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hornedqueenofhell · 4 months

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Holiday in... Handcuffs? Pt. 2

Pt 1

“Okay Dustin, tell me one more time why you think Steve was kidnapped.” Hopper says while pinching the ridge of his nose. It’s not that he didn’t believe the boy, it's just, he highly doubts one guy would be capable of taking Steve down easily.

“He told me he was! I heard a struggle, he said kidnapped, I heard the kidnappers voice!” Dustin shrieks while waving his phone at Hopper. Will, Mike and Lucas had come to join him, they were staying quiet though, still in shock. The girls had been skeptical and refused to stop their girls day for what they thought was a cry for attention.

“Did Steve perhaps call you accidentally if he was… busy with someone?” He has caught Steve with his pants down too many times to assume the guy didn’t have varied interests in bed. Dustin just scowls and puts his hands on his hips exactly like Steve does.

“No, he was calling to tell me something. That he wasn’t going to be able to do something and then the struggle started. I heard swearing and panting like Steve was trying to get away, his speaker sounded like it had been hit because all his audio started getting really fuzzy. He was trying to say something about his kidnapper that he was weird or something like that. And then I heard the guy's voice really clearly, he said ‘in you go princess.”

“I understand Dustin, I'm just asking if there are any other possibilities. Steve is an adult man who doesn’t look like he’d be easy to kidnap, on top of that he was on the phone actively talking to a witness which is the last thing a criminal wants. Kidnappers go after people who won’t be missed, who they can convince to get out of the public eye.”

“He said goodbye to me, Hopper. He said goodbye and that he loves me.” Steve normally did this but he just had this gut feeling that something horrible had happened. “If you won’t help me I’ll go looking for him myself.”

“Slow your roll Dustin Henderson. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, I just need as much information as possible. Did Steve tell you where he was when he was taken?”

“His phone tracking shows him around the corner from the shop when he made the call.” Dustin pulls up the map and shows him the screenshot he took of the dot in front of the corner bodega. “Now the tracking on it is spotty, wherever they’re taking him it has a bad signal, and they’re moving.”

Fuck that’s not good. Hopper stands from his desk and grabs his jacket. “Okay, I’m going to check out where Steve was last seen. You tell me if the tracking ever reappears and what direction it’s heading in, that could help us predict where they may be headed. Stay here. Do not, do anything stupid.” Hopper orders before heading out the door and getting in his cruiser to go by the bakery.

~O~

They had stopped at a gas station about twenty minutes out from the cabin because Eddie wanted s'mores supplies and some beers. Steve was kind of hungry so he picked up some snacks for them too. The two of them giggled and playfully shoved each other until the gas station owner, full of fond exasperation, said that she was going to confiscate their ID’s as fakes if they didn’t stop acting like children. Steve looked concerned while Eddie just snorted.

“Like you haven’t been letting me buy beers here since I was 19 Terry.” He winks and she flips him off. They set their haul on the counter and Steve insists on paying, smacking Eddie’s hands away when he tries to steal the other man’s card. Eventually Eddie just folds his arms over Steve’s shoulders and rests his chin on Steve’s head.

“Shall I give Wayne your best then?” He teases wiggling his eyebrows. Terry scoffs and reaches across the counter to swat him.

“You’ll be keeping your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you Edward Theodore Munson. And thank your young man for buying your groceries, what were you raised in a barn?”

“Oh trust me Lady Theressa I would like nothing more than to thank him, long and often but he has rebuffed my advances because all of you keep telling him I’m such a scoundrel!” Eddie dramatically swoons against Steve’s back, swooning a little in reality at how easily Steve holds his weight. “My knight in shining armor has rebuked me, leaving me without favor or token to get me through the dark, lonely nights!”

“Are you sure you want to be seen in public with this guy?” Terry stage whispers to Steve. Steve laughs and rubs his hand over Eddie’s forearms, the metalhead squeezing him tighter in response.

“God help me but doe-eyed, curly hair nerds are kinda my type.” That response has Eddie blushing and ducking his head to hide behind his curls against Steve’s neck. He meant it when he said he’d earn that kiss, whatever Steve needed to know his interest was in something real.

“That’s on you then. You boys stay safe out there, got it?” She gives them both an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as they gather up their bags of snacks and offer her holiday wishes in return as they head out.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand once they’re back in the car warming up. Steve’s eyes are glittering and Eddie squeezes his hand again so he doesn’t lean over and accidentally steal that kiss. “If you’re not completely sick of me after this trip, and you’re willing to give this a shot, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“I think I’d like that.” Steve murmurs. Honestly if Eddie asked he’d definitely kiss him right here and now. No one has made him laugh this much in a while, has listened to Steve talk about the bakery and the youth basketball team he’s an assistant coach for with such rapt attention. He hasn’t felt this seen since Robin, who is the other half of his brain cell, they are two halves of a whole idiot and they do just about everything together. She knows he’s thought Eddie was cute from the first time he walked into the bakery, with a grease smudge on his forehead and his hair tied up in a clip.

“Is there something on my face, you’re staring.” Eddie asks, he’s actually got a smear of chocolate from a cookie on his lip but Steve just smiles and shakes his head.

“Just think you’re beautiful, that’s all.” And as color floods Eddie’s face, prompting him to hide behind his hair again as he turns to watch the road, Steve can’t help but be unrepentantly charmed. It’s silly to think about but Steve feels like he’s fallen into one of those goofy Hallmark Christmas movies. The ones where unexpected circumstances end up bringing you exactly where you’re supposed to be to meet The One or something ridiculous like that. It’s silly he knows but he has a good feeling about this Christmas.

~O~

Most of the shops had closed by the time Hopper got there, the bodega included unfortunately. But there was a pawn shop across the street that was still open. He walked in and went to the counter where a nervous, sweaty little man stared him down.

“H-hello offfficer. What can I do for you?” He dabs at his receding hairline with a stained hanky.

“That camera out front work?” He asks and the man nods.

“Yes, I-I haven’t had many customers come in today and I have all the goods I’ve had sold to me today right over here if you need to see any of them for any reason. I do feel like I should inform you-”

“I don’t care about possible stolen goods at the moment, does that camera reach to across the street?” Hopper cuts him off not wanting to be here a second longer than he needed to.

“A little. Um, right this way officer.” He scurries over to the door to lock it and switch the sign to closed before taking Hopper to the backroom where the camera controls were set up.

“I want you to show me just before 7 to 7:15 today.” Hopper says and the man is quick to comply. He wasn’t exaggerating about the little, Hopper couldn’t see faces or anything significantly higher than people’s waists. He scanned the footage intently for anything suspicious and then he saw it. An inconspicuous looking black vehicle driving too close to the curb, kicking up sludge as it goes. He sees sharp movements and then two bodies hitting the ground. They’re almost out of frame when the incident occurs but he catches a glimpse of Steve. The young man is indeed on his phone, the device clutched in his hand as a body with its back to the camera lands on top of him. The figure is wearing what looks like jeans and a thick, dark sweater, heavy combat boots and chains dangling from one of the pockets. So definitely not Steve’s usual crowd. He watches Steve’s feet scrabble against the icy pavement before he’s pulled up and out of frame. About a minute later a similar black vehicle drives back in the other direction.

So that must be the play. Knock them off balance by driving too close, then while the victim is disoriented loading them into the vehicle and taking off back in the opposite direction. Unfortunately this camera angle didn’t provide plate details for the vehicle so that would have to wait until morning. He just hoped Steve could hold on that long.

“Rewind a bit, I want you to print out some of these frames for me.” Hopper says, pulling up another chair.

By the time he gets back to the office he’s frustrated and worried for Steve. And he knows Joyce has got to be getting worried about him too, he should have been home almost two hours ago by now.

The kids have all gone but they pinned a map to a whiteboard they commandeered and drew a trail of dots with each check in point where they could get a signal from Steve’s phone. It looks like the kidnappers are headed towards the mountains which is not a good sign for Steve’s life expectancy. He can’t despair yet though and adds the printouts of the attack to the board.

Steve is his boy and if these fuckers have hurt a single hair on his head, they’ll never find the bodies. No matter how much his heart and mind rage though there’s no new information to gather right now. He needs to go home, to tell Joyce what happened. He needs her help to figure out what to tell the kids if the worst comes to pass.

~O~

Wayne is standing in the open door as they pull up. Eddie can barely help the child-like grin on his face as he dashes up onto the porch, ignoring the crack of ice under his boots as he pulls his uncle into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you.” He groans as Wayne squeezes him back just as tight,

“Missed you too son, now get in here so I can meet your boy finally.”

And oh how Eddie’s heart soared at hearing Wayne call Steve his boy, but first he had to tell Wayne the truth about what happened.

“About that Wayne, this is Steve, he’s a friend of mine. Hector won’t be joining us because he decided to be a two-timing scumbag.” Steve, absolute gentleman that he is, has all their bags with him that he sets down before offering Wayne his hand to shake.

“Steve Harrington sir, Eddie has been telling me so much about you.” Wayne returns the gesture with a small grin, so similar to Eddie’s.

“Just Wayne please, you gonna make an honest man of my boy before these knees are too old to walk him down the aisle?”

“Wayne!” Eddie sputters, resisting the urge to throw himself in the nearest snowdrift and just stay there until the spring thaw. He’s burning up so much right now he could possibly melt through the ice on the lake and just drown there too. Steve barely seems phased though and just gives Eddie a soft look.

“Well, we were going to maybe start with dinner. Save the wedding plans for the third date you know.” He winks and Eddie buries his face in his hands with a whine, great they get along too well.

“I’m going to bed!” He declares loudly, he’s had a shit day and the drive up into the mountains always stresses him out. Wayne just gives him the stink eye.

“You drag this boy all the way out here and just plan on disappearing? Show him around at least!” Wayne turns back to Steve and pats him on the shoulder, “I really tried to raise him with manners I swear.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs, looking so radiant and happy that Eddie barely feels his heart slip from his chest and splat down at his feet. Freely offered to the gorgeous man who offered to come here for him, who looks at him like he’s hoping as hard as Eddie is that this thing starting to take shape between them could be something wonderful.

“I think he’s just the way he’s supposed to be.” Steve says, looking at him so warmly. Eddie flushes and reaches for Steve again, craving the way their fingers feel folded together already and starts showing him around the cabin. It’s not massive or really even anything special. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom across the way. There’s a little gazebo outside right on the edge of a lake which was why Wayne wanted the place to begin with. There’s boxes of decorations sitting out but no tree, when Steve asks about it Eddie just grins.

“Munson family tradition, we have to go get one. Then we spend the whole day decorating and drinking and snacking on whatever we have on hand. Sometimes we stay inside and just read while Wayne plays his old records. Or I’ll take the kids out to go skate if my cousins are around.”

“That sounds really nice Eddie. I never really got to have traditions like that growing up.” Steve had talked a bit about his cold, lonely upbringing, and how he’d never had people to celebrate the holidays with until Robin and his group of shitheads. Eddie had suspected that Steve had to be at least a bit lonely to volunteer to go to a practical stranger’s house for Christmas but Eddie was really happy he had.

“Then I’m all too happy to share ours with you.” Steve’s lip wobbles a touch as he pulls Eddie into a gentle hug.

“I feel like a horrible person for crying when you’re the one who went through so much today, but thank you for having me.” Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and holds him back just as gently, fingers sinking into Steve’s thick waves.

“Thank you for offering to come. I feel so much braver, facing everything that happened today because I wasn’t going through it alone.” The held each other for a moment longer before drifting back to their own spaces. “Want some cocoa before we head to bed? It’s a queen if you don’t mind sharing, the couch is…” he inhales sharply, “not great.”

“I feel like we’re going about things in a very weird order. Haven’t kissed, haven't been on a date but going straight to sharing a bed. Yeah, cocoa sounds nice.”

“It’s from a packet so temper your fine artisanal drink crafting expectations.” Eddie says tugging Steve into the kitchen,

Steve just shakes his head and giggles, “Just how pretentious do you think I am?”

Wayne watches them from his seat in the living room, two of them wrapped up in their own little world of new romance as they stand hip to hip in the kitchen, sipping hot chocolate and watching each other with stars in their eyes. They might actually start discussing marriage before their third date.

Pt 3

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dustin henderson #wayne munson #baker!steve #mechanic!eddie #modern au #no upside down au #comedy of errors #accidental kidnapping #steddiefic chronicles

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femininenachos · 29 days

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Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last.

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain.

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more.

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face.

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over.

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand.

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves.

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast.

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths.

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel.

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe.

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh.

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique.

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.”

The space between them shrinks.

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on.

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs.

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses.

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats.

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks.

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist.

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus.

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges.

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke.

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck.

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs.

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force.

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?”

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up.

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime.

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss.

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

#vacation au #cool for the summer #clexa fic #my fic

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drenosa · 25 days

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Previously

Somewhere out at sea an Express Cruiser the Valean Fishing Vessel "The Raging Sloth" lazily rides the waves

Ren: *Behind the wheel, a bicorn on his head, humming a sea shanty to himself* This is nice.

Jaune: *Watching over a set of heavy duty fishing poles* Thanks for reminding to take my motion-sickness meds, guys. I almost forgot them in the excitement.

Sun: *Sitting on a deck chair, brewski in hand* Hey, no problem my guy. We all got a little excited.

Neptune: *A face on a Wide-Scroll that's hanging from the cabin wall.* Yeah, weird how that happens.

Sage: *Standing with Jaune, minding the poles* Still, it's great to just be away from everything for a bit. Just us, the water, the fishing poles...

Scarlet: *On the upper level of the boat* A large boat approaching fast!

Sage: And large boats approaching fast... Wait what?

A larger vessel is making a beeline for the Raging Sloth. Before long it pulls up beside them.

Sun: We should... should we be worried?

Jaune: *Sharing a look with Ren, who slowly nods* Yes. Yes, we should probably be worried.

????: ~Ahoy, Boyos!~

Jaune: Not probably... Definitely.

Yang: *Standing on the deck of the larger vessel (The Dolphin Puncher) in swimming trunks and a most flattering bikini-top, a straw hat sits on top of her wild blonde locks* You guys thought you could just go out to sea and NOT invite me?! A Patch-girl born and raised? I was fishing long before I started punching! And I started doing that before I could properly walk.

Jaune: *Trying to find a way out, looking at the rest of the guys* Well... it might...

Ren: *Placed his bicorn on top of Jaune's head, has fled deep into the boat's cabin*

Sun: *Finding the fishing poles very interesting*

Scarlet: *Minding his business up top*

Sage: *Joined Scarlet*

Neptune: *Disconnected Scroll call*

Jaune: Traitors. It might have slipped our minds our little. Say... who's also there with you?

Nora: *Sickeningly sweet tone, in a cute pink one-piece with frills* ~Oh, Renny.~ That tub of yours better have a captain's cabin.

Ren: *Muffled noises of a barricade being erected*

Nora: *Heading into the cabin* Oh ho ho, I do like a challenge.

Jaune: Right... And the rest is there too, right? Weiss paying?

Weiss: *In a white and blue bikini, sarong and a very wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun from her perfectly pale skin* Against my better judgement, yes. Just be thankful I've got access to my own private, and very sizable, funds.

Blake: *Already on The Raging Sloth, wearing a form-fitting diving suit with the front zipped down, she's watching the fishing poles with Sun* These waters are renowned for their tuna. I was never not going to join because of that.

Ruby: *In swimming trunks, Menagerie-patterned shirt and a Patch Strikers Cap* Our dad's got the local record for most fish and biggest fish caught back home. Imma gonna get those international prices, buddy!

Jaune: Well, it's lovely of you to be here, I guess. Uhm. Where's Pyrrha?

Yang: Oh yeah... she's hyping herself up.

Jaune: What's that supposed... to... *Sees the last person appearing next to Yang*

Pyrrha: *In a red and green patterned bikini that accentuates each and every curve of her perfectly toned body, her brilliant long red hair freely cascading down her back, has a shy but radiant smile as she greets Jaune* Hello, again.

Jaune: *Blinks once, twice* Oh... Hello to you too.

Yang: Alright, dumb stuff out of the way. Let's get to business!

Various noises of various levels of excitement rang out that day.

No-one was allowed, nor had the intention of entering the captain's quarters. The noises scared everyone, but Ren was congratulated afterwards by all the guys on board.

Sun caught the biggest tuna, it was lost to the greedy, hungry belly of one Blake Belladonna who "Regrets nothing!".

Ruby caught the biggest tuna that the rest managed to keep Blake away from.

Weiss did not catch a sunburn, surprising everyone including herself.

Jaune did not get motion-sick, also surprising everyone.

Pyrrha finally got her hands on her knight. The knight is still somewhat confused but happier than ever.

#rwby #rwby shitpost #lie ren #jaune arc #team sssn #team rwby #team jnpr #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #arkos #renora

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csuitebitches · 11 months

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A Brief Guide to Yachts

This is a continuation to my cultural education segment (aka my rich bitch guide).

The yacht is an invention of the 14th century Dutch. The Dutch used small, fast boats for chasing smugglers, pirates and criminals. Rich ship owners and merchants began using these small “jaghts” to sail out to celebrate their returning merchant ships.

The first yacht club in the world, called the Cork Water Club, was established in Ireland in 1720.

Some famous clubs include:

USA:

1. Annapolis Yacht Club: Surrounding the Spa Creek Bridge in Annapolis, the Club boasts over 75 wet slips and dry dockage. The club began in 1886 as an informal canoe club, and today has 1600 regular members active in social, racing, and cruising programs

2. Chicago Yacht Club: Founded in 1875, Chicago Yacht Club is one of the oldest and most respected yacht clubs in the world. The Club is home to more than 1,400 members, including a winning America’s Cup skipper, and Olympic medalists.

Italy:

1. Circolo Canottieri Aniene

2. Circolo degli Esteri

3. Compagnia della Vela

Canada:

1. Royal Canadian Yacht Club

2. Royal Vancouver Yacht Club

Yachts are most active in the summer months (May- August in the northern hemisphere) or the winter months. many yacht owners decide to keep the maximum number of guests onboard to 12 (plus crew) for chartering.

Different types of yachts:

Sailing Yacht: a yacht mainly propelled via wind and sails

Motor Yacht: a yacht propelled via one or more motors

Gulet Yacht: a hybrid yacht with both sails and motors

Open Yacht, Cruiser, Cabin Cruiser, Express Cruiser: an otherwise uncategorized standard yacht for cruising and entertaining

Luxury Yacht: a yacht that includes high-end finishes and features and the latest in modern performance technology. The term ‘luxury’ can precede any type of yacht, i.e. “luxury motor yacht”, “luxury sailing yacht”, etc.

Sports Yacht: a yacht geared towards fishing, water sports, or cruising with a sleeker design and more powerful motor for faster cruising speeds.

Catamaran Yacht: a yacht with two hulls (pontoons) often made of fiberglass that can be used in shallow waters.

The most popular destinations:

1. Monaco

2. The French Riviera

3. Greece

4. U.S. Virgin Islands

5. Palm Beach, Florida

6. Costa Smeralda, Italy

7. St. George’s Parish, Bermuda

8. Newport, Rhode Island

9. Nantucket, Massachusetts

10. Greater Victoria, Vancouver Island

Insane super yachts

Football club owner Shahid Khan's 95 metre Lürssen Kismet was delivered in 2014. On match days, a four-metre silver statue of a jaguar, its paw resting on a football helmet, graces the bow. Elsewhere, its sizeable foredeck has enough space for Khan's beloved football team, the Jacksonville Jaguars, to stage a practice.

The 70 metre Feadship superyacht Joy features a deck that's wide enough to enjoy a tandem jog around. This yacht is all about exterior living, which includes making use of these ample decks with some great sporting facilities. A basketball and badminton court is set all the way forward on the owner's deck. This is complemented by her large gym and dedicated spa. All of this adds up to make Joy an ideal choice for those interested in a yacht with ample fitness, wellness and sporting amenities.

#c suite #powerful woman #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #q/a #getting your life together #balance #water #yacht

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

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I love Din Djarin for so many reasons. But I really love the fact that he isn't just an unequivocally good guy. Despite the level of care we see he has for Grogu, including breaking his Creed, and the multiple times he risks his life for various strangers.... you know there's still a dark past there.

Din's response to the various traumas he suffered is precisely what makes him such a complex, engaging character to me. In my opinion, it's refreshing to see a realistic portrayal of how suffering terrible loss at an early age can fundamentally alter a person's outlook on life. Deep down, I think he has always been the caring person we begin to see that he is after he encounters Grogu. But the horrific way he lost his parents and was torn from his homeworld and taken in by a secretive, secluded group, who must have seemed impossibly strange to him due to the way they hid their faces. That, combined with Din having to hide his face from such an early age, I think, buried all of that goodness within him somewhere deep inside.

Characters that endure terrible things but come out as human sunshine that treat everyone with kindness and patience, I don't find as engaging because I don't think it's realistic. Any trauma, at any age, fundamentally alters you... whether you realise it at the time or not.

I don't think Din has ever stopped to really process what happened to him. It seems he spent much of his adult life running around the galaxy from job to job for various nefarious entities to distract himself from those difficult emotions.

But everything changes with Grogu, who I think could sense the goodness in him right away. This tiny child who was so terrified and traumatised, who had to hide his powers for so many years was so keen to physically heal Din pretty much immediately. Yet Grogu goes on to heal Din in unseen ways, too.

With Grogu, I think we see Din beginning to process his past as he cares for the child and protects him from threats in the galaxy. The only time we ever hear Din laugh is the last time they're in the Razor Crest together, right before Grogu was taken on Tython. Din didn't just lose Grogu's physical presence in his life that day on Gideon's light cruiser, he something intangible that was helping him to process his past.

After he stood there that day on the bridge with tears in his eyes, the next time we see Din, he's regressed to his old ways. A nameless, faceless bounty hunter: "I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold."

So, I cannot even imagine how much it meant to Din that Grogu chose to come back to him. I truly hope that fact was communicated to him, or maybe Din could just sense it, given their bond. That was the final push Din needed, giving him the self esteem to continue to allow others in and get close to people again, like we see in season 3.

With any kind of trauma, there is so much work to be done to address it and heal. It's a long, difficult and often lonely process. But Din is now going through that, thanks to Grogu.

There is no doubt that Din Djarin has done terrible things, but there is also no doubt that he wants to be a better person. For his son... but also, hopefully, for himself.

Now, Din deserves to rest. Now, he's no longer outrunning his past and distracting himself by hunting bounties for criminals. Now, he can find some peace as he watches his son outside the cabin they share together on Nevarro.

It will never take the trauma away... but it will give him a brighter tomorrow.

#sorry this was meant to be like two sentences and then i thought about him sitting on the porch and got carried away #i made myself emo with this #sorry not sorry #din djarin #din thoughts #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IT'S SICK

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rougepancake · 11 months

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Ship in a bottle

Ft. Merman!Yoshikage Kira x F!Reader

Please you guys I love this idea so much you have no idea. I will defend merman Yoshikage with my life 😩. I was also terrified to post this but YOLO AHAHA SELF INDULGENCE 😔

Warnings: slight gore, mentions of killing, interspecies relationship (???), MONSTER FUCKING RAHHH (implied rahhhh), Kira’s hand fetish (also rahhhh), mating??. He’s a beautiful merman leave him be 😭

Summary: You and your fellow researcher Jotaro Kujo are out on the hunt for merfolk, legendary and beautiful creatures that have been believed to be nothing more than a legend. But they are in fact real. And they are twice as beautiful as the stories say.

It was gloomy, as to be expected whilst out on the open ocean. The wind whipped around you, howling softly as you observed the waves rocking against your cabin cruiser. Your fellow researcher, Jotaro Kujo, was standing beside you, his eyes transfixed on the radar screen in his hands.

So far there had been no sign of any large fish, which bummed you out to no avail. You had all day out here, which meant there was definitely bound to be something. Even if you didn’t catch a glimpse of what you were looking for, you might get to see a humpback whale or something.

That would make up for it… right?

Wrong. Even if the sight of the whales was beautiful on its own, you were out here looking for something specific. Something so specific that it made searching for it nearly impossible.

Especially since most people didn’t believe in mermaids.

“Hey do you see that?” Jotaro’s voice pulled you from your trance, forcing you to look over at the radar monitor. “I wonder if it’s a school or something.”

“No way.” You rushed over to him, doing your best to contain your excitement. “Do you want to get the diving gear?”

“No thanks.” He shrugged, shaking his head as he put away the monitor. “Just look at this weather. Plus there’s a chance that it’s not even them.” He sighed and looked at you, challenging your will. “Are you really willing to risk it? What if it is them and they’re hostile? What would you do then? Die?”

“I suppose I would.” You crossed your arms. “It’s in the name of science, so I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant that some of our questions would be answered.”

Jotaro opened his mouth to argue with you further, but stopped himself when he caught a glimpse of a uniquely patterned purple fishtail.

“Holy shit.” He rushed over to the side and you followed him.

“Don’t just stand there! Get the camera!” You grabbed his arm and shook him, only to be pushed to the side with a huff from him. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

A lavender colored tail, winding across the surface of the ocean. It looked to have some markings on it, but you were unable to tell what they formed due to how far away it was.

“Place your bets Kujo.” You breathed out, still in awe at the sight of the tail. “Maid or man?” You held out your hand and Jotaro immediately slapped 2,836 yen (equivalent to $20 usd) on it.

“Maid. Just look how elegant that tail is.” He paused, lowering the camera and staring out at the ocean in awe. “It’s too beautiful to belong to a man.” You scoffed and pulled out the same amount of yen, turning around and placing it underneath a nearby cup.

“I think it’s a man.” You sighed and leaned against the railing, watching as it faded out of sight slowly. “I mean did you see those markings? And the sheer size of it too. In the legends it’s said that mermaids are more delicate, as if to seduce the sailors. So it just makes more sense for it to be a man.”

“This isn’t some fantasy novel, L/n. They’re real, and we’ve officially spotted one. Forget everything you’ve ever read about them. We are now rewriting that, got it?” He scoffed and walked past you into the cruiser. You could hear your cat meow as the door opened, a signal that he was scared of the weather. Poor thing.

“Fine. It’s getting late anyways.” You sighed and followed after Jotaro. “I’ll take you back to shore since I know you’re not too fond of boats.”

“Gee you’re too kind.” He said sarcastically and lay down on the couch, his arms resting behind his head as he propped up his feet. Your cat, Killer Queen, eyed him warily before hopping up onto his chest. “It’s that I don’t like them, it’s just that I don’t come out on the water often.” Reluctantly, he pet KQ. “I’m based on the shore, you know that.”

“Yeah yeah.” You rolled your eyes and set things to head back to the shore. It was only about fifty miles back, which was roughly a two and a half hour ride. You looked over your shoulder once you finished programming the location into the gps system. “Be gentle with KQ.” You warned. “He’s a bit of a biter.”

“Yeah.” Jotaro scoffed in response and used his hat to cover his face as he drifted off to sleep.

You went back to the deck and continued to watch the surface, hoping to catch another glimpse of the tail from earlier. Not even that. You just wanted to see at least one of the creatures you had been looking so long for.

Then you saw it.

The same tail from before, which was surprisingly close to your boat. It was surprising, since most sea creatures were scared by the churning water, but this one seemed to not care.

You watched it closely, pulled into a trance by the way it swirled around as it swam. It was beautiful.

And of course, this one was a killer.

Blood tainted the water’s surface, and the tail wriggled back into the water, disappearing from your sight entirely.

“Shit! Come back!!” You swore and leaned over the side, and right as you did the boat rocked and you fell over and into the water. You let out a scream, internally fearful of the beautiful beast that had just vanished from sight.

The harsh waves forced your head under, and you struggled against the current. Occasionally you’d resurface, and each time your boat was farther away.

You struggled and kicked violently, doing your best to fight against the strength of the current. But you were just pushed back under again.

However, this time you were met the face of a merman, who was staring at you rather intently.

He was even more beautiful than his tail, his blueish purple eyes staring deep into yours as you held onto him for dear life. His hands rested on your waist, his tail swirling around you as you began to feel lightheaded.

It was like he was able to sense that you were in need of air, and he took you up to the surface, holding you tightly so you wouldn’t be washed away by the current.

With a frantic gasp for air, you looked around for your boat, which appeared to be miles away now, just barely a spec in the distance. You felt your heart sink as you turned back to the creature that was holding you.

His eyes were focused on your hands, observing them as if they were the best thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Thank you!” You shouted, your voice being whisked away by the harsh winds. It was about to storm, and that scared you even more. You patted his shoulder so he would look at you, and once you made eye contact, you pointed at the boat in the distance. “I need your help getting to the boat!” You made sure to speak slowly and clearly, but he just stared at you with wide eyes.

Shit. Did he not understand you??

“Boat…” He repeated you, his voice deep and raspy. Your eyes lit up and you began to nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! Boat! I need to get back to my boat!” Thunder roared in the distance and you shivered, wincing at the sound. “Can you help me?”

His eyes had trailed down to your hands once again, his own hands meeting yours. You wriggled your fingers and he snapped back to reality, his expression unreadable.

“Please…” Your voice was weak, and you felt yourself getting lightheaded once again.

Then- everything faded to black. The last thing you remembered was the salty cold water washing over you as you clung to your inhuman savior.

“L/n what the hell?” Jotaro grumbled as he picked you off of the deck, stumbling slightly as the boat rocked harshly. The shore was in sight now, and you were only about fifteen minutes away from the base, which meant that Jotaro would be getting off and you’d be heading right back out to sea. “Don’t tell me you tried to swim in these conditions.”

“Oh fuck off.” You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, shakily walking into the cabin of the boat. “I fell in. And you owe me 2,876 yen.” You grabbed a towel and began to dry yourself off, turning your back to him to give yourself some privacy.

“What? Why-“ He stopped. “You saw the merperson from earlier??” His tone changed entirely, seemingly more excited now. “Wow. I can’t believe-“ Jotaro shook his head and sighed. “Never mind that. Your dumbass fell into the water during a storm. How did you even get back to the boat??”

“Pay up.” You looked over your shoulder with a smirk, sticking out your hand expectantly. “I fell in while observing him, and he saved me. Simple as that.”

“No. It’s not that simple.” He argued, handing you the money with a sigh. “Merfolk tend to make promises, something similar to a contract.” He paused and sat down on the couch, petting KQ gently as he spoke. “That merman you ran into will expect something from you in return, especially since he saved your life.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me to forget everything I’ve ever read about merfolk?” You turned around, giving him a glare. The boat rocked, a sign that you were now back at the base. “Whatever. We’re at the dock, so get off and log our information.” You waved him away.

“I’m serious L/n. You’d better be careful.” He began to pack up his things. “Just don’t die. You’re the only field operator that I can tolerate.” He grumbled and headed off the boat.

You sighed and began to strip yourself of your wet clothes, tossing them into the hamper as you made your way to your room. Once you pulled out a dry change of clothes and got changed, you programmed the location you were at earlier back into the navigational system and waited.

KQ seemed restless, but you couldn’t blame him. The wind was howling outside, forcing your boat to rock against the violent waves as you sailed back to where you had seen that merman.

You had some music playing in the background to ease your mind, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about what Jotaro had warned you about.

Merfolk wanting something in return? It was odd but you weren’t overly surprised. You just wanted to know if it was true.

Just then, something hit the side of the boat, resulting in a hiss from KQ. You hopped up from your seat and ran out to the deck, searching for what had just hit your boat, and sure enough, you were met with the face of your mer-savior.

“Well hello.” You let out a slight sigh of relief and walked over to where he was laying, his tail draped over the side and floating atop the water. Now you were allowed a better look at him, and oh boy was he a looker.

You debated on helping him onto the deck, but he seemed content sitting there, staring at your hands as if they were his next meal.

“Can you understand me?” You leaned down to his eye level, bracing yourself just in case the boat were to rock again. If he couldn’t understand you right now, then that’d be fine since you were bilingual.

However if he spoke his own language then you’d be fucked in terms of trying to understand his species.

Thankfully, he nodded, his gaze returning to your hands.

“Great! Oh uh…” You trailed off and put your hands in your pockets, hoping he would then be able to focus on your words. But as soon as you did so, he glared at you. “S-Sorry! I just want to as you a couple of things! That’s all..!” You stammered and brought your hands to your sides.

And like clockwork, his eyes returned to them.

You watched as he slowly reached out and took one of your hands in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing the top of his softly. Then, he moved to kiss your fingertips, closing his eyes with a sigh as he allowed his tongue to graze your skin.

“H-Hey.” You tried to pull your hand away but he stopped you, crawling up further onto the deck and looking you in your eyes.

“Quiet.” He spoke, seemingly annoyed by your response to his actions. You huffed and shut your mouth, watching in slight fear as he ran his tongue along your fingers.

His eyes met yours once again as he sucked on your fingers, letting out a pleased hun as he removed them from his mouth. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the right word to do so.

“Is this about you helping me earlier..?” You asked slowly, inching away from him slightly. He gave you a ‘how did you know’ type of look and nodded slowly, pulling himself closer to you. “U-Uh… so you like my hands..?”

He nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining at the mention of your hands.

“What’s your name?” You paused and searched his eyes. “Do you have a name?”

He nodded again and made some form of clicking noise, as if trying to communicate with you in his own language. He then realized you couldn’t understand him and stopped halfway.

“Yoshikage.” He sounded unsure of his human pronunciation, but felt relieved when you nodded in understanding.

“Well Yoshikage, my name is Y/n-“ You brought your hand to your chest to emphasize your name belonged to your face- something similar to what a mother would do to a learning child.

But he stopped paying attention at the movement of your hand. And to your surprise, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him without a second thought. He brought your hand to his face and forced you to caress his cheek, relishing in the warmth of your touch.

“You see Yoshikage, I have some questions about your kind.” You began to go along with him, your thumb gently rubbing against his cold skin. “Would you be willing to answer them for me?”

He ignored you.

“Yoshikage?” You stopped moving your thumb and he gave you an annoyed huff. “Fine, fine.” You continued to pet him, your hand moving up to his damp hair, your fingers running through it in a calming manner. Yoshikage let out a pleased sigh and leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but you were interrupted by him pushing you to the floor of the deck. And naturally, it was wet, which meant your fresh change of clothes was too.

“Quiet.” He repeated the same word from earlier and began to strip you of your clothes.

“H-Hey wait if this is about you saving my life and all then maybe we can talk about this-“ You put your hands on his chest and pushed him back, but he resumed his position and stared into your eyes.

“Quiet.” He repeated, and this time it sounded like he was trying to… comfort you..? Either way it was odd, but you couldn’t help but shiver as his cold hand met your bare stomach, slowly trailing up to your breasts.

“Well I’ll admit you are quite handsome.” You sighed and relaxed slightly. “But I have to ask- do merfolk go out before they get busy or do they just get right to business?” You teased and brought your hand up to his cheek, watching his face flush with a smirk.

“Quiet…” his voice was softer, but still stern, as if his resolve was slowly slipping away. It was as if he didn’t know what to do as far as your body. He really only seemed to want your hands, but hey, if he was willing to take more then you’d let him.

It’s in the name of science, of course, so you don’t mind it one bit.

#the only reason this ain’t smut is because marie over here doesn’t understand merman biology BUT ONCE I DO YOU WILL BE SERVED #guys I love him in a way that has me being borderline feral #mermay??? more like merEVERY DAY 😭#jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #yoshikage kira x reader #kira yoshikage #yoshikage kira #merman x human #merman x reader #merman #jjba smut #jjba fanfic #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jjba part four #diamond is unbreakable #x reader

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kingsofeverything · 22 days

Text

sunday snippet!

idk y'all i wrote some words. @homosociallyyours this is for you. a taste of dirtbag harry. he's not even dirtbaggy. idk.

“I don’t want you for a night, Harry,” Louis said as he wrenched Harry's hands from his hips and pushed them into Harry's chest, grip tight around his wrists. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, heart thundering in his chest when Louis didn't let go, and instead leaned in, lips brushing Harry's ear as he whispered, “And you won’t touch me like you touch them.”

Harry huffed a laugh, his entire body flushing hot at the rejection, and he looked down at their hands tangled together and pressed against his bare skin, wondering if the blush heating his chest and neck and face was visible. The floodlights at the entrance to the marina barely reached where they stood, and the lights along the length of the dock were meant to illuminate the path without ruining the view.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock, Louis?” Harry asked, annoyed at the tremor in his voice. He looked away, focusing on their boats docked side by side—the contrast of the gleaming white and cool blue of Louis’ late model yacht and the dull green hull of Harry's ancient cabin cruiser beside it an excellent visual metaphor. Shaking off his agitation, Harry cleared his throat and turned back, holding Louis’ gaze and pitching his voice lower, “I could take every inch of you. You could fuck my mouth… My throat… I can make you feel good, Louis. Better than you’ve—”

“No,” Louis snapped, quiet but demanding, and Harry bit his lip hard enough to hurt. Water lapped at the pilings, the bumpers knocking the edges of the dock and against the boats, the air tranquil except for Harry's harsh breaths. Staring unabashedly at Harry, Louis licked his lips, and moved in closer, crowding Harry, forcing him to hold his ground or step back, and for a brief, brilliant moment, Harry thought he was finally going to be kissed. Then Louis shrugged, releasing Harry's hands, and said, “All or nothing.”

He left Harry standing there and returned to his boat. The lights on Louis’ yacht flicked off, and Harry gasped, holding a hand to his bare chest where Louis had touched him. Shaking his head, Harry tried to rid himself of the heavy, desperate want, but it clung to him.

An hour later and it’s still there, thrumming alongside his heartbeat.

if you read this, post a snippet! also i'm tagging some people: @louandhazaf @crinkle-eyed-boo @homosociallyyours @disgruntledkittenface @laynefaire @enchantedlandcoffee @phdmama @absoloutenonsense @karamelised (i see you!) @greenfeelings @bananaheathen @lululawrence

#snippet #dirtbag harry fic

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crushedsweets · 9 months

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Got any cool hip creepypasta headcanons?!?😱😱

DEPENDS... its hard without any specific prompts but yk what anon im capable of talking out of my ass no matter what.

this'll be talking about the main 12 i usually talk about, so if i say smth like 'so and so is the ONLY one who does this', they aren't actually the only one

toby rides a bike everywhere. he just steals random ones if he sees one he likes or knows hes hella far from home and doesnt wanna walk. brought home a pink beach cruiser once and natalie laughed her ass off. . .

the proxies (tim, brian, toby) have a cabin that tim and brian treat more like a safehouse rather than a home. tim and brian share an apartment near the city though. toby is the only one who lives there full time. they all have to pitch in for the bills, but toby has to scramble to get the majority bc again.. lives there full time.

the cabin only has 2 bedrooms, 1.5 baths, a connected kitchen/living room, and an attic. the small bedroom is filled to the fucking BRIM with random bullshit that they keep as storage but its just ridicoulous. like boxes filled with random shit toby steals (i kinda hc toby as a kleptomaniac too), tables, dressers, clothes, etc. a lot of it is also stuff that like, jeff or nat dropped off being like 'keep this safe for me' and it eventually just devolved into a storage room. the master bedroom is where tim or brian sleep IF they are at the cabin. toby made the attic his bedroom, but he falls asleep on the couch or in the master bedroom if the other two aren't home. he just likes that the attic is someplace nobody else really wants to go cuz.. why would they need to?

tim owns a busted rusty reddish colored pickup truck. he totally named it something like sheila and calls it a 'she.' brian prob just has a basic little grey honda. does not name it . .

natalie has huge issues w her gender. not in a queer way(well sort of in a queer way bc im projecting) but in a like. 'fuck this shit im fucking tired' because growing up, she was always a daughter, sister, niece, etc before she was her own person. she grew up in a house of men, and her extended family was largely ran by shitty, loud, sexist men that constantly ostracized her for being a girl. toby is legit the only dude she's fully like Ok. I'm ok with u. ur just fucking stupid. and she pokes fun at him being a mamas boy and says thats why shes ok with him. she stopped talking to him for like a month the one time he made a gender roles comment that he got from his dad.

natalie used to play volleyball and basketball growing up cuz again, grew up with boys and she was always really tall (like 5'7 in 6th grade, 6ft by highschool). sports and art were her ONLY outlets, but she was always degraded and shamed by her dad and brother for art. her dad loved that she played sports though, one of the only things he was supportive about . until she got a little older and he decided that being a tomboy wasnt as endearing on a teenage girl.

i cannot explain how close jane and her parents were. she was an only child in a upper middle class house to a lawyer and a real estate agent so she was always spoiled rotten, taken care of, always told how beautiful and smart she was. hence why losing them is the most fucking detrimental shit to ever happen to her. she literally worhsips her parents. she's wore mothers wedding dress to her own wedding. her uncle(dads brother) walked her down the aisle holding a framed photo of her dad. she almost refused to walk during her university graduation because her parents couldn't be there, despite the years worth of hardwork and dedication she put into it.

mary(janes wife) was janes bestfriend in highschool. it was one of those crazy homoerotic female friendships. they were eachothers first kiss even when they thought they were straight ("oh lets practice kiss for our future bfs!").

my idea of ben kinda combines the idea of ben the kid who drowned, and BEN the experiment to put souls into a digital afterlife. ben bought majoras mask from some creepy neighbor at a garage sale, and the neighbor had like. this completely absurd theory that he could put himself into a game or something. so he ended up tricking several kids into buying the same majoras mask cartridge, killing them after they beat the game together, and their souls DID get trapped in the cartridge but it didnt do much for his theory... WHICH MEANS that BEN is a culmination of several people, kids and teens raging from like 7-19, but the ben we know is sort of like.. the only one who escaped the cartridge (he was the last one killed and the reason the man got caught for murder)? but he was stuck in said cartridge for about like 7 years before he was 'reawoken' so traces of others souls are in him. ITS REALLY COMPLICATED it makes sense in my head but idk. he has a lot of identity issues that come packed with having his childhood stolen from him.

he's so close to sally because he relates to her on that level. while their trauma was different, being a kid taken advantage of and fucking murdered is insane. despite coming from completely different time periods (sally died in the 1900s, ben died in the 2000s), ben can only find himself truly relating to sally on an emotional level. sure, him jeff and toby can laugh and play video games and wrestle and stuff, but sally is the only one who can even begin to understand what it's like to be a dead kid.

sally and ben kinda make a lot of comments about humans and stuff LOL. most of it is in the 'you ungrateful pieces of shit you THREW AWAY YOUR LIFE' but sometimes it's something more bittersweet. 'you lived to adulthood, you have so much, you can do so much, please keep going, there's so much left for you, don't let it go' etc etc. they can sometimes be the wisest in their perspectives of life, death, mortality. but theyre both so bitter and traumatized and hurt but it that it's mostly overshadowed by envy. that's why the two of them can be so close, even if they dont really sit and like.. philosophize about life. lmfao

ben has gotten into several like police and governemnt systems and removed so many cctv footage of everyone getting in trouble, or even wiped their shit from systems. he is like the main reason none of them are in jail unironically.

jeff is the only one who truly enjoys murder. he's a sadist at heart and has a fetish for all this blood and guts. toby and natalie did have their own periods in life where they killed for relief/as a power trip(toby only ever did it under orders, natalie took some sleezy guys home from bars). the rest of them either aren't killers, or don't do it by choice (brian and tim).

i was gonna ramble about nina next but im kinda embarrassed that i just spoke so much about them BAHAHAH OK THANKS ANON

#chatterbox #hcs #creeped #ummm #creepypasta #ticci toby #clockwork #jane everlasting #jane richardson #ben drowned #natalie oullette #asks

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amarcia · 3 months

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Guys do you wanna see a piece of writing I did for cirz!!!

21BBY, Mission to Gondagali, Lahara sector. — Meditation is hard in the middle of war

In the Republic Cruiser’s locked cabin, the young Padawan shifts on his floor cushion. The closed durasteel door behind him blocks the sound of the outside making the way his knees brush the floor suddenly seem louder than possible.

If the Padawan’s master hears the shuffling, she gives no sign for it, no twitch of her brow, no flutter of the eyelids, not a quirk of the fingers. She sits unbothered like moments before, like she’s done for countless minutes, immersed in a meditative trance on the cushion opposite of Cirz.

But Cirz shifts again, unable to contain his impatience. Unlike his master who closed her eyes, he stares at the figure of the older Jedi intently, unblinking almost, as if it can signal his urgency. He hears himself take a breath eager to break the silence

His master opens her eyes.

“Cirz-”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the battle losses? Shouldn’t I know?” He feels himself lean forward and ball his hands on his knees, discontent threatens to escape him.

In response, he receives silence.

His master suddenly seems tired, with a face thinner than it usually should be. Heaviness rests in the Force around her like some cloak, like wet wool, making Cirz’s shoulders feel heavy with a phantom feeling.

He licks his lip. “We can’t be losing. Are we losing?”

The master replies with the most gentle tone, or perhaps her voice simply lacks strength. “I’m afraid this is what success looks like.“

“Like dead soldiers, master?”

Surprise spills across their bond. Then sadness, the same heaviness.

Enah brings her hands together. “In war, many people are lost, regardless of the outcome, beings die.” She lets out a sigh, studying the fierceness of her padawan’s gaze. ”The troops you speak of who joined the Force… They have created a path for the remaining Battalions to retake the planet.”

“Then… Then should you not be down there with the men, master? Should you not help them?”

Enah shakes her head. “All of our troops are fighting on the ground. Tell me Cirz, what happens to the relief team we are escorting, if no one stays on the ship to protect them?”

Cirz straightens in the most serious, most determined way an eight year old can be. “I can protect them.”

Then recognition flickers on his face. His expression deflates, scrunches in a miserable display. “You don’t think I can protect them.”

He waits for his master to deny the claim, but she doesn’t. It hurts him with a burning feeling rising from his belly, just like a death of thousands of men might. If only he had more experience to be useful in a situation like this, perhaps no one would die. But how can he gain more experience, if master Enah keeps sending him away?

“I miss the missions when you trusted me with more.” He mutters.

“I trusted you to follow my plan and stay on the ship with me… Yet, you attempted to leave with the clones, isn’t that so?”

Cirz stirs.

His large eyes drop to the floor. He has no idea how master Enah knows, but it’s true. He approached the Alpha Arc Trooper and tried to talk him into letting him join the operation. This is how he learnt about the many casualties of the campaign.

Not even from Enah.

By accident.

As if already knowing all the emotions that rise in the boy, Enah moves closer, reaching to place her hands on Cirz’s tightly closed fists.

“I apologize, Cirz” She says, “My wish was… that you wouldn’t need to witness the war so soon. It is too soon, Padawan, and it is not the galaxy I wished you to see… Yet, it seems the truth has found you, regardless of my intent.”

She gives his hands a gentle squeeze. “Now you can’t turn your back to it.”

Cirz tells himself that of course he won’t turn back. “I’m your Padawan, master. I go where you go. I see what you see”.

“…. No Cirz,” Enah rises at last. Her previous exhaustion seems to have disappeared. “I was in the wrong to bring you here, I see it now… Force help us, when we return home, we will find you more suitable tasks.”

He doesn’t like this decision any better, but before he gets a chance to answer, his master’s comlink signals an incoming transmission. — All droids on the planet Gondagali are deactivated. The relief team can enter the atmosphere.

This means their meditation time is over.

“For now come with me, Padawan. There are still things you can do, which do not involve sending you to the battlefront.”

#sw fic #sw oc #jedi oc #padawan oc #jedi order #ama talks #crossposting this for clout because im proud i finished something #gffa #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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gingerlurk · 5 months

Text

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 7: The Doubt

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: Fallout comes fast when the Mandalorian fails to keep faith in you.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, they fight (wah), jealous Din. Uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: I'll make a master list page or something at some point (update: HERE IT BE). Halp. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, A03. Thank you for reading!

‘So, it’s a ship holo.’ If sounding unimpressed could make you float, Mando would be kissing the roof.

‘It is,’ Torre punctuates his words like he’s conducting, ‘ah-no ordinary ship holo. Look.’

Stepping toward the gigantic rendition of a Class H treasury cruiser, you study the layout and details. Long corridors criss-cross either side of a central column, enclosing vault upon vault stacked from hull to rafters. It’s the kind of ship that can only travel at sublight, prioritised as it is to carry as much wealth as possible above the space necessary for a hyperdrive. Well, the wealth plus the armoury bristling with weaponry and a military-trained guard duty.

You’re trailing your eyes along one of the corridors when you spot it. You give Torre a startled look and focus in closer on the two tiny figures making salutes and bowing.

‘That’s a guard mounting,’ you say. ‘They’re changing shift.’

‘Yyyup.’ Torre shifts around the table and stands beside you, too damn close but you’re distracted. ‘Look there, that’s your quarterdeck patrol unit. They keep to the perimeter.’

You laugh in wonder.

‘What,’ Mando steps forward.

‘It’s live!’ You reach a hand up and twirl the view to the patrol Torre pointed out, pulling in for a closer look. ‘See?’ Seven red-lined holographic figures move in a V; you can even see the rear two figures reaching out and checking whatever’s on the walls.

‘It’s a live fucking feed of what’s happening on this ship right now?’ You turn to Torre. He’s drinking it in.

‘Pretty sweet, right? You would not believe the crew I had to ride with to get a hold on this. Ha, it’s a real story, I’ll tell you all about it, maybe over d—’

Mando interrupts by grabbing your arm and pulling you backward. ‘We need to leave, now!’ He tugs you so hard you stumble a little.

‘Woah. Hey, man, no need to manhandle her,’ Torre says. ‘I know what you’re worried about but trust me, this line has a 100% bonafide, platinum-tier, guaranteed-on-my-mother’s-grave, airtight encryption. No trace. Nothin’.’ He sweeps a hand, whoosh. ‘Wouldn’t have it in here myself if I wasn’t certain.’

‘Hey,’ you say, ‘hey, lookit.’ When you’d tripped your eyes had landed on the lowest deck of the ship and you saw it. An energy signature. You suspect you know what it is.

You reach out and pull the spot on the map toward you and Mando, who’s released your arm but still radiates flight or fight reflexes. Maybe flight and fight. But he leans in too when he spots what you’re dragging in on.

The objects are lined with a deep, radiant grey. They sit in a room surrounded by treasures glowing more brightly, but the spot you’re looking at feels infinitely denser, a heavy presence even on the holo. They’re sitting in neat piles on a long bench, dozens of them.

‘There it is,’ Torre says behind you.

‘The beskar.’ Mando straightens and turns squarely on Torre, whose wide grin doesn’t falter.

He holds hands out, palms up. ‘So, you in?’

Thanks to the depth of intel available on the projection, the plan really isn’t all that complicated. It’s just wildly dangerous and leaves plenty to chance.

You fidget as Torre explains the steps, looking sidelong every few seconds at the dark and brooding figure beside you. Mando has said nothing beyond demanding more detail, which the wannabe orchestrator of this heist is all too happy to provide.

‘The great news is that this ship is way out there, way on the outer rim,’ Torre is saying. ‘So we won’t have any company to worry about.’

He trails a finger through the flickering image in front of you all. ‘We’ll have to plot a precise path onboard to avoid patrols. It’ll be convoluted and means we’ll have at least eight rounds of airlocks to hack through. Which you’ll handle ably,’ he nudges your knee with his.

‘We program them to open for just a few seconds, then seal shut and go offline, so they can’t be reopened – even remotely – giving us time.’ He drags a corridor in and zeros in on the small room you’d identified earlier. Points at it.

‘We raid the vault, then we head here,’ he shifts his finger to a room full of servers, then spins to a nearby bench and picks up a datalink. ‘Plug in this code I’ve designed.’

You remember Torre’s coding and programming… abilities. Once, when he was in your Uncle’s employ, he’d intercepted and hacked an incoming ship with a rumoured assassin onboard. The ship had jumped to hyperspace, destination an imploding star system.

You’d heard about that only later though, when it was too late and he was gone. Otherwise you might have tried to learn a thing or two from him.

‘Once this tight little program is running,’ he’s carrying on, ‘the escape pods here will decouple from the system, unlock themselves and become untraceable. We’ll get to a pod, ride a few seconds of freefall and be out of reach. Then we just skip along to a rendezvous. Home free and soaked in riches.’

He sits back, looking smug.

You roll your eyes. ‘Torre…’

‘Hm?’

‘One thing…’

‘Which is?’

‘How do we get on the ship?’ you say, pointing at yourself and making a hopping motion toward the holo.

‘Oh! Well that’s where you come in, isn’t it,’ he says, gesturing a hand up and down Mando. ‘Imaginin’ you have all sorts of tricks up those shiny sleeves to sneak aboard a vessel. S’why I’m even letting you in on this.’

He looks at you and serves up another smirk. ‘Well, and for old time’s sake,’ he grins.

You look at your partner, a little unsettled by his posture – shoulders rigid and fists clenched, like he’s ready to pounce. You lean into his frame of view, try to get his attention, but he seems to be trying to set Torre on fire with his mind.

After a beat. ‘Mando?’ you say.

‘I have a way,’ he says, voice black. ‘It requires a droid though.’

‘Well I’m fresh out. You?’ Torre shrugs.

‘I have a source,’ the brooding figure says. He turns to you, ‘I can drop… him off at the same time.’ You just nod, happy to be keeping Grogu out of this one.

Torre slaps his palms together, showing only excitement and seemingly unaffected by the absolute waves of tension and fury being directed at him.

‘So, it’s settled. You pilot your ship – very capable, I’m certain – to create our ingress. She and I board, navigate on foot while you monitor from the security feeds, which I’ll hack by the way. We take the prize, make our escape and rendezvous. Job’s good!’ He looks between the two of you, smiling wide.

‘Absolutely not!’ Mando barks. You jump at his intensity. It takes you a second longer to register why.

‘Um, no,’ you say. ‘You’re saying you and I go in alone?’

Torre’s smile fades and he thumbs at the holo display. It flickers and disappears. He crosses his arms.

‘Afraid so, sunny,’ he says. Much as you hate having your childhood nickname recalled, him butchering it feels worse. ‘That is non-negotiable.’

You stare at him, incredulous. ‘You can’t be serious?’

He drops his arms and waves one over the space where the ship had been hovering moments ago.

‘Look, facts are – we need oversight, we’re already leaving enough to chance. You and I,’ a thumb between your chests, ‘will be fast and quiet.’

You’re gearing up to counter argue – a droid could monitor security, Mando’s stealth would surprise you, you’ve planned this all along haven’t you, you fu— But he stops your thoughts dead.

‘And, to be honest with you,’ he says, ‘you’re not getting your hands on that stash without my full cooperation.’

The Mandalorian takes a deadly step toward the scheming bastard in front of you, whose hands raise in mock surrender.

‘Wouldn’t do that,’ he says. ‘That ship holo is coded to me specifically. Me alive, I add.’

That doesn’t seem to matter to the towering furnace of hatred bearing down. Time to step in again, it seems.

‘Mando…’ you say carefully. You step around him to face Torre. You don’t have the patience for this. The sooner the job is done, the sooner you can get away from this manipulative and chilling relic of your past. So you stay practical: ‘Is this really the only option?’

Torre just gives you his even, bright-eyed gaze. Its intensity is something you haven’t felt in a long old time and you have to concentrate hard to not break contact. He takes the opportunity to search your face, mouth twisting in an all too familiar hunger.

He doesn’t look away from you but addresses the one you now seem to be shielding him from.

‘What’sa matter, Mando?’ he spits. ‘Don’t you trust her?’

You give him a disgusted look that seems to delight him before pivoting 180, looking up into the sights of the impenetrable T visor.

‘We can do this,’ you say. ‘If this is what it takes?’

Lately, you’ve been able to tell if Mando is looking at you or not. Been able to detect some modicum of silent communication. But right now he’s unreadable. Maybe his eyes are closed? Clenched shut in the furious state of being forced to make a difficult choice.

Eventually though, you hear a strained exhale and the unmistakable twitch of acquiescence.

‘Very well,’ he murmurs. A slight tilt of the helmet and that’s it. He says no more.

Your bounty partner heads off to deposit Grogu and pick up his sourced droid. He says little before departing, just offers you a clipped ‘watch your back’ and taps a vambrace to your wrist to set your encrypted comms channel, a habit at this point.

It left you with Torre, to sit by the holo to memorise your route through the gigantic treasury ship. It was difficult to concentrate though. One, because you were anxious about Mando’s increasing state of anger and annoyance, and two – Torre would not shut the fuck up.

Reminiscing, sharing stories and – frequently, irritatingly – suggesting getting dinner at a local place that does ‘killer noodles, seriously, they could kill you’. You channel the stony and assured veneer you’d seen on Mando plenty of times now. Waiting patiently as a bounty pleaded, bargained, begged.

Just let him talk, he’ll tire eventually.

Unfortunately though, this isn’t some random job and the more Torre talks, the more all the shit in your past pushes its way into the forefront of your thoughts.

So you give in, suggest getting the noodles to go. You think food might shut him for a little while. And you argue against eating in because you still needed to be watching the map, even though you’d had the path learned by rote already. Really though, you just don’t want to be anywhere else when Mando gets back.

It does grant a brief respite of quiet, but it doesn’t stop him for long. He slurps up a strand and cocks a look at you.

‘So what was it, huh?’ he asks. ‘What made you forever leave your luscious little life behind and go trekking all over the outer rim kicking ass and taking names?’

‘Hells, Torre. I thought you might remember me in a more flattering light than that,’ you nudge your noodles around the cup. They really were incredibly good, but your appetite was now gone.

‘True, sorry. That world was always too small for you, wasn’t it? But I know you were loyal to it. I learned that the hard way.’

Ouch.

You draw a breath. May as well be honest.

‘I did try. But my Uncle… He- he was going to… he was going to sell me,’ you look at Torre and his eyes are hooded, dark. ‘My hand, that is, in marriage. To a fucking monster.’ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

‘That fucker.’

‘Yeah.’ You laugh. ‘You know what’s funny? He’d paid Mando a not small sum to get me back. When I first heard that I thought… maybe he actually cared. About me.’ You shake your head and put your food down. ‘But the whole time, he’d just had an even bigger endowment on the way.’

‘That’s not really very funny at all.’

‘Yeah,’ you say again. ‘But… I doubt he’ll be making any attempts to find me again. More pressing concerns now. So, I’m done,’ you shrug pathetically.

Torre reaches out to brush his fingers over your knuckles, bloodless and clenched as they are on your knee. You stare at them, eyes blurred.

Mando picks that moment to stalk in.

He takes in the scene as you stand quickly and wipe at your face, stepping around the table to stare hard at the ship manifest.

‘We are set,’ he all but snarls.

Torre slaps his knees and stands too.

‘Well let’s not burn any more daylight and get into it!’

The hostility cascading off Mando as the three of you board his ship has put you so far on edge you can hardly think straight. It must be the stress of knowing he has to retrieve that beskar, surely. Maybe the riskiness of the plan? Could be.

Or what if he’s just worried about you working alone with Torre?

It may be all three. But at least you can try to help appease one of those worries right now. Maybe he just needs reassurance you’ll be okay. Remind him you can handle yourself. So, while the Crest navigates toward the warp spot, you make your way up to the cockpit and approach his tense, hackled back.

He’s situated R5 by the input port. The old droid beeps and rotates, dialled into the instruments. It swivels a sensor to where you hover by your chair. Seems to detect the tension in the air and wheels back to the console, going quiet.

‘I know we agreed we can’t trust Torre,’ you say carefully. His helm twists aside like he’s listening, but he doesn’t turn. ‘And we can’t,’ you add quickly. ‘But I’ll be okay.’

A slight rise of shoulders, otherwise nothing.

‘Trust me,’ you try again. ‘I know how to handle him.’

Mando reacts to that. He scoffs.

‘Yes, you know him very well,’ he grits.

Hang on, what does that mean? Incredulous, kind of affronted, you step back.

‘Is that what I said?’

‘And I am sure he knows how to handle you too.’

You’re so caught off guard you forget why you even came up here. How could he even think… Like that… He’s giving you his still-as-a-grave stance, waiting for your slip.

‘Hells d’you mean?’ you ask, trying to keep anger and hurt out of your voice. You thought you’d been getting somewhere with him.

‘How did you even know about beskar?’ he snaps, like he’s been waiting to accuse you of something.

‘What--?’

‘Back in town, at the marshal’s house. You knew it was important. How? You didn’t know a thing about Mandalorians when I met you.’

That sends you back another step. Where is this coming from? You can’t stop the affronted tone from your question.

‘Are you suspicious of me or something?’

Some kind of tide breaks and he finally pivots to glower over you.

‘Amazing coincidence isn’t it?’ he spits. ‘We happen to run into someone from your past with a bounty too good to be true, he knows you, has the perfect plan? Needs exactly what we have? And you’ll just follow him along?’

A rage bubbles up in you and you try to will it down. Swallow, deep breaths. But your best efforts fail. A sudden fury swells between the two of you and you can’t see a way to quell it.

‘If you’ll remember,’ you say through gritted teeth. ‘I said he was a spy and a schemer. I know what you know. How the fuck can I do any different?’ You wave at his shiny chrome chest plate, furious. ‘I remind you we’re here for you?’

He spins away from you, pretends to adjust dials. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he snarls. ‘I will take the beskar, and you can take whatever riches you can, use it to go back to what you’re used to. The life you had.’

The last word hits you like a blaster to the chest. The floor of the Crest's cockpit opens up and you are in freefall. How… how--? You’d thought he understood you didn’t want that life, told him one of the worst things that had happened to you in that place. You chose to leave them. Chose this life. You’d thought he understood.

‘I didn’t choose that life. I chose this one, I chose y—’

‘But you did choose it.’ He’s so riled up he doesn’t hear you. ‘When I asked you to stay, you told me you had to go back.’

‘Had to, not wanted to!’

He whirls back on you, leans in. ‘Is there really a difference? You would have stayed if not for your family trying to sell you off. I’ve never seen a person more at home in gold and gems and--’

‘That isn’t what I want!’ Your voice rises. ‘How could you think that about me?’

‘How am I supposed to know what you want? You are like an open book sometimes, then you shut yourself up out of nowhere.’

‘Well better a book than a blank fucking wall,’ you may be screaming now. ‘I don’t get to read you at all!’

R5 interrupts the molten fire spitting between you. The Crest is on approach. You just wrench away and march to meet Torre at the hatch, not looking back once but knowing the Mandalorian is going to bring you in to retrieve his treasure anyway.

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader

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hornedqueenofhell · 4 months

Text

Holiday in... Handcuffs? Pt. 4

Pt 3

They didn’t bother with any space between them that night, Eddie lays his head on Steve’s shoulder because that’s where it belonged, the same way Steve’s fingers belong on his lower back, tucked under the hem of Eddie’s hoodie. Their legs tangled together as Eddie trails a finger over Steve lips and asks to kiss him.

“Ask me again in the morning sweetheart. I don’t want to be half asleep when I taste you.”

Eddie groans at that, hips shifting against Steve’s, “Baby you can’t say shit like that to me and expect me to go to sleep.”

“Watch me.” He tips Eddie’s chin up and tugs his lower lip between his teeth, scraping until the tender flesh snaps back and leaves Eddie whining and arching under his hands.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you the second I get you in my bed princess.” He hisses and Steve laughs in his face.

“Try that one again when you can stop grinding against my thigh helplessly…princess.” Steve purrs right back. “Until I say so, you’re at my mercy and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Eddie wants to make him eat those words, wants to place his lips everywhere else since Steve’s own mouth is off limits. But Steve’s eyelids are drooping and he can feel a yawn behind his teeth, so he just presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead and whispers, “Enjoy it then big boy. Good night.”

They drift off tangled together while Steve’s family plans a raid on the Munson cabin first thing in the morning.

~O~

The Hopper-Byers house woke up solemnly and got dressed, their living room floor full of sleeping bags and piles of blankets. The kids were riding with Nancy and Jon in the station wagon while Joyce and Hopper took the cruiser. Robin was out of town and no one wanted to stress her out until they had safely gotten Steve back home.

Nancy was loaded down with her handgun and sawed off that Hopper was pretending not to see at this moment. Lucas was fiddling with his wrist rocket while El, Max, and Will talked quietly amongst themselves. Dustin had used his spare key to get Steve’s home defense bat which was tucked between his knees, hands gripping the end until his knuckles go white. Mike had been strangely silent since the news broke, guilt over everything he’d said to Steve eating him alive.

“We’re going to get him Hop, one way or another.” Joyce swears, their backseat has enough supplies in the back to make sure that the corpses of Eddie and Wayne Munson are never found again. They’d send Steve back with the kids, let them take care of him back at home base. Hopper would get his testimony later, after Joyce had put some good meals in him and let him rest off the trauma.

And then they’d get Steve whatever help and therapy he would need depending on what he’d had to live through. They would offer him all the support and love that his family had never been able to. Joyce would call Steve her son the way she’d always hesitated to, afraid she had been overstepping. Hopper would ask if Steve would like to change his last name, had wanted to since the Harrington’s had disowned him for being bisexual.

Everyone was making silent promises to apologize, to hold, to talk, to give Steve all the things they realized they’d been holding back or neglecting. Because it was either they got the chance to or they’d be begging forgiveness at Steve’s grave.

Joyce consulted the map they’d brought with all of the satellite dots from Steve’s phone as they passed a gas station about half an hour from their destination. “They stopped there according to the map, the last one before they got to the cabin.”

Hopper squeezes her hand quietly, “One way or another.”

~O~

“I know it’s not much because I’m afraid I don’t know you very well yet son, but I didn’t want you to be here empty handed so this is for you.” Wayne says as he nudges a box across the coffee table to Steve.

“Wayne, you didn’t have to.” Steve carefully slipped off the paper, something Eddie found so endlessly endearing. He looked forward to watching Steve do this with the rest of his gifts once they got back to town tomorrow. And then Eddie was ordering take out and making out with Steve in the other man’s apartment until Steve kicked him out.

The box contained a pair of slippers and a soft bathrobe, not Steve’s normal style but probably a soon to be necessity if he didn’t want Robin to murder him if Eddie ever stayed over. “I get the feeling this will be very useful soon. Thank you so much Wayne.” He offers sincerely as Wayne reaches over to pat his knee fondly with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome Steve. I’m so happy to have met you, and how happy you make Eddie… it warms this old man's heart.”

“You’re not even that old Wayne.” Steve snorts, making them all laugh. He shifts back against the sofa to tuck under Eddie’s arm, eyes closing with happiness as Eddie’s lips press to his temple.

“Do you want another cup of coffee?” He asks and Steve nods gently so Eddie gathers up their mugs and heads into the kitchen.

“Go get your boy.” Wayne encourages him with a wink. Grinning Steve hops up and follows Eddie into the kitchen. He grabs some snacks for them to nibble on while Eddie refills their mugs. Before he can step back into the living room Steve stops him.

“Look up sweetheart.”

Eddie looks up and sees a sprig of mistletoe taped over the doorway, “Really? Really Wayne?”

Wayne just laughs at him and waves them off, “Just kiss the man Eddie, I’m sick of whatever weird mating dance you two are doing.”

Eddie looks to Steve who is grinning at him with his own little eyebrow wiggle, he grips Steve’s hips and reels him in close. “May I Steve, may I kiss you?”

“Yes, please Eddie kiss me.” Steve whispers against his lips, hands coming up to cup his face and tug him down until their lips finally meet.

And then the cabin door bursts open.

“Freeze!”

Steve and Eddie’s lips break apart, whipping towards the door in sync as Eddie’s arms tighten around Steve.

“Release him now!”

This time the voice registers and Steve’s jaw drops open. “Hop?”

“Steve! We came to rescue you!” Dustin bursts past Hopper branding his bat and swinging wildly.

“Rescue me? What the hell are you talking about?” Steve studies all their tense faces as he carefully moves Eddie behind him.

“Wait was this all a joke? Were you just playing a prank on Dustin, pretending to be kidnapped?” Mike spits, getting defensive now that they are on the backfoot.

“Kidnapped? Dustin, were you even listening when I called you? I told you I was staying with a friend for Christmas. I specifically said I wasn’t being kidnapped.”

“Your phone was breaking up, I heard a struggle. I heard the horrible thing he said to you!” Tears beaded in Dustin’s eyes as he gestured wildly at Eddie, “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

“Oh Dusty, come here.” Dustin drops the bat and sprints across the room, throwing himself into Steve’s arms with a sob. Steve squeezes him tight and lets Dustin wail with relief as he holds fistfuls of Steve’s sweatshirt.

“Thank you for coming to rescue me Dusty bun. You were so brave.” Steve tells him as he starts to calm down, he turns them slightly and offers a hand out, “Dustn, I’d like you to meet my friend and supposed kidnapper Eddie Munson.”

“...Hi,” Eddie offers gently, he awkwardly holds out a paper towel for Dustin to dry his eyes with, “Steve tells me you’re his little brother.”

“This is sweet and I’m sorry to interrupt but could the lot of you stop letting the cold in and maybe see if my front door can still close?” Wayne interrupts and the rest of Steve’s family blushes before shuffling into the cabin and doing their best to close the door. The handle was completely fucked but the deadbolt hadn’t been pushed so they just used that to hold the door closed. The frame was ruined but at least the draft was minimal.

“Thank you, now someone explain to me why my nephew is being accused of kidnapping.” Everyone continues to fidget awkwardly until Wayne gestures for them to sit.

Wayne has one armchair while Steve and Eddie share the other, Dustin leaning against Steve’s legs. Joyce, Hopper, Nancy, and Jon all squeeze together on the couch while the other kids scatter on the floor. There’s still wrapping paper from their gifts scattered around.

“Why didn’t any of you just call me to ask if I was kidnapped? Or Robin for that matter, I texted her everything about where I was.” Everyone winces at the mention of Robin since they’d left her out of the loop for her own safety, turns out she was the loop.

“Since you didn’t reach out again after the kidnapping message we weren’t sure if you or your kidnapper had the phone and we didn’t want to risk them getting angry and killing you.” Hopper says taking lead on this debacle. Joyce is squeezing his thigh tightly so she doesn’t run over and snatch Steve into her arms.

“I texted Dustin a picture of the cabin yesterday after we finished decorating.” Steve points out, Dustin hasn’t released his sleep pants since they sat down.

“With the other evidence we had gathered it looked more like you trying to help us find you.”

“Other evidence? I’m sorry but what fucking evidence are you talking about?” Eddie snaps, more scared than angry. This man burst into his home and pointed a gun at him so he’s a little on edge right now, even with Steve’s hand in his.

Hopper clears his throat uncomfortably and holds his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, sorry. When Dustin reported the abduction I went to the ‘scene’ and there was some video footage of what appeared to be a large black vehicle driving too close to the curb, and then you pushing Steve to the ground. You went out of frame but another camera shows you driving another black vehicle with Steve in the passenger seat shortly after.”

Eddie huffs, looking very much like he wants to go one one of his tirades until Steve leans more into him and Eddie deflates. This is Steve’s family, who thought they were protecting someone who means a lot to them. Eddie can be justifiably angry for feeling profiled and accused but he won’t take it out on his not quite boyfriends loved ones.

“There was a truck,” Eddie says through gritted teeth. After another glance at Steve he manages to take a deep breath and the words come out a little easier, “it was taking the corner too fast and kicking up a lot of icy road slush. I pushed us both out of the way so we wouldn’t end up soaked. And last I checked, owning a black vehicle wasn’t a crime.”

“It’s not honey and we’re so sorry that this happened.” Joyce speaks up, intervening and diffusing the attention with her genuine warmth, “This was all an unfortunate misunderstanding but what matters is that Steve is okay and that you’re both happy. And we’re sorry for messing up your sweet moment.”

This time Steve and Eddie were the ones blushing, Steve’s entire family had burst in on the two of them kissing after all.

“Could we maybe start over?” Joyce continues, “Would you all like to come over for Christmas dinner? And we can have a repair guy come out and fix your door tomorrow.”

Eddie and Steve glance at each other before looking at Wayne who just shrugs, “I’ll follow along with whatever you boys want.” They turn back to each other and Steve offers him a small smile.

“I know it’s a little fast, and certainly not how I would have planned for this to go. But since I’ve met your family, would you like to meet mine?”

Eddie lets out a snort laugh and squeezes Steve’s hand, lifting it to press a kiss to his knuckles, “Sure Stevie. At least this time I don’t have to worry about somehow making a worse impression than the one that’s already been made of me.”

“They’re going to love you, I know they will.”

With the new plans set Steve, Eddie and Wayne go get dressed while Hopper uses the tarp they brought the tree in with to try and keep the elements from seeping into Wayne’s cabin. Steve’s family goes back to their cars with the exception of Dustin who choses to clamber into the Range Rover with Steve and the Munsons.

“Is Eddie your boyfriend Steve?” He asks bluntly as they head out, their vehicle taking up the rear of their little caravan.

“Not yet, but I think we’re getting there.” Eddie throws him a cheeky wink as he flicks on some low music to fill the background.

“Cool, hey is that a dungeons and dragons tattoo?”

The older man grins and with a faux annoyed groan Steve settles back in his seat as his family starts to get to know his soon to be boyfriend. This might be the strangest Christmas Steve has ever had but it’s also one of the happiest.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dustin henderson #joyce byers #jim hopper #wayne munson #baker!steve #mechanic!eddie #modern au #no upside down au #comedy of errors #accidental kidnapping #steddiefic chronicles

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campbyler · 10 months

Note

I absolutely loved reading the first chapter of this fic!!! The AU is so fun and perfect for summer, and the descriptions are so fun. I felt all of Will’s highway panic like I was driving on it myself lol. All of the characterization in this fic is so good!! I can’t wait to see what’s next :)

I was curious if there were specific years/models for everyone's cars? Mike’s blue Mustang slander of hilarious, but there's definitely a difference between Mike owning a modern Mustang versus a 1965 GT Fastback

Keep up the awesome writing! And blue cabin supremacy!!! 💙

hi!! thank you for your kind words :D we're so excited that it's finally out and everyone has a chance to enjoy what we've been dying over for the past 6 months!!

i fr jumped for joy seeing this question (despite the Blue Cabin Comment..........it's thea resident #yellow #cabin #bestie) because i am an insane person and cars are a HUGE thing i think about in all of my fics where they are of driving age! so here is my very thought out list of cars the party drives in acswy, including color + model year accurate references! starting with the star of the show:

mike - 2014 mustang convertible, manual transmission

(side view has different racing stripes but just to give you an idea)

will - 2010* chevy cobalt

*i literally just changed the year because i picture will's cobalt with the old style tail lights pictured below, which chevy phased out on their 2011 models

rest of the party is under the cut!

max - 2009 acrua tl

lucas - 2015 dodge charger srt hellcat

el - 2017 mini cooper convertible

dustin - 2013 toyota fj cruiser

#asks #the formatting is fucking up my apologies #acswy reference

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marierg · 9 months

Text

Tender Mercy

Rated: M (18+ Youngins or easily triggered DO NOT READ)

Warnings: Violence, medical talk, strong language, mentions of blood and blood stains, mentions of depression and depressive episodes, Stress and stress responses, pent up feelings, crying, kissing and bed sharing. Yeah if you're looking for the smuts that's gonna be in the next part(s?).

A/N: I will state that the initial first part of this started out as a cathartic venting for myself after a really bad call (I drive the boo boo bus). I never meant to put it out there but it evolved over time to this little story about Kix. much Thanks to @the-rain-on-kamino as always for being my partner in crime!

Words: 5.5K... Yeah I can't do short.

Song credit: Rainbow connection by Jim Henson & Paul Williams

Don't read under the cut if ya cant handle....

Red...

So much Red....

It was so hard to get out.

You scrubbed and you scrubbed and you poured on more peroxide cleaner yet still it wouldn't go away. It seeped into the seams in the metal of the LAAT, oozing back out after you thought it had been wiped clean. It was unrelenting, never ending much like the stream of injured that you had sent back to the cruiser from the planet surface. Once the injured stopped coming and the battle won then you finally had a chance to go back yourself. Still you found yourself covered in the red that hadn't yet been cleaned from the days events. On your uniform, your bags, and every other surface that had been contaminated by these last few days. You too were contaminated, but unlike the emotionless gear around you there seemed no way to purge the stain on your heart. Gritting your teeth in anger at your failures, 17 lost because you weren't good enough... fast enough... strong enough. So here you knelt in the bloodied craft, trying to right what was in your control to correct.

17 good men gone...

Contrail clenched his jaw, “How long has she been at it?”

“Dunno, saw 'er in the medbay restocking earlier after landing.” Jepp shrugged, unsure how long their civilian medic had been scrubbing out the cabin of the craft. Both men slowly walked up, Jepp leaning on the B post of the gunship studied your expression. You were moving on instinct, not really paying attention to their presence. “Scrub that any harder the paint will peal off.”

You grunted but kept scrubbing.

“I heard the chow tonight is decent, how 'bout it?” He gestured with his head towards the direction of the mess.

Still you just wiped away the most recent clean spot and moved to the next red stain in the cabin.

The two pilots glanced at one another unsure what to do. If it was one of their brothers this wouldn't be a discussion, marching them to the med bay by force if necessary. Fortunately neither man needed to dwell on it much further, the familiar shape of their CMO came into the hangar.

“I've got her boys, you can head out.”

Kix held the restocked bags watching you work, waiting till the others were gone and the hangar empty again to move closer. He knew there was no talking to you right now, he was much the same way after missions. It was simply the last thing to do to finish out the day, you cleaned the gear and your craft to leave it ready at a moments notice. All medics did this, but it was more than for protocol. It was meditative, reflective, a means to try to make sense of the mission that had just been survived.

You glanced briefly at Kix as he gloved up. He grabbed a towel and a brush, taking the spot next to yours to try to finish the job. He didn't speak, there was no need to. The two of you often worked like this in the field, simply knowing what supply to throw to the other or even knowing when the other needed help within the vast sea of patients. Bandaging, medicating, triaging and sending to transport trooper after trooper. Finally the two of you stepped off of the craft, satisfied with the job and replacing the aid bags.

“It wasn't your fault.” Kix was the first to break the quiet, keeping a calm tone. You had that look that some of his older brothers had, one that even he had from time to time. You were standing at the bay slop sink scrubbing your hands raw even though the gloves had kept you clean. Moving to your side he tried to turn your shoulder only to have you jerk away. “Y/n, it wasn't your fault...”

“Then why did they die? We did everything right, So why?” It was a whisper but still it echoed off the walls.

“We can't always save them, try as we might we can't. And there are always more troopers that need our help.” Kix carefully moved towards you, not yet attempting contact again. “We saved more than we lost, that's a victory.”

Your jaw fixed, gritting out the words. “Some would argue that.”

“107 others would agree with me. General Skywalker and General Kenobi would tell you the same.” Kix watched the despair and frustration fill your eyes, needing to place the blame for those losses somewhere. This mission had been particularly brutal, the planet itself was trying to kill them as much as the Separatists. The two of you had been injured, still you had kept working not giving a kark for the shrapnel that had peppered you. Days without sleep or food and very little water, all this and you didn't even have to be there at all. You had volunteered to go, you had chosen to help and heal those who were never given that option. “Y/n, you gave more than anyone could have and that means more to us clones than you know.”

You didn't want to cry, especially not in front of Kix. He was always so brave and calm, unflappable some would say. He never cried and of all people he was the one entitled... they were his brothers after all. But they were also your friends, your shipmates. Men whom you lived, ate and fought alongside. You didn't flinch back this time when his gentle hand squeezed your shoulder, nor did you pull away when he brought you into a hug. You didn't want to cry, but since when in this war did anyone get what they wanted. “Why... w-why Kix?”

Kix held you, gently soothing a hand on your head. How many times had he wondered the same thing, how many times had he begged the Maker to let him save just one more of his Vode? He could feel your wracking sobs against his plate less chest and wished he could take away your pain along with his own. Your sweet soul didn't deserve any of this and yet he was so deeply grateful for your presence. Leaning down to the top of your head, Kix breathed in deep before laying his cheek to your crown. “I wish I knew Sarad.”

Kix stayed closer to you after that, not that he hadn't before. He would show up for shift with an extra breakfast roll or make a smart remark during briefing trying to get you to laugh. He made you come out of your dark feelings and fears, always there even if in companionable silence listening to you ramble. As time past you started to wonder what if it could be more, what if there was more to this feeling?

You were attracted to the man, oh Maker were you attracted to him, but what if he didn't feel the same? Or what if he did? You always shook those thoughts away quickly, it wouldn't be professional and worse you might loose what you did have. So instead you satisfied yourself with reciprocating his care and friendship. Indulging in a hug, sharing your care package treats, or just squeezing his hand when he looked unhappy. Hells one time you grabbed a bedpan and a crutch to sing and dance till he fell out of the chair laughing. It was the little things here and there, but hopefully it conveyed a portion of what you felt.

It was a few months after that mission when you all got sent through the grinder again. Kix had left to go ahead with a small team while you remained back with most of Torrent. Fives and Jesse were telling you another tall tale when the ground violently shook at the LZ. There was no thinking involved, you yelled for Jepp to get the bird in the air and soon located the missing men. It had been a hairy extraction, you lost two en route back to the base. The mission continued but something had changed, Kix was different.

He was quieter than normal, solemn. After landing back on the ship he just took the bags and left to restock, no acknowledgment of your presence or offer to help after handing off the wounded. Kix didn't show up for debriefing with the command staff and half the squad didn't know where he'd gone. When you checked the bay the bird was clean and the bags returned and still no Kix. As time ticked by the claws of dread slowly wound their way around your heart and throat till it hurt to breathe.

It finally dawned on you to scan the ship for his ID chip. You ran the corridors, bumping into more than a few troopers, entering the small supply closet off of the med bay. Kix was there just quietly staring into the dark shelves blankly. He still had his armor on, bloodstained and muddied. The normally rock steady medic, your best friend, was so deep in his pain that he didn't even notice when you started talking.

“Kix I been looking for you.”

Nothing, not a blink or even a flinch. Just blankly staring.

“How about letting a pretty girl get you a Kaf, what do you say?”

A grunt this time.

You were really starting to worry now, this was bad as you had ever seen one of the men. When they got this bad sometimes the troopers were sent back to Kamino, none of them ever came back the same... if they came back. The very though sent shudders down your spine, no you wouldn't let that happen to him.

“Kix, you're gonna come with me okay. We're going to go somewhere quiet so you can rest.” When his head slowly turned you saw the dried tear trails. Swallowing down your emotions and giving him a soft smile as you offered a hand, you begged he would accept. “please take my hand.”

Trembling fingers met yours, grasping tight. His only reply was a nod, but that was enough for now.

It was a slow, robotic walk back to your room. You decided that was a better option than to let any of the brass see him like this. You figured that if you watched Kix close you might be able to cover for him till this wore off. You helped to remove his armor and gave him a push to the fresher, hoping the hot water could offer him some relief. By the time you returned with fresh blacks, bless the supply boys, he sat on the edge of the bed looking lost but in fairer condition than before.

“I'm... Y/n... Sarad...” His jaw continued to move but no sound came out. Mechanically he dressed and then sat once more, still so very lost. Why was he still there? That droid should have killed him, why did he get to live when Ace and Taps were gone? They were good troopers...

“Shh shh, it's ok, you rest now.” Pulling back the covers you eased him onto the mattress, tucking him in. You propped up with the unfinished reports on the floor, holding his hand with a small squeeze before settling in, “Sleep Kix, you're safe here, I promise.”

“Thank you Y/n.”

That was how the next night went as well, you on the floor and Kix in the bed though he had tried to fight you on it. The third night he refused until you had agreed to also sit up in the bed. When he had finally drifted off it was with his head in your lap as you stroked gently through the short buzz trim on his head. You hummed an old song from your childhood in time to your caressing, hoping to soothe and fight away the nightmares. When he did stir with a whimper you'd start the song again.

Just a little longer you figured at least till he didn't cry in the night. Just a while more till he would be fine sleeping without you soothing him; your time was precious and finite and that was how it had to be. Through those nights you had answered every call and attended every briefing, making the excuse that Kix was tending to the men or seeing to requisitions. Every once in a while you thought there might have been a glint in Rex's eye. If the Captain suspected, he never said anything.

The unit made it back to Couriscant for some well earned shore leave and at last you were able to let your guard down. Kix had been able to sleep through the night a few rotations before and had insisted he would be fine returning to the barracks. You were relieved and saddened. Given the many missions and cramped quarters you decided to take an old friend up on a longstanding offer. They had a place that was set up as a short stay vacation apartment and had cleared the entire leave time for your use. Who knew, maybe a few days on terra firma would help your own aches and pains. As you got unpacked and tossed groceries in the fridge there was a com from the Captain, the text simply read, “79's come quick.”

Pulling up on your speeder bike there were your boys in blue bloodied and shouting as a bunch from the 808th Ordinance corp were pulling up stakes. Grimacing you jogged over, “What the heck guys?”

“Those Di'kuts started it, we simply cleaned the floor with them,” Hardcase giggled.

Rex and Jesse were restraining a few troopers, one with a set of all too familiar colored shoulder bells. Rex pulled Kix along, lecturing him in Mando'a until both of their eyes met your very tired ones. Crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow you sighed. “Well lets get you cleaned up.”

Once the last of the bandages were placed and the other company of troopers out of sight, Rex pulled you to the side. The Captain had always been good to you, hell he treated you like one of the boys, the grim look on his face though was purely marshal in appearance. Crossing his arms Rex leveled with you, “Sargent I need a straight answer from you, not that osik from the last few days.”

Flexing nervously under that stare you tried not to crack, “What answer is that Captain?”

“Kix hasn't been himself.”

“He's been tired is all...”

“No it's not.” The Captain leveled his best harsh look at you. “So I'm going to ask you again.”

Your body was twitching from the nerves of the last week, stars knew how scared you felt. “I can't...”

“Why not?”

Damn your body for betraying you. The stress of the previous days, all those fears crashing under Rex's scrutiny. You sniffled and tried to get a grip, croaking out the next answer to Rex. “Cause you'll send him back to Kamino.”

“What?”

“They'll mess up his brain and he won't be Kix anymore.” You started to really shake then, dam bursting tears rolling down your face.

“Hey hey hey, come here now.” Rex's facade instantly crumbled, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He had to give you credit, keeping cool for this long poor little mite. “That is not going to happen. The last thing I want is for Kix to be in pain so we need to help him. I promise that he won't get sent back to Kamino, just tell me how I can help.”

“I don't know, he was doing ok for a bit.” You released a frustrated breath & wiped the tears away. Glancing at the medic who was sitting on a planter with Fives and Hardcase your heart clinched again. “What set him off anyway?”

“Wasn't there when it started, but Jesse said that the 808 were making some noise. Something about us having a lot of shinies and civies around every time we get back planet side.” Rex gritted his teeth, refraining from telling you the horrible things that were really said, especially the part they said about you.

Your face turned red at the implications, temper rising in indignation. Taking another look at your Captain you pressed further while resisting the urge to use some of your troopers favorite slang. “Those... Oh if I get my hands on...Grrrr.”

Rex couldn't help a small smirk given that you had all the furry of a loth cat and were just as adorable. “Easy there.”

Letting out a huff you tried to stay focused on the task at hand, “What do you think we should do?”

Rex crossed his arms, thinking, “Well for one I don't want him anywhere near those di'kuts, so going back to the barracks is out”

“Agreed,” Sighing heavily you tried to think of a solution, “But where can he go?”

Rex always considered himself a fair judge of character. He knew Kix harbored more than just affection for you. Hell anyone could see how Kix tended to gravitate to you like a planet obits a sun. Rex also surmised that you harbored deep feelings for his brother. Having seen you sing or dance, anything to get Kix to smile. “I may have an idea.”

“I'm in.”

Rex knew of course that you had smuggled his CMO back to your bunk on board the ship. He was also aware that your movements and duties to cover both jobs had precluded any possibility that either of you had done anything non regulation. Not that he would blame either for trying to find a little happiness, rare as it was. Maybe all that the two needed was a little nudge and perhaps that was what would bring his brother back. “I don't mean to impose Y/n, but aren't you staying off base this leave?”

“Yeah,” Seeing Rex raise his eyebrows and shrug you realized what he was trying not to say aloud. Under more normal circumstances Kix going back to your place would have been exciting, but right now all you felt was cement churning in your guts. Looking at those golden eyes your head nodded in agreement.

“Good, com if you need anything.” Rex hoped that he was right about this. As his general would so often say, sometimes you have to follow your instincts and pray the Force it's correct. Rex turned to you, one more time. “You know it's not everyone who gets a nickname Y/n... even rarer for one in Mando'a. But I suppose that you knew that.”

Kix was in his own world, he vaguely remembers the few stops that were made before walking into the apartment. He recalled you sitting him on the couch with a movie after making him shower and change into the comfortable clothing you had acquired for him. It was loose and soft against his skin, he wondered if all civilian clothing was like this. He felt relaxed and unrestricted, he felt free.

Kix had savored eating the dinner you had cooked and just sitting at the table, no reports or place to be. He wondered if all civilians did this, just sitting and enjoying their meals without a thought to the world outside. All evening you talked about your friends, life happening outside the GAR, things that had happened long ago when you were a youngling. You chatted all the time about things, sometimes you sang or hummed, but rarely was it quiet when you were around.

His Sarad, a thing of beauty in the midst of the ciaos. Kix remembers the day he gave you the nickname. While waiting for casualties he had suddenly felt a ring of flowers placed on his head. You had giggled and started talking about things he could not grasp: childhood games, playing, happiness. Then the wounded had come and you had remained calm. You talked to the men, sang them your silly songs to put them at ease, and through it all you smiled. You were smiling at him again, asking if he wanted to watch another holo, but that wasn't what drew his attention. It was the dark circles under your bright eyes, it was that your smile didn't extend the way it normally would.

“Kiiiiix? Hello... command to Kix... you there?” Oh kriff the man finally starting to talk with you again and now he was staring right at you but not responding. “So is that a no to the holo?”

Kix stood, walking over and pulling you up and out of the chair. He saw your eyes widen, the hitch in your breathing, flush creeping across your cheeks. Gently he wrapped his arms around you and felt as your soft form molded against him.

Holy Maker stars above... Well this was new, “Kix?”

“Ner Sarad, dral runi.” He raised a hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking against the downy surface.

“You should probably teach me what those fancy words you're using mean,” it came out a nervous laugh, “they sound so pretty.”

Kix's mouth turned up a bit, you were so sweet. “Dral means bright and runi is hard to explain. It's what makes a person, that which goes on even after death.”

“A person's soul.” Your heart raced, eyes half lidded from the soft caress and his words. Taking a deep, fortifying breath you dared a glimpse of his warm eyes. Amber hues shot with flecks of darker brown studying you in kind. “Kix, why did you get so mad? I don't think I've ever seen you get in a fight.”

“They said something unkind about my brothers. And you.”

“Me?” Swallowing hard you ducked your head to quell the butterflies swarming. Heat was creeping into your body the longer Kix held you, but you needed to figure out what was going on with him, how to help him. “It doesn't matter, you could have ended up in the brig or worse. You know better than anyone what happens when...”

“I couldn't let them call you...”

“I don't care,” Damn your voice for trembling. “Words can't hurt me, whatever it was it doesn't matter.”

“Y/n...”

“No I don't care what they said! I KRIFFING CARE ABOUT YOU!” The panic that you thought had subsided roared back with a vengeance. You were scared as hell for him and now scared as hell how he would react to your confession. He didn't balk or walk away, instead Kix drew you closer as you crumpled into his shoulder. “I don't want anything to happen to you. You can't ... damn it Kix I'm not worth it! I want you to be safe, I don't want you to get arrested or court marshaled or worse. Please!”

“You're worth it to me.” He said it through gritted teeth, as though your words had cut him to the bone. “You are worth everything to me, Y/n.”

“Not if it means they...” The grip you had on him tightened, words coming out a whisper as if speaking them was something taboo. “Not if it means they take you away.”

“Shh I'm sorry Sarad. No more fights I promise.” He'd stop the planet turning if it meant your tears would dry. Kix began to sway with you in his arms, singing the same song that you had used to lull him to rest these past days. Not that he could sing, but Kix tried to keep the tune even. “Who said that every wish would be heard and answered when wished on the morning star?”

“Somebody thought of it (sniff) and someone believed it...”

“and look what it's done so far,” There was a soft smile tugging the corners of his lips as your head turned to look up at him. Your nose was pink and your eyes puffy, but you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. “What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing and what do we think we might see?”

There he was, you saw the minute the light returned to his eyes. You couldn't help a small sigh as he pressed your foreheads together while you finished together. “Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me.”

“Sarad don't cry, not for me, please.”

“Can't help it I'm a crier, I cry at everything,” Sniffling again you took a steady deep breath. “But I'll try.”

His thumbs still absently stroked at the apple of your cheek, trying to stem the tide. Kix felt slender fingers gently lay on the side of his face and neck, his eyes closed in ecstasy. How he wished he had said something far sooner, when his mind wasn't tattered at the seams. Yet here you stood unafraid, holding him. “What is it?"

“Don't shut me out.” Stars what was this spell and how could you keep it from breaking? You had him back, please Maker don't let him slip away again. “Please Kix tell me what to do, I want to help.”

“You are ner Sarad, you always do.”

“Kix...” Closing your eyes you concentrated on the sound of his voice as he began to sing again. His baritone could put you at ease, it could make your heart race, but right now it was a grounding tether soothing your weary nerves. Snaking your arms around his neck you let him lead as your bodies gently rocked in slow circles.

“Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? I've heard you calling my name...” Kix tilted his head to nuzzle his nose lightly on yours, drawing a true grin out for the first time in days. “Is this the sweet sound that calls the young troopers, your voice may be one and the same...”

Moving to close the hairs breath distance, you pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Kix tilted your face to look up at him, using his thumb to brush at the plump flesh of your lower lip and you kissed the pad of the digit just as gently. Then your eyes went wide, a blush crossing your cheeks. “I'm sorry, I should have asked if it was ok to kiss you. Are you ok? Is this ok? Did I...”

“Sarad, you may kiss me as much as you wish.” He chuckled in his throat, pressing a finger to your lips effectively pausing your nervous babble. “Because I will give you as many as I can... and so much more.”

Dipping his head Kix laid claim to you, slow and thorough in his exploration. He wanted to memorize the pattern of your lips as they pressed to his, their texture and taste. Using his thumb to press your jaw open his tongue made a tentative sweep into the warmth of your mouth, tongues tangling the less timid you became and the more he beckoned. Kix's heart raced with every little moan and sigh you gave as he continued his ministrations. Maker he wanted more of you, to feel your soft skin under his hands, to see what you looked like out of that ridiculous regulation braid. He pulled at the tie in your hair to watch the soft filaments fall to frame your face. A flower in bloom.

Kix crouched down and picked you up,grinning at your squeek of surprise even as your legs wrapped around his hips. You didn't protest, nor cry, just held tighter as he carried you to the bedroom. Setting you down on the soft mattress he sat next to you feeling uncertain. He knew what he wanted, what he so ached to do to show just how much he felt. He stroked his fingers near where exhaustion sullied your bright face and knew that was meant for another night. Still he so yearned to show you how he felt, to reward your courage and care as well. “Y/n you're so good to me, ner kotep cyar'ika.”

“Oh Kix,” Maker you couldn't believe that you finally had the man in your bedroom, but you couldn't bring yourself to go further than kissing. He was vulnerable and you hated to think he may regret any decisions tonight because of that. Above all else you had to do right by him because at the end of the night he was still your friend. Cradling his face you kissed his forehead before whispering softly in his ear. “let's get some rest and in the morning we'll figure things out.”

“Sleep well Y/n, I'll be here when you wake up.” There was a small pang of disappointed, but he would let you sleep for a week or more if it gave you peace. Brushing the hair away from your face Kix started to move away until he felt you holding tighter to him. “Sarad?”

“Would you stay with me?” Nerves getting the better of you, biting the corner of your mouth. “I'll sleep better if you're here.”

His face softened even more, “Are you sure?”

“Only if you want to,” You laid back, ducking your head into the plush pillows to half hide, “You make me feel safe and...”

He was trying to understand you through the muffling of the pillow, a half grin on his face. “And?”

“I want you feel safe with me too.”

Kix couldn't resist or say no to you and frankly he had never slept so well as when he had lain in your quarters. Removing his top and climbing in to settle on his back, Kix snugged you into the crook of his arm. You cuddled in further placing your head on his chest so that his heartbeat was right under your cheek, steady and constant. He caressed your shoulder and back while playing with the fingers of the hand on his torso. It was such an intimate position.

“Kix what does Sarad mean?”

In for a credit, in for a kilo. He hummed, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Flower.”

“Why do you call me flower?”

“Do you know what the first thing I saw when I left Kamino was y/n?” The words rumbled from his chest, he felt as your head shook. “I was sent as a replacement to meet with the 501st, but they were on this little forest moon. When the gangplank lowered all I could see was this field of little flowers, I'd never seen one before.”

You smiled waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I thought that they must be the most beautiful things in the galaxy.” He tilted your chin to look at him, “Until you waltzed into the med bay and I knew I had been mistaken.”

Your cheeks warmed as a blush spread over your face.

“Sleep ner mesh'la sarad,” Kix tucked the comforter more snugly around your shoulders, “we can talk more in the morning.”

Tags: @rain-on-kamino

#star wars #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone medic kix #clone medic kix x reader #Clone medic Kix Smut #kix x reader #Kix Smut #clone thirsting

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