overlybisexual

[overlybisexual]

No gods no masters

[overlybisexual]

Complicated

Santiago Garcia x Lara Evans (OC)

Authors Note: They’re complicated and it hurts me. 

Lara isn’t even sure she can taste alcohol anymore. She’s fucked her liver so badly, that maybe she didn’t need to taste it. One thing she has always been sure of, is that if Santiago is in the country, and at home, he’s always providing a safe space for her to sober up. It’s almost routine, she always makes enough extra dinner to drop off to his the next day, and at least once every few weeks she ends up crashing at his, drunk after an argument with her husband. 

It’s not David’s fault that he doesn’t know what he does wrong sometimes, only Lara and they know. It’s not David’s fault that Lara’s PTSD is so up the wall that even her own kids end up triggering it. That one upsets Lara the most. Maybe it’s why she’s spent so much time re-assuring them, that it isn’t them, that mommy’s brain is just unwell, and she’s trying so hard not to let it be unwell. 

Elizbet was the smartest of all her children. Looking up at her with dark eyes, as Lara checked over her very thick black curls, putting them in the twists that they needed to be in for sleep, when her dark skinned child grabbed her arm. “It’s okay that you’re unwell. I know you’re trying. Joey does too. We think you should go to Uncle Santi’s tonight, so you don’t have to listen to Jemima all night.” 

Down the hall, her youngest is yelling at her father, a tantrum as all toddlers do. David had said he’d take care of it, which was unlike her husband, but perhaps he felt guilty that his yelling had started Jemima off. 

Lara sighed, cupping her daughter’s soft cheek. “I can’t just go to Uncle Santi’s every time something goes wrong sweetheart. I know I do it a lot, but Uncle Santi understands my brain isn’t alright, and we make everything safe for each other. Just like I do for you kids.” 

“You can. We’ll see you in the morning. It’s not like you and daddy sleep in the same bed as it is.” Lara wants to react, but all she can is sigh, and shake her head. 

“I don’t share a bed with Uncle Santi either. That’s not how that works.” All of six years old, and Elizbet was here having an almost adult conversation with her ginger mother, eyes wide and soulful. 

“Okay, don’t sleep in his bed, but it’d be better than the couch. It’s not comfy mommy. Besides…” She pauses just as she pulls up Lara’s phone from her blankets. “I already told him you were coming.” 

Lara’s mouth almost dropped, a shocked look going over her face as she took her phone back, and Santi’s accepting response. Even at her worst drunken state, she spelled better than this! “Lizzie…!” her unfazed middle child shrugged, laying herself down on her bed. Jemima’s screeching has both of them flinching, but Elizbet notices the way her mother grabs her bed sheets, and gently coaxes her to release the sheets. 

“I can tune Jem out. You can’t. I don’t want you to have to drink anymore tonight. I know you’re not sober, and it’s not helping. Go to Uncle’s,” She speaks sense, gripping her mother’s hand softly. “And come back tomorrow. You’re doing your best, and you need a break. It’s daddy’s turn.” 

Convinced by her child, Lara sighed, dark eyes rolling up before she nodded her head. “Okay baby. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Sleep well mommy.” Elizbet responded with a smile, pulling Lara into a hug before releasing her to allow her to tuck her in. 

Joey is doing his homework when Lara says goodbye to him, and because she’s smart, she takes an uber to her best friend’s house. 

Santi’s already opening the door when she gets there, looking as tired as she feels walking up the stairs in the dark, holding his hand out for her phone and keys, only letting her in after she’s given them to him. 

“You’re not great at typing but that was just pathetic, Bambi.” 

“It was Lizzie, actually. She’s smarter than I give her credit for.” Kids in 2016, they’re different nowadays, aren’t they? Even as the election looms overhead - she’s reminded only by the pamphlets that he’s been given, Lara plops herself down on the couch, only having to wait long enough for Santi to hide her phone and keys before he’s sitting down next to her, and handing her the remote. 

“I should’ve known from how she wrote Santi. Didn’t know I was Santa.” He laughs throatily, and without even thinking Lara’s reply comes quick. 

“You were more than once, I remember. Comfiest Santa in the world.” It’s a sharp look that Santi gives her, as if daring her to remind him that sitting on his lap had once never meant that. That every time she’d been on his lap, his dick had been buried so deep in her that there had been no space between them. But that was years ago, before she got married. 

“I’ve always been the comfiest Santa. Don’t forget it.” She leans against the arm of the couch, and grips the pillow and blankets he’s placed there. 

“You can’t keep sleeping on the couch every time-” 

“Lara, don’t.” 

“It’s gonna hurt your back. Maybe if you didn’t fuck it up every deployment, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

An exasperated sigh leaves Santi’s lips, as he rubs his hand down his face. “I’m sleeping on the couch. End up. Bedtime for you, if we’re gonna get you back in the morning.” Standing from the couch, he grabs her hand and tugs her with him, not even bothering to turn on the light as he takes her into his bedroom, the bed already turned down for her. A glass of water has been placed on the nightstand, and some aspirin for the morning. Lara almost deflates at the care he’s always providing her, hand feeling empty when he lets go of it. “Right, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Sitting on the edge, she watches as Santi takes his shoes off in the corner of his room, before going to leave into the well lit lounge. 

“Santiago.” It’s just her voice, and it’s enough to stop him, causing him to turn and look at her taking her shoes off and tossing them into the corner he’d placed his in. “Please,” Lara pats the other side of the bed, and he seems to consider it before leaving the room entirely. Disappointment fills her, but she shrugs it off, standing and pushing her jeans down her legs, and dropping her sweatshirt and top onto the floor, climbing into Santi’s bed to the sight of the lights switching off in the rest of his house, and when she least expects it, Santi comes back through his bedroom door, shutting the door behind him. 

It’s dark, so Lara leans over and turns the lamp on on the other side, shuffling back to her side on the comfy double bed, laying down and not even subtly watching Santi dress down to his own underwear, and climb in with her. He leaves his dog tags on, even as Lara has taken0 hers off on the bedside drawers, hearing his clink as he turns off the lamp. 

Silence stretches as they share a bed for the first time in years, the darkness almost suffocating, until the moon stretches through the gap in the closed curtains, and Lara turns on her side, hand travelling to his side and tugging herself closer to him, just like she used to do. As if no time had passed at all, their breaths intermingle as he rolls over to face her, pushing ginger hair out of her face, eyes watching her as her fingers gently moved over his stubble. 

“You know I love you right?” She said it the night she found out she was pregnant with Joey. She says it to Will, and Ben, and Frankie. She says it to Yaya, and Hannah, and Tom’s lovely wife, and she says it to her children. But to Lara, it always feels different when she says it to Santi, hand now resting over his dog tags, holding them against his heart. 

“I know.” He responds, swallowing thickly. “You know I love you. You’re my Bambi, I’m on your side.” 

He deserves so much, and that night, Lara steals all the affection he deems to give her, resting herself into his warmth, listening to the beating of his heart, before finding his left hand, and holding it to her own heart beat, letting her eyes close to the plains of his chest and stomach. Maybe sometimes she does share a bed with Santiago, but it’s just as platonic as it had once been sexual all those years ago. 

She doesn’t feel safe unless she knows he’s nearby, and he’s more than aware of that. Her husband is more than aware of that. Military School, Deployments, so long relying on each other, and protecting each other, and Lara’s not sure she could handle life without him being a part of it. 

“Always on your side too, Pope. I don’t tell you enough, do enough for you, you’re my best friend - I know Frankie’s yours, but you’re mine too. I’m gonna miss you when you go to Columbia.” It’s at least a year or two long deployment, that’s all he’d shared. 

“I’m still a phone call away. You could come with him.” His voice is sleepy, as distant as Lara’s mind feels. ANd she feels ashamed as she spends too long considering it, accepting a deployment for the first time since she’d gotten pregnant with Jemima. 

“I can’t. But you’re always here,” Knocking his hand against her chest again, their talk slows, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safe and warm. 

They’d always been complicated, and yet everyone else knows it was the most simple truth, that they’d made it hard for themselves. Lara had made it hard for them without meaning to, afraid and lost. Maybe she should have been braver years ago, and this wouldn’t have happened. When she thinks of her children though, she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[overlybisexual]

Come to Bed

Poe Dameron x Y/N

Authors Note: A friendo also requested this. We gotta address Poe’s survivors guilt and PTSD at some point. He tries to avoid the reader while he deals with it on his own, but not tonight. Implied Sexual Activity 

Going to bed alone usually wasn’t a big deal. You’d still wake up to Poe’s warmth having been in the bed, his scent over the pillows, and at the very least the feel of a kiss pressed to your head from him. 

Not since the Resistance had arrived on Ajan Kloss though. You went to bed alone, and you rose alone. The jungle forest was warmer than D’Qar, which had often grown cold at night, leading to trailing hands under covers with the excuse of I’m just cold, baby, and that had come from both of you more than once. 

Tonight, your hand reached across the bed, gripping at empty sheets once more, and letting out a deep sigh. It’s not like you had the right to complain. The Commander carried a heavy burden on his shoulders, the tenseness in his shoulders showing the survivors guilt that keeps him so wound up. His eyes show just how tired he is when you bring him a caf. Poe was many things, but a soft hearted man and a loving person were perhaps the biggest things there. Maybe it was some of what you loved most about him. How easily he came to trust, his heart on his sleeve everyday of his life despite his past. 

Poe Dameron was a beautiful soul, and watching him suffer, hiding his suffering in his paperwork, was like watching a sun die. Blearily blinking your eyes open, you take in the darkness of your roof, turning your head to catch sight of Poe sitting on the ground, pulling off his boots as slowly and quietly as he could. Shuffling a little to the left, your hand stretched out to pet his curls back from his forehead. 

A satisfied breath leaves his lips as they part, eyes closed, and for once in a long time, he looks so peaceful. He leans towards you so effortlessly, placing his chin on the mattress before he looks up at you so adoringly, almost like he looks at his beautiful x-wing. 

“Come to bed,” You say softly, and tonight, he doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t start explaining he’s got too much paperwork, or he’s just got to check on his squadron one more time, or whatever else lame excuse he’s got going. His warmth dips into the bed, letting your arms go around his solid frame, his head laying on your shoulder. His face dips into your neck, breath smoothing out of your neck in stutters. He’s tense, far too tense. 

When the shaking starts, you curl in on him as much as he curls in on you, holding him to you as tightly as he clings to you. There’s so much on his mind that you can barely tell if he wants to talk about it, or where he wants to start. So you don’t push, the wetness at your neck more than enough reminder that he just needs time to figure out what he wants to say, his heart pounding against your own chest. 

“I love you,” You muttered into his curls, burying your nose into them. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…” Each declaration punctuated by a kiss until his tears subsided, his body no longer shaking both you and the bed. 

“Te amo..” Poe’s voice breaks on practically every syllable, “Mucho… Eres la luz que no merezco.” his breath shudders, and your brain takes a moment to catch up with him. I love you… very much. You are the light I don’t deserve.  

“Excuse me, don’t be rude about yourself. You know the rules in this house, we love ourselves as much as we love each other, but it’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay if sometimes you have a bad thought about yourself. Poe, my love, it’s okay to feel bad -” You shift so slightly, cupping his face so that his red rimmed eyes actually look into yours, those soft dark eyes, “but know, that no matter what you’re feeling, you still deserve everything good in your life. Ah ah, no, we’re not having you talk down about yourself tonight. Because I’ve seen you trying to write it out - It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, Leia doesn’t blame you, no one does. You saved us all, you did everything you thought was right, and I have never been prouder of you.” 

A soft smile slowly takes his lips. 

“I don’t think you’ve turned me on more either, but we can discuss that later-” His laughter is beautiful, so bright as he spurs forward to kiss you, hands cupping your cheeks like you’re his lifeline. 

Sometimes a little time and space was all he needed to process his feelings, and that’s okay. 

“You’re filthy, so filthy, I guess I’m just going to have to prove you wrong.” 

You wouldn’t say he proved you wrong, but with his cum in your mouth, your cum in his mouth... you were willing to concede this time. Only this time, as he promised that he understood all that you had said, understood that his bad days were fine. 

Just because he couldn’t see his worth, his value, it didn’t mean it wasn’t all there. 

And that he actually had three reports to write, but surely, surely.. He hadn’t pawned them off on BB-8 to ghost write, right? 

Oh for Maker’s sake Poe-

[overlybisexual]

Dating Cassian Andor... is like Not Dating Cassian Andor

Y/N x Cassian Andor 

Authors Note: The Friendo requested some jealous Cassian.. so I attempted 

Dating Cassian Andor was like not dating him. With a war looming over your heads, fueling every instance of your existence, neither of you had time for romance. You had both agreed, you had laid that out as the pair of you had come to terms with your feelings and accepting them. 

So Dating Cassian Andor was like not dating him. There’s no public acknowledgement of your not relationship, as far as anyone else is aware it doesn’t exist. It make outs in dark corners when there is time, skipping meals to rut stress away in a ship somewhere, kisses that taste of weariness. In the same stretch of breath, it’s opening your arms to him when he returns to base late, and feeling the tension leave his shoulders as you play with his hair. Cassian is a hard ass, no doubt about it, but you’ve found the secrets to helping him feel safe, secrets you’ll not give up for your life. 

After the War, is always, always, the unspoken agreement. Except, neither of you knew when that would be, but he was always right. Anything could happen to either of you before then, and you knew, everytime Cassian shut down a conversation that the war might never end, that that’s the part that drove him away. The idea of losing you. 

The upside was, no matter what, you always worked well together. It led to no surprise that you were often paired for assignments. 

“It says here that she likes to be charmed. And between the pair of us, I am the more charming.” Maybe he might have taken offence, but Cassian only huffed at your quip, folding his arms over his chest. The target was a Twi’lek, Lunae, working as an Imperial informant. Maybe the Rebellion was in the wrong for assassinations, but some days it was exactly what needed to be done. 

“I don’t like it,” Cassian bit back, “She’s known for seducing and killing people. Your type is pretty people, and she’s pretty.” K2 stood by, watching the argument like a dog waiting to interject, but whenever he tried, he’d just been cut off. 

“She’s also known for being reasonable with people who are not Cassian Andor. Give me the comm, you can feed lines to me if you want.” With a great annoyance, jaw tensing and untensing, he handed over the comm, watching as you put it in your ear, and flashed a grin at him. “That wasn’t so hard.” The music is still pounding, and taking a shot for courage, you pushed away from the bar, swaying to the music as you move towards the back area, where the beautiful blue Twi’lek, Lunae sat. Her eyes were cat like, and focusing on you, pink in colour and completely inviting as she practically beckoned you over. 

“I’ve seen you watching me,” She practically purrs, holding her hand out to you, tugging just enough so you sit with her on the leather couch. “Do you like what you see? Because I certainly like what I see.” She wants you to lean into her, so you do, feeling her body heat - Twi’leks always ran warm, but this extra heat told you all you needed to know about the fact she was telling you the truth. 

“Tell her you like what you see, then run your hand down her lekku.” Cassian’s voice is gruff, a distraction in your ear, but you do as he says, watching the way Lunae practically shudders and trills under the touch. 

You leave an hour later with a new friend for the rebellion, a turncoat with information that she is willing to overturn. However, that part isn’t so surprising, but as you sit in between Cassian and K2, it’s not the travelling stars that hold your attention. It’s how tense Cassian is, and the way he won’t even look at you. He’s been the same since you left Lunae on that bar on Coruscant, a successfully ended mission as far as K2 was concerned. 

Still, it worries you, with how tight he’s gripping the steering control. “Captain,” You say soft enough to get his attention, and despite the way he closes his eyes and breathes, he still looks towards you this time. A gesture of your head, and you stand, moving towards the back of the ship, acting as if you’re sorting the weapons onboard before Cassian’s footsteps finally follow you. 

“What?” He asks slowly, enough that K2 won’t hear or question. 

“What? What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting off?” It’s a simple question, but he seems intent to avoid the answer, face screwing up as he tries to go back to the cockpit, but you grab his arm to stop him. “Cassian-” Your tone is almost in warning, but it’s not that that stops you. It’s the way he turns back far too quickly, and practically crushes you into the wall as he kisses you, hands holding your face tight. It’s a dance you’ve walked a thousand times before, but this is new, the way he pulls himself away and leans his forehead onto yours, muttering in what certainly isn’t Galactic Basic. 

“I watched you with her. Told you what to do. You’re too convincing. I didn’t like it, and I know I’m being unreasonable…” You don’t cut him off, but you give him time to figure out what he wants to say, even if you shake your head, turning it to kiss his palm. “I wanted to tell her to remove her hands from inside your shirt. I wanted to leave. Mi Vida… For once in my life I am insecure, and I feel lost. Everything else in my life makes sense, except where I place you, and how I deal with it.” 

You nod your head, “It’s jealousy Cassian, and sometimes I feel it too. It’s okay, because my eyes? They’re only on you. I only see you, and it’s okay. You’ve got me, and we can work out the details later. I promise.” 

It’s a promise you keep. War is difficult and messy. Life is difficult and messy. Love is difficult and messy… but what matters is that you and Cassian have decided that you want to share your affections with each other, and even if you can’t figure out how to make it work in a war, jealousy crops up often, you’ve got each other.

[overlybisexual]

Me writing: *going on tangeants and adding small details no one cares about*

The actual story and main character: