.