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moonflowerdamie · 5 months

Text

the injury of finally knowing you

Word Count: 7.9k

Title from 'Unknown/Nth' by Hozier

*****

You’re frozen. Sabine is skewered on the end of a guttering orange lightsaber, her eyes wide in shock and pain, immobilised, and you’re frozen.

You’d heard her distress call, you and Ahsoka both, and had come as quickly as you could. You’d both drawn your sabers—the blue of yours with the white of your master’s lighting up the interior of the rattling ship—before Huyang had even opened the drop-doors. Ready to fight, ready for action.

And then Sabine’s assailant had turned in the headlights and you’d turned to stone.

It’s been years—years—and her hair is different, her frame taller and leaner, but you know those eyes. You’d know them anywhere.

“Shin.” You breathe, and you feel something you thought was dead reawaken in your chest.

She meets your eyes for a split-second, fear and anger and brief recognition flashing across her face, before she turns tail and runs.

She doesn’t look back.

*****

Once Sabine is stabilised in the medbay on Lothal, Ahsoka finds you.

“You knew her.” You look up from your hands. Your master leans against the door to Sabine’s room, staring at you with an unreadable expression. You hate it when she does that; it makes you feel scrutinised, like the Togruta is peeling back the layers of your skin, staring at your very essence.

“The mercenary.” She prompts after a moment of silence. You sigh. Though the conversation was almost certainly inevitable, you’d hoped it could wait until after Sabine was up and about again; she was a pain in the ass, but your best friend, and you’d always dealt with things better when she was around. Things, this time, being the sudden reappearance of a girl you’d thought was lost to you.

“I do. I used to, anyway.”

Ahsoka stays quiet but raises an eyebrow. Go on, she gestures.

“Back on Aris, my home planet—before I got out—Shin was…” you trail off. How do you even begin to describe what you and Shin were to each other? Barely teenagers, you’d found one another in the dusty underworld of your shithole of a planet. Both orphans, friendless, starving, you’d stuck together, first for convenience and necessity, and then, after trust was built and connection found, for companionship. She’d been your only light in the darkness of your life, and you the same for her.

My sunshine, that’s what she used to call you. With that achingly fond smile, the one that made your heart skip and your hands shake. She’d brush her hands against your cheek, brush lips against your temple, and then you’d share the food you’d both scavenged for the day, huddled together for warmth in some back alley or abandoned building.

What had you been to each other? Something undefined, something unable to be put into words. You’d sunk desperate teeth into one another, searching for survival, searching for a home neither of you had anymore. She stuck to the back of your teeth even now, over a decade later. How on earth could you compress what Shin had been to you into something understandable?

“Shin was my friend.” Is what you settle on, averting your eyes, swallowing harshly. “We hung around together when we were kids. Scavenged food, kept each other out of trouble.”

“What happened?” Your master asks and you wince at the memory of what came next.

“There was a man. Baylan, he said his name was. Came to us both one night saying he could…he could sense us. The Force, I mean.” You bring your hands together in your lap and take a breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. “He said he wanted to train us, to—to help us, and…”

You still remember the look on Shin’s face, how her eyes had glimmered as Baylan spoke of freedom, of power beyond your wildest dreams. You feel sick even now, just thinking of it.

“He offered to get us out. To take us with him, away from Aris. I…I didn’t trust him. He felt—dark. But Shin, she didn’t listen when I told her something was up with him.”

You had fought that night, your first and only fight. Shin was frustrated that you couldn’t see the opportunity Baylan was offering, and you were afraid. Afraid of what would become of you if you went with this stranger. Afraid of the girl you knew—the girl you loved—being changed into something she wasn’t. And so—

“Shin left. She went with Baylan, and I stayed on Aris for a few more years. Then, made my way to you. I never saw her again. Until last night.”

You’re trembling by the end of your story, and Ahsoka places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Heart clenching, you swallow back the lump in your throat. Pull it together.

“She had a padawan braid.” Sitting up, swiping a hand down your face, you focus up. Ahsoka nods.

“Which means she’s probably taking the map to her master—to Baylan.”

“We have to get it back, Master.”

“We do. We will.”

*****

The next time you see Shin, she tries to kill you.

Sabine and Ahsoka are occupied with the other one, with his full-face mask and spinning double-saber, leaving you to chase after her.

You call her name through the trees that seem to cover half the surface of Seatos, and when she stops running and turns to face you, there’s a wildness in her eyes that takes the breath from your lungs.

“Shin.” You say again, voice soft, panting from your race through the forest. Her jaw ticks at the sound of her name, hands clenched in fists by her sides. You take a step towards her, hoping for—you don’t even know what you were hoping for—and then her lightsaber ignites and comes swinging at you.

You manage to dodge her strike, heart cracking as you grab your own weapon and ignite the blue blade, not even getting a chance to decide if you really want to do this—if you really will fight her, the girl you once rested your head upon, who once called you sunshine with adoration in her eyes—before she’s attacking again, lightsaber arcing towards your head.

You catch the swing and hold it, grunting in effort as she bears down. Your faces are inches apart, lit by the glow of your weapons, and a warring plethora of emotions rage against your ribcage.

A part of you wants to step back, to sheath your blade and plead with her. You want to tell her you were wrong not to go with her, that she was wrong to leave—that no matter what, you should’ve stayed together, because she had been your only family for years and you had loved her and—fuck—you love her now, even still, after all this time.

But this is not the Shin you once knew. This girl, with snarling, snapping teeth and feral eyes, she is not the girl you once called home. She is changed, just as you feared she would be, and you sense that if you try to reason with her, she will simply run you through, just as she did Sabine.

So, you grit your teeth. Push back against her and send her stumbling back a step. And when you collide again, both of you have murder in your eyes.

The fighting is brutal and quick; Shin is clearly well-trained and you barely manage to parry her strikes, using all your energy to keep yourself in the battle. Your blades clash and hum angrily, lighting up the clearing as you charge each other.

You’re not sure you’d have survived if not for Ahsoka and Sabine taking out Shin’s accomplice. Your knees are close to buckling, arms shaking violently as Shin’s head whips around to see her masked partner dissolve in a burst of green smoke. Shock is evident on her face, lips parting and eyes widening, and she steps away from you. Your arms drop to your sides, breath escaping you in wheezes and coughs.

There’s a moment then, where you see the chance: her attention is drawn, she’s distracted; you could just kill her now, one clean slice, and be rid of her. But you know the way she haunts you—her memory has lingered for over a decade now, slicking your gums, nestling in your bones. Death would not keep her away.

Besides, some stupid part of you still has hope. Hope that, one day, she will smile at you again, call you sunshine in that lilting accent of hers, and you will finally come home to each other.

That day seems a long way off when she turns back to you, fury boiling over in her eyes, before throwing a smoke bomb at your feet and racing away.

*****

Ahsoka goes over the cliff, Sabine hands over the map to Baylan, and all in all, it could’ve gone better.

Now, you’re sitting in a holding cell—bare, apart from the solid metal ledge you suppose counts as a bed—with your hands bound and your head absolutely pounding, flying on a giant golden ring through hyperspace towards perhaps the one man with the power to restart the Empire. Outnumbered, outgunned, and fresh out of ideas. Fucking brilliant.

You’re leaning back with your eyes shut and your head on the cool metal of the cell, trying to alleviate your headache, when the door to your prison slides open with a hiss.

You don’t open your eyes. You can sense her now, feel her presence—both of you now being strong with the Force is probably to blame for that extra fun little sixth sense.

“What do you want?” You ask flatly. Defeated, exhausted and more than a little angry, you want to be left alone.

Shin doesn’t answer, but you hear her step into the room, the door sliding shut behind her.

You sigh and open your eyes, staring defiantly up at her as she lingers by the entrance. She’s watching you, eyes intense but also curious. Her lightsaber hangs from her belt, a visible threat, but you don’t feel anger coming from her like you did on Seatos. The air sizzles with unspoken words and thick tension.

“Y/N.” She finally speaks, and it feels like a relief to hear your name rounded by her voice after so many years. It seems to catch between her teeth though, uncertain, and you huff out a mirthless laugh.

“So you do remember me.”

“Of course I remember you.” She almost spits, that familiar fury bubbling under her tone, and you raise an eyebrow. You see her swallow, eyelids fluttering, reigning herself in.

“It’s been a while.” You remark, unsure of what to do. She has all the power here; you’re on her ship, shackled in her prison, weaponless, armourless, defenceless. Yet somehow you feel her wavering. She seems just as uncertain as you, just as…lost.

She inclines her head in agreement and takes a step forward, saying nothing. You keep quiet too, for no other reason than you simply do not know what to say. What can you say? To Shin, what can even be said? ‘You have changed and it scares me but somehow you still keep a piece of my heart’? ‘You left me and it damn near killed me, but god you’re so pretty it hurts’? No, you can say none of it, none of how you feel, so you stay silent.

“You’re a Jedi now.” She ventures after a while and you shrug.

“I guess. I’m not fully trained yet, plus Ahsoka isn’t technically a Jedi, so.”

Another stretch of silence.

“What’s it like?”

You cock your head in confusion. Shin looks smaller now, more vulnerable, and it baffles you. Angers you too. She has you locked up in here, comes to see you of her own free will after god knows how many years apart, just to..what? Make small talk? Fuck that.

“What’s it like? You left me, left me stranded on that hellhole without a second thought, tried to kill me and have taken me prisoner and you come here to ask what training to be a Jedi is like?” You say, venom in your tone, hands clenching into fists as rage climbs the ladder of your ribcage.

Shin starts towards you, eyebrows furrowing. Her mouth opens to reply but you cut her off, lost to the currents of your rising anger.

“We were supposed to stick together, Shin, that was how it worked. I needed you and you needed me and we survived together.” You rise from your seat, blood roaring in your ears, heart pounding as all the hurt, all the confusion and the pain and the anger comes flooding out of you.

“I told you not to go with him and you didn’t listen.” You take a step towards her. She is motionless, eyes stuck on you. “I told you not to leave me, and you did it anyway.” You’re getting louder, losing control. You’re barely a metre apart now, your chest heaving as she watches you.

You step into her personal space, inches apart.

“You told me we’d stay together no matter what and you fucking lied. You abandoned me.”

Shin, who has been silent throughout your little rant, finally reacts, mouth drawing into a thin line as you practically corner her against the wall.

“I didn’t abandon you.” She whispers, and her voice is hurt. It surprises you enough to suck in a quick breath, eyes darting about her face. “We were both supposed to go with Baylan. You were supposed to come too.”

It feels like your heart is crumbling to dust as you stare at her, realising the pain she’s in. You can see her clearly, can see the girl you knew hiding behind a hard mask of stoic indifference. She’s still there, just tucked away behind anger and hurt and suffering, and it feels like breathing for the first time to know it.

“Shin.” You breathe, wanting to reach for her but your hands are bound; wanting to run from her but the door is locked. All you can do is stare, try to convey everything you’re feeling with the weight you put on her name.

The moment is broken by the communications panel of her vambrace beeping loudly and insistently. You step back, dazed, blinking and trying to come back to yourself. Shin seems similarly disarmed, shaking her head and clearing her throat before looking down at the message. She furrows her brow. You want to ask her what’s wrong, want to ask her to stay. But you don’t get the chance. She taps a response out, the door to the cell opens, and she leaves without a word.

After she’s gone, the door closed behind her again, you slump back against the wall. Your mind is spinning, heart twisting itself into knots. You don’t know what you’re going to do now—Shin is technically the enemy, and her master killed your master, but she is also the girl you loved, the girl you love, and you feel light-headed with all the complications.

You slide to the ground, rest your head against your knees. You’re fucked and you know it.

*****

Peridea is beautiful, in its own deserted, haunting way. The Noti take you in, and Ezra is going home, Ahsoka is alive and Sabine seems to be making her own peace, and yet you remain restless.

It’s not just being stuck in an unreachable galaxy, far away from everything you’ve ever known, whilst a warlord capable of unspeakable evil speeds away to destroy all you worked to rebuild—though it’s certainly not helping.

Aside from that, you’re restless. And you know why.

You can still feel her.

After the fight, after Ahsoka offered her hand and Shin ran, you’d assumed that would be the last of it. She’d isolate herself on some remote corner of the planet and starve, and you’d finally find some measure of peace. But no.

She’s there—barely—but there all the same. At the edge of your awareness, tiptoeing on the borders of your consciousness. Her presence is hazy, cloudy, but undeniable. You don’t know if she’s a mile away or hundreds, but she’s there. Her confusion, her anger, her desperation…it’s all buzzing just out of reach, millimetres from your fingertips, and you’re not sure if you want to grasp for it or shove it away. You try both. Neither works.

The days roll on and you fall into a routine of sorts: you wake with the sun, spar with Sabine, help out with chores around camp; you meditate with Ahsoka, practice your lightsaber forms and sleep when the moon rises. All of it is permeated by that tickle in the back of your brain, that sense, her.

You know your friends notice the distance in your eyes—both Ahsoka and Sabine approach you separately to ask what’s bothering you, but you give them the same non-answer: ‘I’m just worried about home.’ You can tell neither of them believe you, but thankfully, neither of them push the issue.

You’re sure you’d have gone mildly insane with it, had she not shown up that night.

*****

The hand slapped over your mouth jolts you from a turbulent sleep, and your eyes widen in shock as you immediately begin to squirm, trying to throw your attacker off. It’s dark out, with only the stars lighting the sky, and your eyes haven’t adjusted yet, so you can’t see your assailant.

Panic rises in your chest, heart pounding as you try to yell, only for the sound to get muffled by the gloved fingers curling over your lips. You toss and turn, slapping at the arm of your attacker, trying to bite their fingers, kick them, claw them, anything.

“Shh, shh, stop it. It’s me, it’s me.” The person hisses, alarmed, and your body goes slack with a mixture of shock and relief.

“…Shin?” You whisper once the hand is removed from your mouth. You blink rapidly, and Shin’s face comes into focus above yours. Her eyes are wide and frantic, dirt smudged across her cheeks. She looks wild, looks skittish, and you can’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Is what comes out of your mouth after you’ve composed yourself a little, sitting up quickly, narrowly avoiding headbutting her.

She shuffles backwards and her eyes dart to the ground, like she hadn’t expected the question. That pisses you off to no end—she fucking snuck into your camp in the dead of night, like some kind of predator, and now she has the audacity to look sheepish?!

“Seriously, Shin, start talking, or I swear to—”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Her voice is small, weak, and it’s just then that you notice the way her left arm is hanging, slack and limp, by her side. Blood covers her armour and sleeve, some dried and some still dripping, and immediately your brows furrow.

“What happened?” Your tone is low and concerned, and you reach for her hand without even thinking about it. She flinches away and you draw your hand back quick as lightning. You mutter an apology under your breath.

“Bandits. I tried to join them…to rule them, but they mutinied. I wasn’t quick enough. One of them got me with their sword.”

There’s pain in her voice now, and it’s clear to you that she’s struggling. She wouldn’t have come to you unless she really needed help.

Part of you wants to turn her away. Wants to tell her to get lost and to stay the hell away from you; there’s still a lot of unresolved tension between the two of you, with your history both old and recent. She’d abandoned you. She’d tried to kill you, for heaven’s sake.

But, looking into her eyes, you see that girl you knew on Aris. You see Shin, your Shin, and you know you can’t leave her like this. You sigh. Stand up and jut your chin towards the log settlement around the fire in the middle of camp.

“Come on, then.” You start walking, not waiting for her to follow. You start gathering the supplies you’ll need to clean and wrap her wound, and when you turn back around, you see Shin sat by the fire, warming her hands. It’s pitiful and endearing in equal amounts, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of those soft-rounded thoughts.

Once you have everything you need, you take a seat next to her. Her eyes dart your way, a flicker of…something glimmering deep within them, but you can’t afford to overanalyse right now—not with how blood still drips from Shin’s fingers, how she has started to shiver.

“I need to touch you to help you.” You murmur, warning her, and she nods faintly in return, turning back to face the fire. The flames cast a warm glow over her cheeks, making her seem softer. That biting edge, that snarling fury you’ve come to know of her seems a distant memory as you begin to cut away her sleeve, being mindful not to nick her skin or graze the wound.

A quiet sigh of relief escapes your lips once you finally see the full extent of the wound; it’s a deep cut—you can see where the sword bit into her arm, swung likely with a fair amount of force—and it’s probably causing Shin a decent amount of pain, but it doesn’t look like it’ll cause lasting damage. It’ll almost definitely scar, but she’ll heal. She’ll be alright.

You’re not sure why that makes you feel so much quieter inside.

The process of cleaning her arm is methodical, relaxing. You lose yourself in it for a while. Silence settles over the two of you like a comfortable blanket, enveloping you in a world of your own, and you haven’t felt this peaceful since before Lothal.

Surprisingly, it’s Shin who speaks first. You’ve applied some bacta to the cut, wiped the blood and grime away, and you’re just waiting for her to bolt—the job finished, your services no longer required—when she opens her mouth.

“Baylan abandoned me.”

The words are measured, quiet, but you can hear the betrayal and the hurt seeping into her tone. You swallow, unsure of what to say, but she continues before you can start rambling.

“He said he could sense something here. A great power, greater than the witches. He told me to kill you, Sabine and Ezra, then join Thrawn. Then he was just…gone.”

Shin’s lower lip is trembling, eyes glazing over, and an ache of sympathy pangs in your chest. The bond between a Master and a Padawan is almost unbreakably strong—to have it shut off like that, cut so abruptly, must be agony. You felt a little of it when you thought Ahsoka was dead, and you know that if she actually were to perish, or, Makers forbid, abandon you, you would feel it like a knife through the heart.

“Shin, I—” You start, but she cuts you off, head turning to face you, and you see clearly the tear sliding down her cheek.

“He was like my father.” And there is rage now, undercutting her sorrow. “Why did he leave me?”

It’s a question you cannot answer. Yet she looks at you with such desperation, like you’re her anchor as she is tossed about by towering waves, that you wish so gravely that you could.

You don’t know what compels you then—she had flinched back when you tried before—but she looks so angry, so sad, so broken, that you reach for her. To your surprise, she meets you halfway, collapsing into your arms, burying her head in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around her, let her cry silent tears as your heart beats out of your chest.

Holding Shin, feeling her pressed up against you, is something you haven’t had in a very long time. It takes you back to a simpler time, to nights snuggled together for warmth; to blushing smiles and brushing hands and eyes that looked like home. It breaks open something you’d buried and tears of your own gather in the corners of your eyes.

She pulls away after what feels like seconds, like an eternity, and clears her throat, swiping harshly at her eyes. You feel cold almost immediately, the absence of her touch chilling your skin.

“Sorry.” She mutters gruffly and you shake your head, waving her off. The air between the two of you is changed now, somewhat awkward but still charged.

“What are you going to do now?” You venture to ask after a moment. It’s a valid question; after all, Thrawn and his ship are gone, Baylan is off on his mysterious quest and the bandits (whatever’s left of them) have made clear that Shin isn’t welcome with them. Her future seems highly uncertain.

“I don’t know.” She replies, shifting uncomfortably. Clearly she hadn’t thought about what came next after you’d patched her up. “I can’t go back to the bandits.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You murmur and she chuckles, a low sound from the back of her throat, and it brings a smile to your face. Quiet falls between the two of you again.

In the silence, in the gaps between your breaths, an idea starts to take root. It’s stupid and illogical and entirely driven by your nonsensical heart, but once it plants itself, it grows and grows and grows, until it covers every corner of your mind like ivy.

“You could…stay?” And it’s out of your mouth before you can catch it. Your own eyes widen in surprise at what you’ve just suggested; Shin is the enemy. She’s tried to kill you, had damn near killed Sabine, has hunted you and hurt you. There’s a darkness in her that almost scares you, and she is so far from the girl you once knew, but she isn’t at the same time. She’s Shin, feral and furious, but still Shin, all the same. You look in her eyes, and you still see home.

You lost her once. You won’t lose her again.

“With us, I mean.” You carry on, confidence seeping into your voice as you fall more in love with the idea. “Ahsoka already offered and the Noti would appreciate the extra help.”

Shin’s expression is unreadable. It almost throws you off, but you’ve convinced yourself of this now, and you won’t let her go unpersuaded.

“Stay? Why?” She asks, seeming genuinely curious, as if weighing her options.

“Because you have nowhere else to go. Because you’d have somewhere to sleep here, somewhere to feel safe. Because we have food and water.” You quiet your voice. “Because I’m asking you to.”

Her eyes meet yours at this last sentence, and you think you see something akin to hope blazing in their depths.

Your pulse is hammering as she looks at you. You’ve laid yourself bare, made yourself vulnerable, and your heart is in the palm of her hands. Should she so choose, she could crush it, turn it to bloody pulp between her fingers. The thought of it scares you. But not as much as the thought of her leaving again.

“You want me to stay?” She whispers, voice raw. Her body language is open, fully turned to face you, hands by her sides, eyes wide and searching. She looks, for a second, just as she did the night you first met: shaking, terrified but hopeful, wanting help, wanting a friend, wanting to put down the weight of the world and to just breathe.

The moment feels monumental; make or break. She has your heart in her hands, as you believe you might well have hers.

“I want you to stay.” You whisper back, and with her bashful nod, something inside you knits itself back together.

*****

Sabine is sceptical, to say the least.

Ok, she’s downright furious. Understandable, the rational part of you whispers as your friend draws her saber, she did try to kill her.

“Sabine, please, just listen.” You start, a hand out to placate your angry companion as she stares murderously at the woman standing behind you.

“What the fuck is she doing here.” She spits, eyes narrow and blazing. Ahsoka stands off to the side, arms crossed over her chest, expression unreadable. You sort of wish she’d intervene—after all, she had been the first to offer Shin a place with your group, surely this is what she wanted? But she remains impassive, watching on as you try to talk your best friend down from attacking the silver-haired mercenary.

“It’s ok, I promise. She won’t hurt any of us. Right, Shin?” You call over your shoulder, not taking your eyes off Sabine in case she tries to go for her.

“Right.” Her monotone voice decidedly does not fill you with confidence, and Sabine takes another step towards the two of you.

“Hey, hey, stop.” You raise your voice, panic seeping into your tone. “She’s alone. Baylan left her, the bandits attacked her. She has nowhere else to go.”

“So leave her to it then. Let her rot, what do you care?” Sabine snarls, and you feel Shin’s anger pulse. You try to project calmness into the air, trying to push it both ways between the two women on either side of you. You’re not sure it’s working. Ahsoka, for the love of everything that’s sacred, please step in.

“We have a history. You know this; I told you. Remember?”

It’s true. It had felt wrong to leave your friend out of the loop, so you’d sat her down on one of your first nights on Peridea and told her everything. Your past with Shin, how you’d survived together, and how she’d eventually left you. It doesn’t seemed to have changed anything about how Sabine feels about Shin, judging by the dangerous look in her eyes as she advances.

“I remember her stabbing me. I remember her trying to kill us all on multiple occasions. I remember that she’s the enemy, Y/N.”

“Sabine.” Ahsoka calls, stepping forward at last, and your shoulders lose a little of their tension. You heave a relieved breath, chancing a glance away from your friend towards Shin behind you. She meets your eyes, and behind the frantic gleam, you see her soften. She nods, almost imperceptibly, and you relax even further.

Sabine looks to her master, eyebrows furrowed.

“There is no such thing as enemy out here. On this planet, there can only be survival.” Ahsoka’s voice is level, easy. She speaks softly but firmly, and you nod along with her.

“But Master—”

“Sabine.” The Togruta arches an eyebrow, like a teacher admonishing a schoolchild, and Sabine falls silent. “Shin will have to gain our trust, this is true. But we will give her that opportunity.” She turns to you, and to Shin. “And should she fail—betray us or hurt us in any way—then, and only then, will we, as you say, ‘let her rot’. Is that clear?”

You wait with bated breath for Sabine’s response. Almost unconsciously, you take a step back, closer to Shin, ready to defend her should you need to.

After what feels like an eternity, Sabine sighs. Shakes her head.

“Crystal.” She murmurs, and a ghost of a smile dances on your lips.

*****

It takes a while, but eventually, Shin starts to settle in.

Ahsoka takes over from Baylan with her training—something that had taken a lot of convincing from both you and your master—and the Noti welcome her with open arms (they’re mostly just happy to have someone else to help with the constant moving, but it’s a win and you’ll take it). Sabine even stops trying to murder her with her eyes after a couple of days.

It’s actually pretty painless, the way she slots into your lives on Peridea. She spars with Ahsoka whilst you spar with Sabine, helps out with chores around camp with minimal complaining, goes hunting and returns with fresh kills for the Noti to cook and eat. She’s…calm. Calmer than you’ve ever seen her, come to think of it. Perhaps it’s something to do with community, or belonging, or any of that sentimental bullshit you think about when the stars come out.

Things between you and Shin are complicated, but also unbelievably simple. Simple, in the way that you trust each other (somehow, after everything). In the way that you go to each other when something is wrong, when you are happy, when you need peace. Gravity. Simple gravity, holding the two of you close, keeping you in each other’s orbit. She sleeps beside you at night, and you listen to her breath even out and fall asleep yourself.

She begins to open up more; about Baylan, about her time with him, her travels and fights and the life she’s lived apart from you. You sit around the fire in the evening, after everybody else has gone to bed, and watch the moon rise together. Sometimes, she rests her head on your shoulder, like she did when you were younger, and it makes your heart race every single time.

That’s why it’s complicated.

Complicated, because the more Shin grows comfortable, the more she softens and opens herself up, the more you start to realise just how deep your feelings for her go.

And it’s stupid. It’s absolutely idiotic, nonsensical and just downright dumb. You want to do silly things like hold her hand. You want to brush her hair out of her face after she spars, want to kiss her forehead and hold her at night, and it’s all so out of place. You’re on a graveyard planet, surviving day by day, uncertain whether your home has been destroyed by Thrawn and the Empire, and all you can think about is Shin. Her eyes. Her smile. Her stupid, kissable lips. Fuck, it’s disarming how much you want to kiss those lips.

You kick yourself for it internally, scold yourself every time you catch your thoughts wandering into dangerous territory, but what doesn’t help is the fact that you’re almost certain she feels the same.

It started small—you catching her staring just a little too long across the fire, her getting distracted when sparring with Ahsoka—and you almost hadn’t noticed it. But as the weeks pass and you all settle further into life on Peridea, it becomes more obvious.

A hand on your waist as she passes you. Toothy smiles you’re sure nobody else gets to see. Blushes when you compliment her fighting style or praise her for her contributions to the camp. All of it begins to add up, to the point where now you’re just dancing around each other, waiting for the other to make some kind of move.

It’s maddening. It’s exhilarating.

It is, apparently, glaringly obvious to those around you.

*****

“When are you two gonna stop eye-fucking and actually get together?”

You almost spit your mouthful of food out, eyes nearly bugging out of your head, as Sabine plops herself next to you by the fire. You cough, clearing your throat, before turning to her with incredulity written across your face.

“What?! What are you talking about?”

She gives you a look. A ‘come on, really?’ look. You don’t waver.

“Seriously? You and Shin. When are you gonna woman up and do something about the tension between the two of you?” You sputter and stammer, trying to string a sentence together to deny the truth. Sabine watches you with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is what you finally manage to spit out, and she scoffs. You feel your cheeks turn pink and your mouth dries. Is it really that obvious?

“Bullshit. It’s impossible not to notice you two staring at each other, pining all the damn time. It’s annoying. Please do something about it, it’s making her testy. She almost cut my head off when I asked her to stop snoring the other day.”

So yeah, maybe Sabine and Shin have formed something of a friendship. Well, enough of a friendship where Sabine feels safe antagonising Shin without the fear of murder. It’s almost sweet.

You struggle for words, unable to fully explain just how much you want to do something about it, but also just how scared you are. Not just of rejection, but of ruining everything. You and Shin are just getting comfortable together again. She trusts you. Keeps you close again. You don’t wish to jeopardise that by acting on your feelings, no matter how much you want to. It could ruin things between you for good, could scare her away from the camp entirely. And then you’d be abandoned again, heartbroken, and you’re not sure you’d survive that a second time.

“I can’t, ‘bine. It’s just too complicated.”

Sabine snorts, and you’re offended for a full second before she explains herself.

“Is it though?” You tilt your head, confused. She sighs, shakes her head with a wry smile. Softens, a little. “She came back for you. She’s staying for you. We all know it’s not for me and my stellar company.” You chuckle a little at that, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “She feels the same way about you, you know. My advice? Don’t lose her again.”

Her words strike a chord, and you feel very, very stupid all of a sudden. You meet her eyes.

“Thanks, Sabine.”

“Anytime, Y/N. Now, please, for the love of the Makers, kiss her so I can sleep in safety once more.”

*****

The next day, you offer to spar with Shin.

It’s not something you’ve done since she joined the camp—Ahsoka had tried to make you, but you’d refused; unsure of whether it was a good idea, given your past. She had sparred with Ahsoka only, their skills in battle fairly evenly matched, whilst you had continued to work with Sabine.

But you know you need to do something, and you need to be alone with her, so when morning comes, you both ride out of camp to a little plateau you had found on a scouting trip.

The journey there is comfortably quiet. Even now, Shin is still a woman of few words, and you respect that. It’s nice, though. Being with her, not speaking. It’s comfortable. Peaceful.

When you arrive, you let your Howlers loose and begin to warm up. You feel nervous, jittery. You know it’s not from anticipation for the fight.

You watch Shin as she moves through some forms with her saber. It steals the breath from your lungs, so at one with her body is she. She is grace and savagery all in one, and you know right then that you’ll love her until your heart stops.

“Ready?” She eventually asks, rolling her shoulders into a fighting stance, and with your nod, you’re away.

Instantly, you see the improvements Ahsoka has made to her form. She fights just as fast she did when you’d clashed before Peridea, just as dangerous with a blade in her hand, but she is also more deliberate. More defensive. She’s precise and calculating and so, so beautiful.

Your lightsabers clash over and over, humming through the air and buzzing against one another, sizzling in the space between you. You’re panting, gritting your teeth, fighting with everything in you. You catch her swings and attack her back, but she’s just too fluid to pin down. You’re losing this, and you know it.

When she looks like this, though—eyes bright and cheeks flushed, teeth bared in a playful snarl—you can’t really find it in yourself to care.

Shin disarms you after nearly 5 minutes of sparring with a move you should’ve seen coming, and your lightsaber is sent flying out of your hands. Triumphant, she levels her blade under your chin, a Cheshire cat smile on her lips, and cocks her head to the side.

“I win.” She declares, smug and proud and blazing bright, and it’s all you can do not to fall to your knees in front of her.

“Yeah, you win.” You agree hoarsely, hands up to show your defeat, gazing at her from the other end of her orange blade with worship in your eyes.

Something shifts, then. On that plateau, with nobody else around for miles, you at the mercy of her blade, Shin seems to crumble. She shuts off her saber, throws it to the ground. Your eyes widen. Your heart races.

Shin throws herself into you and the both of you shatter.

The kiss is bruising, nearly painful in its intensity, and you grin into it like a madman. Shin’s hands are in your hair, on your face, your shoulders; pulling, scratching, digging in, touching you like she needs to prove you’re real. You reciprocate in kind, gripping her waist hard, pulling her so close there’s not an inch of space between you. It’s too much and not enough.

Heat floods your body when she bites down on your bottom lip, the iron taste of blood coating your mouth, and you groan, feeling like you could burst, like you could float away, like you could die in this moment and be forever immortalised by the moan she releases into your mouth, the way she scratches at your scalp, the blood smeared across both of your lips.

Her tongue breaches into your mouth, curling over the backs of your teeth, and the shiver that runs down your spine is involuntary, inevitable, indescribable. Your hands scrabble for purchase on her lower back as hers cup your face with antithetical tenderness. The stroke of her thumb over your cheek almost makes you want to cry—this is all you’ve wanted for months now, all you’ve wanted since you were teenagers on Aris, and it feels like finally coming home.

“Shin.” You breathe in between kisses, forehead resting against hers. She pulls back a little, just enough to look you in your eyes. She looks wild again, but in the best way: her hair is tousled, cheeks pink, eyes half-focused. You think you’d rather go blind than ever see anything other than her.

“Lie down.” You murmur, after having caught your breath. Her pupils, already blown, flash dangerously, and you can’t help but surge forward and press another heavy kiss to her lips.

You manage to manoeuvre yourselves down to the ground, Shin on her back, you hovering above her, one leg slotted between hers, arms holding you up beside her head.

She looks so pretty like this, you think, and screw it, you’re in this now, might as well tell her.

“You’re so pretty, Shin. So beautiful like this.” Your words elicit a low whimper from the woman below you, her hands reaching for you, tugging you down until she can connect your mouths again.

She kisses you hard, filthy; licking into your mouth like you’re her last meal, and you moan, wanting more, wanting everything. You disconnect your lips, and Shin’s whine of protest morphs into another whimper when you begin to trail open-mouthed kisses over her jaw and neck.

Red and purple marks rise in the wake of your tongue and teeth, sucking and biting hard enough for Shin to gasp and arch up into you, leaving bruises that will stay on her skin for days. Just the thought of it, of claiming her like this, is enough to have you nearly feral with need.

It’s not long before Shin’s moans turn desperate, the hands on your shoulders beginning to scrabble.

“Y/N.” She groans, tone pleading but frantic, like she’s not even sure what she’s asking for.

“Yeah?” You murmur, pulling away. The marks littering her throat make something dark inside of your roar proudly, and your mouth practically waters at the sight of her—needy, wanting, begging.

“Please.” She sighs, eyes wide and dark, and you couldn’t deny her even if you wanted to.

Between the two of you, you manage to tug her pants and underwear down her legs. If you’d been back at camp or on the ship, you’d have taken your time. Worked her up slowly, spent hours worshipping her body. But you’re out in the middle of nowhere, and Shin is practically halfway gone already, and you’d rather die than leave her hanging.

The first swipe of your fingers through her folds makes her gasp, makes you moan. She’s dripping, so riled up she’s soaked, and you feel a little light-headed, nearly overwhelmed.

“Fuck, Shin, you’re so wet.” You mutter, moving your fingers to her clit and starting to rub it in slow circles. She whines again, head falling back, mouth dropping open. You lower your mouth to her neck, biting another mark into her pulse point. She writhes underneath you, hips bucking, and you feel like you could come from this alone.

You keep your attention on her clit, not wanting to overwhelm her with anything too soon. You keep it relatively slow, occasionally pressing harder in order to draw out another of her pretty whimpers, or drawing back to hear her beg. Every so often, you press your lips to hers, kissing her softly, whispering praise and encouragement, telling her how beautiful she is, how well she’s doing.

It doesn’t take long for her thighs to start trembling around your hand—if she’s the same as you, she’s been worked up enough about this over the last few weeks to hold out much longer. Her moans take on a higher pitch, coming more frequently as her eyes clench shut. You keep your pace, circling her clit, pressing kisses to her neck.

“Let go, I’ve got you.” You murmur, when it’s evident she’s close, and she falls over the edge with a cry of your name. Her back arches off the ground, hands holding you tight as she shudders through it. You think stars would be jealous of her beauty in this moment.

She comes down slowly, breath evening out, and you pull your hand away once you’re sure it’s over. Her grey eyes open, hazy and soft, and you chuckle at the sight of her. Hair mussed, lips bitten-red, dazed look in her half-lidded eyes; she looks like the rest of your life.

“Hey.” You whisper, cupping her face. She grins lazily.

“Hey.” Shin murmurs back, reaching up to card through your hair with one hand. “You’re pretty good at that.”

You laugh, bury your face in her neck, blushing. She scratches gently at your scalp.

“I think I might love you.” You say quietly, waiting for the regret to hit you. It doesn’t.

“I think I might love you too.” She says back, easy as breathing, and you feel something loosen in your chest that had been wound tight for years. You smile. Press another kiss to her throat.

“Wanna show me?” You ask, cheesy and silly and lovesick. Shin laughs, and you hear eternity. She smiles down at you, presses a kiss to your forehead before rolling you onto your back. You look up at her, breath stolen by her beauty.

“I’ll show you.” She breathes, capturing your lips again, and you let yourself be lost in the wonder of her.

*****

A/N: Holy shit this took a long time to write, and I'm so sorry about that! But it's finally here, and I hope you guys enjoyed it :)

#shin hati #star wars #shin hati x reader #ahsoka #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #ivanna sakhno

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moonflowerdamie · 5 months

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When is going to ready the shin hati fanfic?? Im waiting 😬

Hey guys, so about this!!!!

I’m so sorry for the break, I was having a really rough time at uni, it was very hectic and there was lots going on, and I haven’t had time to sit down and write! But I’m home for the weekend at the moment, and have been continuing this fic! Hoping to finish it either tonight or in the coming days, but I’ll keep you updated!!!

#shin hati x reader #shin hati #star wars #ahsoka series #ahsoka

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moonflowerdamie · 6 months

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ok so the shin x reader fic is getting loooooong lmao, i got a bit carried away🫣🫣🫣 but it’s got all the good stuff—hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, childhood friends, hozier lyrics as the title, eventual spicy business😏 just might take a little while for me to finish! who knows, i might speed write tonight, but we shall see. i’ll let you guys know when it’s done, hopefully soon!

#shin hati x reader #shin hati #star wars #ahsoka series #ahsoka

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moonflowerdamie · 6 months

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sneak peek of the shin hati fic🤭

#shin hati x reader #shin hati #ahsoka #ahsoka series #star wars

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moonflowerdamie · 6 months

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so guess who’s writing a shin hati x reader fic🫣🫣🫣🫣

#shin hati #shin hati x reader #star wars #ahsoka

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moonflowerdamie · 8 months

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have i watched the ahsoka show? no. do i know much about the star wars universe? not at all. have i seen a bunch of edits on tiktok of shin hati and now want to write a million fics for that sexy feral goth lesbian? yes yes yes yes YES.

#stab ME shinny boo PLEASE #she’s so fucking hot UGH #got not a clue about the show (except for what i’ve read in wolfwren fanfic) but SHE #need her in a way that is concerning to feminism #shin hati #ahsoka #star wars #wolfwren

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moonflowerdamie · 8 months

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all of you, all of me (intertwined)

Word Count: 2.4k

Title from 'Daylight' by Taylor Swift.

Based on a request from Anonymous.

*****

Losing the World Cup sucks. It really fucking sucks.

The Spanish players deserve it, of course—they were the better team, when it came down to it—and you’re glad to see them celebrate after so many months of turmoil and internal conflict, but it still feels like a punch in the gut when the second place medal is draped around your neck.

The days afterward are full of tears and regret, consolation and half-hearted pep talks that only end up making everyone feel a little worse. Sarina tries her best of course, but even she is struggling with the defeat; it’s evident in her eyes, just a little dimmer than they were before.

Lucy takes it harder than the rest of you. She feels like it was her fault, like the goal (which, admittedly, still stings to think about) could have been prevented if she hadn’t tried to make that run through the middle. She’s completely wrong, of course: it’s nobody’s fault, and it’s everybody’s fault and at the end of the day, it just really does not matter. You lost. Spain won. Nothing to do now but pick up the pieces and move on as best you all can.

Pretty much everyone has a good old cry about it before you leave—Alessia and Mary both come to you separately, sniffling and teary-eyed, looking for a pair of friendly arms to hold them for a while, and you in turn go to Esme for some comfort. It’s nice, the tall blonde defender rubbing your back and murmuring reassurances, but it’s not what you really want.

What you want is Taylor.

Unfortunately for you, your girlfriend is all the way on the other side of the world, starting the international leg of her tour. You couldn’t be prouder of her, truly; you’ve told her as much almost annoyingly often, always met with a bashful smile and a blush from the woman you love.

But, selfishly, you wish she wasn’t so far away. All you want is to curl up in bed with her, have her stroke your hair and sing to you. You wish that she was the one comforting you (no offence to Esme, of course), the one telling you what a great job you’d done. You wish it so much you ache with it.

God, you miss her. It’s been almost 2 months since you saw her in person, the longest you’ve been apart since you started dating 3 years ago, and you miss her so goddamn much it hurts. You miss her eyes and her touch, the way she smiles when you say something silly. You miss the way her nose scrunches when you kiss her forehead, how she laughs, how she looks at you with so much adoration that you feel like melting.

There have been texts exchanged and brief FaceTimes before bed (either for you or for her, time difference is a bitch), but the both of you have been so busy, you with the World Cup and her with the tour, that contact has been sporadic and short. She’d texted you after the final, a quick ‘I’m so sorry darling, you played amazingly and I’m so proud of you’, but you haven’t heard from her since. You understand why: she’s the biggest popstar in the world, performing her record-breaking worldwide tour. She doesn’t have the time to be on her phone 24/7.

You just wish you could see her. Most of all, that’s what you want—to see her, be back in her presence again.

And then it hits you: you can.

*****

You split off from the other Lionesses at the airport, hugging everybody goodbye and wishing them all a safe flight home. Ella gives you a slap on the back as you turn to leave—

“Go get your missus!”

—she yells, and you grin wide and toothy as you start walking to your gate.

*****

Andrea meets you at the airport when you finally land in Mexico. You’re exhausted—losing a World Cup final and then almost 24 hours of travel will do that to a person—so when she hugs you in greeting you can’t help but sink into it a little. She always did give the best hugs.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful that you’re here, dear.” She says quietly, squeezing you once before letting go. You smile. Andrea had been overjoyed when you’d informed her of your plan on the phone a couple days ago, and you can see her excitement shining in her face as you start walking to her car.

“She doesn’t know?” You ask as you exit the terminal and she shakes her head. You hadn’t told Taylor you were coming, wanting to surprise her.

“Not a clue. She’s at the stadium now, so you can drop your things at her hotel and rest a little before the show tonight.” You sigh gratefully—you really are shattered, and a nap sounds like heaven.

Once you reach the hotel, you pretty much immediately collapse onto the bed. Sydney to San Francisco to Mexico City is one hell of a journey, and you can feel the long hours on the plane settling in your body like a stone dropped in water.

The room is nice enough, but it’s the hints of your girlfriend you can see scattered around that make it immediately worth the long journey—a bottle of her nail polish on the bedside table, one of her hoodies slung over the back of a chair, and when you press your face into the pillow, the familiar scent of her shampoo hits you and envelopes you like warm blanket. You smile and close your eyes.

Just a few more hours, my love.

*****

You’ve seen Taylor perform countless times over the years you’ve known each other. On tour, on late night shows, in her living room at 2 AM. Always, you’re astounded at her voice, her stage presence, the force that she is and the space she takes up. It’s a miracle to witness every single time you get the privilege to see her so in her own element.

This time, however, takes your breath away like never before.

She’s radiant on the stage, a shining sun you feel blessed to gaze upon, and the passion she puts into every single song makes you feel like you’re part of something entirely bigger than yourself. She looks gorgeous in every outfit, hits every note and every beat, and more than anything, she looks happy.

And maybe it’s the months apart, or maybe it’s simply her, but you feel like you’re walking amongst the stars watching her, a meteor passing by your wondering eyes. It feels like falling in love all over again, and it feels like flying. She performs ‘Sweet Nothing’ as a surprise song and you feel your breath catch in your chest. You’re mesmerised, and by the end of her set, you sort of feel like crying, in all the best ways.

Andrea takes you to her dressing room once the fans start pouring out of the stadium, assuring you that Taylor will be there once she’s done thanking all the crew, before ducking back out with a wink.

Nerves take over just a little as you wait for her to arrive and it makes you laugh to yourself—3 years of dating and she still makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, still gives you butterflies.

Time passes like treacle drops—that is to say, extremely slowly. You’re beyond excited to see her, and every little noise from outside the dressing room door makes your head snap up and your knee shake. You’re full to bursting with wanting and longing and loving that when she finally does open that door, you’re on your feet before she can even blink.

You see the shock in her hanging jaw, her wide eyes and you laugh shakily, tears springing to your eyes at the sight of her, in the flesh, after so long apart.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You say, barely louder than a whisper, and she’s in your arms before you even finish your sentence.

Her embrace feels so strongly like home that you can’t help but let yourself cry a little. Taylor’s crying too, you think, as she buries her face in your neck and you hold her close, shaking as she folds herself into you. It feels like something clicking into place in your chest as she fits herself into your arms, as you sway her back and forth, closing your eyes and thanking a god you don’t even believe in for this moment.

She draws back after a while to look you in the eyes but she stays in the circle of your arms, dropping to rest around her waist. Her hands come up and hold your face as gentle as glass and you grin at her. God, you’d missed those blue eyes of hers.

“When—how—what are you doing here?” She finally settles on, stroking her thumbs over your cheeks. You giggle at her incredulity.

“I flew in from Sydney, got here a few hours before the show. I…” you trail off, still breathless at the sight of her, still taking her in, “I missed you.”

The smile that ruined you for all others spreads across her face and she huffs out a little laugh. She shakes her head, staring at you with amazement sparkling in her eyes before leaning in to press her forehead to yours.

“I missed you too, baby. Missed you so much.”

When she kisses you, you all but melt in her arms. It’s deep and long, her lips capturing yours with a tender vigour that leaves you absolutely starstruck. Her thumb rubs against your jawline, other hand sliding down to rest on your shoulder as she presses in closer and steals the breath from your lungs. Take it, you almost want to say. Take it all. All I have is yours. All I am is yours.

You pull back after a few stretching moments, panting and love-stung and joyously happy. Taylor looks like a goddess, like all your brightest dreams made flesh, and you sigh, nose brushing hers.

“I love you so much.” She murmurs and you smile. She moves her hand to press against your chest, resting above your heart.

“I love you more, superstar.”

*****

Once Taylor is finished in the dressing room (which takes quite a bit of time given that the two of you keep falling back into each other, into long kisses and quiet hugs, drawn by each other’s gravity), the two of you exit the stadium to find her parents waiting by the car. You and Scott exchange warm greetings whilst Andrea hugs her daughter. With pleasantries exchanged, you all buckle in and Scott starts driving to the nearest and most low-key restaurant in the area.

Over some truly exquisite food, the 4 of you talk for hours. You speak about the World Cup defeat, still fresh and painful. Though, you have to admit the sting is lessened when you’re sat next to the woman you love most in this world, her hand rubbing circles into your knee as she presses a kiss to your temple.

Taylor lights up when the conversation shifts to the show, and you can’t help but be transfixed by her as talks, smiling and gesturing and practically spilling over with excitement. She’s loving the tour, you knew she would, but to see the passion and the payoff in her eyes is a gift from above. You listen with a smile the worst of weather couldn’t wash away.

Before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and Andrea starts to yawn. Scott insists on paying the bill—though you fight him on it amicably—and they drive you and Taylor back to the hotel before bidding you goodnight and heading off.

The elevator ride and subsequent walk to Taylor’s room is comfortably silent, the both of you content and peaceful, but you feel the mood shift once the door closes behind you.

She’s on you in seconds, mouth seeking out your own as she presses you back against the wall, hands searching out any bit of skin they can find. You respond in kind, equally as keyed up as she appears to be, gripping at her hips and pulling her into you, biting her bottom lip and smiling when she groans.

Your hands slide up the front of her sweatshirt, fingers skating over her ribs as her tongue slips into your mouth. You’re kissing hot and desperate now, the both of you breathing heavily and pushing against each other like you just can’t get close enough.

“Bed.” She murmurs against your lips, nails scratching deliciously at the back of your neck. “Bed, now.”

You comply almost mindlessly, walking the both of you back towards the bed as you continue to kiss furiously until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Before she can fall onto it, she pulls away from your lips and turns you around, shoving you backwards so that you topple onto the bed. She follows close behind, climbing onto your lap, legs straddling your hips.

Your stomach drops hotly as she settles on your lap, hands grasping for her waist as she starts a slow grind against you. You feel like you’re on fire, burning up with the need to feel her, to touch her, to claim her again after far too long.

Taylor gasps when you attach your lips to her neck, sucking and kissing at the skin before biting down, hard, the way she likes it. She moans, her hips bucking against your stomach. There’ll be a mark come morning, and a dark little voice in your head cackles with glee—you want to mark her, to sink your teeth in until the skin is red and bruised, to show the world she’s yours.

“Baby…fuck…” she trails off when you bite her again, lower this time, and her hand tangles in your hair, pulling a little, “Fuck, I missed you.” She breathes, pulling you back so she can look you in the eye. You grin up at her, and you must look thoroughly ruined. It’s how you feel, after all. Wreck, ruin, mess. She looks it too, eyes darkened and pupils blown, chest heaving, lips kiss bruised and bitten red.

“I missed you too, love.”

Taylor smirks, hand tightening in your hair to the point of delightful pain as you groan at the feeling.

“Show me how much.” She demands.

And who are you to say no?

*****

A/N: Wow I LOVED writing this! Literally obsessed with Taylor, so glad I could write for her! Hope you all enjoyed it :)

#taylor swift x reader #taylor swift #taylor swift imagine #x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #fluff #engwnt #lionesses

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moonflowerdamie · 8 months

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Hey! I thought your Alessia Russo fic was excellent! Idk if you’re taking requests, but I saw you write for Taylor Swift, and I was wondering if you could do one where r is a soccer player, but bad to miss the eras tour because of the World Cup.

thank you so much! i can definitely do something like this! give me a couple of days and i should be able to get something out :)

#taylor swift #taylor swift x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso fanfics

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moonflowerdamie · 8 months

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everyone thinks that they know us (but they know nothing)

Word Count: 2.7k

Title from 'Dress' by Taylor Swift.

Based on a request from @idkwhatnameuselol :)

*****

3:28 blinks back at you from the clock on your bedside table as you turn to check it for what must be the hundredth time. The numbers, red and unassuming, may as well be laser beams with how they send a pang of anxious pain through your head. You’ve got to be up in less than 5 hours. Brilliant.

You are, typically, an overthinker. So this, the situation you find yourself in now—mind whirring, brain unable to shut down—is not uncharacteristic in the slightest. It’s almost laughable that you thought you’d be getting a full 8 hours tonight, what with the stunt you’re planning to pull tomorrow—well, today, actually. The correction makes you wince.

Rolling onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling in the dark. By this point, you’ve practically given up on getting any sleep; a stupid move, given the very important game you’re to be a part of in less than 10 hours. But sleep seems a distant dream, and you’re not going to frustrate yourself with another futile attempt. Better to be calm and awake, rather than irritated and grumpy.

You’re pretty set on just waiting the night out when you feel her turn over beside you, an arm slung over your waist, her fingers curling protectively over your hip.

“Why are you still awake?”

Alessia’s voice is hoarse from sleep, her eyes bleary and hair a mess, and you can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with her at the sight.

“Just thinking.” You whisper back, hoping you sound reassuring and not like you’ve just spent the last 4 hours tossing and turning, mulling over the next day. You can tell you’ve failed when her brows furrow and she shuffles closer.

“About tomorrow?” You nod, and lift your hand to card your fingers through her hair. Alessia sighs happily and leans into your touch, but concern remains written in her features.

“It’s going to be a tough game, we know that; I mean it’s a semi-final so of course—”

“Not that,” you cut her off gently, “not the game itself.”

Realisation darkens Alessia’s eyes and her face softens even more. Wordlessly, she extends her arms to you. You smile tiredly, nudging your way into her grasp until your face is buried in her neck, arms wound around her waist, her hands rubbing soothing patterns into your back. You breathe in deep, and the familiar scent of her calms you somewhat. Her pulse flutters against your lips, brushing against her throat, and you kiss the spot tenderly.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment, enjoying the peace you always find in each other’s embrace. Alessia presses kisses soft as raindrops to your head, and you feel drowsiness start to seep into your bones.

She speaks after a while, moving one hand up to scratch gently at your scalp, knowing it always helps you drift off.

“It’s going to be ok, you know. It’s scary now, and it’ll be scary tomorrow, but we’re doing it together.” She presses another kiss to your head. “And once it’s done, it’s done. No more hiding.”

You know she’s right; she always is (though you’ll never tell her that), so you nod against her and snuggle in even closer. Before you know it, your eyes are closing, your body going slack.

The last thing you hear before you succumb to sleep is Alessia’s voice, honey-sweet and quiet, telling you she loves you. You smile faintly, and drift away.

*****

The morning comes, and with it your anxiety.

You’re a ball of nervous energy through your morning routine, through breakfast, all the way to the stadium. The other girls sense it and leave you to it—they probably think you’re stressed about the game—something you’re very thankful for as you bite at your nails entering the changing room at Wembley.

You take your sweet time getting ready, pulling your kit on and fixing your hair slowly and methodically. One by one, the other Lionesses leave the room and head out to warm up, until it’s just you and Alessia left.

Pulling the shirt out of your kit bag feels monumental, and as you stare at the name printed on the back, you feel the strangest mixture of exhilaration, nerves, nausea and pride.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Alessia checks one final time, placing a hand on your knee. Her eyes are searching, and you know that if you were to back out now, there would be no judgement from her. The thought comforts you, steels you. You look back at the name above your number and smile. This is it.

You nod, grinning at her. A matching smile spills across her beautiful face as she leans in and kisses your temple.

“Let’s do this then.”

*****

Your teammates don’t notice right away, most of them too focussed on readying themselves for the match ahead, too lost in their own preparations to register the changed name on your back.

It’s something of a relief, as it allows you to get into the headspace you need to be in for the semi-final—Sweden aren’t going to be an easily beaten opponent, so you need to be at your best.

Keira is the first to clock: you see confusion spread across her face as you turn away from her to grab some cones for a passing drill, and your heart leaps into your throat. She says nothing though, merely shakes her head a little and gets on with passing, but the seed is sown.

As kick-off approaches, you see more and more of your teammates starting to notice. Leah, stoic as ever, stares blankly at the back of your shirt for a good few seconds before turning away to stretch. Rachel, hardly as subtle, spots the name and nudges Millie, the both of them looking on with scrunched up expressions, like they can’t quite figure it out.

It’s Georgia who finally speaks up, pointing it out as the two of you practise one-two’s.

“Why are you wearing Alessia’s shirt?” She asks, loud enough for said woman to hear. Alessia turns to face you guys from where she was shooting against Mary. You smile, hoping your fear doesn’t show in your face, heart racing.

“I’m not.”

“Then why does it have ‘Russo’ on the back?” Georgia questions, utterly baffled.

Because, here’s the thing: you’re not wearing Alessia’s shirt. It’s yours. As is the name on the back of it—your name, and your wife’s.

Your wife. You still can’t quite believe it.

The two of you have been together for almost 4 years now, and you got married last October. In secret. Nobody except your families know about the wedding. Nobody, not even your teammates, even knew you were dating. You’d hidden the relationship all this time.

There are a plethora of reasons why you and Alessia kept the relationship a secret. First of all, neither of you are publicly out as queer, and way back when the two of you started out, neither of you were ready. Coming out to family and friends is hard enough, but to the whole world? It had seemed impossible.

A million other worries and concerns and preferences had helped you make the decision to keep quiet about your love to the general public, but also to your teams, both club-level and internationally. It’s not that you don’t trust the girls you work and play with—that’s not it at all—but a secret relationship is a private relationship, and god knows the two of you needed that.

You’re surrounded by these girls almost every day, and it’s almost impossible to keep things to yourself. This is your first major tournament with the Lionesses, but already you know almost too much about your teammates, and vice versa.

What you have with Alessia, you felt was nobody’s business. It’s quiet and peaceful, and more than anything, it’s yours and yours alone. So you kept it that way.

But now, married and settled, you both decided it was time to let the team, and the world, know: Alessia is yours and you are hers, happily and forever.

Georgia is still waiting on an answer as you reflect on all of this, and so Alessia steps in.

“It has Russo on the back because that’s her name.” She says cheerily, before skipping off to grab some water.

Georgia looks puzzled as you suck in a breath and wait for the penny to drop.

It doesn’t.

“Weird.” She scoffs, and carries on with the drill, saying nothing more on the subject.

You can’t tell if you’re relieved or not.

*****

The game goes well, with you beating Sweden and gaining a spot in the Euro’s final. It’s exhilarating and joyful and when your wife jumps into your arms after the final whistle blows, you think that you could die happy after today.

As the roar of victory dies down and fans begin to exit the stadium, you and Alessia head over to her family, standing by the railing. Yours couldn’t attend the match, but Alessia’s parents and siblings feel like home all the same.

“Oh, ragazze, well done! I’m so proud of you both!” Alessia’s mother says, clutching both you and your wife to her in a tight hug. You grin, still high on the emotions of the game, and squeeze her back before you pull away. Alessia’s arm winds around your waist as you stand there and chat to her family, and from the corner of your eye you can see Keira and Lucy watching the two of you.

After the game, Alessia’s family take you both out to dinner to celebrate. It’s a great night, it always is with the Russo’s, and you’re so happy that you don’t notice half the team’s stares when you walk back into the hotel later that evening, Alessia’s hand in yours.

*****

The confrontation comes the next day after breakfast.

It’s rest day, but Sarina had asked the team to stay together, playing games and watching movies as a way to bond a little more before the final, so all of you file into the games room after you eat.

You manage to get through Twister, Jenga and half of a Star Wars movie before it finally happens.

“Right.” The movie is paused, Lucy holding the remote and turning to fix you and Alessia with a firm stare. You swallow hard, eyes darting about the room.

“Luce, put the film back on, we—” Millie whines, but Lucy cuts her off.

“I will. After those two tell us what the hell is going on.”

Every eye in the room turns to you and Alessia, following Lucy’s accusing gaze. It’s dark in the games room, all the lights off and curtains drawn for the film, but you can still see the faces of your teammates, the way their eyes shine with curiosity.

“What do you—” You start, innocence coating your tone, but Lucy stops you.

“You know exactly what I mean. Wearing a shirt with Alessia’s name on, the both of you going for dinner with her family last night. And don’t think I can’t see that hickey Less, you’re not subtle.”

A blush heats your face as your wife shifts next to you, her hand coming up to rub at the mark you’d left just above her collarbone—perhaps you got a little carried away last night.

(Alessia wasn’t complaining when you’d given her it but that’s not the point.)

“So come on, out with it.”

Lucy’s questioning seems to start the others off as well, and soon the room is a cacophony of voices asking you what was happening and what yesterday was all about. And you wanted this, you know you did; wanted the girls to know about you and Alessia, but here, now, with everyone looking at you and asking all the big questions, you’re starting to panic a little.

Your mouth goes dry, hands turning clammy as you struggle to stay calm. Anxiety is clutching at your heart and your blood rushes in your ears.

Alessia clocks, seeing the panic so clearly displayed in your body language, and, in what was a noble attempt to help you out, shuts the whole room up.

“Guys, would you please leave my wife alone.”

Silence. Complete silence follows Alessia’s words. Every mouth in the room hangs open as the girls process what she’s just said.

And then—

“Wife?!”

“Wait, you and Y/N are together?”

“You’re married?! Since when?”

“What the absolute fuck?!”

The room explodes with noise, questions and incredulity spilling out and filling the air. You’re not sure who’s asking what, shaky and somewhat nauseous. Beside you, Alessia slides her fingers between yours and squeezes three times. I love you.

It takes a while for the girls to calm down, but when they do, your wife takes the lead, answering all their questions patiently whilst you bite your lip and watch the room for reactions.

After the shock of it, everybody seems happy for you. There are a few congratulatory remarks made, and a couple of teasing comments, mostly from Millie and Mary.

(“Oh, so that’s why they always room together at camp!”

“Shut up, Mearps.”)

In fact, the only person who doesn’t seem delighted for the two of you is Ella. She sits there, brows drawn together, jaw clenched. It makes your stomach turn over with nerves—she’s Alessia’s best friend, and you desperately want her approval. You don’t know why she seems so upset, but it’s starting to make bile rise in your throat.

She explains her dismay before too long.

“Less, you didn’t tell me?”

And her voice is hurt, small. Alessia turns to her. You see her smile drop when she meets Ella’s eyes.

“El, we didn’t tell anyone, only our families.” She speaks softly, and you can tell she feels guilty. You do too. Ella and Alessia are like sisters, and it must hurt to realise Alessia kept such a big secret from her, even if it was for a good reason.

“But I’m your best mate.” There’s a hint of betrayal in her tone, and you see pain flash over Alessia’s face.

The rest of the room has gone silent as the two speak, watching with bated breath. You squeeze Alessia’s hand in a show of silent support.

“I’m sorry, El, I really am. We wanted to keep it private. It was nothing you guys did or didn’t do, we just—we just wanted to be us, just us, for a little while.”

Ella is silent for a moment, gears evidently turning. You bite your lip even harder, nearly drawing blood as you wait for either a shouting match or forgiveness.

“So, nobody knew except your families? Nobody?”

“Nobody.” Alessia confirms. “And if we had decided to tell people back when we started dating, you’d have been the first to know, I promise.”

This seems to soften her, and Ella chuckles quietly. Hope blooms in your chest.

“I s’pose being a secret made sneaking around under Sarina’s nose a lot easier.”

The whole room laughs at that, and the tension that had been building unravels. Something tight loosens in your body and you slump backwards a little bit as Alessia and Ella begin bantering like they usually do.

As the room settles once more, and Lucy reaches for the remote to resume the film, Alessia leans into your side. Her head comes to rest on your shoulder, hand winding around your arm. You smile, heart jumping. The noise from the TV filters back into the room, providing enough cover for you to press a kiss to Alessia’s hair and whisper a soft ‘I love you’.

“I love you too, Mrs Russo.” She murmurs back, and you chuckle.

The film continues with Alessia snuggled into you. You look around at your friends, see them smiling and happy, see that the world hasn’t ended like you used to think it would if you stopped hiding, and you think, this. This is it. This is right.

You don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

*****

A/N: Ok so my first x reader fic is done! I hope you guys liked it, it was fun to write and I love me some Lessi so I'm glad to be putting more works out there for her!

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #x reader #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #fluff #lionesses #engwnt

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