her-chest

It’s A Comfort Thing

Author: @sincerelystiles
Pairing: Dylan x Reader
Word Count: 3,738

Warnings: nsfw aT ALL THIS IS SO SINFUL I’M NOT EVEN SORRY 

A/N: i was gonna keep this fluffy, but we all know it’s pretty impossible for me to not write sin for dylan, so here you go!! also i apologise for how dirty this got. fUCK. and thanks to my bby @sabrinas-wolves for helping me with this and the puthey… and this is dylan pov

listen to this


Originally posted by arkhamcutie


my baby: text me when you’re on your way home so i can start dinner xo

dyl pickle: will do xx

I shove my phone back into my pocket with a smile and rub my hands together eagerly. It had been five months since I’d been home, which also meant five long, agonisingly lonely months since I last saw Y/N. Admittedly, I’d much rather be home with her right now, either fucking the shit out of her, or holding her close to my chest as I wash her hair in the bath tub. She always loved corny shit like that. But unfortunately, I wasn’t. I was in my dressing room, waiting with T-Pose to be interviewed with Ellen DeGeneres.

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I wonder if Lena Luthor reads into things too. I wonder if after Kara left, when she can still feel her hero’s warmth against her side, if she leaned over the table, picked up the flowers Kara brought, and thought to herself: red and yellow roses, doesn’t that mean friendship turning into love? And I wonder if her heart would start to flutter, pound against her chest just when she thought it was dead, because yes they mean friendship to love and maybe, just maybe, Kara knows that too. But then Lena remembers who she is, her last name, everything shes done, and her heart goes from racing to screaming and she quickly downs the rest of her scotch just to quiet it. And yeah, I wonder if Lena Luthor over analyses things too. I bet she does.

a-non-sequitur  asked:

Outline meme: RebelCaptain: more time shenanigans: isn't a "time traveler wife"-esque!AU basically required in any fandom these days? Jyn or Cassian as the most inconstant constant of the other's life.

Cassian meets her first on Fest when he is a child, a woman in green walking barefoot in the snow. They don’t speak, but she exists as one of his earliest memories, a blot of color against a sea of white. Her hair is in a scarf, but the wind blows it off, and brown hair uncurls for him to see. “Who are you?” he asks, but something glows bright against her chest and she disappears.

When his mother dies, she appears again, flowers in her arms at her funeral. He tugs at her cloak and says, “I remember you.” And she smiles, sad, and tells him, “I’m Jyn. I am a friend.”

Sometimes she appears on quiet days. He’s five and eating bread and cheese and he’s sitting on a rock. It’s a spring day. The heads of wildflowers peek through the snow. She’s much younger than she was the last time he saw her—maybe eight—closer to his age, but somehow he knows her. She has braids in her hair, and he pulls on one experimentally. He calls her by name, and she asks, “How do you know who I am?” and he realizes that this is the first time she’s met him. She stays longer this time than most times, and they run through the fields and throw pebbles into the frozen pond until the ice breaks. “Will you be my friend?” he asks her. She nods and gives him a hug. “I will.” She gives him a black pebble from her pocket, “From my home,” she tells him, before she vanishes again.

She isn’t always there when he needs her. On Carida, when his father dies, he’s alone. But he finds his way. He finds his way into the arms of the Rebel Alliance.

When Cassian is sixteen, she appears to him on Talus at the edge of the woods, bleeding. They are the same age for the first and only time. He wants to take her to the base for medical attention, but she fights it, breathing hard through the wound. He tears back and steals precious Bacta and bandages and cares for her through the night. She’s fevered and delirious, and tells him how she’s been abandoned, how she has no one, but he grips her hand and tells her, “You have me. You always have me.” Her lips tighten and she laughs because she cannot cry. “But I can never stay,” she says. “I wish I could, but I can never stay.”

“Take me with you,” he says then as she cries out in pain and vanishes out of his grip.

When he’s 21, she shows up while he’s undercover as Joreth Sward. She’s in a blue gown at an Imperial Ball, and she’s maybe 22, older than he’s seen her in years. He almost blows his cover, walking too fast across the room toward her, wanting to call out her real name and have her say his, but she shakes her head and motions for him to meet her in an empty room. He kisses her before she can say another word, and breathes her in like she is his last breath. She eases into his arms like she always lived there in his embrace. There’s never enough time, he thinks as she tugs at his uniform, undoing the tight angles of his collar and throwing his hat to the floor so that she can run her hands through his hair, but he’ll take every minute he can with her.

They meet in real time when he’s 26 and she’s 23, and he has to pretend not to know her. He keeps thinking she will disappear, but she remains, her bold green eyes searching his. They’ve only just met, but they’ve known each other always.

Jyn is never older than 23 when he sees her, and he doesn’t know why first. But he finds out when he’s 26, when he’s holding her on a beach and she is holding him. “I’ve loved you my whole life,” he tells her, and her arms tighten around his, and he knows that it’s also true for her. She glows bright—maybe it’s her, maybe it’s her pendant, maybe it’s the world coming apart around them—but she is with him and he is with her, and she won’t be vanishing without him this time.

youtube

Gotham City Music Hall, 1944

Victor laughed softly.
“What a terrible song to dance to,” he said. Nora rested her head on his chest.
“I think it’s lovely,” she said, her voice trailing off.
“What is wrong, Nora?” Victor said. Nora shook her head.
“It’s silly,” she said. Victor gently nudged her chin, looking into her eyes.
“I love when you are silly,” he said. She smiled, a single tear falling down her cheek.
“I just… I would never want you to be lonely, Victor.”
“With you by my side, I never will be,” he said. Nora returned her head to Victor’s chest.
“I love you, my Victor.”
“I love you, my Nora.”

Snow began falling that night, but the cold would not touch them.

Not tonight.

Westallen headcanons - Date Nights!

They love to order every dessert on the menu, box up what they’re “too full” to eat (Iris genuinely is, but Bar, on the other hand), and then be totally debauched twenty-somethings at home, sipping wine and playfully divvying up the best stuff. (Barry sorta-kinda inherited several million dollars’ worth of stuff from Wells, what can he say.)

The only worthwhile way to get into a pool is to jump. Iris agrees; Barry needs to be bribed. Mostly with sweet talk like “We can watch Cosmos again if you–” and now he’s got his shirt off and is scrambling to accept before she rescinds.

So picture Iris in an oversized sweater, legs tucked up to her chest, leaning against Barry on the couch, as he’s watching “Cosmos” with such obvious intent and beaming as he adds the occasional commentary until he glances down after the third un-responded remark and sees his wife dozing against his side and melttts.

Iris married a man that could carry her to bed. Or work if she was feeling lazy. Or Paris. There’s nowhere Barry can’t take her and sometimes they wanderlust the heck out of date night.

Aquariums. Aquariums are Iris’ favorite. Barry’s kind of indifferent to them, but he loves taking her and starts to love them more and more because he associates her with them. Even though he still jumps and drops an entire armful of stuff when he turns and sees a shark in the tank right behind him. Iris, camera ready (“hey babe turn around”), captures a glorious candid.

Laser tag is the ultimate no-holds-barred sport for them. (What Iris lacks in Speed she makes up for in smarts. Also Barry’s clumsy and a terrible shot.)

Bowling is an irreplaceable source of joy for them. They love to go pretty late when they’re stupid tired and giggly and just “God thank you so much I needed this.” Best friends always.

Sometimes date night is simply Barry lying on the floor on his stomach, vibrating softly in tune with his breathing as he catches some sleep instead of going out, both corgis asleep next to/on top of him while Iris types up an article with her back to the couch and her hip against his side. Utterly content. (Dessert stash imminently raided.)

I need you

Originally posted by effindivergenteric


Prompt 8: Eric Coulter
“I think that you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.”
“Are you sure that isn’t just wishful thinking.”

Notes-

y/n your name

tagging- @wynterrobin

I have no idea why I’m so intrigued with Eric from Divergent. 


Eric gazed down at the sleeping girl in his arms, he shifted pulling her closer while she sighed curling into him. How she dealt with him, he would never know but for whatever reason he was thankful. He brought his hand up, stroking her cheek frowning at the scar that marred her cheek.

“You frown too much,” He blinked, focusing on her sleepy eyes and the small grin. “You’re going to have frown lines.”

She moved impossibly closer to him, laying her head on his chest. “Why don’t you take them away from me,” His hand trailed down, her spine suggestively.

“Perv,” Her laugh sounding like bells to his ears.

“But you still put up with me,” He moved so that he was hovering above her. “Why?” He smirked grinning down at her, loving the way her hair was sprawled out across the pillows.

She grinned putting her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. She pulled him into a searing kiss, biting his lip before pulling away leaving him wanting more. “I think that you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.” She gazed up at him, stroking his cheek with her thumbs.

He rolled his eyes, growling out, “Are you sure that isn’t just wishful thinking?” She moved sitting up, holding the sheet to cover her glancing around his room. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” She replied, trying to move away from him, but he blocked her from moving. “It’s just sex right?” She grinned at him, trying to leave again but he refused to move.

He glared at her grin, pushing her back down on the bed. She laughed, while he hovered over her again. “You’re a pain in my ass, who do you think you are?”

“Just one of the many girls you slept with. But I suppose I should learn my place right?” She smirked, rolling out from under him, grabbing her shirt and pants pulling them on while he stared at her. “What I said isn’t wishful thinking, because beneath all of that anger and intimidation is the guy that for some unforeseen reason makes me crazy.” She sighed, pulling on her boots leaving her shirt unbuttoned so he could see the black bra and the tattoo he liked tracing at night. “Wishful thinking Eric, is believing that this is more than sex. But I can’t do it anymore, so whatever this is… it’s over. We will only need to see each other to do our duties as leaders but nothing else.”

Eric watched her stand and hover at the door as if she was waiting for him to stop her. “Lock the door on your way out.” He saw her grin slightly before she closed the door with a quiet click.


Eric’s eyes found her form, sitting next to the guy he hated the most. He watched her wave her arms around excitedly, making Four smile at her. It had been three weeks since she left, and she hadn’t bothered to make any contact with him. The more he watched her interact with Four, the more angry he got. He got up striding over to the two.

“I know this is weird, but I sometimes miss the pea pods and the chicken,” Eric heard the longing in her voice.

“Well if it isn’t two stiffs missing home, can’t cut it here anymore,” He growled out, while she glanced up at him with bored eyes.

“Two stiffs that can still kick your ass,” Eric glared over at Four, while she let out a small laugh.

“What do you need Coulter?” She murmured with the grin still on her face. She stabbed her vegtables, “Never mind that, I don’t have time for whatever you want. Four, remember I’ll be in the training room to help you and Lauren will go with the dauntless born today.”

“Of course, maybe you can kick their asses into shape,” Eric watched Four grin up at her, before she got up leaving the table. He sent one last glare towards the man before following after her.

“Y/N, we aren’t done yet,” He called out, jogging slightly grasping her forearm.

She pushed his hand off of her, yawning slightly. “Shoot then, quickly because I have things I have to get done.”

“I need you,” Eric clenched his fists, looking down at her.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, before she pushed him sending her fist flying towards his face. He blocked it, pushing the struggling girl against the wall. “Find another fuck buddy Eric.” He watched her struggle against him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh I’m an asshole.” He chuckled darkly hauling her over his shoulder, while others passed them looking at the feared leader and the other leader pounding on his back screaming obscenities at him. Once he was at the destination he wanted, he set her down avoiding her fists. “Knock it off… I didn’t mean I need you as just for sex.”

She rolled her eyes at him, before moving away looking around. “Right, let’s say I believe you then. What did you mean?”

He ran his hands across his face, finding it extremely hard to just spit out what he wanted to say. “I miss you. Not just the sex, I mean all of it.” She raised an eyebrow at him, before leaning against the wall. He sighed deeply, she was going to make him work for it. “I miss holding you in my arms. I miss tracing the scar on your cheek or the tattoo on your side. I miss you curling into me and feeling your warm skin under my hands. I miss waking up because your stupid hair was in my face.”

He watched her grin slightly before she turned so that her back was to him. He could see her expression in the mirror and he smirked while coming up behind her pulling her into him. “Still think what I said was wishful thinking?” She turned putting her arms over his shoulders, a smirk on her face.

His eyes narrowed at her, everything clicking into place. “You little shit. You did all of this to prove a point?” She laughed, jumping so she could wrap her legs around him.

“It got you to prove yourself wrong didn’t it? You’re not as dark as you want people to believe, but the thing is I’ll be the only one that knows it,” She kissed his cheek, trying to get out of his hold.

“So you missed out on sex, just to prove a point,” He pushed her against the wall effectively trapping her. “You deprived me of sex, to do so?”

She grinned cheekily, before tapping his cheek. “Guess so, and it looks like you’ll be deprived a little big longer, because I have to get back to work.”

Eric watched her before he set her down, leaning down to nip at her ear. “You’re going to regret that.”

“I can’t wait for the punishment then,” She winked before, she walked off purposefully swishing her hips.

anonymous asked:

OKAY OKAY BUT Harry having a nightmare of the missus leaving him,like,without any explanation,just broke up with him and then she leaves,and he wakes up crying,and the missus wakes up and when he explains everything she thinks that's the cutest thing ever and he just tell her something like "I'm sorry I'm so emotional but the tough of you leaving ain't so easy for me"while he just hug her so tight,still crying on her shoulder sHIT

And he’s sobbing heavily. But he doesn’t want to sob like that. Because he knows the reason behind his tears and his uncontrollable sobs is silly and false and that the one who caused him heartache in his dream is really the one who’s tucked him up in her arms and cuddling closer to her body. Kissing his head and letting him cry into her chest, wetting her skin and curling up in her side, a leg thrown over hers as his fists gripped at the t-shirt of his that dressed her torso.

“Don’t wan’a cry,” he’d whisper, “I’m always emotional after 2 in the morning. You just have to know that the thought of you leaving me isn’t so easy. It hurts. I love you so much and it kills me to think that you could up and leave whenever you want to.”

“I mean,” she’d sigh and run her hand over his back, “we’re married. I’m only a couple of months pregnant. I think I’m a little too deep to leave you, Peaches.”

“You could though. It can happen. One day, you might see that being with me is something you didn’t really want. That having a baby with me isn’t something you planned on. That my life was so different to yours,” he’d cry, looking up at her with watery eyes and wet lips, his voice crackling, “I’m scared it’ll happen. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t ever, ever lose me, baby. At all. I’m here to stay,” she’d coo, wiping his tears away and leaning down to kiss his forehead, “unless you want to get rid of me.” 

“Never.” xx

I did a thing...

I know it’s a week until Acowar, but I can’t wait any longer for my nessian fix, so I may have went ahead and wrote the beginnings of my own…

This is my first Acotar fic.  (So far…)

Six pages and just over 2500 words. SFW

Summary: Picks off right after the ending of Acomaf, and Nesta, sick and tired of being stuck in the cabin, demands to go see Velaris. Mor relents, but first they stop by a familiar townhouse…with some familiar winged faes.

:)

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anonymous asked:

I don't get why people can't accept that sakuras not flat.The anime studio and the games all portray her as a flat when in the manga she's one of the most endowed girls towards the end.The manga never joked about her chest,and even if she was flat,why is it funny to make fun of her for something she can't help?It just seems sexist and gross,like a women with a smaller cup size isent a "real" women.Sakura has never been flat,but apparently this makes a main female character funnier?

No, it’s just apparently funny to make Sakura the brunt of all the jokes.

anonymous asked:

aw harry talk of him and his missus and their newborn in a heat wave just lots of skin to skin cuddles

“Pretty sure she’s gon’a stick to me soon,” he’d mumble from his place on the sofa, sprawled out and in a pair of boxers, his sleepy newborn laid on her front and breathing softly against his shoulder as he brushed his fingers up and down her back, her body clad in nothing but a nappy, free of the baby-grow she’d woken up in that morning, “I know I said I never wan’a put her down, but, I don’t wan’er to stick to me.”

“S’not gon’a happen, you idiot,” the missus would giggle from her place on the floor. Nursing bra tight around her chest as she pumped milk, a cold flannel draped over her head as she leant against the arm chair of the living room, “m’not gon’a lie though, I’d like for her to stick to me. I never want to put her down.”

“She’s spoilt with cuddles. Even in this unbearable heat. She’s spoilt rotten with ‘em,” he’d laugh, kissing the top of her head and hearing her squeak softly at the sweet contact and gesture of love that he gave to her, “think we should go and try her in the pool? It’s perfect weather fo’ it, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with a nice cold bath upstairs? She can join us,” she’d grin widely, “an ice bath sounds so inviting right now. This machine is making me hotter.”

“Damn right it makes you hotter,” he’d snicker, and look over to her as the bottles connected seemed to be almost filled halfway, “you look so sexy,” he’d growl playfully and wiggle his eyebrows towards her, “I could take yeh right here, if I didn’t have the baby on my chest.”

“I hate you so much,” she’d mumble, “but it’s impossible to hate you for so long because you just look so lovely with our little lady on your chest. You’re too cute with her.” xx

. Between the Lines . 191

Between one moment and the next, Lucy was thrown off guard by a ridiculously high amount of heat that washed over her. She screamed in surprise, throwing her hands up to protect her face and a swearing future Natsu spun her around, pressing her to his chest with his arms around her, protecting her from the burning heat as someone stepped through the Gate.

Zeref chuckled, his tone warm as he murmured, “Brother…it has been so long since I last saw you as you are right now…”

The roar that left the creature was different than anything Lucy had ever heard.

It spoke of pain and rage and the agony of the people the monster had killed. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat in fear and she wanted to flee and never look back. For the first time in years, Lucy remembered the nightmares and the darkness in the night that she’d sought protection from, the monsters that had never existed anywhere but in her imagination.

Monsters that now did.

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A. Ryder Log #10

They find the Archon, the Map to Meridian… and Aria dies for the second time. This time is different, though, and she locks herself away, hiding from her crew.

Jaal draws her out, and has a request - meet his family - and Aria’s happy to focus on something good.

Also on AO3 ->

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10609884/chapters/23762889


Jaal x Ryder, Early Relationship, Spoilers for Jaal’s romance. We’re getting into the actual romance now, guys!

Every time Aria closes her eyes, attempts to sleep, she sees the Archon and jolts awake, chest heaving desperately for breath as the memories fade.

So many things have happened - so many accomplishments, victories, - and yet all she see’s is the Archon staring her down, deeming her unworthy, and then-

Death.

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“You’re the one I want”

I am SOOOOO sorry it took me this long to start writing again. things just started coming up. Anyway, here’s a little Jason x Reader from Jay’s perspective :D 


There she was, lying on her bed without a blanket showing her slender body almost bare and her eyes half closed looking at the phone screen in front of her. She looked flawless, exactly how he remembers her before he died.

He looked like a pervert propping himself outside her window 12 stories high from the ground.

So he knocked.

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@fandomsofall14:  can you do 14 where fitz says it to jemma?

You got it! Here’s some post Framework with the least amount of angst I could muster. 

14, “Please, just, don’t ever leave me again.”


Jemma,”

Jemma’s eyes fluttered open, her ears catching the sound of Fitz’s cry, his body lying restless beside her.

“Fitz…” she muttered, her eyes trying to open to see him.

No,” Fitz growled under his breath. Jemma being able to see through dark just little more clearly, she rested her hand on his chest to see his eyes were closed. “No, please,” he hissed, his face contorted, his dream putting him under distress.

Jemma’s heart ached. Ever since Fitz had come out of the Framework, when awake, he’d been almost completely normal. Aside from his constant need to be beside Jemma at all times, and his persistent apologies that came at random. Because of how they all left the Framework, Fitz didn’t remember too much of himself when inside. Jemma thanked the stars for that, knowing Fitz would have never been able to live with himself if he did. However, he remembered enough things to feel awful for everything that happened, along with his guilt for creating the tech in the first place.

But for the past week, Fitz had been remembering. Only not when awake, but in his dreams. At least that was all she could figure of it; he never seemed to remember his dreams the next day so there was no way to actually know. But the things he would yell, her name, his dads name, Ophelia’s name…

NO, Jemma-” Fitz jerked forward, but he remained asleep. His breathing started to become heavy and she couldn’t stand it anymore. He had trouble falling asleep, always had, but she couldn’t continue letting him have nightmares of her.

Jemma brushed his face with her hand, whispering, “Fitz, I’m right here.”

He winced, twisting his neck so his nose could nuzzle into her palm. “Please,”

“Please what, Fitz?” She shook his shoulder just slightly, a gentle nudge for his body to release him from his slumber. “You’re safe. We’re safe.”

That finally brought Fitz to jolt forward, his eyes wide open, the crystal blue of his irises still managing to shine through the darkness. He scrunched his brow, looking at her disoriented. “Jemma, what-?”

She gave him a soft smile, caressing the side of his face with her hand again. “You were having a nightmare.”

“I…” Fitz, sitting up slightly, rubbed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I remember.”

Jemma was surprised, her mouth slightly agape. He never remembered his dreams – or at least, that’s what he always told her. Fitz now sat up completely, his back facing her. He buried his face in his hands and just sat there, silently. She waited a moment, to give him some time to himself, before sitting herself up and wrapping her arms around his rib cage, pressing her mouth to his shoulder blade. She placed a kiss on his white cotton shirt, smelling like nothing but of him, and she whispered, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fitz shook his head, uncovering his face from his hands so he could take a hold of her, his arms topped over hers as he gripped her fingers in his. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I beg to differ,” Jemma rested her chin on his shoulder. “You know what Doctor Barnes said, it’s better to talk about –”

“I know what he said, Jemma.” He snapped, though his voice was still gentle and kind. He let out a graveled breath and said, “M’sorry. I just … I don’t really understand it.”

She gave him a tight squeeze. “Then tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Fitz shook his head again, choosing to stay quiet. Jemma knew he was still processing, though, so she tried not to push him too hard. He didn’t work things out like most people – every problem was calculated all in his head. Only problem was, sometimes he chose not to work them out at all, but just compress. She didn’t want him to back track to when he was recovering from hypoxia, so, she tended to push.

She then felt Fitz shift, turning his body so Jemma could cuddle into his side instead. As she did so, Fitz brought them back down to lay on the bed – Jemma curled up in his side, her head burrowed into the crook of his neck, her hand on his heart. Fitz clasped her hand in his and she could tell he was fixing to speak. “Ever since everything, I keep having these dreams of us in the Framework, but I’m just … me. I’m normal and everything, ya know? And you enter the room, and I go up to hug you, so relieved you’re all right, and you just … leave. You look at me like you don’t even recognize me. Things change here and there, sometimes AIDA’s there, sometimes my dad, but no matter what happens – you just always … leave.

“Fitz,” Jemma says so hushed she would be surprised if he heard her. She took a stronger grip on him and said, “I would never-”

“No, I know, Jemma.” His arm around her tighten. “I don’t think it’s a fear that you’ll leave me willingly,” she could his voice crack as he says, “It’s more that you’ll leave by force. By …” he hesitates, and Jemma knows exactly what he was going to say. “I can’t lose you, Jemma. Not again.”

She could feel tears sting her eyes as she peppered kisses along his neck, up his pulse point, reaching up to his jaw line. “You won’t.”

And Jemma believed that. She didn’t let the Framework separate them, Fitz didn’t let an alien planet separate them. Nothing was going to tear them apart. She would never let it.

They laid there, bodies tangled together, souls intertwined. They lay in silence, holding each other, until they start to drift back into a deep sleep.

Before Jemma had fallen asleep completely, she heard Fitz grumble out a, “Please Jemma, just, don’t ever leave me again.” When her eyes angled up, she saw he was fast asleep, dreaming. This time though, his words didn’t sound desperate and scared, but more … serene.

She held onto him with everything she had, buried her face further into his neck, and whispered, “I’ll always be with you, Fitz.”

Fitz’s hold on Jemma gripped even tighter, and Jemma soon found herself lost in her own peaceful dreams. They were always peaceful, as long as Fitz was with her.

Fitz never slept a restless night again.

Send me a prompt from my list here!

Corso almost didn’t see her when he walked into the office in the warehouse. She was sitting on a crate against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, looking very lost in thought. He coordinated with his man Reiki, making sure the supplies they got went where they were needed. How many times did he fantasize about seeing her again? That her dying was just a bad dream? That any moment he would wake up on the freighter, look over in the bed and there she was. He spent too many nights after she went down with that ship staring at her side of the bed. It had only taken a few days for her scent to fade from the pillows, but when it did, it felt like he had lost her all over again.

With a sigh, he stood in front of her, looking down at her until she realized he was there.

“Hey, Corso.” She said but he didn’t say anything in return. Turning, he walked away and he heard her shuddering sigh behind him. She was hurting, too.

“Cyar’iva.” He said, stopping a ways from her and she looked up at him, her lilac eyes shiny with unshed tears. Fully aware of the people watching them, he widestanced his legs and dropped into a short squat, patting his thighs and beckoning her with his fingers. “Come on.” Her smile was slow and she hopped off the crate, running and jumping, wrapping her legs around his waist. She still weighed close to nothing and he adjusted his hold on her as he looked up at her.

Her fingertips touched his face gently, running over a small scar cutting through his brow and tracing the line of his nose as if she were familiarizing herself with him again.

“So, I’m guessing you two know each other already.” Reiki said but they didn’t look at him.

“Reiki, everyone, I want you to meet Cyar’iva Ryderius-Riggs. My wife.” Corso said, “We’re going to need the room.” No one questioned it, leaving the two alone and closing the door behind them. When they were gone, he walked them over to the table, setting her down so she was sitting on the edge. “You were gone, Cyar’iva, you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Corso.” She said, “Arcann froze me in carbonite for five years, Lana Beniko unfroze me, but there was just no time to…I didn’t know where you were, how to get in contact with you. If you were even still…”

“Losing you hurt more than when I lost my family. You were my family, you were everything to me, and you were gone. You made me a liar.” She gave him a questioning look, “My vow to you when we got married, do you remember it?”

I swear to spend my life protecting your body, honoring your spirit, and respecting your mind.” She said, recalling the words he spoke to her perfectly.

“I left you, I failed to protect you, and you died.” He said, “I should’ve…I should’ve been there with you, shouldn’t’ve left when you told me to.”

“Corso, he would have killed you.” Cyar’iva said, “Valkorion would have killed you. I watched Darth Marr die, and I would’ve watched you die, too.”

His hands pressed flat into the table as he leaned into her, her own hands sliding down to his chest, moving over the scratched and dented plates of his armor. Her eyes were just as violet as he remembered as he looked into them and she gasped as he kissed her, pressing back against him. He had forgotten how she tasted, how her lips felt as they moved against his, as they moved against each other.

“Corso…” She whispered as he pulled back, lungs burning as he pulled air into them. Her fingertips curled into the edges of his armor and she pulled him back in, kissing him with an intensity that made him feel like he was going to burst into flames. Corso wanted to explore her again, take his time with her, relearn every dip and curve of her body and what made her writhe and gasp. Not here though, and his makeshift quarters in the Fort were no where near sufficient, even if they were mostly private. He wanted her on a real bed, not a sleeping mat. “The freighter is outside Drelliad.” She said when he pulled away again. “That warehouse where we first met, do you remember it?”

“I do.” He said, making the trek in his mind. It seemed a whole planet away. “Wait, you got the freighter?”

“Alliance found her sealed up in a hangar on Port Nowhere, brought her to Odessen.” She said, “Was that you?”

“It was Risha’s idea.” He said, “Didn’t feel right flying her around without you.”

“Thank you.” She said and he gave her a soft smile, pressing his lips to hers in a softer kiss.

“You’re really alive.” He said after a moment of silence and pulled her close, her arms going around his neck as he buried his face in hers. Corso never thought he’d be able to do this again, hold her in his arms, warm and alive. “I love you, Cyar’iva, I never stopped.”

“I love you too, Corso.”

The Argument (Stolen Moments) Clexa

“I’m not fine with this.” Clarke argued, following Lexa, even after Lexa had made it quite clear she was done discussing the topic.

“What can you do to change it?” Lexa turned to look at Clarke, trying to make her see reason. This would happen whether Clarke liked it or not.

“Fight.” Clarke said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Lexa defiantly.

“You can’t fight this, Clarke.” Lexa’s irritation faded as she looked into Clarke’s determined blue eyes.

“Not even the mighty Wanheda can change fate.” Lexa tried to make Clarke smile or at the very least break her cold expression.

Clarke wouldn’t be swayed so easily.

“Our people are looking to us right now. What do you want them to see?” Clarke demanded taking a step toward the Commander. “Leaders who just roll over and accept this even though we know it’s wrong, or leaders who refuse to let anything stop them from standing up for what is right?” Clarke was challenging and unwavering in her stance. She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms firmly over her chest.

Lexa’s jaw set and tensed as she processed Clarke’s words. She had never hesitated to challenge Lexa and the culture she grew up in. Lexa had always accepted her role and the traditions they followed. It was all she had ever known.

When Clarke came into her life Lexa found herself questioning things more. Wondering what would happen if she challenged some of the archaic rules that had shaped her life for so long.

“Clarke, it’s not that easy-” Lexa’s tone didn’t even convince herself.

“You’re Heda, your word is law. If you don’t like how things are done, why not change it?”

It was a genuine question. Lexa knew Clarke had grown up in space where those in charge were the ones who made the rules and the people followed.

From the start with the first Commander, Becca the people’s voice had always carried heavy weight in how things were done.

“I must consider my people.” Lexa tried to stay firm, but it wasn’t hard to see her resolve was splintering.

Clarke was making sense.

There were times when her people followed traditions because it was something they had always done.

“If that were the case you would have had to kill me a long time ago. I know you care for your people, Lexa. But this is the time to show them there is a better way.” Clarke reached out to touch Lexa’s arm. Even though she was upset, Lexa knew Clarke needed her to know that she would be with her no matter what the outcome.

“You have always been a leader your people could trust. Give them the chance to trust you now.”

Lexa looked down to where Clarke’s arm was touching her and sighed before returning her gaze to Clarke.

“I’ll speak to Titus.”

Lexa could tell it wasn’t exactly what Clarke wanted to hear, but she dropped the argument knowing she had at least gotten Lexa to take some sort of action.

“Fine, as long as you are considering it.”

Lexa nodded and reached down to lace her fingers with Clarke’s.

“I’m considering it.”

She smiled, hopefully and watched a small smile appear on Clarke’s lips.

This was the way Clarke and Lexa had learned to work together. They used their mixture of logic, experience, and humanity to make decisions.

It wasn’t always easy. They disagreed quite a lot.

After the dust settled they found that they lead their people best together.

“I need to find Octavia. I’ll see you at dinner.” Clarke took a small step forward and kissed Lexa’s cheek softly. She felt Lexa lean into the gentle touch.

No matter what they came up against both women knew they had each other. That was all that mattered.