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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years ago

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Of Wolves and Witches

Pairing: Werewolf!Bishop Losa x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3088

For: covers the monster square for @adarafaelbarba 's moodboard fall bingo

TW: violence and accidental death via a nightmare/flashback sequence, brief mentions of mental, emotion, and physical abuse, PTSD, and covering up a crime scene

Author's Notes: The Mayans Werewolf AU that no one asked for, but i wrote it anyway. It starts out dark, but ends with fluff, I promise. This is my first time writing for Bishop, so please go easy on me... a big thank you to @itsjustmyfantasyroom for letting me run this idea by her and reassuring me that it wasn't crazy, and for encouraging me to write it.

Tags: @madamsnape921; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @welcometothemxdhouse; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @rosequcrtz

He stormed into your living room, rage storming in his eyes. His aura was a swirling void of red and black. He shouldn’t have been able to break the locks on your front door, he shouldn’t have been able to walk right through your magical wards, but here he was. You straightened your posture and stood your ground, determined to not let him see how terrified you were.

“How did you get in here?”

“Really?” He pulled a glowing amulet from out of his shirt. “Not that hard when you have a little help. Benefits of having hunters for friends.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was an enchanted amulet, one strong enough to get through your warding. You could only hope that it wasn’t strong enough to dampen your powers.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he smirked. “I know what you are. Makes me a wonder what else you haven’t been telling me.”

“Alex, get out! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“You little bitch!” he spat back. “You think you can just break up me? You think you can just walk away?

“I can and I did. We’re done, Alex, it’s over. You don’t get to hurt me anymore. It’s not my fault that your fragile, insecure male ego can’t take a fucking hint.”

“Bitch, I’ll fucking hurt you whenever I fucking want to! And I don’t see your little biker friends here to protect you.…”

Then he charged, and suddenly you were on the ground with his hands around your throat.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

You could feel the murderous intent radiating off him, and put your hands on his chest, trying to push him off you, but then you felt the release of kinetic energy through your palms, and Alex was flying across the room. He hit the wall, and you prayed to whatever goddess was listening that the sickening crack you heard was just the drywall breaking behind him. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his head lolled to one side, at what could only be described as an “unhealthy looking” angle. His lower body twitched a few times before going limp. He hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, pinned to the wall by your invisible force. Still shaking in terror, you finally lowered your hands, and Alex’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud.

*********************

“No!” you cried out, sitting bolt upright on your couch. You were covered in a cold sweat and your whole body was shaking. Your lungs gasped for air and your eyes darted around the room, searching for Alex, but he wasn’t there. You weren’t even in your old house anymore. You held your hand in your hands and took deep breaths. You were in your apartment, in Santo Padre, Alex was dead, and you were safe. The Saturday afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and the TV was still on, a marathon of Guy’s Grocery Games playing at a low volume.

“I must have fallen asleep,” you said softly to yourself, “it was only a nightmare.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and checked the time. It was only 3:30, plenty of time to shower and freshen up before Bishop would pick you up at 6. You stood, and after checking your locks and wards, made your way to the bathroom.

***********************

Despite your best efforts to push them down, the memories of what happened next came flooding back as you stood under the warm shower spray. You had been in shock, understandably so, but you were now exposed as a witch, and had to protect yourself. The logical side of your brain kicked in and you got to work. After verifying that Alex was dead, you had used your telekinetic abilities to rip the amulet off his neck. A quick examination verified that it had only been enchanted enough to allow Alex to breach your magical wards without getting zapped, but not enough to block your own powers. The enchantment was also crude and amateurish, probably done in haste by someone with limited knowledge of witchcraft. He had mentioned having hunters for friends, and you cursed yourself for not sensing that sooner. He hadn’t been one himself. You would have read that in his aura the moment you met him, but you also hadn’t sensed his dark side. The mentally and emotionally abusive and manipulative side, the one that turned violent during an argument when you had tried to call him out on his bullshit and break up with him the first time. You had ended up in the hospital, and when you confronted him the second time, you had friends with you to back you up. And after destroying the amulet, those were the friends you called on for help with your predicament.

The Blood Moon Motorcycle Club was a found family werewolf pack, led by Jack Reynard, a fearsome and intimidating Alpha. But Jack was fiercely protective of his friends and allies and didn’t hesitate to show up with four of his most trusted lieutenants when you called and tearfully explained your situation. They got to work cleaning up the scene and going through Alex’s phone and wallet. They found a business card for an elite and dangerous organization of hunters, and the contact’s name and number on the card matched up with one of the contacts in Alex’s phone. Jack told you to start packing your bags and to make sure that you included any magical artifacts that you had. You would spend the night at their clubhouse under round-the-clock security, and in the morning, they would get you out of town. Anything that couldn’t be packed that night would be shipped to you once you were settled elsewhere. They would dispose of the body; it wasn’t the first time they’d had to do so.

Jack had called Bishop Losa, president of the Mayans Motorcycle Club in Santo Padre, California. Jack and Bishop had served together in the Marines in their younger days, and the Mayans and the Blood Moons were allies as a result of that friendship. The Mayans were another found family werewolf pack and protected Santo Padre alongside the Galindo Pack. The town was a safe haven for all supernatural beings and the humans who lived there were none the wiser.

And now you had been here for six months. You worked in a bookshop owned by another a witch, Matilda, and lived in the apartment above it. In addition to the books, you also sold your homemade herbal teas and did Tarot card readings in the shop. 2-3 times a week you would bake cookies and muffins and sell those in the shop. Your teas were so popular that you now did tea making demonstrations on Saturday mornings. You were thriving but were still plagued by nightmares and PTSD and attended therapy once a week to help you work through your struggles.

And then there was Bishop. At first, the Mayan president and Alpha had been your friend and protector. You had been too traumatized to even think about pursuing a relationship, and so you both denied the unquestionable and inexplicable attraction. The more you got to know each other, the more you were drawn to each other. Two months ago, he finally made a move while the two of you had been outside getting some air at a party at the Mayans clubhouse, asking if he could kiss you. You’d been a couple ever since.

*********************

You had just finished lacing up your boots when you heard the sound of a familiar motorcycle pull up to your building. You ran to the window and looked down to the street. You saw Bishop getting off his bike and removing his helmet. You exited your apartment and ran down the stairs, meeting him at the entrance at the side of the building. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you close.

“Hola Querida, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, you’re not too bad, yourself, handsome.”

That got a chuckle from the Alpha. He removed one of his arms from around your back, revealing the bouquet of roses in his hand. “These are for you.”

“Bish, they’re gorgeous, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“And pass up the opportunity to surprise you? Not a chance.”

“Come on up. I’ll put these in water, grab a few things, then I’ll be ready to go.”

Bishop nodded and held onto your hand as he followed you up the stairs.

************************

You held onto Bishop as the two of you went speeding down the back roads, away from Santo Padre. You loved dates like this: just you and Bishop on the bike, heading somewhere unknown, away from all the stress and bullshit of the day-to-day. His torso felt warm, sturdy, and safe. You could feel the vibrations from bike rattling through your body as you watched the scenery fly by. You’d been on the road for at least half an hour now.

“Almost there, Querida,” Bishop called back. “You’re gonna love this spot, I promise.”

After a few more minutes he pulled off the road and the motorcycle slowed to a stop. Bishop turned off the engine and stored the keys in his pocket. You both got off and removed your helmets. You looked around at the small, wooded area and smiled, breathing in the fresh air.

“This is nice, babe.”

“Oh, this isn’t the spot, “he told you, unlatching the soft fleece blanket and cooler from the back of his bike. He handed you the blanket. He took the cooler in one hand and grabbed your free hand with his other, interlacing his fingers with yours. “It’s this way.”

You walked for a few minutes down a short path before finally arriving at a grassy clearing. The view was breathtaking. You could see everything from your elevated perched; Santo Padre, the valley, green leafy trees swaying in the breeze, fields of wildflowers. A sense of calm settled over you that you hadn’t felt in months. You didn’t jump when Bishop came up behind you and slid his arms around your mid-section, instead relaxing into his touch and leaning against his sturdy frame. Bishop softly kissed your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “this is perfect, this place in perfect. The energy here is so peaceful, and so alive. I love it.”

“I’m glad. I was thinking we could eat dinner, watch the sunset? And wait until the stars come out…You can show me all the constellations?”

You turned and slid your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“You would have thought that you were such a romantic?”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Gotta maintain my tough guy image, you know?”

“Mmm…your secret is safe with me.” You pecked his lips once, twice, three times, each kiss lasting a bit longer than the rest. When you finally pulled your head away you noticed that the blanket was laid out on the ground with cooler sitting on top.

“Come on,” said Bishop, directing you over to it. You both sat down, and Bishop opened the cooler and started setting out its contents: sandwiches from the local deli, fresh strawberries from the farmer’s market, giant cupcakes from the gourmet bakery, a bottle of beer for each of you, and bottled water. He popped the caps off the beer bottles and handed you one. “Cheers.”

The two of you sat and ate, completely at ease with each other, and the conversation flowed easily. Bishop told you about the day’s antics down at the scrapyard, and you told him about the business plan you and Matilda were working on to expand the bookshop into the empty café next door.

“The theory is, that having a space to sell food and drinks will drum up more business. I can sell my tea and baked goods and do my demonstrations there. We would obviously need to hire some extra people to help, but I think we can make it work. We can’t tear down the wall between the buildings and expand without the proper permits.”

“I’m sure the town will approve whatever permits you need. They’re not going to say to ‘no’ to something that will bring more business into Santo Padre.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the sunsets,” you said, gazing at the red, orange, and purple hues of the evening sky. “How did you find this place?”

Bishop laid down on the blanket and you stretched out next him, placing your head on his chest.

“Me and the guys had just come back from a run,” he began, “Things didn’t go so well, and I was pissed, needed to blow off some steam so I just rode around for a while. Next thing I knew, I was here. I shifted, ran around for a while until my head was clear. I come back whenever I need to get away from everything.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. I needed this.”

Bishop caressed your cheek with his fingers. “You’re welcome, Querida. I’ll bring you up here whenever you want.”

“Bish, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Querida, you can ask me anything,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Can I see you in your wolf form sometime? There’s no pressure, only if you want to…”

Bishop mulled the question over in his head. You had caught him off guard with the query. None of the women he’d ever been with had asked to see his wolf form, not even his ex-wife. These days, he only shifted when it was absolutely necessary. There were advantages to being an older and more experienced wolf. He could shift at will and didn’t have to worry about losing control. But what if you didn’t like what you saw? What if he scared you away? He’d never forgive himself if that happened. Your soft, sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Bish, I’m sorry, forget I said anything- “

“No, it’s okay,” he kissed your forehead, “I just wasn’t expecting that question. I’ll do it if you want me to, but just be prepared, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you, but it might not be what you’re expecting.”

“I trust you completely, and I promise, I won’t be scared.” You looked at his aura and saw the hesitancy there. He was scared. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He cupped your face with his hand and his lips found purchase with yours. He had a way of kissing you that made your mind go blank and get lost in the moment, and you loved every minute of it. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping that somehow you were able to convey the trust and faith you had in him. The smile on his face when you broke away seemed to indicate that you’d been successful.

Bishop rose and walked a few feet away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused by his actions.

“Shifting is a lot easier without clothes on,” he replied with a wink, beginning to undress.

“I’ll close my eyes and give you some privacy then,” you giggled, shutting your eyes, but occasionally cracking one open to steal glimpses of his increasingly naked form; and damn if you didn’t like what you saw!

Bishop finished disrobing and crouched down on the soft grass. He breathed deeply and cleared his mind, focusing his intention. He felt his muscle start to ripple and his joints and bones shift. It didn’t hurt at his age; it was just slightly uncomfortable. All his senses sharpened. Body hair became fur, his hands and feet morphed into oversize paws with razor sharp claws. Even his teeth changed shaped, becoming longer and more pointed. A few moments later, he stretched and shook out his fur. He looked over towards you, still sitting there with your eyes closed, and cautiously padded toward you.

************************

You could hear the footfalls of his paws, and then felt his large wet nose nudging your arm. You opened your eyes and saw a massive wolf standing before you. His fur was brown and black, with specks of gray in various places. His legs were strong, and his paws appeared large enough to take out a person with one blow. But his eyes, his eyes were gentle, and you would know them anywhere.

“Oh, Bishop, you’re beautiful!”

He sat and cocked his head to one side, appearing confused.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. May I?” You held out your arms to him. Bishop bowed his head and leaned forward, allowing you to embrace him and bury your face in his fur. “Your fur is so soft!”

He put his head on your shoulder and let out a contented groan when your fingers began to massage the spot right between his ears. You giggled at that. “I take it you like that, huh?” Bishop lifted his head and licked your face in response, making you laugh even harder. You massaged his head for a little while longer before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you for letting me see you like this. I love you, Bishop.”

There was suddenly a very naked, human man in your arms. Bishop’s hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning it for any indication that he might have misheard you.

“Bish- “

“Say that again, Querida.”

“I said, I love you, Obispo Losa.”

Bishop pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with more intensity and tenderness than he ever had before. Any doubts that you may have had about him not feeling the same quickly melted away. It went on for what felt like forever before the two of you had to pull away and come up for air.

“I love you, too, mi reina.”

You held onto one another like that for while before Bishop got dressed and rejoined you on the blanket. You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms and gazing at the night sky. And when a shooting star passed overhead, you made a wish that you could stay this way forever. No more looking over your shoulder, no more nightmares; just you and Bishop, ready to take on whatever the future might hold.

#adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa #mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #bishop losa imagines #werewolf au #my writing

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frannyzooey · 2 years ago

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Okay lol my stance hasn’t changed since last chapter and I am conflicted bc Ezra and Birdie are both two consenting adults but Cee has every right to be angry!!! Maybe I’m just petty and hold grudges but yeah I would never forgive either of them probably. Maybe Ezra far far down the line bc they’re relationship is deeper but yeah Birdie? Would never speak to her again

And yet I love Ezra and Birdie so much and they’re so perfect for each other and it’s way more than just sex for them!!! Both these ideas are firm in my mind!!!

No I love this because it’s the truth

Imagine you had a very best friend, one that you loved more than anyone, and one that you shared absolutely everything with and one day, after MONTHS of them doing it, you found out she was fucking your dad behind your back. That’s a fucking shock! lmao — it would be hard to forgive someone for that, and even if you did, I think it would be hard to ever speak to them again. That’s a pretty big breach of trust.

I think the thing I wanted to explore in this was that 1) they are consenting adults, 2) they lied to protect her aka they thought maybe in some way they were doing the right thing 3) they were both seduced by the taboo aspect of it, and 4) by showing their perspective, it shows the reader that not everything is black and white.

There is no right answer in this situation — things happen, people do the things they do, and I wanted to wade into those murky waters of morality to show that bad choices don’t make a bad person, so to speak. Cee does have a right to be angry, Birdie and Ezra are very good together, Birdie and Ezra probably shouldn’t have lied as long as they did (or at all), Cee shouldn’t have been snooping on his phone, etc. I love stories that delve into the greyness, and show humans for who they really are, and also end on a bittersweet or hopeful note — we’ve got 2 chapters left! ❤️

Thank you for sticking with me and for reading ❤️

#in the dark ask

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archived-and-moving · 3 years ago

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Maybe an unpopular opinion? I kinda think Anne should stay pissed at Hop Pop for longer than an episode. Maybe it's just me having a fucked up relationship with my father though.

Oh yeah definitely.

(I'm assuming you're talking about After The Rain and First Temple)

Hop Pop breached Anne's trust and well... lied about it. He made a pretty big mistake, and while it was to protect Anne, it was still something that Anne 100% had the right to be pissed about.

Because just because you're protecting someone doesn't mean that it's the best for them.

Even though Hop Pop really did want to keep Anne safe, and he didn't truly know all the repercussions for that, he still chose to lie about it until he was forced to give the truth.

And I actually really like the nod to this that they did in season 3... I won't go into much detail, since I know you're not there. But this is actually a really cool parallel between Hop Pop and Anne's character arcs, and what they really learned from each other.

I'm a sucker for character driven stories, and Amphibia is definitely one of them.

This was such a fun dynamic to mess around with. Because we really see Anne's side of the story. She wants to get home and for everything to go back to normal, but now she can't. She's understandable upset about that, but also on top of that how Hop Pop lied.

He was supposed to be this (while not perfect) kind and caring father figure, that would do anything to be on Anne's side. To help her however he can.

But in this case... his interest conflicts Anne's. He wants to keep her safe, as Anne is important to him, and he likely has some lasting trauma from Sprig and Polly's parents' death. So he sees himself doing the right thing, albeit he feels guilty about lying to Anne.

But Anne doesn't see that. She doesn't know that.

By hiding the box, Anne thought that Hop Pop didn't care about what her wants and needs were. While this wasn't the case, she definitely saw it that way.

He lied about the box. He lied about something Anne cares so much about.

And now I'm rambling but yeah I really like this plot thread.

However you are completely and 100% correct about your point, and I don't think it's unpopular at all. Because Amphibia is a show for a lot younger of an audience, it jumps from episode to episode pretty quickly to match a lot of the viewers' short attention spans.

While this usually is a good thing, given how popular the show is, it can definitely lead to some pacing issues through out it's run time, and I can definitely see why that could be problematic.

I personally would have loved to see Anne's grudge stay longer, and even some failed attempts at reconciling with one another spread out a bit more.

But we didn't really have time, considering what's to come with the set up of True Colors and all. Which um. Have fun with that.

Anyway. TLDR; You are completely correct in feeling this way, as Hop Pop kind of betrayed Anne's close feelings by going behind her back and flat out lying about the box (however deserved those feelings may be.) She probably should not have forgiven him within one episode but because this is Amphibia, the pacing is kind of off and we didn't really have time to explore this character development as much as you or I may have liked.

#amphibia #holy shit i kind of made a little mini essay out of that whoops.#anyway completely correct #thank you for bringing this up actually because that would have been really fun to explore #i feel like even though he is a side character we had a lot of missed opportunities for growth from hop pop #he's not really a favorite of mine because he doesn't develop as much as the rest of the cast #but he's still fun to look at #tobi talks WAY too much #long post

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

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Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren’t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin @alex-sulli

#reader insert #poe dameron x reader #night changes series #fanfic #angst #fluff #poe dameron #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x reader #oscar isaac #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x female reader #poe smut

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

Note

I have been redirected from lost to ask you about the peaceful ways of this fandom before antis attacked (/hj) cuz as a new person, all I know is discourse.

Oh, hello! (and hi Lost o/)

I can’t imagine what it’s like for new fans joining just now. I am so sorry, hope you’re still finding it fun enough even with all the hell?

It’s kind of hard to conceptualize how big mcyt’s gotten in recent months to be honest. Every time something from this fanbase breaches containment I’m reminded of how painfully visible it all is.

Now...I wish I could tell you about “the good old days” and how they were so good and peaceful and calm, but I think that’d be looking at things through rose-tinted glasses.

To be honest, the thing about sparking up the discourse and the hatred isn’t even that it’s new. It’s just more constant.

My first exposure to DSMP specifically, and I’ve said this before, was the Pizza Hut situation. DSMP wasn’t really it’s own fandom yet? But, the time that I started actually watching and getting more engaged and following along was...well, a bit on the topical side, actually, but it was #kickschlatt. Mid-July 2020.

My memory of it isn’t perfect — it’s almost been a year now — but to sort of illustrate my point about how the discourse isn’t new but the places it’s coming from are, this situation sparked a huge conflict not really between mcyt fans and non-mcyt fans, but between dttwt, sleepytwt and schlatt’s fanbase. It was a hellhole of infighting. Sleepytwt were angry about Dream banning Schlatt, dttwt pulled one of the first instances I can recall of actually getting a negative hashtag about the SMP trending, which all the CCs thought was immature. But the damage had already been done since everyone mistakenly thought Dream had banned Schlatt because of the hashtag, which...yeah.

It wasn’t pretty.

The thing about this discourse is that it’s been around for a very, very long time. It’s just that twitter’s not really made much...progress? They’ve just been repeating the same mistakes over and over again as if it would actually end up better this time somehow. They even got a #kick_______ hashtag trending pretty recently and as far as I can tell, most of them hadn't even been there for #kickschlatt. They were repeating history not even knowing they were doing it, and just like last time, it was an ineffective mess that didn’t actually help anything.

And that, to me, is the big problem here.

I know we joke about Twitter discourse being six months behind Tumblr, but honestly I don’t think it’s even that? It’s not really that they’re lagging behind so much as they’re just... completely stagnant, really. They haven’t gotten better in a year, they’ve just gotten larger.

It’s the same thing a year later. The thing about it nowadays, is that it’s just the same old crap but more. It’s #kickschlatt but a new one every fucking day.

#kickschlatt didn’t work because CCs aren’t obligated to listen to Twitter, and I really wish the community had learned from that. Instead, they’re just trying it again. Criticism is fine, but you just can’t expect people to always see or hear that critique.

CCs are not your friend. Like, genuinely. Not just for the meme, but actually. And I’m not saying that because of that they’re immune to criticism or something, but when you have people trending ‘tommy neg’ and saying that Tommy’s running from his problems because he’s leaving the app for his own mental health? That he HAS to be listening to them shouting at him or otherwise he’s some sort of horrible person?

That doesn’t sit right with me.

Like, not to bring out the dreaded p-word, but it kinda strikes me as a little...y’know...slash parasocial. CCs don’t have to listen to you. They aren’t obligated to talk with you or interact with you. You can have discourse and civil discussion amongst yourselves as a community without the CCs even being involved! Hell, that’s how it works on Tumblr. We talk amongst ourselves, we disagree sometimes, but never do we expect a CC to be here watching us saying shit.

Saying that “complaining about Twitter = complaining about minorities” just rubs me the wrong way because like...Twitter’s a platform. It’s a specific community. Minorities aren’t specifically limited to one fucking bird app. When CCs complain about Twitter, trust them to mean that they’re complaining about Twitter.

Yeah...I dunno. Maybe I’m being pessimistic. Maybe it has gotten better in SOME way, but I just haven’t seen it. It’s just gotten more frequent. It’s just gotten nastier and more mean-spirited. For every person trying their best to be helpful and actually educate, there are ten more voices screaming and shouting and drowning them out. The thing about Twitter is that you can’t have a conversation with an angry mob. You can’t turn to a buzzing hivemind of anger if what you’re looking for is guidance.

The thing about the “old days” isn’t that they were without conflict and completely peaceful. It’s just that you had some time to freaking breathe. Nowadays it seems like even something so universally beloved like MCC’s been tainted by that toxicity.

Everybody’s just...angry. all the time.

It’s the natural life cycle of a fandom, I think. When it grows large enough, eventually it’ll have to deal with more and more negativity and hate. Unfortunately for us, a large part of the fandom is on Twitter, which is just...the straight up worst platform you could possibly choose to deal with discourse on.

Tumblr isn’t perfect, but jesus Twitter is built for toxicity. Which is how you get situations like this. It’s how you get entire groups of CCs leaving the app because sooner or later, it gets too toxic to deal with.

So, here’s a little piece of advice:

This won’t be the last time.

The next controversy will come, and then the next one, and the next one, and the next one after that. Heck, you probably already know that.

And you know what?

You, a random fan, are not obligated to care about every single thing that happens. Because if you feel like you have to keep up with every little piece of discourse, sooner or later you’re gonna burn yourself out.

So sit back, take a deep breath, relax if you gotta. Fandoms are for fun, not for stress, and I hope you find that here.

(Sorry if this got a little long and rambling!)

#discourse #negativity #don't rb

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an-annyeoing-writer · 4 years ago

Text

vulnerability. – chap. 2.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 4th June 2021

Word count: 2 751

Warnings: mentions of criminal activity

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @kimcarinaa

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 1.)

Chap. 2.

“What’s my name?”

“Baekhyun.”

“Wrong.”

A stroke of the riding crop over her chest makes the woman whimper. She’s older than him, but it doesn’t matter. Right now, everything about her – her age, name, wants and aversions – they’re all reduced to the leather collar around her neck.

“How are you to address me?”

“Master” she doesn’t hesitate.

The man does, though – he stares her down just for a few seconds, as if to judge her, before he speaks again.

“Good.”

Her gaze follows him as he walks slowly around her, observing her body’s reaction. She’s not to move, not to ask questions. She’s to accept it.

“I’m going to beat you with the crop now. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Bend over.”

* * *

The day was long, but Baekhyun found himself relieving stress in one of his favorite ways.

This time, he sat in The Queen of Spades alone, sipping whiskey and silently watching people around him, eventually ending up staring into the alcohol’s surface instead, until it disappeared entirely and there were only a few pieces of ice at the bottom left to look at. Once they melted, he’d drink them up as well – and it would probably happen, as he wasn’t about to leave anytime soon. There was not much to do.

His eyes landed on the small cut on the inside of his palm, placed next to the glass; the cut was still fresh, but not deep enough to require medical assistance, or even bandaging for that matter. Accidents happened – in some jobs more than in others. The best he could do was to make sure that accidents like this would not follow him back home.

He heard his phone vibrate, but it took him a few seconds to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi there, Hyunie.”

The familiar voice made him sigh deeply with annoyance.

“You don’t sound happy to hear me,” the feminine voice on the other side spoke in slight offense.

“Sorry, it’s not your fault, Luna, I thought I’d be off for the night,” he admitted honestly; the woman’s presence was not something he minded much, but she wasn’t one who ever brought good news, so his mood instantly dropped the moment he heard her voice.

“Well, tonight you can rest, I have something for tomorrow, though.”

Baekhyun exhaled, already rubbing his temples.

“Spill it, I guess.”

“It’s an office. They have a very good security and our hacker couldn’t get in, so we need someone to go there and get some physical copies out, take a few pics and then leave them where they were. No footprints. We need the copies by Monday, and I’ll send someone to give you the details in person tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

“One more thing.”

“What’s that?” He was ready to hang up; thinking became too tiring. But tomorrow; tomorrow, he’d consider this; now was his time off.

“You did leave footprints today, everyone knows. That you got in trouble, and the police were called. What if they recognize you?”

The man snorted in response.

“No way, I know our safety measures. I wouldn’t let them see my face. It was just an accident, okay. A harmless one. I know better and it won’t happen again” he elaborated, feigning confidence – anything just to make this conversation end.

“Are you sure it was harmless?” Luna was the most composed as she spoke, her voice completely ridden of emotions, and that was what started to worry him. As he knew, carelessness and light humor were typical of her, not this seriousness and solemnity.

“What do you mean?”

“The police have a sample of your blood” she finally spilled. “It wasn’t enough to extract your DNA, but it’s already something. Be careful next time, could you?”

His heart dropped. Confidence was gone.

“…Got it.”

“That’s all. Just take care of yourself, Hyunie.”

“Yeah…”

“Sleep well tonight. You have a long day ahead.” She made a quiet smooch sound.

“Goodnight, Luna.”

The line went dead.

For the next few minutes, Baekhyun stared straight ahead, seemingly deep in thought.

In fact, though, he was depleted of thoughts. He was stuck in the bubble of no thinking, no reasons, no emotions, as his brain processed the information it just gathered, but the process was happening outside of his consciousness.

He wished to stay in his thoughtless bubble for longer, but the thin barrier between his consciousness and his internal dialogue finally broke, and he was flooded with everything that he’d been keeping at bay ever since the conversation started.

And so, Byun Baekhyun started contemplating all the things that he preferred to keep away from himself, so as to not spiral into depression and frustration.

He chose a job, thinking, that the breach of law will give him the freedom he desperately wanted.

He ended up dependent on other people to the point where not even the law could protect him anymore; exactly the opposite – the law didn’t seem much of an obstacle anymore, in comparison to all the other things he got tangled in. It wasn’t a lifestyle that one could escape, and he’d learned it way too late.

He tried to achieve independence, but he became a pawn in other people’s hands, irrelevant to the big things happening around; trusted and respected, yet simply disposable at someone else’s command.

There was only one way he knew that could help him regain the sense of control.

And that was how Byun Baekhyun coped.

* * *

“Bend over.”

She obliges without a question, leaning over the table in front of her. Apparently, he’s interested in her behind, rather than the chest that was only a bit pink from the previous hits. She’s an obedient, but slightly frisky one, one that aims to please while also hoping for some pleasure for herself, getting bored easily, but also fussy if something goes not as she wants. Baekhyun breaks her spirit every time they meet, ridding her of any remaining selfishness.

But she enjoys the pain. He makes sure she enjoys nothing else.

The first hit makes her moan, rather than resist. Her skin is smooth, with no scars, and he makes sure it won’t stay this way for much longer, at least for the next few weeks that it will take to heal after he’s done.

The next few swats must feel nice as well, but then her voice falters and turns into quiet whimpers. She doesn’t try to move away, instead, she leans back, at least for the next few hits until it becomes too much and she tries to move away instead.

She doesn’t speak, and neither does he; the sound of the riding crop hitting her bottom mixes with her breath becoming strained and whines becoming louder from pain.

* * *

It was a few days later that Baekhyun sat again in his favorite, cozy area of The Queen of Spades, with a man taller, but younger than himself; it was not so difficult to be taller than Baekhyun, but at the age of 29, most of the people in his circle of closest friends were younger, while most of the ones in his work field were older, which was some sort of a good sign, meaning that he’s worth more than most people of his age.

29 years old – a confusing age. He should have had his life figured out by now, and, to some extent, he had – he knew what he was good at, and what he could do to slowly ensure himself a stable retirement. But to say he was pleased with his career of choice would probably be a misstatement. Yet, that was what he had, and that was what he needed to accept.

They sat on the leather couch that he usually occupied. The taller, bar-styled table and two chairs were on the right side of the couch – he usually used them when carrying on serious conversations. But currently, he was there just to rest, and so in use was the couch. He glanced at the man on his side – leaning his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, looking fragile despite, in comparison to Baekhyun, being the stronger silhouette.

“Don’t fall asleep, Sehun.”

No answer came, and he didn’t feel a strong need to disturb the other’s rest. Maybe it wouldn’t be too appropriate to sleep in such a place, making an impression of getting drunk over the limits – which was not really the case, alcohol wasn’t the reason for Sehun’s tiredness – however, in fact, who was there to judge them? Especially with Baekhyun being a regular customer who knew everyone else with such a title; and most of them knew what he was up to as well, and why the people he came with usually were not in the most energetic moods.

The music playing in The Queen of Spadeswas usually quiet and climatic, R&B and jazz tunes mixed with the voices of people, and people coming here usually didn’t try stir the bar’s aura.

In fact, it was exactly the opposite.

The moment a person entered the bar, welcomed by the dim space of browns, beiges, woods, and crystals, their soul instantly filled with the calm atmosphere. The aesthetic and climate gave a clear cue, that intruding them wouldn’t be worth much; it was the best to accept and follow, to allow the place to create the unique experience.

��Sehun, are you sleeping?” Baekhyun glanced at the other, and the man only hummed lowly in response. Baekhyun’s shoulder began to cramp, so he gently lifted the other’s head and rested it on the couch’s backrest instead. Sehun instantly moved a little to adjust, but it didn’t seem like he’d want to get up anytime soon. Baekhyun eyed the bruises on his neck – slowly darkening fingerprints of his own.

The bar’s door suddenly opened, catching his attention with noise when the door accidentally hit the wall. Two girls walked in: one of them he saw come here a few times before, alone and not, and the other… well, the other he had not only seen before, but would most likely see in the future as well. What a coincidence.

[F/n] looked nothing like when he last saw her; primarily because, at the museum, she wore modest clothes that suited the situation. Now, in tight fitted pants and a loose shirt exposing a fair amount of cleavage, she looked way more like a girl of her age, similar to many others that came to the bar every day. If not for the fact he knew her, he wouldn’t have paid her much attention now; however, he did know a bit, and if not her appearance, then at least the personality behind it kept his eyes on her until she looked over her shoulder, sparing him a shy glance, as though either knowing he’s looking at her, or, at the very least, expecting him in the same place as he usually was – in fact, he guessed it would be the latter.

She smiled at him softly, and he reciprocated the smile, tension on his face dissipating; the smile grounded him, in a way, reminding him of the fact that, just as he could watch anyone now, he could also be watched. His presence also didn’t make her as tense as it did before, which was relieving – he started worrying if he didn’t go too far during their official first meeting. The word sensitive written on the page of his notebook wasn’t taken out of the blue. She was fragile, he could tell; not in a bad way – but he knew how his demeanor impacted her back then. But that was sort of a proof in itself, a proof of her determination, because despite this impact, she didn’t back out when she had the chance to.

He still felt that she’s not completely aware of what came with the lifestyle – hobby? activity? – that she was getting herself into. Yet, when he thought about it, how could anyone know that for sure, before they had a taste of what’s it like? If anything, he could give her a chance, he thought; a trial, to see if not only she’s in for her own indulgence, but if she can handle what he himself is interested in.

“Wazzup?” Sehun’s voice sounded by his side. The man was undoubtedly good at recognizing his changes in moods. When Baekhyun didn’t feel confident enough to say too much, it was usually Sehun who asked the questions, allowing him to spill out what was on his mind.

“Nothing much. There’s a girl, though, she wants to join” he explained slowly. Sehun’s face didn’t change at the statement.

“You want to take her?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Ah, so.”

“What do you think?” Baekhyun glanced down at the other; Sehun didn’t look at him, his eyes remained closed.

“Well, I don’t know her. But since Byeoli moved out, your circle’s been kind of empty. There’s me, Chaejang, Lisa… well, yeah, that’s it. You haven’t taken anyone new in a while, and old ones are leaving… Aren’t you getting bored?”

“I’m not bored with any of you.” The statement was simple, but meaningful; Sehun smiled softly at that.

“Well, but you seem to have a lot of free time now, and when you have too much free time, you do stupid things.”

Baekhyun scoffed.

“I mean it.” Sehun looked at him directly now. “You’re getting lonely. You need stimuli.”

To the last statement, there was no answer. The men sat there in silence for some more time, until the glasses became empty, until there was nothing more to sit there for, and until the night became so deep that it threatened with becoming the morning soon.

* * *

“Will this be all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

You gave the customer in front of you a bill with the price of his purchase – an average one, just some grocery; not like you paid it much attention – and took the calculated amount of cash from his hand. No change, no problem. You shared a warm smile, as warm as you could muster up at the late hour. It was one of the days when your natural shyness and introversion didn’t get in the way, and you could enjoy the few polite words exchanged with the people passing the store.

“Thank you, goodnight.”

Right as the door closed behind the man, your phone suddenly called and you reached under the counter, where some of your personal things rested during your shift, ready to reach for if necessary.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?” Your heart skipped at the familiarity of the voice. However, this time it wasn’t due to anxiety – you started to look forward to his response, and it was like butterflies in your stomach when you received one. You probably should save his number, though.

“Um… Not much” you replied honestly.

“Is your Friday afternoon free?”

“This Friday?” It was Wednesday, you consulted your imaginary calendar.

“Yeah” he replied shortly.

“Um… Sorry, I have the night shift. Saturday?” You counteroffered right away, not wanting him to take your response as a rejection.

“Won’t you be tired?”

“I’ll sleep it off before the afternoon. I’m used to it.” Your free hand fiddled nervously with the strap of your ID badge.

“Hm, okay then. Can we meet at The Queen of Spades? I live nearby too.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.” He hesitated for just a second or two. “Are you okay with that?”

The statement made all the cogs in your head move. You hesitated now, too.

Was it what you thought it was? You couldn’t be sure – it could have been just another one of the ordinary meetings, one to get to know each other better, one to pass free time. It was still soon – you didn’t expect it to happen so fast. Even in the span of the time that has passed ever since seeing him for the first time, till reaching this particular point – it still felt so fast, as though after all these years of hopeless yearning you weren’t ready for jumping into the deep end and bringing your dreams to life.

Yet, your instincts were at ease, no red flags, no suspicions. You didn’t feel a need to refuse, or to wait. What would happen if you did – wouldn’t you end up regretting it? Would you be stuck in your safe-zone forever? Although you felt naïve in your trust, you still trusted your instincts foremost.

So the answer came naturally.

“Yes. Yes, I’m in.”

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch

Author's note: How's everyone doing~? I hope you're enjoying yourselves. Please let me know your thoughts on adding that little criminal thread! And, while waiting for the next update, consider checking out my masterlist~

Next (Chapter 3.)

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craziestfangirl98 · 4 years ago

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My thoughts on Love, Victor season 2 cause I have too many feelings and I need to talk about it.

Disclaimer No. 1. This has massive Love, Victor season 2 spoilers so pleaseeeee leave if you have not watched it. Also if you do not want to engage with it.

Disclaimer No. 2: This is my opinion on the season so if you don't agree please leave. Don't come for me. I don't mind having proper discussions but I don't want unnecessary arguments so thanks.

There are a lot of unpopular opinions so as I said earlier if you don't want to be respectful, please leave.

I absolutely adoooooooored this season. I think it met its potential quite well and I liked how it panned out. I felt it was brilliantly done. I know a lot of people don't agree with me but I actually saw that it was gonna be an acquired liking but yeah.

THIS POST WILL BE GETTING TO THE MORE MAJOR PARTS OF THE SEASON. MEANING VICTOR, RAHIM, BENJI AND VENJI.

Let's start with individual breakdowns.

Right of the bat we see that this season is gonna deal with Victor with the rest of the world. The first season was very internal and dealt with his own stuff in his own head. We very minutely see his interaction with different people and how that internally affects him. This season was more of how the outward world dealt with him. His intersectionality of being a Queer POC that plays sport really adds to the discussions within the queer community and the sense of being outcasted within the community. I liked how he was able to talk to Andrew about the whole being 'the most non gay gay' and also not being 'gay enough'. It was really nice and I loved that interaction. I also liked the fact that they discussed the whole aspect of being stressed about the first time and such.

I liked the full cabin sequence in terms of his anxiety about having sex for the first time. That too with an experienced gay. It all just makes sense and makes me glad that it was addressed.

I loved him as the 'mentor' for Rahim and the fact that they could relate to each other about being POC with religious parents I think was the exact push needed for the discussions to move forward.

I think his conversation about his queer experience as a POC with Rahim was something I have been waiting for since the first season. He definitely should not have revealed Benji's secrets without talking to him and that was a mistake on his part and something that will affect Venji in a long while. But the fact that Rahim and Victor relied on each other was not surprising.

I am going to address the rest of the aspects of Victor with regards to his relationships with each of them after their individual breakdown.

Now moving forward to Benji.

I know its gonna be a hard truth but I think his character was the one that I liked the least. And this is specific to the fact that his motivations are hidden from us. He is not really open to talk to us (through victor). I had the same problem with him in the first season and was hoping he would be fleshed out more. We only see him as an extension to Victor and just his boyfriend. Even then, we barely see him communicating with Victor or anybody else all through the time. Also, that being said, I have seen a lot of people say he was OOC but I think he was actually not really OOC. The way he reacts to Victor's mom's reactions although they come from a place of wanting better for Victor, he doesn't really think twice about why Victor must not be reacting or doing so subtly. He feels very unsympathetic on many occasions and that is a pattern we see from season 1.

I'm not saying he didn't have any troubles of his. Cause he definitely did. We know that with the drunken driving episode and the AA meetings and the strip club story. They were all awful, but that doesn't excuse him from trying to understand where Victor is coming from. Maybe having a little more context and communication about him would make us understand him and his motivations better.

This season specifically, I actually found him to be very token-ish of a gay guy which is weird because it has two other gay characters (or 5 based on the multiple cameos).

Now getting to Rahim.

I LOVED HIM. He is, I think right behind Victor in my heart. I fell in love with him barely minutes into the episode. His coming out retelling was the most wholesome of all things. I loved the friendship Pilar and him shared. I'm surprised we didn't get a scene with Pilar teasing him about his crush on Victor but I think that was because the writers didn't want to make it obvious. I felt he had a character of his own that was explored more than just coming in between the main couple. The one episode where they skip school we found out more about him and it was intriguing to say the least.

He is a Muslim gay boy who likes to put nail polish and fashion and believes that his parents will not accept him. It is soo refreshing to see this theory get denied and the parents being completely okay with it. Next, Victor and him have an interesting relationship between the two. When victor needs his mind to be taken off of things or talk to, Rahim does just that and when Rahim needs some advice or just some support Victor does that.

NOW VENJI.....

I think this is again... a little unpopular right now, but... their relationship was not that great this season. And I.... kinda expected that to happen. That is for multiple reasons. They spent 50% of their time making out, 40% of it fighting and 10% communicating. Were they flawed? Absolutely and I get that. They had massive miscommunication problems. Trust issues and everything under the moon. It is to be expected especially cause they are teenagers and they are not mature enough. That being said, flaws are not when you are dismissive of your boyfriend's issues because he doesn't fit your ideal gay stereotype. Flaws are not when you say your boyfriend is too much for you to handle and say something like you are the only one taking care of them. That's manipulation. Flaws are not when you don't realise that the context your boyfriend comes from is very specific to himself and if you want to do better you need to be open to listen to where he is coming from instead of getting offended by him saying you are white when you don't get the specifics. You need to understand that by saying you are white, he is not dismissing your experience with alcohol addiction and with your father taking you to strip clubs and shit. He is just saying you don't get where I am coming from. The reason I say I saw it coming is because even in season 1 we see Benji go ahead with what he wants to do instead of thinking about the consequences. Case in point the kiss on Victor's birthday. Victor told Benji that his grandparents are homophobic and still he kisses Derek. Because it is fiction and a teen drama the consequences weren't dire and it came to be a growth point for Victor but just imagine if the consequences were different. If it ended up being something worse, what then. I feel this season we are especially able to see Benji out of the rose tinted glasses that Victor had last season.

That being said I admit that Victor was also not entirely good. He did breach Benji's trust. I don't see how they can go back from there. He didn't communicate from his side as well, but just think of it like this if someone says you are too much to handle would their partner actually be willing to communicate what's bothering them?

The things about Isabelle walking on sex. If it was my house anything remotely sexual, irrespective of the gender would have been met with shame and anger just as Isabelle did. They are 16. The little brother was right next door. In any way whether it is straight sex or gay sex it would still have been met this way I feel.

So yeah as much as they are supposed to be the main star couple of the show they lack in almost every aspect. So yeah...

Now coming to VICTOR X RAHIM

Straight off the bat, I don't know if I watched the same season that others did because I actually felt the chemistry between them was actually more than Venji had in scenes other than the make out ones.

Also, they come from similar backgrounds. They understand each other much better than any white dude could ever understand them. They actually talk and communicate.

Rahim and Victor on the other hand are both new to this whole being gay, out and proud thing and I feel they would understand each other better. I think a big problem people have with them is that the writers fall back on the love triangle trope and stuff but I like it in this instance. It made sense to me.

Why? Because they are teenagers. Also, the gay pool in schools are so small and people are bound to explore. Like Victor said, what are the odds that you end up with the first person you start dating?

Also, regarding the wedding. Benji said he would not come, so I don't think he has the right to question who he came with. It was completely innocent on Victor's part because he did invite Pilar first. I guess it is the whole first slow dance that was the betrayal and as much as their chemistry was palpable I feel Benji should have allowed to here him out. I don't know maybe you all feel different about it but I feel that is not a betrayal on Victor's part. What could have been a betrayal was the kiss. I know it is once again a repeat of the cheating stereotype and I had hoped that the showrunner's did it a bit differently but well it has happened. (But again the chemistry in that kiss!!!)

What do I want to happen next. I definitely ship Victor x Rahim more than Victor x Benji. I would love for it to be Rahim behind the door but it feels unlikely that the showrunners will actually do that so my hope is even if they get together, Benji and Victor realise just how much they don't fit with each other and break up amicably and then Victor x Rahim gets explored and slow burn happens.

I don't want Victor to be the only one apologising if Venji do get together again. For whatever small amount of time. I need them to communicate better.

So yeah..... this was long and what I thought of the main portions of Love, Victor. It's really ironic how people love everyone other than Victor in a story about him and care for all the stories other than him.

#love victor #love victor season 2 #rahim love victor #victor salazar #not gonna tag Benji cause I am not too forgiving on him #can you tell author loves rahim?#and victor #and especially loves them together?#Victor x Rahim #we need to come up with an appropriate ship name for them #Vichim? Rator? I don't know just something!#Anywho... Another one coming up sometime about the friends and family #kayblyeeee #first post in ages

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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“I love her.” (Freydis’ PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, and yeah, Freydis/Reader (onesided...?)

Summary: What goes through her head from 30 to 33 approximately, what makes her make the very stupid choices she makes, and what the consequences of those stupid choices end up being. I suck at summaries.

Word Count: 361 + 2.2k

Warnings: The usual, mentions of (past) rape/dub-con, violence, my horrible writing.

A/N: I mentioned this before (I think), but the way I write Freydis is as someone very similar to Ivar in three main things: 1- she needs to feel in control, she feels powerful when she is in control of something/someone; 2- she hasn’t had much love, and when she has someone to love/that loves her, she will cling to them (branching into possessiveness/jealousy); 3- she is terrified of being alone, of having no one at her side or nothing to hold on to.

If you keep this in mind, especially in this order, it gets easier to read through this absolute fucking mess of a chapter. Thank you, and I’m sorry.

Also, this starts with a snippet in Ivar’s PoV (that I added to Brim by now but still, didn’t want you to miss it). It’s in italics.

He stumbles, trying to move too fast to get to her, but even though she could, even though she should, Freydis doesn’t move.

He grabs at the back of her head, and she whimpers in pain, but her eyes don’t drop from his. And he wants her to fear, he wants her to pay.

Letting go of the crutch in favor of putting his other hand around Freydis’ throat, he brings them both to the ground, the blinding pain that reverberates through his legs when they hit they floor only making his hand tighten on the slave’s throat.

Her eyes widen, but there’s more defiance, hate, than fear. Ivar feels the anger boiling in his blood, making his grip tighten even as she whimpers and claws at his arm. He could kill her, he wants to.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” She pleads, voice faltering as her eyes squeeze shut, “It is true, what I told you.”

Ivar shakes his head, feeling his lip curl into a snarl as he moves her closer.

“One of you is lying, and it isn’t my wife.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

His thoughts leave him for a faint moment when he finds himself without an answer. There’s a growing restlessness inside him, the desire to move, the need to…to make this uncertainty take form and leave him. His hand tightens on Freydis’ throat.

“Because I have no reason to trust you.”

“Then kill me.” Freydis dares, and her hand drops from his arm, she stops fighting.

He is not an idiot, he knows what she’s doing. He knows the moves he’s allowed to make, and killing her isn’t one of them.

There are worse things than death. He was at the other end of the coldness when you accused him of betraying your trust, he faced the fear of losing you because of something he did and the pain he had caused; he would know what awaits her.

Loosening his grip with a smile that feels like a grimace, he reminds her, “She’s the reason you are alive, the only one who would miss a slave. And you betrayed her.”

____

“That is new.” She tells you, and your gaze lowers to the trinket, the fingers of your opposite hand tracing over the gold snake wrapped around your wrist. There’s a softness in your gaze when you admire the bracelet that makes something in her stomach tighten.

“A gift,” You smile, before chuckling to yourself and meeting Freydis’ gaze with an edge of mirth, of secrecy, “A shackle, maybe.”

“That you willingly wear.” She reminds you. You only shrug, and it unsettles her.

“We choose what we call chains, what we call freedom.”

“Those aren’t your words.”

“They are someone else’s, true. Someone wiser than me,” You knock your shoulder with hers, lighthearted even if it feels with each passing moment you’re burying her further underground. “I don’t have all the answers, Freydis, even if I pretend I do.”

She offers a smile that feels like a lie, that is one; and watches dazedly as your attention is diverted to Valdís when she walks in, Freydis’ eyes following you as you stand up and embrace the shieldmaiden who greets you with a smile and a murmur of your name.

She remembers when your name was a secret to so many, when almost no one dared get close to the witch and you shunned those who did with distrusting eyes and biting words.

She remembers when this small home was her safe haven, where everything was predictable and understandable and hers. Before they brought a witch from a foreign land and had her wreak havoc with easy smiles and an accented voice, and took from Freydis all the certainty of nothing being able to breach what she called hers.

She remembers when Kattegat, her home, was predictable and understandable. Before a small Greek woman stood tall in ground not hers and claimed it without meaning to, and took from Freydis all the certainty of knowing how the people, the city, moved and breathed.

She remembers when the King was predictable, in all his unpredictability, in all his chaos. Before she stood before two thrones and watched you offer Ivar a smile that spoke of reluctant affection and something more dangerous than that, and in the softness you drew out of the King took from Freydis all the certainty of knowing what he was capable of.

She has tried making sense of the world, has tried returning to her control over what happened, has tried making everything predictable again.

It was predictable that, when told his wife had betrayed him, the King would let go of any pretense and kill or break you. But he didn’t.

It was predictable that, when offered a chance of a life without the man that imprisoned you, you would let go of any foolish hope for happiness and leave him behind. But you didn’t.

It was predictable that, when a witness to the unraveling of it all, Freydis would stand aside and let Ivar believe you’d left him even though she knew better. But she didn’t.

And since she was a child, Freydis has known control in bite-sized pieces that satiate her for a while and then leave her hollow. Set up a girl in another life she may have called her big sister to be punished by their mother for something she hadn’t done, stealing from a fellow thrall and watching her accuse another. She has learned to keep herself from unraveling by holding on to control.

Until you. Because you made everything unpredictable and complicated, and you took control from her with nothing but a quirk of your mouth.

Now she looks up at Ivar’s eyes and words continue to drip from her lips like poison, and it is yet another game, but she knows she could have played with anyone else.

I love her. She repeats it, so many times it irks him. But she needs him to know, she needs to remind herself.

Monsters love nothing. She loves, so this isn’t the act of a monster.

“I…it pains me to see her suffer.” She finishes, and there’s a tell in the King’s posture, a stubbornness mixed with apprehension.

She could have played with anyone else, yes, but since she was a child Freydis has known love in dirtied and sullied scraps that fall through her fingers like sand. The rough touch of a thrall that promises her they will one day be happy together as he forces himself inside her, the smile in the youngest child of her master as she finishes braiding her hair. She has learned to survive on lies instead of love.

Until you. Because you looked into her eyes and saw everything and let her see everything in turn, and yet you still smiled and held her hand and called her a friend.

“But I have held her as she cried, and I have comforted her as she tells me how she doesn’t belong at the side of a monster.”

And it may have started as a game, but it isn’t anymore. Because she sees the pain in his eyes when she tells him you think him a monster, and it feels like water on dry and cracked lips.

She knows it is dangerous, and stupid, and careless; to hurt a man that would not hesitate to kill her for a lesser offense, but she cannot stop, she finds herself reveling in torturing him.

“But you do not care to be called a beast, a monster, do you? One such as you knows better than to expect love, I suppose.”

Because in her own way, she wants to make him pay. For taking away her certainty by letting your softness change him, for taking away her control by letting you barrel into her world, for taking away the woman she loves with but a touch of his hand on yours.

____

He finds her, of course he does. And she sees the unbridled rage, the desire to hurt her in his eyes, she hears it in the way he grunts out you when he sees her standing there.

But she doesn’t move. No man, not even Ivar the Boneless, can make her fear.

His hand is keeping her from breathing, and for a small moment Freydis thinks this is how she dies, alone and surrounded by her lies.

She still opens her eyes, she still forces the words past her lips.

“Kill me then.” She dares, she dares him to lose everything, to let her win.

But he lets her go, and she remains on the ground, taking grateful gulps of air, as the King brings himself back up to his feet.

She cannot help but dwell on it, on the fact that he trusted you. Whatever you told him, whatever you did, gave him the certainty her words were a lie, even if he was so ready to believe them to be true when she spoke them. She cannot help but wonder if maybe the rumors were true, she cannot help but think maybe you did bewitch Ivar.

But men call it bewitching, she reminds herself, they call it bewitching, they call it a trick, they blame women for it. Women call it by what it is: love.

And he leaves her alone in that home with the promise, “She’s the reason you are alive, the only one who would miss a slave. And you betrayed her.”

Ever since she was a child, Freydis has had to be used to being alone, even if it pained her and made her chest tighten and made her fear. A whisper of a name she has long since forgotten before they drag her away and cut her hair and start calling her slave, the feeling of being free and realizing only now that they are gone that the chains had become companions that never left her alone. She has learned to keep herself from remembering what being alone feels and so has learned to forget how much she fears it.

Until you. Because you needed her and you trusted her, and you took her hand and it felt like a promise, it felt safe.

____

She walks into the great hall and, as always, her eyes look for you before doing anything else.

Familiar, and painfully predictable, what she finds. She finds you in your usual place sitting at Ivar’s side, she finds the usual sight of your hand in his, she finds the familiar melody of your laugh.

It is not familiar, but it is something she should have predicted, the way Ivar tilts your head to him and kisses you, taking your smile and greedily tasting it against his own lips, taking your softness and feeling it in the loving touch of your hand on his cheek.

And Freydis stands there, hollow and cold and alone, as you smile brightly up at him, as you bring him close again and kiss him again, as your words echo in her head betrayal isn’t love, Freydis, trust is.

Her eyes keep finding you throughout the night, each time she hears your laugh echo through the hall, each time she hears someone calls out your name in greeting, each time she hears her heart beat painfully in her chest.

And the feast is dying out when she finds you for the last time, your lips pulled into a soft smile and your eyes closed in content, body pliant and relaxed leaning against Ivar’s.

Freydis lifts her eyes to the King, and finds him looking at her, a dark pride shining in his eyes, a cruel delight that she can’t blame him for. He brings you closer, and presses a kiss against your hair, and he has you, and he won.

____

She had no choice but to let you know. Ivar didn’t tell you, and Freydis isn’t sure if she ought to call it a mercy or yet another act of cruelty, but he didn’t tell you it was her the one that put those words in his head.

And now he is gone, and you still smile at her like you love her, and she has no choice but to let you know.

Freydis tries making you see why this was the smart choice, why you should be thanking her, why this isn’t a betrayal, but…Gods, she knows she is lying, and she tastes the ash in her tongue as she does.

You are moving away from her, trying to leave her behind and she grabs on to you, feeling the cold of the snake bracelet on your wrist burning her. She still holds on.

“Get your hand off me, now.” You order.

She feels the words slip from her lips, “You are starting to sound like him, witch.”

Your breathing stops and there’s something cold, dead, in the way you look at her. Freydis’ eyes lower to your waist, where proudly a round-handled knife hangs, and she wonders, for a moment, if you are to use it, because when she lifts her gaze again back at her stares a woman that could bring the whole world to heel with nothing but a crown of flowers.

For a moment, a brief moment, she believes this is where her life ends, she believes the knife of the man that freed her in the hand of the woman that loved her will pierce her throat and make her choke with her blood and her regret.

“It is not a smart thing to attempt to insult the man I love, Freydis,” Insulting my wife isn’t a smart thing to do. And it hurts, it pulls her chest tight. She meets your gaze, gives away nothing, and you lean closer, “You told me the night we met that you’d once escaped death by placing the right words in the right ears. Be careful not to find death by attempting something similar.”

When you step away from her, she feels cold, colder and lonelier than she has felt in her whole life. And the door closes behind you, echoing inside Freydis’ head.

She only realizes she’s chasing after you when Valdís’ hand lays heavy on the door, keeping it shut.

“No.”

“I can-…”

“You looked her in the eye and admitted without regret to betraying her. If you want to keep your head, I suggest you give her time.”

She turns to the taller woman with biting words, “Now you are trying to help me? You threatened to kill me.”

The shieldmaiden shrugs, “There are worse fates than death. And there’s something to be said about realizing the cost of your mistakes. And you have, haven’t you?”

She shakes her head, trying to make everything make sense, trying to make the world understand.

“I love her.” She whispers, a plea, a promise, an accusation.

But you’ve left her behind, and when she finds you next there’s coldness in your voice, a coldness she only heard once before.

You can’t change a monster’s nature.

Maybe a monster is after all what with so much to love, with someone to love them, chooses betrayal, chooses pain. Maybe a monster is what is left behind, once you peel away the love and the certainty and the control, once you leave someone utterly alone.

____ ____ ____

She had her reasons, wrong or twisted as they were, and I tried putting them into words to the best of my abilities. I love her, and I love writing her, even if I write her doing horrible things, and even if I am horrible at writing her.

And y’know, putting the Reader instead of Ivar in the center of a love triangle thingy that involves Freydis/Ivar/Reader is so fun. I’m sorry if it sucks and it is ooc, but omg so fun to write. Freydis is a force to be reckoned with, and I I love pitting her against Ivar instead of the Reader.

I hope this was okay, and I hope it made everything at least a bit more understandable. Thank you for reading.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #freydis x reader #νοσταλγία masterlist

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shouldntcryoverit · 4 years ago

Text

the art of discordance

a captain rex x jedi fic during clone wars era :))

no warnings i think uh yeah hope you enjoy let me know ig...

next chapter

CHAPTER ONE -

A new general. That’s what the rookies had heard, though Rex was reluctant to believe the Jedi Council had the guts to replace Skywalker. After a good few months, the captain had learnt of his general’s unique ‘disposition’, and getting a new general to step in was what he least expected.

That was until the ship landed just outside their camp and she walked out. Even from his position sitting further back on some crates, Rex could make out the figure, identifying her as one of the jedi knights, though which one escaping him. Perhaps the rumours were true.

He watched as she walked closer, hands placed purposefully and eyes wandering over the other two jedi in front of her. The commander crossed her arms defensively, though her master seemed unbothered by her arrival, excited even.

“master?” Ahsoka coughed

“oh snips!” Skywalker bleated with the same enthusiasm he had wagered throughout the interaction “this is Jaida Reyes”

“the one from your padwan stories?” Ahsoka said with smug conviction

“my reputation precedes me” her accent was crisp and calm, though her tone radiated a coolness that Ahsoka couldn’t help but feel distanced by “though i’d rather be known for my skills with a lightsaber than helping Akin steal from Obi-wan”

Ahsoka held back a snicker as Rex walked up to the three, absent minded as he double checked his comm.

“General Skywalker, we have the new coordinates” His attention tried hard to divert to the new face.

“ah thank you” Anakin turned to his friend “this is my captain, Rex”

Rex nodded at his introduction.

“i’m the new co-general, General Reyes” her face settled into the beginnings of a smile, but faultered and remained her neutral, placid gaze.

The young jedi watched with focused eyes as they walked the short distance towards the briefing tent. Already her presence seemed to spark rumours among the men, and she watched as the younger looking troopers sent her inspecting looks. It was to be expected, honestly she never wanted a big formal introduction, but she didn’t know that her arrival would breach the news so quickly.

When they arrived, the tent was half full. An open and decorated holo map was in the centre, with at least two clones at each marked entrance point.

“Boys” Skywalker called “we have a visitor”

She rolled her eyes slightly at the flamboyant gesture, but stepped forward anyway. “I’m General Reyes, apparently Skywalker wasn’t trusted enough to run his own battalion, so i got called in” Her hands rested behind her back, but a small grin encroached her face as the snipe made a few troopers smirk.

“excuse my fellow jedi, she’s never been good at taking second place” Anakin fired back, earning another set of grins.

Reyes crossed her arms as her smiling face resumed the same placcid one she’d kept previously. “i have heard nothing but good things, and i look forward to serving with you.”

The Captain moved forward from the side of the room and clicked to change the holo map, it made a small beep as he did.

“The 212th met a settlement of droids over this side of the ridge. Last report was that they were able to move forward at the threat subsided.”

“so what does that mean for us?” Jaida’s brows furrowed as Rex layed the plans out for her. Already her mind was scoping escape routes and vantage points, but she remained seemingly unbothered by the conflict describes. Rex couldn’t help but feel unmotivated by her apparent lack of interest.

“our initial plan was to take out the last forces left on the planet after the seppie defeat, but intelligence believed the 212th accidentally did it for us”

She scoffed “so we’re here for a clean up?”

“hope you brought something fun to do” Ahsoka scorned.

The efforts were limited within the first hour. Already the men were tired of the same scenery and nothing but expansive flats. The sun stood high in the sky, illuminating the landscape in a orange hue. It wasn’t hot nor cold, everything about the mission mediocre, something Reyes particularly hated. It wasn’t just her with an annoyance, she could sense the captain’s distrust. She understood it, only hoped it wouldn’t comprimise her efficiency.

As if nothing interesting was ever going to happen, a yell from a trooper a little further ahead broke the methodical thump of the machinery.

Soon followed was the sound of gun fire. Each shot was slow, until finally the enemy was visible.

“Find cover!”

“you did say you wanted action” Anakin quipped, earning an actual chuckle from her usual pursed lips. It almost caught Rex off guard.

It was unavoidable, the lack of cover meant the men were almost completely exposed, accept for the three jedi that stepped forward, sabers ignited.

Reyes was a new sight, though she didn’t look out of place on the battle field. Her lighsaber was different, instead of the usual one blade, hers had two, both green and glowing as she tactically spun it round and round, catching blasts as if it were sport. Even her fighting style seemed new, she fought with elegance and structure, each blow purposeful and strong.

Her focus was planted entirely on the enemy ahead, so much so that she failed to notice the trooper settling down beside her.

“karking droids, never seem to die” she muttered, deflecting a few more blasts.

A muffled laugh came from beside her and the familiar blue and white etched her vision.

“I’d get used to it general” a trooper grinned

Jaida turned and grimaced, an offering of acceptance. As she refocused her mind to the task at hand, a thought slipped through.

“trooper, get those three and come with me”

Her request caught the clone beside her off guard, but he complied none the least.

The five of them rounded behind the line of defence, all the way to their republic.

“uh, sir, what are we doing?” a soldier with a hand print on his chest asked, gingerly as the new, seemingly scary, general climbed onto the side.

“if i can prime the ignition gear and jinx the starter cable, I can force it into their ranks and it’ll, with any luck,” she popped her head up with a half devilish grin “turn them all into scrap parts”

It was the trooper with the cog on his helment that relaxed first “heh, they teach you that at the temple?” he quipped

“nope” she gestured for them to cover her as she popped open the side “they taught me it on florrum” she said with a smirk, before diving back into the mess of wires and sparks.

Jaida’s plan worked, and effectively too. After a very short battle, the men finished their sweep and prepared to bid the timeless campaign fairwell.

Once back on the ship, most clones settled down for the trip back to Coruscant, and Reyes followed suit, though only subtly checking that everyone was well and okay, before continuing her sweep on the ration packs. After she deemed her check satisfactory, she retreated to the command rooms. The door slid open and revealed Rex standing over a report, absent minded to say the least. His shoulders tensed momentarily as the door swooshed, and she noticed the sour taste that seemed to flood his tongue when he met her eyes.

Jaida cleared her throat, and planted fists against the table, propping herself up.

“i’m sorry, we lost men” Jaida spoke calmly, slightly softer than her usual tone.

“with all due respect sir, you don’t seem all that bothered.” Rex mentioned.

“captain” “it’s not something i’ve grown accustomed too yet” Jaida countered, though her argument didn’t cause Rex’s stance to loosen. She cleared her throat

“i’ve lost people before, and I know what it’s like to loose someone in battle, though i don’t know what it’s like to loose your brothers. i did not want this” her tone was instructive, but it softened all the same and her true compassion fell through.

Rex paused for a moment and met her eyes again “i shouldn’t have blamed you, my apologies, general”

“relax, captain”

“it’s uh, Rex, sir” he corrected. It was when he lifted his hands to the side of his helmet that Jaida realised she had never actually seen his face. It came off, and revealed a strong jaw and cheek bones, all toned perfectly set. His eyebrows arched above his eyes, a slightly different shade of golden brown than his brothers. Of course the main difference was his hair colour, short and stark blonde.

“Jaida” her response made Rex frown ”if i have to call you by your name you have to call me by mine. Jaida” she explained

“sounds fair”

“good” she smiled for the first time, and Rex liked it.

————————————

The night after an assignment was always filled with either anecdotes or silence, a relief or devastating. Jaida watched as the men loitered around crates of rations and equipment, all with distant smiles; tired.

She had previously been stuck at the medbay after the medics caught sight of her, a few gashes on her cheeks the real cause - nothing bacta wouldn’t heal, but she learnt quickly of their head medic, Kix, and his ability to scare even Jedi into looking after themselves. After making peace with the captain, a warmth had begun to spread about her.

Now, she stood against the cold duraplast walls of the Resolute, picking aimlessly at the scarce red dirt left on her hands.

“You okay Jay?” the question broke her mindless thought.

“yeah, i am” she looked up to her friend knowingly, Anakin grinning as he always did.

“Generals!” a trooper with geometric tattoos called out “come sit with us”

She turned her head sharply and gazed over the haphazard array of lounging clones

“I ought to check the ration packs” she tried to excuse.

“you should take one sir” Another clone encourage lazily “deserve it after that rescue”

She blinked for a second, unsure if it would make more sense to agree or deny. Before she said yes or no, Anakin had already collected her on his way to his own seat in the game.

Jaida sauntered over and handed each clone a bar before taking one herself, sitting down cross leggedly just as graceful as she did anything.

“sir, i don’t like it” she spoke between chews “name’s Jaida”

“well, Jaida, general’s told us a little about your career together, got any stories?”

“many” Jaida gave the first ghost of a smile any of them had seen from her yet, however small it may have been, and lent backwards against another log “Anakin ever told you about the time we climbed to the very top of the temple walls?”

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #clone wars #501stlegion #anakin skywalker #the clone wars #rex x reader #commander rex

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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Chapter 41

THE ROAD SO FAR

One step closer to the end.

FIVE Seconds

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

We overcame Ultranationalists, chopper crashes, danger close with gunships but a goddamn dog is what'll get me into an infirmary? Rabies, ridiculous. What a waste of time.

John wrote down his anger in his black journal. It housed all his thoughts ever since being recruited at the Task Force regarding mission briefings, regrets and training schedules. It was his outlet on all the things going on around the world.

He noticed that Captain Price also slept by the other bed, his eyes looked tired from staying up late, he never gave up on Volt that he tired himself out.

He winced at the pain of the bruise the rotten dog gave him. He was never really a fan of them as most dogs tend to chase him wherever he went. Yesterday was another proof. Luckily, France seemed to catch up on his body language, how he didn't want anyone to know that a dog was the reason he's in the infirmary. The way she knew it without telling her was starting to convince the Scotsman that he got himself a keeper. Someone who understands.

Speaking of which, the same gorgeous blonde girl entered the infirmary, greeting Soap with a very genuine smile of relief.

"Hi." She smiled quietly as Price was still asleep.

"Aye. Hello there." He greeted, his voice was low and rough as he attempted to catch the lady off guard. She may look tough wearing her 141 training uniform, but Soap knows how to make her lose her composure.

"How's the wound?" She asked, her face was already turning red as she approached him. She looked so cute right now, Soap won't mind kissing her amidst the Captain being there along with some CCTVs.

"Getting better. Hopefully enough to join the fight. How about you?" he replied, smiling at the female soldier. The general mood of the room quickly shifted and the two of them were pretty aware about it.

"I'm fine. I'm just here to thank you for saving me back then. But you didn't have to… I deserved that bite for not being careful." She muttered.

Soap sighed.

"Eh, you know full well that I care for you, France. For once let me be the hero." He chuckled and France laughed.

"You already know that you are my hero, dummy." She winked as she started to leave.

"I gotta go. It's my turn to clean up the comms. Wish you'd help me though, Hero." she teased as she left the room, Soap was left staring at her beautiful figure exit the room.

"You sure got yourself a tough lass there, lad." Price grumbled as he woke up, commenting on the two.

"Aye. She's definitely a keeper. I just hope I don't mess up. Because I think she's the one." Soap finally admitted, to Price of all people. The captain just chuckled.

"Yeah. My word of advice. Go with what your heart and mind says." He said with full sincerity, as if he didn't want Soap to regret everything. There was flavor in his words that made Soap wonder if such advice came from experience. Though he did hear rumors that he and Laswell had some sort of history, and he got that from France.

"Aye, Captain… Will do." Soap nodded and Price got up.

"I'm giving Volt a final visit." He grumbled and went off, leaving Soap alone in his thoughts once again.

The next day, Soap was cleared from the infirmary and was immediately tasked on the mission. Last night, Nero started his assault on the capital and thousands of rangers were struggling to keep them off the country. With Volt finally given up, he relayed information regarding one of Nero's allies.

They were going to Havana, the home base of the mind manipulation and the command center of Nero's forces. How it managed to stay hidden, nobody knows but the team was eager to find out soon. Especially that another nuke is ready for launch.

Abandoned Building, Cuba, Havana

Soap could hear France hum the song Havana quietly as she crossed her arms just before the plane started. She was nervous and Soap knew that so he tried to hold her hand in secrecy, showing him a face that assured her that everything will be alright.

In this mission, time was of the essence so stealth wasn't an option. They were headed to the base guns blazing, all in hopes to disable the second nuke launch.

The helo flew dangerously low as metal clanged on it's base as soon as enemies fired at it. It was a risky move but the squad needed to drop by the rooftops to get a clear vantage point.

Soap immediately seeked for cover by the edge of the rooftop, eyeing the door that led to the lower floors where the command center should be.

"We'll hold them off! You go!" Alex yelled as Soap, Price, Roach and France breached the door, descending to the second floor of the building.

The place was abandoned and very open, enemies' footsteps echoed across the halls, making the team aware of their positions.

"Soap, focus on getting to the control room. We'll take care of them. France, cover his six. Roach and I will make a grand distraction." Price said, popping a grenade on the main hall and Roach assisted him, drawing all the attention towards them.

"Alex, when you're done sweeping up the yard, I need your team down here asap." Price muttered over comms.

"Roger that." he replied.

"Looks like it's you and me against the clock now." Soap managed to chuckle at their situation. France just chuckled and cleared the location so Soap could advance. This was her forte. Stealth and close quarters.

"You're good to go, John." She said as she took the stairs down. Soap cautiously followed as he heard gunshots from France's location.

"Two tangos down." She declared, clearing the staircase to the basement.

"Multiple tangos in the basement. Looks like we're in the right place." France nodded and Soap followed, pulling the pin of a grenade and tossing it to the narrow hallway.

"GRANADA!!" One yelled and an explosion followed, signaling the couple to press on the narrow hallway while they're dazed.

They shot down the enemies until more emerged from behind, trapping the two of them.

"Shite! At this rate we'll never push forward. We're pinned!" Soap called for help.

"Someone's escaping! Reinforcements are arriving!" Alex warned as the team was now overwhelmed with hostiles. Time was running out.

"John! Watch my six and I'll clear a path for you." France said and left without letting him reply. This worried Soap but he had to trust her and so he covered her six. Shooting at enemies dumb enough to dive on to the narrow hallway. He did his best to retaliate by firing back and tossing any grenades back to its source.

It felt like the longest two minutes of his life. France fought her way to the command center and him, defending the entrance while his ammo slowly ran out. Then after what seemed like forever, he heard her go signal.

Soap ran as fast as he could, and just before he lost sight of the entrance, he saw Price immediately follow him. They did it. They cleared the entrance.

He fished out his journal for the cryllic translator, decoding every letter just so he could stop the launch. They only had five seconds left.

Soap furiously typed the code Volt gave them and pressed enter as soon as it's done. The launch didn't stop. Soap figured that they were too late, but Price's face never looked worried.

"Captain. The launch didn't stop! What are we going to do?" France said, worried.

"It's all according to plan." He muttered as he signaled his head to head back to the rooftop.

"Let's burn this place down." He added and they all ran back to the rooftops for exfil.

"Dropping the skyhook now! Latch yourselves in!" Eagle Two Four yelled as the thick rope dropped from the sky, Soap quickly latched himself in and looked behind him. France was a few meters away from the final hook as a stray bullet grazed her thigh.

"France! Hang on!" Soap quickly detached himself almost automatically, without thinking. The rest of the team were already being hoisted up when they noticed the two members still on the rooftops.

Soap's body felt the rush as he quickly carried her up and held her tight, running toward the last hook and quickly attaching himself in, all while holding her tight in his arms.

"Why didn't you call out to me? You know I'm going to save you whatever it takes." he whispered as he felt France already in tears. If it wasn't for him always checking out on her, she would've been left alone in that abandoned building.

"Is she going to be fine?" The worried Scotsman asked the nurse. His voice was almost loud enough to disturb everyone else.

"She got hit twice. One on the chest and one on the thigh. They're both minor but she just passed out from the panic and exhaustion. We found this on her chest. The thing practically saved her life." The nurse handed over his journal. Soap's eyes widened at the hole that pierced through the whole book. He must've left it when he typed the abort codes and she must've grabbed it from there.

"The bullet barely pierced through her armor thanks to that book." She said as Soap looked up and silently thanked that she was safe. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the page where he drew her. The bullet hole on the page was where her heart was. It was funny because it was the other way around. That woman was the one that fired a bullet straight to his heart. And he wasn't a big fan of metaphors at this rate.

"So is she okay?" Roach quickly ran to Soap's side, a worried look on his face. Alex and Price were behind him.

"The journal saved her." He said, raising the pierced black book as proof.

"She's lucky enough you got her on time. I couldn't think of any other way she could be saved from there." Price commented as she looked at her through the glass.

"She's a tough lad. But sometimes she needs to understand that she isn't alone." Price added and Alex nodded.

"She'll wake up soon." Alex tapped Soap's shoulder and he nodded, as they left the infirmary for another briefing.

On the way to the briefing room, they caught up with Ghost and Alexandra bringing an unknown man to the interrogation area, which prompted the team to follow.

Inside the interrogation room's observation area, the team sat while Price and Jack talked to the man.

"Nice to see ya, Jack. Thought Nero got rid of you." He smugly said with a wide annoying grin on his mouth.

"Who is this prick, anyway?!" Roach hissed.

"That's Gabriel Lannister. CIA's Research and Development Head." Alex said nonchalantly, Soap could see the disbelief in his eyes. There was more than just one mole in his previous department.

"He was the one in charge with the mass manipulation of the missing persons cases." Ryder added.

"While you lot launched the nuke, he went off running with four convoys of protection. Luckily we were able to intercept them by the bridge." Ghost informed.

"What about the nuke?" Soap asked, completely forgetting about it. It was his responsibility, as he typed the whole command on it.

"Blasted at Nero's fleet not too far from the White House. If you were five seconds later, the war would've ended differently." Ryder supplied the information.

"And the capital?" Roach asked.

"Mostly damaged, but it will recover. Turns out Nero did really burn the place down." Ghost answered.

"What about Nero?" Alex asked, eyes not leaving the whole interrogation.

"No one knows where he is. We were hoping this guy would give information about him." Ryder pointed to Gabriel, who was having a fun time at the interrogation.

The tension inside the room was different. Each person had their own little realizations and this pushed them to end the war as soon as possible.

Soap immediately exited the area and went back to the infirmary.

"Hey." He was greeted by France, who was already up.

"How are you holding up?" He asked, his tone more concerned than ever.

"Well, It doesn't hurt right now but… I'm… I almost died out there, John… What if I died?" Her voice croaked and tears started falling from her eyes. John quickly approached her and hugged her gently close to his chest.

"Don't say that… What's important is you're alive… I got you and you're safe…" He whispered.

"Thank you." She croaked. John just rubbed her back assuring her everything will be alright.

"No. Thank you. You changed me, France. You made me realize a lot of things. I know that this isn't the most perfect place right now, but… Will you be my girlfriend? Because I can't help thinking about how every single day of my life since I met you, I can't stop thinking about you. Your smile, your face, the things you say, the way you hide what you really feel. I want all of those and after that last mission, I realized that I shouldn't have left you waiting. There was no better time than as soon as possible." He said, offering his notebook as replacement for flowers.

France nodded with tears in her eyes, accepting the journal with confusion.

"Turn it on the last page." Soap said as she did it, showing a sketch of her and him together happily smiling. She wore the clothes she wore when they were out together in that coffee shop.

"This is beautiful." She said, tracing a finger on the paper.

"I love you, John MacTavish." She said as she leaned in for a kiss, not letting him reply.

Next Chapter : FOUR Weeks of Silence

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog @bumblingbee1

#alex echo 3 1 #john soap mactavish #horrayfic #codmw #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #whateverittakes

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