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ivystoryweaver · 2 days ago

Text

Oops I fixed it.

Nathan is making the repairs

But it’s hard to trust anything lol

Perfect Fit Volume 4

previously | Perfect Fit Masterlist

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: The fallout from you thinking there were wires in your arm. Were there wires in your arm? Is Nate ok? Is any of this real? Answers unfold, finally.

Content: language, violence, blood, wounds, mention of suicide, dream sex, oral -m. and f. rec, p in v, overuse of italics, not beta'd

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

PREVIOUSLY on "Perfect Fit"

"If I'm...real, then take me to a hospital. Take me now."

"Okay. But it'll take some time. I have to call for the chopper and we both need warm clothes."

You can go downstairs with him and possibly be trapped forever. Or you can depend on him to fly you out of here. Either way, you have to trust him.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Dressed warmly, arm wrapped tight, seated in the chopper, you squeeze your eyes shut, as if depriving yourself of that sense will dull the helicopter's thudding roar, or lessen the burning pain pulsing from the cut in your arm.

Nathan buckles you in before touching your cheek to get you to look at him. He holds up two wireless earbuds, dark eyebrows lifting questioningly over his wire frames, as if asking if you'll use them.

You nod, making sure to keep your arm elevated, keeping as much pressure as you can, while he slips the earbuds into your ears.

"Can you hear me?" You see his mouth, but a clear sound resounds in your ears as the helicopter's noise is muted immensely.

You nod.

"Okay, these should cancel out most of that fucking noise so we can talk."

He sits down and straps in while he says this before motioning for his pilot to take off.

"Let me see that arm."

Your wounded arm is closest to him. He makes sure you haven't bled through your thick bandages and towel before applying more pressure.

You wince, your whimper audible in his high tech earbuds.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we have to keep pressure on this - as much as you can stand," he explains for like the eleventh time.

"I know." Your eyes stare vacantly ahead as you let him press as hard as you can take it.

His gaze drops momentarily, not that you notice. Then he drags in a deep breath. "Listen, we have to talk. Things are gonna get complicated when we get to the hospital."

"How?"

"Well, the first thing they're gonna wanna know is how you got this big fucking cut," he explains. "They're either gonna think you did it, or I did it. Both of which will present...issues."

"I did it," you glance over at him. "I wouldn't make them think you did, if that's what you're worried about."

"No it's not that, babydoll," he tells you, his big brown eyes searching your face for some kind of connection. "If they think I did it, I'm gonna get questioned by the police. I can handle that. My lawyers will have it taken care of before dinner.

"But if you say you did it, they might order a psych eval. Might even put you on suicide watch," he goes on. "It could get messy."

"I probably need a psych eval," you scoff. "I'm not sure if either one of us is an actual human being. I'm so unsure that I cut my fucking arm open to prove it, and worse than that, I'm afraid that Nathan Bateman's either not real at all, or is dead or trapped in that creepy ass mansion with a bunch of androids."

The corner of his mouth curls as he sees a glimpse of your humor for the first time in days. But it doesn't reach the roundness of his saddened eyes.

"Well, I'm not going to try to talk you into anything right now. I'm just giving you the options."

You sigh tiredly, despite the long nap you apparently took. " Which are?"

He stares at your profile so long that you finally turn to look at him. "Do you want the version you want to hear, or your actual options?"

You groan. "Actual options."

“Okay,” he rattles them off. “One, you say you cut yourself - they'll do psych eval. Two, say I cut you and that’ll make it more my problem, but the police will still want a statement from you so we need to get our stories straight. Three, say I cut you and we don’t get our stories straight. That makes it my problem, not yours. I don’t think you wanna hear number four..”

You glare at him.

“Four, we head back to my place and I stitch you up.”

You sigh again.

“Any of these options begin and end with you calling your family and going back to your life. That earpiece will call them right now. Go ahead.”

Your heart races as you realize you might be free, and contemplate if you’ve actually been captive at all.

“My mom. Let me call her," you plead, your voice shaky, as if you weren't allowed to call her most any day since you arrived at Nathan's home.

"Yeah, of course," he says so softly, you're certain it has to be Nate. Or maybe Nathan was the soft one all along. Dammit.

He shows you how to make the call and moments later, you hear your mom's voice.

She asks if you're okay. How you've been since Tuesday (the last time you talked, days prior), how work is going...when you're coming home.

"Soon," you reassure her. "I miss you."

You hang up with a soft smile, feeling marginally better.

You gaze at Nathan, wishing you could know who he really is. Maybe you're crazy but...

"Can you really fix my arm?"

He gently smiles. "Yeah."

"Okay, let's go back."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

True to his word, Nathan somehow stitches you up after giving you a few localized numbing shots. (You refused to be put to sleep).

Then he takes you to see a powered down Nate, who looks a little worse for wear, but is, in fact, a machine.

He even shows you some of his older androids, all powered down.

After that, he guides you back upstairs for something to eat, and to talk.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, while preparing a salad.

“My arm hurts,” you flatly return.

“I know.” His eyes go softer than you've ever seen them, wide and almost pleading. “But…other than that. You…” he pauses, placing both palms on the countertop. “What made you think you were a fucking robot? What did Nate say to you?”

“As if you don’t know,” you fire back. “You probably programmed him to say it.” You gesture upward. “You film it on your cameras, then watch it back. You know everything that happens here every second of the day.”

Nathan rolls his eyes. "If you believe that, then you already know I don’t have an answer for why you almost killed yourself slicing your arm open.”

“Because of you, because of what you’ve done to me,” You passionately argue, eyes flashing. “You keep messing with my head. You showed me wires in my arm!”

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head resolutely, easing around the kitchen island to where you’re standing. “I told you - you were asleep the whole time. I was sitting with you. Me telling you you're not real? It didn’t happen.”

“More gaslighting,” you scoff.

Nathan scrubs his hand over his beard, seeming worried rather than frustrated. “The experiment here - the experiment you signed on for - was to see if my AI could pass for a human. Once I added the sexual component, you were more than happy to comply - "

“Fuck you, Nathan - "

“But nothing was about you getting hurt, or being trapped here,” he pressed on, inching closer. “We had a contract for you to live here for a certain amount of time. You’ve fulfilled that contract and then some. You’re free to go - you’ve always been free to go and I definitely did not show you wires in your arm because there aren’t any fucking wires in your arm.”

“Fine, I’m leaving tonight,” you tell him, stepping up to him challengingly. “Call my ride.”

“Done,” Nathan fires back, then folds his arms over his chest. “If you wanted to leave here so badly, why did you come back here with me? Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

“I didn’t want any questions, same as you.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes, moving back around to start working on the salad again. “Do you want to eat or should I call your ride first?”

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You and Nathan quietly choke down your salad while seated on the couch. Nathan is barefoot, as usual, one leg tucked up under the other, starting vacantly out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“So, did Nate convince you? That he was me and I was him?” He asks you point blank. “Would you say the experiment was a success?”

Poking your fork uninterestedly into your lettuce, you darkly chuckle. “I would say so. I honestly don’t even know who’s sitting with me right now.”

Nathan drops his fork. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes I’m fucking serious,” you retort. “I thought Nate came to my room last night to sleep with me, to say goodbye. Then you - or I thought it was you - walked in and the power went out. Nate tried to help me get out of here but you tried to power him down. After that, he stabbed you.”

You gestured animatedly with your arm that wasn’t wounded. “But turns out - I had it completely backwards! You stabbed Nate and then you showed me all his circuits and wires…meaning what? It was you who came to fuck me goodbye? You were pretending to help me escape when it was you with me all along? Who the fuck does that, Nathan?”

“It was part of the experiment,” he explained with a nonchalance that made your blood boil.

“I thought he stabbed you, Nathan. I thought you were going to die. And Nate - or-or you, or whoever the hell fucked me and then watched me take a bath - one of you said you loved me. So I thought a robot fell in love with me and then killed you. Do you not see how way over the line fucked up that is?”

Nathan explains, emphasizing his every phrase with intense gestures. “If you truly couldn’t tell us apart, then the experiment was a success. But no part of this project was ever to make you think that you’re a machine. Or for you to hurt yourself. I never wanted that.”

You glare at him. “Why the hell do you care if I get hurt or not?”

Stashing his plate on the coffee table with a clatter, he stands abruptly. “You know what? Forget it. You love my android, you can't wait to get away from here. Message fucking received."

"Okay, now I know I'm with Nathan because everything that ever happens ever is about you."

"Sweetheart - "

“Take me to Nate.”

“What?”

“Take me to Nate right now,” you demand, rising to your feet, your salad now forgotten.

“You just saw him earlier.”

“I want to talk to him. Now.”

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nate looks relatively normal, aside from exposed wires in his abdomen. He's shirtless, wearing black boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination, sitting on a lab table, bare legs hanging off the edge.

He goes from lifeless to someone you feel you truly know in two seconds as Nathan powers him on. His soft eyes trace the contours of your face as he breathes your name.

“Hi,” you whisper, realizing that you actually care how he's doing. “Are you okay?”

He glances down at his exposed abdomen. “I’ll live.” He glares at his maker. “No thanks to this asshole.”

“Yes thanks to this asshole,” Nathan smugly returns, arms folded over his chest, looking like some kind of bodyguard at the moment. A really compact bodyguard. “I’m fixing you. You’re welcome.”

“You stabbed me,” Nate returns, but quickly refocuses on you. "But what about you?" He motions to your arm. "You're hurt."

"I'll live," you echo his words, turning to Nathan. “If I ask him questions does he have to tell me the truth?”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Nate interjects, “and the answer is no. I’m always learning. Humans are master deceivers so every interaction with one trains me to think for myself and act in my own self-interest.”

"Typical." You roll your eyes. "What would you say Nathan programmed you to do, primarily? Was it to pass as him? Trick me? See if you could develop feelings for me? See if I could feel something for you? Escape? What was it?"

Nate glances at Nathan.

"Don't look at him, look at me. What is your primary reason for existing?"

"The human response is to say I don't need a reason to exist, I simply exist. I don't have to explain my sentience to deserve the right to be."

Your eyes land on Nathan. "Damn. You really must be a genius."

But you're not done. "Would you tell me the truth, even if it made Nathan angry?"

"Don't I always?" Nate smugly replies.

"Even if you were sure he would terminate you, would you tell me the truth?"

Nate cocks his head, studying you curiously. "If I had to. If it would protect you."

You frown, unconvinced. "Why?"

He shakes his head once. "You know why."

You narrow your eyes. You've come this far. You might as well ask everything. "Are there any more of you? More Nathans? Nates? That look like you?"

Nate's pose now matches that of his creator, arms folded over his chest. "There better not be. It would be redundant. Nathan wouldn't find it interesting."

You look over for confirmation. Nathan smugly smiles.

Time to get down to it.

"Did you come into my room to tell me goodbye? Have sex with me? Wash me in the bathtub?" You point to his creator. "Or was it him?"

"It was me," Nathan confirms. "It was me with you, and Nate came in later."

"Why?" You hiss. "Why were you pretending to be each other?"

"I wasn't, at first," Nathan says softly. "You just assumed I was him."

"You were acting like him."

"How?" Nathan challenges. "I came to see you. I said that I knew you wanted to leave, but I wanted to spend one more night with you. You assumed Nate would do that and not me. I just went with it."

"You let me believe you were Nate," you passionately argued. "And you," you whirl back around to the android. "Walked right in, letting me believe you were Nathan."

"You believed him, that's what's important," Nathan says. "The first thing you did was to call him an asshole. A term of endearment previously reserved only...for me."

"So your grand plan - your big experiment - was just to play Parent Trap and switch places on me? That's it?"

Nate bursts out laughing.

Nathan waves his hand dismissively. "You already know the point of the experiment. Can he pass for human?"

"Okay so there really is no reason for me to stay then," you realize, your heart sinking with a finality you hadn't expected.

"Which is what you want anyway," Nate adds. "Right, sweetheart? You want to go home?"

You pause for a moment of reflection before eyeing them skeptically, ignoring the question, since you're leaving anyway. "How do I know you're not both androids? I've probably never even met the actual Nathan Bateman. He's probably not even on this property. He's holed up somewhere, peeing in Coke bottles, with a long beard - not the sexy kind - old enough to be my grandfather - "

"Wait just a damn second," Nathan points at you. "I'm not that much older than you."

"Do you even know him at all?" Nate asks, hitching his thumb at Nathan. "His ego is way too huge to not have a front row seat to this clown factory. And besides," he motions up and down the length of your body. "You're here."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You lying in bed, between them, on your side.

Nathan's head is between your thighs, where he's been for a half hour, slurping your juices and sucking your clit, while gently thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

Nate's tongue slipped into your ass and you came instantly. That didn't stop him from continuing. You blindly reach behind your head to help him jerk himself.

Everything is a mess. Nate quickly comes all over your neck and back, Nathan pulls out of your mouth and spills all over your tits.

You came so many times that you finally squirted all over his beard.

-------

Suddenly you're clean and underneath Nathan. Candlelight surrounds you. Nathan's body flexes over you as he slowly fucks into you, warm brown eyes locked onto yours. His fingers are laced with yours. He kisses you and fucks you so good you start to cry.

-------

In an instant, you're under the waterfall - the place you first met Nate. An adoring hint of a smile pulls at his lips as he slips his cock past your puffy folds, groaning in pleasure before licking into your mouth.

Nathan holds you from behind, strong arms keeping you upright. He's the one who grips your hips and pushes you into Nate.

"Use him, babydoll," he echoes his words from that first day. "Fuck, you look so good like this, fucking yourself on the toy I made you."

Your body goes limp, singing with euphoric pleasure as Nathan manipulates your body, fucking you into his android.

Still, it's Nathan's name you moan when you come.

-------

You jolt awake as the chopper touches down at the airfield. A car is waiting to take you home.

Home.

You're free. It's over.

But now he's all you can think about.

What the hell happened to you?

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan Bateman masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

#perfect fit fic #nathan bateman x reader

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Text

Poor Nate got stabbed and his circuits all messed up. Nathan is fixing him right up tho

gotta see how this plays out, how they might meet back up!

Perfect Fit Volume 4

previously | Perfect Fit Masterlist

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: The fallout from you thinking there were wires in your arm. Were there wires in your arm? Is Nate ok? Is any of this real? Answers unfold, finally.

Content: language, violence, blood, wounds, mention of suicide, dream sex, oral -m. and f. rec, p in v, overuse of italics, not beta'd

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

PREVIOUSLY on "Perfect Fit"

"If I'm...real, then take me to a hospital. Take me now."

"Okay. But it'll take some time. I have to call for the chopper and we both need warm clothes."

You can go downstairs with him and possibly be trapped forever. Or you can depend on him to fly you out of here. Either way, you have to trust him.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You nod, making sure to keep your arm elevated, keeping as much pressure as you can, while he slips the earbuds into your ears.

"Can you hear me?" You see his mouth, but a clear sound resounds in your ears as the helicopter's noise is muted immensely.

You nod.

"Okay, these should cancel out most of that fucking noise so we can talk."

He sits down and straps in while he says this before motioning for his pilot to take off.

"Let me see that arm."

Your wounded arm is closest to him. He makes sure you haven't bled through your thick bandages and towel before applying more pressure.

You wince, your whimper audible in his high tech earbuds.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we have to keep pressure on this - as much as you can stand," he explains for like the eleventh time.

"I know." Your eyes stare vacantly ahead as you let him press as hard as you can take it.

His gaze drops momentarily, not that you notice. Then he drags in a deep breath. "Listen, we have to talk. Things are gonna get complicated when we get to the hospital."

"How?"

"Well, the first thing they're gonna wanna know is how you got this big fucking cut," he explains. "They're either gonna think you did it, or I did it. Both of which will present...issues."

"I did it," you glance over at him. "I wouldn't make them think you did, if that's what you're worried about."

"But if you say you did it, they might order a psych eval. Might even put you on suicide watch," he goes on. "It could get messy."

The corner of his mouth curls as he sees a glimpse of your humor for the first time in days. But it doesn't reach the roundness of his saddened eyes.

"Well, I'm not going to try to talk you into anything right now. I'm just giving you the options."

You sigh tiredly, despite the long nap you apparently took. " Which are?"

He stares at your profile so long that you finally turn to look at him. "Do you want the version you want to hear, or your actual options?"

You groan. "Actual options."

You glare at him.

“Four, we head back to my place and I stitch you up.”

You sigh again.

“Any of these options begin and end with you calling your family and going back to your life. That earpiece will call them right now. Go ahead.”

Your heart races as you realize you might be free, and contemplate if you’ve actually been captive at all.

“My mom. Let me call her," you plead, your voice shaky, as if you weren't allowed to call her most any day since you arrived at Nathan's home.

"Yeah, of course," he says so softly, you're certain it has to be Nate. Or maybe Nathan was the soft one all along. Dammit.

He shows you how to make the call and moments later, you hear your mom's voice.

She asks if you're okay. How you've been since Tuesday (the last time you talked, days prior), how work is going...when you're coming home.

"Soon," you reassure her. "I miss you."

You hang up with a soft smile, feeling marginally better.

You gaze at Nathan, wishing you could know who he really is. Maybe you're crazy but...

"Can you really fix my arm?"

He gently smiles. "Yeah."

"Okay, let's go back."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

True to his word, Nathan somehow stitches you up after giving you a few localized numbing shots. (You refused to be put to sleep).

Then he takes you to see a powered down Nate, who looks a little worse for wear, but is, in fact, a machine.

He even shows you some of his older androids, all powered down.

After that, he guides you back upstairs for something to eat, and to talk.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, while preparing a salad.

“My arm hurts,” you flatly return.

Nathan rolls his eyes. "If you believe that, then you already know I don’t have an answer for why you almost killed yourself slicing your arm open.”

“Because of you, because of what you’ve done to me,” You passionately argue, eyes flashing. “You keep messing with my head. You showed me wires in my arm!”

“More gaslighting,” you scoff.

“Fuck you, Nathan - "

“Fine, I’m leaving tonight,” you tell him, stepping up to him challengingly. “Call my ride.”

“Done,” Nathan fires back, then folds his arms over his chest. “If you wanted to leave here so badly, why did you come back here with me? Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

“I didn’t want any questions, same as you.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes, moving back around to start working on the salad again. “Do you want to eat or should I call your ride first?”

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You and Nathan quietly choke down your salad while seated on the couch. Nathan is barefoot, as usual, one leg tucked up under the other, starting vacantly out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“So, did Nate convince you? That he was me and I was him?” He asks you point blank. “Would you say the experiment was a success?”

Poking your fork uninterestedly into your lettuce, you darkly chuckle. “I would say so. I honestly don’t even know who’s sitting with me right now.”

Nathan drops his fork. “Are you fucking serious?”

“It was part of the experiment,” he explained with a nonchalance that made your blood boil.

You glare at him. “Why the hell do you care if I get hurt or not?”

Stashing his plate on the coffee table with a clatter, he stands abruptly. “You know what? Forget it. You love my android, you can't wait to get away from here. Message fucking received."

"Okay, now I know I'm with Nathan because everything that ever happens ever is about you."

"Sweetheart - "

“Take me to Nate.”

“What?”

“Take me to Nate right now,” you demand, rising to your feet, your salad now forgotten.

“You just saw him earlier.”

“I want to talk to him. Now.”

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

He goes from lifeless to someone you feel you truly know in two seconds as Nathan powers him on. His soft eyes trace the contours of your face as he breathes your name.

“Hi,” you whisper, realizing that you actually care how he's doing. “Are you okay?”

He glances down at his exposed abdomen. “I’ll live.” He glares at his maker. “No thanks to this asshole.”

“You stabbed me,” Nate returns, but quickly refocuses on you. "But what about you?" He motions to your arm. "You're hurt."

"I'll live," you echo his words, turning to Nathan. “If I ask him questions does he have to tell me the truth?”

Nate glances at Nathan.

"Don't look at him, look at me. What is your primary reason for existing?"

"The human response is to say I don't need a reason to exist, I simply exist. I don't have to explain my sentience to deserve the right to be."

Your eyes land on Nathan. "Damn. You really must be a genius."

But you're not done. "Would you tell me the truth, even if it made Nathan angry?"

"Don't I always?" Nate smugly replies.

"Even if you were sure he would terminate you, would you tell me the truth?"

Nate cocks his head, studying you curiously. "If I had to. If it would protect you."

You frown, unconvinced. "Why?"

He shakes his head once. "You know why."

You narrow your eyes. You've come this far. You might as well ask everything. "Are there any more of you? More Nathans? Nates? That look like you?"

Nate's pose now matches that of his creator, arms folded over his chest. "There better not be. It would be redundant. Nathan wouldn't find it interesting."

You look over for confirmation. Nathan smugly smiles.

Time to get down to it.

"Did you come into my room to tell me goodbye? Have sex with me? Wash me in the bathtub?" You point to his creator. "Or was it him?"

"It was me," Nathan confirms. "It was me with you, and Nate came in later."

"Why?" You hiss. "Why were you pretending to be each other?"

"I wasn't, at first," Nathan says softly. "You just assumed I was him."

"You were acting like him."

"How?" Nathan challenges. "I came to see you. I said that I knew you wanted to leave, but I wanted to spend one more night with you. You assumed Nate would do that and not me. I just went with it."

"You let me believe you were Nate," you passionately argued. "And you," you whirl back around to the android. "Walked right in, letting me believe you were Nathan."

"You believed him, that's what's important," Nathan says. "The first thing you did was to call him an asshole. A term of endearment previously reserved only...for me."

"So your grand plan - your big experiment - was just to play Parent Trap and switch places on me? That's it?"

Nate bursts out laughing.

Nathan waves his hand dismissively. "You already know the point of the experiment. Can he pass for human?"

"Okay so there really is no reason for me to stay then," you realize, your heart sinking with a finality you hadn't expected.

"Which is what you want anyway," Nate adds. "Right, sweetheart? You want to go home?"

"Wait just a damn second," Nathan points at you. "I'm not that much older than you."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You lying in bed, between them, on your side.

Nathan's head is between your thighs, where he's been for a half hour, slurping your juices and sucking your clit, while gently thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

Nate's tongue slipped into your ass and you came instantly. That didn't stop him from continuing. You blindly reach behind your head to help him jerk himself.

Everything is a mess. Nate quickly comes all over your neck and back, Nathan pulls out of your mouth and spills all over your tits.

You came so many times that you finally squirted all over his beard.

-------

Nathan holds you from behind, strong arms keeping you upright. He's the one who grips your hips and pushes you into Nate.

"Use him, babydoll," he echoes his words from that first day. "Fuck, you look so good like this, fucking yourself on the toy I made you."

Your body goes limp, singing with euphoric pleasure as Nathan manipulates your body, fucking you into his android.

Still, it's Nathan's name you moan when you come.

-------

You jolt awake as the chopper touches down at the airfield. A car is waiting to take you home.

Home.

You're free. It's over.

But now he's all you can think about.

What the hell happened to you?

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan Bateman masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

#thanks so much for the comments!#ivy replies #perfect fit fic #nathan bateman #oscar isaac characters #nathan bateman x f!reader #ex machina #read the warnings #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman fanfiction

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Text

When did so many nonniekins move to fake gaza

#actual asks would be nice

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Note

i really like all three of the lead actors and I liked the film overall

definitely needs a rewatch from me!

do you know rydal? do you like him?

i can't remember

With Mona not around as much there is a Rydal shaped hole in the fandom. I know some people don't like him and I can't remember if you are one of them lolll

It was like 10 years ago when I saw this movie so I don't remember that much about his character (also i wasn't an Oscar girlie then, forgive me 😭), but he was fucking tourists over in Athens if I remember correctly lol. I think I didn't like him and it was Mona's Oxford Comma series that made me be like "if he asked me nicely 😏" lmao.

He looks very very very good in that movie tho 🫠

#rydal keener

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Text

She Was My Mother - Poe Dameron

Summary: After the war, you discover a hard copy recording in an old ship. You take it to Yavin 4, to put directly into the hands of General Dameron.

wc: ~2k, gn! reader content: angsty with a happy ending, fluff adjacent, friends/comrades to lovers, discussion of mothers who've passed

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Your boots hit the jungle floor as soon as you land on Yavin 4. You haven’t bothered with a space port, instead acquiring permission to approach the edge of General Dameron’s property. He’s expecting your urgent communique.

Your team has traveled all over the Outer Rim territories since the war ended, gathering intel and supplies, discarded items, anything at abandoned posts, and any weapons locals haven’t taken for themselves. The purpose is twofold. War has ravaged the galaxy for the past few generations and supplies are controlled or limited. Every piece of scrap metal could mean survival if this were to happen again. The second reason is to gather intel. Hopefully, history’s mistakes might not be repeated if everyone understands a clear picture of what has gone wrong.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

You joined the Resistance late in the game, so although you knew General Dameron personally, you weren’t always a part of his inner circle. It was probably for the best because you felt an instant, flaring and almost consuming attraction to him, and not only that - a bond. Both of you lost your mothers at a young age. Both of them were pilots, which inspired both of you to become pilots.

Probably not an entirely uncommon occurrence, but once, when you noticed a ring hanging from a chain around his neck, your hand clutched your mother’s own necklace. You showed your trinket to him, saying, “This was my mother’s. Yours is beautiful.”

After he shared the story of his mother’s ring with you, the bond was set.

Still, you kept a respectable distance, since you were married. You certainly weren’t the only Resistance member who felt attraction to the General. And you were determined to remain loyal to your husband, despite the struggles between you.

But none of that matters now.

You’ve found something that Poe needs to see and hear for himself.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Humidity kisses your skin, making it slightly more difficult to breathe. Or maybe that's the anticipation of seeing General Dameron, who doesn't keep you waiting.

He steps out of his front door - you see his thick thigh before anything else. Then climbs down a ladder/stair contraption, giving you a nice view before pushing aside some gigantic leaves to reveal his face.

His smile brightens his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners as he grants you a wave.

You pick up the pace, almost feeling the urge to rush into his arms for a hug, but knowing it's not quite appropriate.

"General Dameron," you breathe as the two of you almost collide but restrain yourselves.

He greets you by name, suspended in brief indecision before he steps forward and pulls you into a quick hug.

That, along with the humidity, almost knocks the breath right out of you. Or maybe it's the way he looks. His hair is longer than usual, curls unruly in the tepid climate. The stubble on his chin is lazily kept. The linen of his shirt clings to his skin, the open V in the front almost scandalous, as is the nearly pointless thin material.

You wet your lips a few times, steadying yourself. Likely mistaking your response as thirst, he ushers you inside, acknowledging you must be tired and in need of refreshment.

You climb up into what might have been considered a gigantic play tree house on your world, but it's neatly furnished and miraculously seems to keep out most of the humidity and insects.

You deposit your gear beside a small, wicker looking table that seats four.

"All right if I shed this flight suit and freshen up?" You ask him and he directs you to the fresher.

When you emerge, he's serving something hot, which surprises you. He also sets out a pitcher of water and some sweet cakes.

"The tea is hot but, believe it or not, it helps repel insects," he tells you.

"Thank you so much, General."

"Poe, please," he corrects, smiling at you. "We know each other well enough, right? Besides," he waves his hand dismissively, "war's over. It's just me, so...Poe."

"Poe," you repeat, trying to forget how many times you thought about being on a first name basis with him.

Your eyes linger on his before flickering away, your cheeks heating like a teenager's. Hopefully you can get out of this without making a fool of yourself.

"How's your dad?" You begin, hoping small talk might clear the path to deliver the news you've brought, even though you and Poe have discussed how much you don't like small talk.

Poe smirks playfully, pouring the cups of tea. "He's great. We're actually at the edge of his property. I think he's happy to have me back."

"And how does it feel to be back?" You ask him, with a brief 'thank you' for the tea.

He nods slowly, contemplating his response. "I love being home, but...it's different. It's quiet."

"I figured you might be antsy," you laugh.

"Guilty," he chuckles, taking a sip of his own beverage.

"What about you? You've been busy, scavenging all around the galaxy."

"We are not scavengers," you defend, swatting him on the arm, which feels oddly comfortable for your superior officer. But you know he's joking. "It's tiring, but the work is fulfilling. We've found some amazing things."

"One of which you brought with you," he prompts, dark eyebrows lifted curiously.

"Yes," you quietly confirm.

"How's your husband?" He adds, realizing he's rushed you to your reason for being here and by doing so, likely hastened an end to a visit he's looked so forward to.

Your gaze drops to your tea, fingers fidgeting as you twist it around a few times. "He...he left me." You clear your throat awkwardly before sighing. "He was already gone right after Exegol."

"I'm...so sorry," Poe utters sincerely. Watching not only the hurt but the shame etched into your beautiful features sends a protective flare through his heart.

"It's okay," you weakly smile. "I think he was halfway out the door when I joined the Resistance. He just used my service as a way to blame me for abandoning him."

Poe's jaw clenches as judgment burns in his gaze. "You were doing something honorable. Something important. If he couldn't see that then..."

Your eyes met his questioningly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't judge. I know it won't make you feel any better to hear my opinion, it's just..." He sighs heavily, hoping to change the subject soon. Anything to see you smile again.

"No...tell me," you say quietly, setting your tea down and giving him your full attention. "Because I can't, for the life of me, figure out what I did wrong."

Your eyes, so wide and pleading, coax him to continue. "Look, I don't know him. It's not my place, but you were so loyal to him. Do you know how many people wanted to... you know, but everyone wanted to respect that you were married. And then he just..." Threw you away. But Poe wouldn't say that part out loud.

He stops himself again scrubbing a hand over his stubble with a heavy sigh. "Shit...I'm just - I'm sorry. If he couldn't see who was right in front of him, then I don't know what's wrong with him."

You swallow thickly, your heart racing. "Thank you for saying that. I'm sure I played a part in it. But thank you anyway."

After a comfortable beat of silence, you reach for your bag to produce the item you came to bring Poe in the first place.

"Sorry for making this little visit about me," You sheepishly say, "when it's definitely about you."

"You didn't do that," Poe argues, reaching for your forearm. His fingers wrap around your bare skin and he gently squeezes. "We're friends. I wanted to know if you're okay. I missed you."

Your lip trembles, but you chomp down on it. "Me too. I missed you too." Clearing your throat, you thrust the item outward, asking him if he has the right equipment that you sent ahead in your communique, to play back a message on this old tech you found.

"We found this data recorder in an old ship - bucket of rust, really. All the metal was stripped and sold by locals," you explain. "This was a second, secret data recorder. The old one was long gone - officially logged. Whoever installed this one was either running spice or weapons, or top secret Rebel missions."

Poe's eyes snap up to yours. "Rebels? Really old then. Surprised they didn't find it sooner."

"Ship was an absolute piece of junk. Nothing of value left. But my team looks at everything that ever was anything. Found this, encrypted, and couldn't believe it when we got a voice match."

"A voice match from the Rebel Alliance?" Poe queries, completing the connection so you can listen to the message.

"Yeah," you confirm. "I didn't want to upset you or excite you before I could bring it to you personally, but the voice match is for Shara Bey."

Poe's lip trembles as he inhales sharply. "She was my mother."

"Yeah," you smile gently, reaching to squeeze his shoulder. "Play it."

Stretching out his fingers, Poe activates the device, almost wilting at the sound of his mother's voice.

"My love. We've landed in a trap. Our intel was wrong and the Imperial presence here has tripled since our last communication. As far as I know, we haven't been discovered, but we might be stuck here a while before we can find a way to safely blend in and start to plot our way off world. In the meantime, we'll try to undermine them however we can."

The voice on the recording sighs.

"You'll probably never hear this. If we make it out of here, you won't need to, and if we don't, it'll probably never fall into hands that will know to get it back to you. But hopefully, if this mission takes me away from you, you'll hear it someday and know how, right now, the only thing I want is to be home with you."

She sniffles before continuing.

"My love...I had to leave this message for you, praying it will find its way back to you if I do not. I have to tell someone. You're going to be a father. And I'm going to be a mother. I'm pregnant! Can you believe it? Can you actually believe it finally happened? Our miracle baby. Do you think it will be a boy or girl? I think it's a boy. I'm so scared. Can you believe I'm saying those words? Nothing has ever scared me so much. I already love it so much. And I love you. I love you."

By the time the message concludes, Poe's hand covers his mouth as tears roll down his cheeks.

You debate whether to give him his space or comfort him, but he turns a watery gaze to you. "I haven't heard her voice in so long."

His arms open and he pulls you in, tucking you gently against his body and burying his face in your hair. You squeeze his torso, rubbing your hands up and down his back soothingly.

His hold on you tightens, and he presses you closer into him as he feels you responding. He rubs his cheek against yours.

"Thank you for bringing her back to me," he breathes on your ear.

And even though he's having a moment, a shiver zings down your spine to your toes. "You're so welcome."

Easing back, he keeps hold of your arms, squeezing gently as he gazes into your eyes. "You didn't have to do this. But it means so much that you did."

"Of course I did, Poe. It's your mother." Your fingers reach for the chain around his neck, tracing the shape of it. "I think I understand at least a little of what she meant to you."

Swallowing thickly, he nods, reaching for your necklace in return. His fingertips brush along your collarbone before his hand slips up to cup your cheek tenderly.

"Do you have to return the recording right away?"

"Not right away," you tell him softly. "We made several copies before I brought you the original," you explain. "I have to return it to archives, but I wanted you to actually see it."

He nods understandingly. "Can you stay, at least for tonight? I want you to meet my dad. He would love to finally meet you and to thank you for bringing this here to us." His eyebrows shoot up hopefully.

Poe wants you to stay? Poe told his dad about you?

"Yes," you quickly nod, beaming. "Definitely, I would love to, Poe."

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Years later, with Shara's ring on your finger and your mother's necklace around your daughter's neck, you play your children the recording of their grandmother's voice, in a galaxy still at peace.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist | holiday fics masterlist

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#thanks for the rb!#ivy replies #thanks so much for the comments!#poe dameron #mother's day fic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #shara bey #star wars fanfiction #poe x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron fanfic #kes dameron #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #oscar isaac characters #star wars

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Text

Get yourself a man who can do both

#oscar isaac

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Note

Just be you 💅

💗

You are too kind and wonderful!!!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

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ivystoryweaver · 3 days ago

Photo

Oscar Isaac as Santiago Garcia & Pedro Pascal as Francisco Morales TRIPLE FRONTIER 2019 | dir. J.C. Chandor

#ahhhh these boys #writing inspo #triple frontier

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ivystoryweaver · 4 days ago

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TLC FROM BLUE

EXCUSE ME BUT BLUE??

Ummm, the tension here was incredibly written. Like every time she almost flinches, the way you made tender motions be so similar to dangerous or even sexual ones

BRILLIANT

Me next time im not feeling well @ blue

Better, Doll?

Blue Jones x Reader

Description: Blue is always the first to notice when something is wrong in his club, but you still try to hide your migraine from him. (1.8K~ words)

*Gender Neutral Reader. Reader is a dancer at the Lennox Club.

Warnings: Blue Jones. Migraine symptoms, fluff, hurt/comfort. Swearing, pet names ("doll"), innuendo. Not Beta read. (Please let me know if I missed any.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💙🎙️💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rocket watches as you stagger a little in the dressing room. “You barely got through the last number; what's going on?” she asks conspiratorially.

“I don't feel so good; my head hurts."

She puts a hand on your forehead. “You don't have a fever. Think you'll be ok until Blue dismisses us? I can tell Madame Gorski you're too sick for clients tonight.”

You nod slightly, closing your eyes. You try to block out the noise of the other dancers milling around, getting ready. Blue's voice crackles through the speakers as he thanks the audience and tells his special ticket holders to stick around for the next event.

The thought of having to do a “next event” in your current state makes your stomach flip. You hope Rocket is right about Gorski letting you skip tonight. You sit down at your dressing table, pull out a bottle of painkillers and take a couple. Then you rest your forehead on the wooden surface, gripping your hands in your lap.

A few minutes later, you jolt awake as Rocket puts a hand on your shoulder.

“It's ok; it's just me,” she soothes. “I talked to Gorski-”

Her words are cut off by a flurry of activity as Blue enters and everyone stands to face him. You slowly stand up, too, gripping the table behind you for support as dizziness rolls through you.

“Good show tonight, girls!” Blue says, smiling broadly. “We have lots of new friends visiting us tonight, so confirm your assignments with Madame Gorski before you welcome them.”

He nods to the assembly, then turns to speak to Gorski. Their voices are too low to hear.

The other dancers start to move to their next jobs; the noise makes your head pound. Suddenly, your name rings out from across the room. Gorski is still talking to Blue in hushed tones, obviously trying to explain that you are sick.

“…with me tonight,” Blue says in a tone that doesn't allow for argument.

Your heart sinks. There's no way you can do whatever he will ask of you, not with the way your body threatens to give out on you at any moment.

Blue calls your name and catches your eye, flashing his salesman smile. “Come over here, doll.”

You walk over slowly, trying not to fall as your vision spins.

Gorski shoots you an apologetic look as you reach them. Blue looks you up and down.

“We have some business to discuss in my office,” he says smoothly.

You nod carefully.

Blue turns to Madame Gorski. “You know where to find me if there are any issues you can’t handle,” he says with a grin, then kisses her on the cheek.

His hand finds your lower back and guides you in front of him. “This way, sweetheart.”

You walk silently to Blue's office with a pit growing in your stomach. The smell of his cologne is stronger than normal; it fills your nostrils with each breath, another distraction for your pained head. A small part of your brain screams to run, but the warmth of his hand on your back is a reminder of how pointless that would be. The distance seems much shorter than you remember, and before you know it, Blue is unlocking the door to his office and ushering you inside.

“Sit down,” he orders as he closes and locks the door behind you. You let out a relieved sigh at how quiet it is in his office. Even Blue's voice sounds more quiet than normal, but that could just be the calm before the storm.

You quickly sit on the couch and squeeze your eyes shut as a sudden wave of nausea washes over you. Blue's shoes click on the floor, moving around his desk and eventually stopping right in front of you.

“Show me your eyes, doll,” he demands, voice soft but clear in the silence.

You hesitantly open them and look up.

Blue leans close to you as his dark eyes stare into yours; you try not to flinch. After a moment, he straightens and looks you up and down again. “Do you know why you're here?” he asks, removing his suit jacket and tossing it over a chair.

You nod slowly, trying to ignore the pain that shoots through your head. You wince and drop your gaze a little.

Blue grabs your chin and tilts your head up, making you gasp. “You're one of my good little dolls, right?" His voice is still soft, but with that terrifying undercurrent of danger. "You wouldn't accept gifts from friends that you're not supposed to? Extra attention, drugs…” Blue raises an eyebrow and waits.

“N-no, sir, I didn't. I'm not on drugs.” You tense as a shiver runs down your spine. He's going to think you're lying.

Blue releases your chin. You can't tell if he believes you or not. He starts to remove his tie as he speaks. “Your dancing was off tonight, sweetheart. Not by much; most people wouldn't notice.”

“I know, I'm sorry-”

“Shhh,” he cuts you off, resting his hand on your shoulder. His face shows pity, perhaps mocking you. “Lie down; close your eyes,” he commands quietly.

You shut your eyes and lie back slowly, heart pounding in anticipation. Maybe you can manage this, if all he wants is for you to lie still while he fucks you.

You feel him lift your legs, then a dip in the couch as he sits, dropping your legs over his lap. You can't stop the gasp that falls from your lips as he runs one hand over your calf muscles. He holds your leg still as he unbuckles your shoe and slides it off. It hits the floor with a soft thud, and the other follows soon after. Blue massages your legs as you swallow hard.

“When did your migraine start?” Blue asks quietly.

You go as still as possible, shocked that he knew. Did Gorski tell him?

“You're ok. Relax." His low, soothing voice washes over you as his hands keep moving gently over your legs.

Much to your own surprise, you do start to relax under his touch…until his hands move above your knees, sliding your skirt up as he goes. You tense and raise up on your elbows, watching anxiously as he unbuckles your sequined stage stockings, then carefully pulls them down your legs and off, one by one.

“There. Now you won't feel so itchy." Blue meets your surprised stare with a smirk. He gently moves your legs off of him. “Sit up for a minute,” he orders, holding out a hand to help you. When you take it, he pulls you upright and angles you to sit sideways on the couch, facing away from him. You shudder as his fingers crawl down your spine. He pulls at the laces on the back of your stage costume, loosening it just enough for you to breathe easier without taking it off completely.

His hands move to your shoulders, and he leans you back until your head rests on his lap. Blue huffs in amusement at your wide-eyed confusion.

He tuts at you. “You still got your pins in your hair, sweetheart. Look at the desk,” he orders. You turn your head sideways, facing out into the room, and rest your cheek on his thigh. “Good doll; now hold still for me.”

You freeze stiffly against him. There's no way he knows how to take bobby pins out without it hurting.

Blue's fingers slide against your scalp gently as he moves locks of hair to find the pins. It feels so good that you let out a small whine.

His fingers stop moving. “Did that hurt?” He asks.

“No,” you say slowly. “No, it felt…kind of good,” you confess.

Blue starts moving his hands in your hair again. “That's good, doll. I'm not trying to hurt you, so tell me if I do.” He deftly removes a bobby pin from your hair, then another. You let out the occasional relieved whimper as he works; you hadn't realized just how tightly some of them were secured. Your eyes droop closed again as Blue rubs a hand down the back of your neck and against your shoulder, massaging deep circles into your muscles with his thumb. You cry out as he hits a particularly sore spot.

“Want me to stop, doll?"

You shake your head slightly against his leg and gasp when his thumb presses slowly against your neck again.

“You never answered my question,” he says in a low voice, trailing his hands over your skin.

His question? When did he ask you…oh yeah, the migraine.

“It started about thirty minutes before the end of the show,” you explain.

“What set it off? The noise or the lights?”

“I'm not really sure. Maybe both.”

“This tension in your neck didn't help, I bet.” You melt into the couch as his fingers keep massaging away your aches. “Did you think you would be able to take clients like this?” he asks, too sweet to be anything but dangerous.

Your stomach drops, but you take a shuddering breath in. “I would have pushed through,” you assure him.

“Maybe,” he concedes, “or maybe you would have gotten sick all over a paying customer,” Blue admonishes.

Maybe it’s the sleepiness rapidly overtaking you, but you don't catch any real venom in his tone this time.

“Some of them might be into that,” you dare to joke back.

Blue lets out a quick laugh. “They might, sweetheart, but let's not find out the hard way. The next time you feel bad like this, you come tell me, alright?”

You yawn, jaw popping against his leg. “Ok, Blue.”

He moves a hand to your shoulder and pulls until you roll over onto your back. “Feeling better, doll?” He asks.

You're not sure exactly when it happened, but the pounding in your head has stopped. You grin sleepily up at him. “Yes, Blue. So much better.”

Blue cups your cheek and smirks. “Good. You're going to sleep here tonight, and if anybody asks, you tell them I fucked you stupid all night, understand?”

You watch his face closely. “Are you not…” you swallow nervously, “...going to do that?”

“No,” he says slowly, smiling down at you. “Believe it or not, I need some rest too.”

He lifts your head up gently and scoots out from under you. You're still processing his words as he slides one of the throw pillows under your head. You've heard stories from the other dancers about what Blue does with them alone in his office. Now that your migraine has ebbed and you've felt Blue's undivided attention firsthand, you find yourself wondering what more would feel like.

Blue grabs a blanket from behind the couch and settles it over you. He catches your perplexed expression and tuts, tracing your cheek with his thumb. "Don't look so sad, doll; I won't let you leave tomorrow without a smile on your face," Blue promises with a wink.

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Masterlist

#blue jones x reader

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