#literally a canonical line that comes out of his mouth is ‘i trust you to make choices that won’t hurt what we have’

[collegeoflore]

i’m going to be a hater again for like 20 seconds. about astarion. as per usual.

why do ppl insist on reading (spawn and/or pre-ritual) astarion as possessive of his partner? why do we Want him to have that trait? what is the point. why r we trying to make him possessive and protective when he’s like… not? ascended!astarion is right there u can literally have this if u want it! u don’t need to ascribe it to spawn!astarion when it’s not there. there is Literally A Version Of Events Where It Is True

[moonpetrichors-blog]

Sully Boys Relationship Alphabet

Tags: Jake x Reader, Neteyam x Reader, Lo’ak x Reader, Headcanons, Fluff, Gn!Reader

Warnings: Many Mentions Of Size Difference (Jake) - Non-Sexually

Characters: Jake, Neteyam, Lo’ak

Relationship alphabet between the Sully boys and how they’d be in a relationship with you.

Alphabet template is from https://the-coldest-goodbye.tumblr.com/sfw-template

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [30/12/22] ❞  

Jake Sully

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jake is fairly affectionate.

If he likes you, he doesn’t shy away from making it known.

The way Jake prefers to show affection is through words of affirmation.

This man has literally the most sarcastic mouth on the planet, but you can trust that everything that comes out of it is true LMAO

Will call you pet names and such to distinguish you from others.

I think it’s safe to say it’s canon he would call you babygirl or anything along that line... 💀

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Jake would be someone super funny that you love to spend time around.

He just has such a contagious smile and personality, that it’s no wonder you ended up falling for him.

Depending on who/what the reader is, meeting as a human, the friendship would have started when they began working under the RDA.

As na’vi, the reader would have replaced Neytiri as someone who had to teach Jake their ways.

And from there, with all the time spent with each other, you would have became best friends, until you mutually fell in love.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Jake definitely likes to cuddle.

He’s a pretty big fan of skin-ship, so it’s kind of expected he’d want to cuddle with you a lot.

Jake is relatively bigger and taller than you, so he loves cuddling positions where he can really tell the size difference between you.

He finds it cute, and having his arms wrapped around you makes you feel safe and protected.

Usually Jake will spoon you from behind, or have you seated in his lap with his arms locked around you, his chin resting on your head.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Absolutely.

Jake has four kids in ATWOW, so it’s safe to say that he’d settle down.

A very caring, family man who loves the idea of just simple domesticity.

He is not good at cooking and cleaning, though.

You would have to take on traditional roles in your relationship, but not because of tradition.

It’s literally just because Jake is a goofy idiot who will cause more messes than clean them 💀

I don’t even want to think about his cooking. 🚶‍♀️

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

This is really unlikely.

When Jake is dead set on someone and truly in love with them, it would take a LOT to warrant a breakup.

The only way I can see this happening is if you were in a similar position as Neytiri, finding out what Jake’s purpose on pandora was for.

The hurt and betrayal you feel is what would cause a breakup, if that’s what you truly wanted.

Jake is an honest guy, he wouldn’t want a relationship based on a lie.

If he kept that burden to himself, that’s probably what would eventually ruin you, if not for the betrayal first.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, Jake would love to settle down, so he doesn’t mind commitment.

Loves it, even.

Like aforementioned, when he finds someone that he’s truly in love with, one of his thoughts on the forefront of his mind is that he wants to be with you forever.

How quick you and Jake would be to get married is quite fast LMAO

It didn’t take very long for you both to mate with each other for life, so… 💀

I guess putting a ring on it is just a formality?

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s not very gentle.

He’s kind of rough around the edges, and if there is something Jake wants to say, he won’t be afraid to say it, even if it’s a little harsh.

It comes from a place of deep care and concern, so try not to be too offended.

Physically, he knows he’s bigger and probably stronger than you, so he’s careful when touching you.

Even if you can hold your own, he will still be careful.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Jake LOVES hugs.

He enjoys being able to embrace the person he loves most, and vice versa.

He’ll do it as often as he can, but will cut down on it if you find his clinginess to be a little, too... well, clingy.

Since he’s bigger than you, his hugs would definitely envelope you.

Doesn’t matter if you’re human or Na’vi, this man is big. Do not underestimate that.

100% gives bear hugs.

… … … … … . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,,  ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈    

Neteyam

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I think it’d be kind of average?

Neteyam’s not the type of person to say I love you too fast into the relationship, but also doesn’t take a very long time to either.

Maybe after a few months? It also depends on your relationship prior to dating.

Like, if you guys were initially best friends, it wouldn’t take very long for him to say I love you because that love already existed.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He totally gets jealous.

He’s overprotective man, of course he gets antsy seeing someone else purposefully hit on you.

I think his level of jealousy is moderate; he wants to tear you away from that person and keep you to himself, but Neteyam also trusts you and knows that you love him no matter what.

When he’s jealous, like aforementioned, he’ll swoop in to drape an arm over you or drag you away from the scene.

Will pretty much just do anything to make it known you’re his mate/partner.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I like to think Neteyam’s kisses are sweet and loving, but will absolutely take a heated turn.

He’s always so responsible and disciplined, but with you he loses all sense of control.

He loves to kiss you wherever he can get his lips on you; your own of course, the corners of your mouth, the back of your neck, your forehead, etc.

Neteyam likes to be kissed on his temple, jawline, and lips. He just feels so secure when you kiss him in these places.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He has younger siblings, so of course he’s very good around children.

He’s quite gentle with them, and Neteyam loves to play with children (if he has the leisure to.)

He knows how to navigate their fluctuating emotions, wild behavior, and hyperactivity. 

Don’t doubt the fact that Neteyam may want to be a father someday, too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think mornings are one of the only times you get to see Neteyam at his most vulnerable.

It’s when his hair is a disheveled mess, he doesn’t have to perform for anybody, and he has taken off his jewelry.

It’s kind of like seeing him in his rawest form, I guess?

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

At night, Neteyam gets kind of exhausted and drowsy.

Since he’s always looking after everybody else, he doesn’t really have the time to care of himself, too.

That’s why nighttime is definitely a super intimate time between you both, as you’re the one who takes on the role of taking care of him.

You’ll cook him a nice meal or wash his hair, and when you go to bed, you pepper him with gentle kisses before drifting off.

Nighttime is the only time where Neteyam really gets to be selfish.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would honestly take Neteyam a really long time before he starts revealing things about himself.

And I mean really deep, personal shit.

He doesn’t care if you know his favorite colour or his time of birth, you can know as many little things about him as you want.

But, when it comes to his own emotional wellbeing, that’s when he starts keeping you at arms-length.

See, Neteyam is always supposed to be the golden child who causes no trouble.

But, since he has nothing to prove to you, it’s hard to open up about the way he really feels.

I think he’d honestly kind of cry if he said everything at once, so you’d only learn bits and pieces overtime.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s not angered easily.

Neteyam has learned to manage his anger and the way he reacts, regardless of his young age, since again he has to be very responsible and put together.

But it’s not impossible.

Neteyam is one of those people who seemingly look like nothing bothers them, but deep down, they have scorching, unbridled rage.

You would have to be pushing his buttons constantly for him to snap.

And that would honestly take so much effort, because he tries to be as cordial and patient as possible.

You would’ve had to seriously fuck up with him to make him truly lash out.

And when he does, it’s not a pretty sight. It’s honestly kind of terrifying how out of character it is for Neteyam.

Aside from bursting into a fit of rage when prodded enough, he does get irritated at minor things, but get’s over it quite fast.

… … … … … . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,,  ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈    

Lo’ak

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I like to think that since Lo’ak is so overlooked, he remembers every little detail that you mention in passing.

He likes the fact that you tell him all these things, as he’s not used to someone trusting him with bits and pieces of their life.

You might joke about how Lo’ak probably forgets everything, but you know that’s not true.

He knows you better than anyone else does.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship is after he received a severe lecture from his father.

You might be wondering, why the hell would this be Lo’ak’s favorite moment?

Well, that’s because you comforted him afterwards, and feeling your tender touch in that moment made it his favorite.

The way you wiped his tears away, kissed his cheeks, and let him lay into you?

The intimacy of it all made Lo’ak never forget it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Oh god, this guy is protective AS HELL.

I’ve mentioned this in my other posts before, but he is so overprotective about you that Lo’ak absolutely does not tolerate anyone hurting you in any way.

So, I think it comes to nobodies surprise that Lo’ak’s favorite way to protect you is by beating the shit out of whoever hurt you... 💀

If it were you protecting Lo’ak, since he doesn’t want you getting hurt or into trouble, he thinks you shouldn’t have to stand up for him because he can hold his own.

You don’t care though, and defend him (verbally), which warms his heart.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would really try.

Like, seriously, really try.

You find it so endearing how much effort he puts into wanting to please you, but you can’t help but laugh when something always goes wrong.

Lo’ak has a spectacular date planned? Yeahhh, someone is bound to fall off a tree.

He does some chores for you? Mans did the cleaning wrong 😭

But, everything else is fine!

He’s honestly really trying, so you don’t mind when he messes up sometimes. You’ll kiss his nose telling him he’s cute, and soon help him rectify his mistake.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

This shouldn’t be too hard for people to guess, but Lo’ak speaks out of turn often and gets into a lot of brawls... 💀

His worst habit is saying and doing things without thinking them through first. He’s very impulsive.

So his worst habit is his reckless nature lol

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Oh god, this one.

I think it’s no brainer Lo’ak is very insecure about his looks.

Because he’s considered to have ‘demon blood’, he dislikes the fact that it’s so painfully obvious on his features.

His eyebrows and four fingers are a dead giveaway to this fact.

Therefore, Lo’ak’s very concerned with his looks.

Not because he’s obsessed with being beautiful (he is beautiful), but merely because he feels like an outcast for something he can’t control about his appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Of course!!!

You’re like his other half.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you if you ever left him.

And I mean that quite literally lmao, dude is probably so clingy

You leave for 5 minutes to go get a drink? He’s crying like his lover just left for war

Just kidding lol he’s just dramatic 💀

But he does feel like you complete him!!

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

A random headcanon for Lo’ak is that he’s a heavy sleeper.

I’m talking like nothing wakes him up, and to add onto it, he gets super hot.

He takes up all the space in the bed and will quite literally crush you while dreaming.

Lo’ak wakes up the next day talking about how he had the best sleep of his life, meanwhile you’re laying in the bed like a flattened pancake, SWEATING and finally able to breathe.

Jake and the others could still hear Lo’ak’s screams, as you were after his blood that morning.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 1

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You were one of the Rebellion’s greatest weapons in the Galactic Civil War, a Princess from a distant planet, a Jedi with wings. Now, you’ve found yourself in a new world, a new war, your old friends long gone.

When Poe Dameron was sent on a wild goose chase of a reconnaissance mission four systems out, he never expected to find the key to his heart…

Note: At long last, here it is. Thank you for your patience. I love you all. I honestly wrote this as a long-winded attempt to make Poe Dameron’s dumbest line “Somehow, Palpatine returned” into a gut-wrenching and emotional moment and it got way out of hand. I am no Star Wars expert, but I did a lot of research for this and consider myself waaaaaaay more of a SW nerd now than I was a mere two months ago. Could probably write a dissertation on it at this point (I say as I literally churned out a novel). It is my first time writing for the fandom, though, so, here goes nothing. I did make up a fair bit of stuff and a good handful of OCs for this. Let me know what you think!

I will also be uploading this to my Ao3 soon for easier navigation <3 If you see it there, don't panic.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, lightsaber and blaster wounds, alcohol consumption, war and the implications of it, gets a little steamy but no smut, reader has nightmares, misuse of the Force, Rewriting the Rise of Skywalker a lil bit…

Word Count: 82.7k total (Split into four approximately 20k chunks)

Reader Is: 24, a Jedi, a Princess, has butterfly wings

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Prologue

Poe’s rain-soaked curls stuck to his forehead as he moved through the alleyway, steps brisk, shoulders straight. Poe Dameron, Commander of the infamous Resistance, and one of Leia’s best spies, which was why he was in a shady alleyway on a planet four systems out.

It had taken him a week of investigation, asking hard questions, chasing cold trails, translating outdated plaques and inscriptions, but finally, he had something real.

He checked the location on the holo again, then looked back up at the metal door in front of him, hesitating before knocking. Eventually, it slid open, and he stepped through, a hand on his blaster.

“Hello?” He called into the seemingly empty pawn shop. “I’m looking for Rhugo. I’m a friend of–”

“You’re Leia’s boy. The Commander.” The pawnbroker parted curtains in the doorway behind the counter, a long cigar poking out of his mouth, fingers long and green-tinted. “Got your message. Wait just a second.”

Poe watched as he reached on the counter, fingers still hovering above his blaster. If there was one thing he’d learned from his time with the Resistance, it was that almost no one could be trusted, to never let his guard down. But instead of a blaster, Rhugo pulled out a small wooden box and slid it across the glass counter. He motioned for Poe to open it.

He stepped forward, gently lifting the hinged lid. Inside, cradled in a bed of velvet, was a golden pendant, palm-sized, a shimmering pink and purple gem embedded in the metal. He stared at it for a long time, mesmerized. It didn’t seem to be a power source, but it had an energy to it he couldn’t quite place. Something powerful. Something all but forgotten.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to ask your General that, I’m afraid. I’ve been looking for it for her for years. Hasn’t been easy to come by. The very last of its kind, it seems.”

“How much do I owe you?” Poe reached for his pockets.

Rhugo shook his head, batting a hand at the pilot. “Win the war, we can negotiate after.”

Poe grinned. “Thanks. That’s the plan.”

***

When Poe arrived back on the base, pendant in his pocket, the General was waiting for him, an expectant look on her face. He handed her the box, watching as she opened it, waiting for some hint as to what it was, why she had sent him so far to get it.

She stared at it for a long time, exhaling a sigh. Her eyes sparkled with tears. “You have no idea what you’ve just brought me.”

“What…is it?”

“This…this is our spark, Poe. The spark that will reignite the Resistance.” She touched it with gentle fingers, lingering on the cool metal. “This is hope.”

The Princess, the Jedi

You could hear the music from downstairs, all the way up in your chambers. The Mariposan palace was aglow with celebration, as it had often been since the fall of the Empire. The Battle of Endor had been only two years prior and since then, a great sense of peace had settled over the galaxy.

“You’re still doing your hair?” Leia laughed, striding into the room, draped in a long green gown.

“I can’t get it to sit right.” You laughed, redoing the braid nestled into your hair for what felt like the twelfth time.

“Just use The Force to do it.” Han teased, leaning in the doorway, Luke just behind him, wearing that gentle smile that so often accompanied him when he was looking at you.

“That’s not how The Force works.” You chuckled, Leia settling on the padded bench beside you. 

She pulled out the braid and redid it with her expert fingers, quick and agile. It was no wonder hers always looked so good.

“You look great, Princess.” Luke complimented, finally getting a good look at you.

“You clean up nice yourself, Skywalker.” You shot back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“There. You’re all done.” Leia walked over to Han.

You gave yourself a once-over and then stood, walking into the center of your spacious bedroom. By some miracle, your home planet, Mariposas, had been untouched by the Empire. And you, as the planet’s princess, did have some pretty nice quarters if you did say so yourself. It definitely beat the tiny, scrappy Rebel bases you’d spent so long in, although they definitely had their charm, too.

“We good up here? The king was wondering when his daughter was finally going to come down to the party.” Lando looked around with a grin. He met your eyes and let out a whistle. “Wow, Princess. You look great.”

“Ha. Thanks.” You replied, glancing at your saber before deciding to clip it to your belt. You and Luke were the only Jedi left. People expected you to have it on you, especially at events like this, where you were not only representing your home planet, but also the Rebellion as a whole. It was an anniversary of sorts, two years of peace across the galaxy.

“If I may?” Luke offered his arm.

“Always.” You slipped yours through his, smiling when he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek.

He escorted you through the halls, down the staircase and into the banquet hall, where the party was in full swing. Your parents, the king and queen, mingled with guests from neighboring planets and systems.

Your older brother, Maddox, the first born and heir to the throne, was greeting guests as well, chest puffed, shoulders proud. Your little sister, Laesynda, though you called her Laecy, ran with the other kids. She was only ten, now. Still full of innocence, eyes glimmering with youth and more hope than you could imagine. With the war over, she had a bright, bright future ahead of her.

“You’re nervous.” Luke noted, voice soft. “Your wings are tense.”

You forced them to relax, pushing down that feeling. But since you had become a beacon of hope, it was hard to live with the pressure of it. Of all the eyes in the room flicking to you the second you entered a room. It had always been like that more or less. You were a princess after all, but it was decidedly worse now.

“I’m trying not to be.” You admitted, wings fluttering behind you like a cape. They were large, but folded neatly out of the way most of the time, their hue fading from a sunset orange at their base, through a gentle pink, to a regal lavender at their edges, shimmering the way all Mariposan wings did.

The ballroom itself was alive in every sense. The walls carved from wood, windows cradled in root-like veins along the walls. Flowers cascaded from the ceiling, orbs of light floating through the air like specks of pollen in the spring.

You stopped walking once you reached your parents, greeting each with a smile and a warm hug.

“Glad you finally joined us, (Y/N).” Your father said, that knowing glimmer in his eyes. “They’ve been asking about you.”

“Oh I’m sure they have been.” You looked at your mother, at the way she’d done her hair, the warm shade of red painted across her lips. “You look beautiful, mother.”

“I was going to say the same about you.” She ran a hand down your cheek. “Try to have fun tonight.”

You chuckled, memories of your Rebellion days flashing in your mind. “I’m good at that part.”

Luke took your arm again, walking towards the dance floor. You stole a moment away while you could, enjoying a few songs together before finally settling at a table. You could hardly sit down between guests introducing themselves to you and Luke, greeting you with those expectant eyes.

Even from across the room, you could feel your brother’s gaze, burning a hole through your forehead. He’d always been jealous, but the attention you got now was enough to crush him, you were sure. During the war, he’d remained painfully neutral, ready to jump ship to whichever side won. You, instead, aligned yourself with the Rebels at the first opportunity, abandoning your royal duties to help the cause however you could. And you were beloved for it.

Eventually, you got the opportunity to sit down. Han slid you a tall glass of Mariposan mead, which you took a few long sips from. You needed it.

“So, what now?” Lando asked, looking at Luke. “Have you figured out your grand plan yet, Master Skywalker?”

“Just about.” He smiled, reaching for your hand, which you gladly took. “We’re going to start up the Jedi Order again. Find the budding Jedi out there, train them up. Complete Leia’s training.”

“Bring back balance to the Force.” You said, warmth in your chest blossoming when you said it. It made sense. Always had. You and him, together, starting something great. It felt right.

“You’ll need more sabers.” Leia noted.

“You still need to build yours, Leia.” You reminded her.

She smiled. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Soon.” Luke promised. “We’ll have to get our hands on some more kyber crystals.”

“Joyride in the Falcon?” Han offered.

“If you and Chewie have any room in that busy schedule of yours.”

He winked. “I’m sure we could squeeze you in. Chewie loves you.”

“I’m rather fond of that Wookie myself.” You grinned, taking another long sip of mead. You looked around the table at your friends. These people you had risked everything with, these people who loved you. Your family in all meanings of the word. And now that the galaxy had settled, you had the opportunity to start fresh, build something new with them, wherever your lives took you.

Leia had already been talking about weddings.

And though you weren’t sure you were ready for that, you would gladly stand in hers, give a riveting speech about her love story with Han, their daring adventures together that always led them straight to each other.

Luke gave your hand a squeeze, those soulful blue eyes gazing into yours, flecks of green swimming in them. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss there. It seemed only inevitable from the moment that you met that the two of you would wind up together, and there you were, still side by side after all that time.

***

Hours later, the party began to dwindle, guests retreating to their ships or their lodging for the night. The lights dimmed and stars began to peek out beyond the sprawling stained glass windows. Han and Leia swayed on the dance floor. Lando and Chewie hovered at the bar, and you and Luke retreated back up the stairs for a quiet night after a few final goodbyes.

You’d both drifted off quickly, you quicker than Luke, pulled deep into dreams and memories that flashed in your mind. Murmurs of a voice.

“Maker, I’m so glad we found you…”

His lips captured yours again, breathing into it. They wandered, down your cheek, past your jaw, down to your neck again. You laced your fingers through his curls, the burn of his stubble against your skin–shocked you back awake.

Whoever that had been was not Luke Skywalker. And whoever they were, this was not the first time you’d dreamt of them, either. By this point, their lips were familiar. Their scent. Fresh Rain. Sandalwood. Leather. Ship Fuel.

You jolted awake, staring at the ceiling, Luke’s body splayed out on the mattress beside you. His breathing was slow, face towards the window. He turned, eyes opening ever so slightly.

“Nightmare?” He asked, creeping closer. An arm hooked around your waist, lips pressing against your cheek, then your lips.

“Something like that.” You said, but you knew he could feel otherwise. You were connected like that. He always seemed to know what you were feeling.

“You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” He smiled, nose pressed against yours.

Something in you melted at the look in those eyes. Maker, he loved you so much. You could feel it radiating off of him. And you loved him, too. Your space boy. Your thumb skimmed across his cheekbone as you pulled him in for another sleepy kiss, the sky still dark and spotted with stars.

You turned onto your other side and he slotted himself against you, arm fast around your waist, nose nuzzled against your skin as you fell back asleep, your love swirled with a healthy dose of guilt.

How the Jedi Die

Your eyes fluttered open again when the dawn was melting into the morning. Luke was already awake. You could feel it. But he was quiet, his movements careful, limbs still tucked against your own.

“Training awaits, Your Highness.”

“It always seems to.” You grinned, turning to kiss him before sitting up to start your day. You put on some robes, a solid beige, hints of brown. You had a few that were considered traditional. The rest of your wardrobe was more Mariposan in color scheme. That was, to say, lots of pinks and purples and blues, hints of green from time to time.

You chose your belts carefully, strapping your saber hilt on, slinging your bag over the other shoulder before lacing up your boots.

Luke pulled you in by the waist, both of his hands settling there as yours rose to his shoulders. What a dashing prince he would be, you thought fondly, a hand carding through his soft blond hair as you floated closer. You kissed him gently and he did not hesitate to kiss you back. He never did.

After a quick breakfast, the two of you walked out into the forests of Mariposas. Giant mushrooms marked forks in the paths, lush trees looming tall overhead. Flowers dotted every walkway with color, butterflies flitting from stalk to stalk.

There was a clearing up on the hill that you loved. It was the perfect spot for everything, sparring, meditating, whatever the day brought. You started with the first, taking your saber from your belt and activating it with a click, brilliant indigo light emerging from the end of it. It was one of a kind, your saber, the golden hilt made from your mother’s old bracelets, put together by your own hands with the help of Obi-Wan himself.

Your saber clashed against Luke’s as you moved through the motions, steps familiar. The Force guided you, the path clear as you took each leap and bound, up onto rocks, through the treetops, sabers swinging, clashing against each other, but never making contact with any of the branches. The two of you landed back in the clearing, indigo shimmering against green until he turned away, twirling out of range with grace and precision.

He held his saber extended, meeting your eyes with that smile of his. You both powered your sabers down, breathing heavy.

“That was a good move, the flip you did.” You complimented. “Almost had me there, for a second.”

“Thanks, I’ve been working on those. I liked that move with your wings.” He grinned. “You’re so much better when you use them to your advantage.”

“I’ve been working on that, too.” You chuckled. You’d barely used them growing up, modern technology nearly rendering them useless, but he was right. Mastering using them as a tool was something you needed to lean into. They were an advantage few others had, and they had served you well during the war.

After, you settled onto your favorite seats. Yours was a repurposed stump. One of the woodworkers down in the village had carved it into a stool of sorts, crystals embedded into the rounded edge.

You sat atop it, cross-legged, breaths long and even until the stool disappeared beneath you. You floated, hair cascading around you, robes jostled by the breeze. You cleared your mind, surrendering to the Force, to your path and wherever it took you.

To the Jedi.

At first, there was nothing. A long, dark expanse of comets and stars. Empty, but tingling.

And then you heard a voice.

“We didn’t cover much ground, actually. He was…hesitant to train me. Or anyone, really…”

She was far, that much was clear. A young woman, maybe a little bit younger than you by a few years, but she had a spark to her, that glow of rebellion across her features. Yellow flickering light danced across her cheeks, determination strong on her brows. And she had some training, apparently. You wouldn’t be working up from nothing. It was…reassuring.

You felt a wave of peace in the knowledge that you and Luke weren’t alone in this.

Slowly, you descended back down onto your stump, heart light with the knowledge that there was another Jedi. Not only that, but another woman with the Force.

You stared at Luke, still deep in his meditation. He looked so peaceful, eyes closed, breaths slow as he floated there midair.

Whirring and beeping sounded, closer and closer up the hill. You wondered how long it would be before they found you. The droids. First came R2, Luke’s beloved blue droid. Quickly behind him came your droid, a silver R4 unit with purple paneling and a dome top. They were beeping at each other, talking. Flirting.

“Artoo, you simply cannot say things like this in the presence of a princess!” Threepio scolded, following the two of them up the hill with his stiff movements. He met your eyes with his glowing, mechanical ones. “My apologies. I did not realize the two of you were up here.”

“That’s alright Threepio.” You chuckled. “We’re about done for the day. He’s finishing up.”

“Any leads?”

“I got one.”

“Oh how exciting! Before you know it, this place will be teeming with Jedi!” The droid congratulated you on your breakthrough and for a few moments, it was nice. Until Luke fell.

Your stomach sank and you walked over to him, sprawled in the dirt, looking up at you with a pained look in his eyes. You reached for his arm, but he withdrew, like your touch alone would burn him.

“Hey, it’s me. Talk to me.” You said, kneeling in the dirt in front of him.

The fear melted into something softer and he stared up at you, words budding on his tongue. He exhaled, hands shaking. “It’s bad.”

“What is?”

“There’s…” he shook his head. “Call the others. We don’t have time. R2, tell Han to warm up the Falcon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Pretty far from here.” Luke replied, standing as you did. He rested his hands on your arms, pressing a long kiss to your lips before saying, “go tell your family goodbye. Get ready for a fight. I’ll explain on the way.”

You gathered your things with haste, instructing your droid, who you lovingly called Radia due to her love of playing music over her audio processors, to get your family together so you could say goodbye to them.

Your parents asked where you were going, what was wrong and you didn’t have any answers for them, leaving them with the promises of your return.

“Not to worry, mother. She will spend her life saving the galaxy. The duties of a Jedi are never-ending.” Maddox parroted the words of Obi-Wan when he’d gone to get you to begin your training so many years before. Only you seemed to hear the malice in his tone.

“And after, can I braid your hair? I learned a new one.” Laesynda asked, eyes bright. You knelt down and pulled her into your arms.

You petted her head, exhaling a breath before pulling away to look at her little freckled face one last time. You poked her nose, earning a laugh. “Of course you can. I’ll be back before you even remember to miss me.”

***

It was with record speed that Luke was able to round up the team. You, Leia, Han, Chewie, Lando, and the droids all piled into the Falcon and headed out to a distant planet. Luke plugged the coordinates in at lightning speed, his fingers flying across the console before handing the controls off to Han, who gave that concerned, skeptical look he so often wore.

“You sure about this?”

“Positive.” Luke nodded. He took your hand and led you and the others to the booth around Chewie’s game table.

You searched his face. Usually, you could read him. This time, you could not. He was hiding it from you, shielding you from his thoughts, his feelings. “What is going on? Talk to me.”

“There’s a Sith cult. They’re trying to bring Palpatine back.” He whispered, eyes serious, locked on the checkers of the table between you. “They have a saber wielder. A woman. She…” He shook his head, tears glimmering in his eyes as he squeezed your hand. “We have to stop her.”

“We will.” You told him, but he didn’t seem convinced. Every time he looked at you, he was haunted. Whatever he had seen had been…bad.

You walked out to the cockpit and sat in the seat behind Chewie’s, watching the stars go by at lightspeed. It was kind of relaxing, always had been, like being in a fishtank.

“He’s in a mood, huh?” Han asked, glancing back at you.

“Something like that. Whatever he saw has him in a real funk.”

Chewie roared, reaching back towards you. You grabbed onto his fur-covered arm, giving it a grateful squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just stressed. We’ll get this figured out.”

Han reached forward, pulling the thruster back and stopping the flow of stars around you. The planet you found yourself on made it…easy to figure out the mood Luke was in. The planet was rocky, skies gloomy and overwhelmingly…red. Thunder crackled in the clouds, zaps of lightning zipping past. Something on the ship buckled, met with a shower of sparks.

“Woahhh!” You shielded your face.

“It’s fine, Your Highness, nothing to worry about.” Han shook off your concern. “She’s taken worse.”

“There. That cave there.” Luke instructed, peering into the cockpit. “Land on the south side. (Y/N) and I will go in first. We’ll need blaster support. The droids can keep the ship warm so we can get out of here as fast as we can.” He motioned to a volcano on the horizon, not yet erupted, but hot, heavy smoke billowing from its tower.

“I don’t like the look of that thing.” Lando murmured. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

“That makes two of us.” Leia agreed, staring at it.

“That’s why they’re doing it now. No one else is going to come out here while it’s erupting. It’s now or never.” Luke said, turning towards the boarding ramp. You followed after him, walking out the ship as the ramp lowered.

He activated his Saber, green light clashing heavily with the red hue bleeding down from the sky. It was almost swallowed up by it, by the chaos and darkness. You lit yours beside him. They looked so right together. The green and indigo. Contrasting with each other.

You spun your saber and followed him into the shadows.

From within the cave, you heard chanting. As you emerged from the entryway, you could make out hooded cloaks. Dozens of them. Chills ran down your spine as you took in the sight of it. At the center of all of it, an altar with two halves of a body on it and a woman holding a glowing red lightsaber, its blade unstable.

“Insidia…” You whispered, her name finding your tongue just before her eyes met yours. She smiled at the sight of you and Luke.

“Just in time. Our sacrifices.” She said, face splitting into a grin, eyes glowing yellow. “Care to join us?”

“What you’re doing here will not stand, Insidia.” Luke said, voice even and cold. “We won’t allow you to raise him from the dead.”

“And you can’t stop us either.” She laughed, the other hooded figures joining in. “In fact, you are the missing piece in all of this. Your energy will give Lord Palpatine new life. Through your death, he will rise.”

“Not without a fight.” You told her, readying your saber in your grip, analyzing the figures gathered before you and praying to the Maker for luck. Luke pressed his back to yours, meeting your eyes one last time.

She laughed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The three of you launched into battle. Insidia unsheathed a second saber, just as red as the first, attacking with fiery passion. With hatred in every move. You dodged, using the force to toss obstacles in her way. Scraps of ship parts scattered throughout the cave, rocks, anything you could.

Luke’s saber clashed against both of hers and she threw him towards the rocky wall with a clawed grip. You used the Force to stop him, gently lowering him before his head hit the cracked surface.

Blasters fired as Leia, Han, Chewie, and Lando followed, diverting the attention of the rest of the cult. They had smaller weapons. Swords and knives and daggers, their edges twisted with wicked intent.

Insidia’s blade swung just beside you, but you used your wings to lift away, legs swinging behind you. You thrust a hand forward in an attempt to throw her back, but she met you with equal energy, a stalemate of sizzling power hidden in the air between you.

She jolted as a blast made contact with her shoulder, glancing in the direction of the shooter for just long enough to buy you the opportunity to hit one of her sabers out of her hand, across the floor, and down, down into a deep crevice in the makeshift temple.

The volcano rumbled in the distance, shaking the ground beneath you.

Luke leaped through the air, his saber clashing against Insidia’s once more. She wasted no time, dueling both of you at once, alternating between the two of you with one hand. Up, down, over and over. You swung your saber with skill and precision, crossing in front of you, then behind. You used your wings to cut through the air, flipping over her head. And just before you could deliver the final blow, she reached out to catch not her second saber, but a dagger, thrown by one of her followers.

You swung, but missed the end of it, the weapon just short enough to slip through your range. She plunged the twisted blade into your flesh, just above your hip bone. You gasped, breath stolen from your lungs as blood began to seep from the wound. Insidia twisted, pulling a yell from your throat as pain blossomed from the blade.

“This is how the Jedi die.” She seethed, voice rasping as she swung her saber, its molten glow slicing through your wings, the severed remains fluttering uselessly to the cave floor.

White-hot pain tore through your vision, through your body.

And the last thing you heard was Luke Skywalker’s tortured scream echoing off of the cave walls.

There are No Healers

The soft rumble of the Mariposan healing pods was something you were familiar with. You had rushed several allies there during the war under cover of night. Friends with grave wounds that you knew wouldn’t survive otherwise.

You’d sat beside them so many times that the sound was almost comforting. It meant that whoever was inside it was healing, somewhere safe, and that you would be there when they woke up.

You stirred as the rumble came to a stop, the gentle lulling replaced first with silence, the sound of empty air and daylight, and then, voices.

They were quiet at first, their words scrambled murmurs to your tired ears, but eventually, you made out a “Do you think it worked?” followed by a “I swear I just saw her move.”

You took a deeper breath, stretching your aching limbs. You dared to open your eyes, facing the silhouettes standing beside you.

It became clear then that you were the one in the healing pod, based on the angle you were tilted, upright but leaned backwards.

Han was standing to your left, given away by his leather jacket. On the right was Leia and someone else. Another former Rebel, maybe.

You glanced at Han. His hair was darker. Curlier. Coming into sharper focus, but still blurred by your bleary, sleepy eyes. You let out a yawn and said, “Did you do something with your hair? It looks really good.”

Han looked at Leia and the other guy.

“A-are you alright?” Leia spoke but it wasn’t her voice. Wasn’t even her accent.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you laughed softly. “Leia, what is that accent you’re doing?”

They looked at each other again. Not a good sign. Your friends would be joking. Bickering, even. Not staring at you in silence. Maybe something had happened to Luke. Maybe…you’d lost the fight.

“Is Luke okay?” You asked quietly.

“Y-your Highness…” The other voice said, a deeper voice. “What do we tell her?”

“Wait, it’s getting better.” You told them, blinking until your vision sharpened enough to finally see their faces. Your eyes fell on Han first and you realized immediately that you were wrong. Very wrong. “Oh. You’re not Han Solo.”

His mouth fell open, making eye contact with you. His eyebrows furrowed with intrigue. “Honored by the comparison, though, your Highness.”

You studied him for a moment, chiseled jaw dusted in stubble. Thick, dark curls, tan skin. Dark brows, determined features. He was familiar in a way you couldn’t place. Something about his face…Definitely not as tall as Han Solo, though.

On your other side was a young woman in Jedi garb. Well, something close to that. She had a staff strapped over her shoulder, a lightsaber hooked to her belt.

Luke’s saber.

And then there was the third, a man with dark skin and kind eyes. He smiled when you looked at him, trying to dispel the concern you could feel bubbling up in your chest.

You looked up at the temple. Or, what was left of it. You let out a broken gasp at the sight of the shattered stained glass dome, daylight streaming into the room in bright rays. “W-what happened?” You pushed from the pod, wincing at the weight of it, but the woman was quick to support you, slinging your arm around her shoulders. The Not-Han-Solo reached out too, but stopped short of touching you once he saw his friend had it handled.

You stepped over a pile of things, foot brushing against them. Half-burned candles and…flowers, petals dried and scattered.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know how to explain but…you’ve been asleep, your Highness.” She explained, eyes meeting yours with sorrow and empathy. “You’ve been asleep for thirty years.”

You were stunned into silence, standing there for what felt like an eternity, staring up at that broken window. Never had you heard your home planet so quiet.

There are no healers. You finally noticed, taking stock of the empty room, completely abandoned aside from the four of you. There was no chatter from the palace halls, no roaming guards, nothing. You didn’t even hear any birds chirping.

You reached for the saber on your belt just to find it wasn’t there. Neither was your belt. Instead, you were wearing a silky robe, floor length, but thin, and some basic undergarments. Behind you, your wings, restored to their former glory, the only evidence they had ever been harmed in the first place being a thin golden line, right where the saber had sliced them off in a neat arch.

A droid beeping drew your attention as it rolled from behind another pod. Your eyes widened, looking at it. A ball-shaped droid. Orange and white. You’d never seen one like that before.

“Woah.”

“Yes, you can come out now, BB-8.” The man in the leather jacked chuckled. “That’s my droid. He’s curious about you. We…all are, your Highness.”

“I’ve never seen one like that before.” You murmured, looking at him. “Hello there.”

He beeped in greeting and you laughed softly. Technology had progressed. They weren’t lying. It had been…thirty years. You’d been asleep for…

You moved, finally taking a step away from the woman that was supporting you, testing out your legs. They worked, thankfully. “I…need to change out of this. There should be something more…suitable in my room…if this place hasn’t been completely ransacked.”

“Lead the way, your Highness. Take all the time you need,” said the guy in the leather jacket. The Not-Han-Solo.

You walked towards the entrance of the healers’ temple that led to the palace courtyard. Immediately, that was a mistake.

What should have been a giant, gorgeous, flowering tree with a thick trunk and sprawling branches was a husk. The Monarch Tree, the glowing crown jewel of the palace grounds, of the capitol, was gone. The branches had obviously been burned off, broken to splinters. The wreckage of a TIE fighter sat at its base.

Craters littered the lawn, deep dirt-filled holes that hadn’t filled. Beyond them, dozens of destroyed buildings. Hundreds, even.

A broken sob left your lips and your knees gave out from under you. You collapsed into the grass, a hand slapped over your mouth to stifle the yell that wanted to escape. Shaking, you wiped at the tears running down your cheeks.

“What happened?” You asked again, staring at the wreckage of what had once been your home.

“There was an attack. A few days after you went into your pod.” The woman explained, offering a hand that you gladly took as she knelt beside you in the grass. You laced your fingers through hers, her touch familiar despite the fact that you knew you had never met. She didn’t look much older than twenty. She hadn’t even been born when you’d gone to sleep.

“T-the Empire?” You asked, voice wobbling.

“What was left of it.” Leather Jacket Man explained, voice stable. “It was their last attack before going quiet.”

You nodded, listening but not really processing what he said. You blinked a few times, more tears falling.

“Are you going to be alright?” The woman asked, giving your hand another squeeze. Her voice was soft, eyes curious, but gentle.

“I need a minute. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The other man said, shaking his head. “I…I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

So you took some time. Minutes of quiet, of staring, of thinking before you finally heard a voice in the back of your mind.

Luke’s.

It’s time to get up now, Princess. You’ve got work to do.

Tears of the Princess

You stood again after what felt like a century, leading the others up the winding path and into the rest of the palace. Shards of glass were scattered across the colorful tile floors, furniture overturned, blaster fire immortalized by scorch marks on the wall.

You stepped over broken plates and bottles, making your way through the hallway. Just yesterday you had been there. Yesterday. And now, it was…no, you couldn’t. You didn’t dare think it.

Finally, you led the others to the doors to your room, double doors with golden handles, the wood carved and painted to match your wing coloration. A deep slash had splintered away part of the paint, but otherwise, it seemed untouched. You tried the handle, but it was locked.

“I’ll look for a key.” Leather Jacket Man volunteered, scanning the floor with his eyes.

“No need.” You said, raising a hand and focusing on the lock’s innerworkings. The gentle hum of the Force thrummed heavy on the air and the door came open with a click. “I never used one.”

All three of them stared at you and then at each other, wearing matching expressions. They were impressed. Hopeful, even. You walked inside, looking around to find it…more or less the same. Aside from a thick layer of dust, that was. Some cobwebs.

You made a beeline for the wardrobe, shuffling through your options until you found something more solid than the flimsy healing robe you were in. Beige tunic, brown pants, a magenta wrap, a brown leather belt. You turned towards your private chamber and got changed as quickly as you could, taking stock of yourself in the mirror.

The stab wound in your lower abdomen had healed perfectly, the skin still shimmering from the pod. Other than that, you looked…exactly the same. You hadn’t aged a day. It almost brought you to tears again, the thought of it, but you swallowed them down. There were bigger fish to fry.

Once you were dressed, you returned to the bedroom, where the others were curiously poking around. They all froze, watching as you reentered the room.

“Sorry.” Leather Jacket Man blurted. His eyes scanned your new outfit, looking you up and down. “We’re just curious.”

“That’s alright. You can look around, I don’t care.” You pulled a bag from the bottom of the wardrobe, quickly packing some basics into it. Sleep wear, casual wear, undergarments and undershirts. You pulled a belt with a blaster holster on it and put it in as well. Based on the way the others were armed, you sensed the galaxy was not necessarily in peace times anymore.

You took a few pairs of shoes and then turned to your dresser, where the jewelry was. Somehow, but some act of the Maker, the most important piece of your collection was still in tact. A kyber crystal on a leather cord. You pulled it off of its display and quickly did the clasp behind your neck. In lieu of finding your missing saber, you wanted to keep the door open for building another one at some point, given you could assemble the pieces. Speaking of which, those thick gold cuff bracelets sitting beside it would do nicely. You slipped them on as well.

There was a dainty golden circlet that you let your fingers hover over for a moment before slipping it on over your head. It didn’t feel right, though, so you put it in a box and slipped it in your bag for later. Maybe someday you’d feel like a princess again.

There was another box, one filled with Rebellion pins, cufflinks, and other trinkets. You put that in the bag, too, before turning back to the closet, where the woman was lingering, staring at the colorful fabrics there.

“Do you want some?” You offered, walking over to stand next to her.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly–”

“Yes you can. Otherwise, they’ll just sit here collecting dust.” You reasoned, flipping through them until finding one you thought would suit her. “You’re a Jedi?”

“I-I am. Training.” She said, meeting your eyes very tentatively. “Your Highness.”

“Then you need some robes.” You said with a soft smile, holding up a green one alongside a blue one. A yellow one, too. “They’re a little open-backed. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” She said with a chuckle, packing them in another bag.

“Boys, are you in need of anything?”

“Us?�� Asked the man with the kind eyes. “No, I don’t think…”

“My brother’s room is down the hall if you want to take a look around. His fashion sense left something to be desired, but if there’s anything there, feel free. As far as I’m concerned, anything still here after thirty years is fair game…”

“Thank you, your Highness.” Leather Jacket Man said with a nod. He put a hand on the other one’s arm. “Come on, Finn. Let’s give ‘em a minute.”

Finn. You memorized, watching as they left. One name down, two to go.

You and the Jedi continued to browse the room, looking for…anything, really.

“What’s your name?” You finally asked her.

“Rey.” She provided, a kind smile on her face.

“I’m (Y/N).” You introduced.

“It’s an honor to meet you, (Y/N).” She replied, and something in you melted. You could tell already that you’d be friends.

You found a few other things laying around, a small tool kit, a sewing kit, things you felt would probably come in handy. You added them to the bag as well.

“Nothing in there.” Leather Jacket Man reported with a shake of his head. “Must not have been locked as securely as your room.”

“Yeah, that checks out.” You nodded. “We’re about done in here anyway.”

“Let me carry that, your Highness.” he offered, reaching for the bag you’d packed. “It’s kind of a hike out to the ship.”

“Thank you.” You said, handing it to him.

He wasn’t lying. They’d parked on the other side of the castle. You took them through a shortcut, which led down past the kitchens. A shelf of pots had collapsed, but that was quickly handled with a flourish of the wrists, using the Force to set everything right again, clearing the way.

“How did you find me?” you asked as you passed the library, nearing their ship, supposedly. “Did someone send you?”

“General Organa–Leia sent us.” Finn told you, solidifying to you two things: one, your best friend was alive, but two, that the galaxy was indeed at war again. “Things are…kind of desperate. We took some heavy losses recently. We need all the help we can get.”

“What was that pod you were in?” Rey asked. “I’ve never seen one that looks like that.”

“Mariposan healing pod. We’re famous for them. They can heal nearly any injury if you get to one in time. Problem is, they can only be opened by the High Healers, locked with their medallions. It’s to protect the vulnerable injured population in the case of an attack. I guess they never thought about someone getting locked inside…”

It struck you then that whoever had attacked had known what they were doing. They must have taken out the Healers before they could let you out. Surely, you would have been of more use to them even injured than asleep.

You pushed past the exterior doors, stepping out into the sunlight again. Beyond the walls, at the outskirts of the palace, was the Millenium Falcon. A wave of relief set in, seeing it, aged though it was. That ship had been home to you on more occasions than you could count.

The ramp lowered and out came Chewbacca, still leagues taller than the rest of the group, covered in fur, bowcaster ready to eliminate a threat, but not finding one. His eyes fell on you and he let out a throaty, emotional roar.

Your face lit up. It was a good thing you weren’t carrying your bag because you would have certainly dropped it with the speed you ran to him. “Chewie!” 

He roared again, picking you up off of the ground in a bone-crushing hug.

“I missed you too!” You sobbed, head resting on his furry shoulder. The tears kept coming. You doubted they’d stop. The others very pointedly hadn’t mentioned Luke, Han, or Lando. You could only assume they were sparing you from getting too much bad news at once.

But Chewbacca being alive was nice. You would take the little victories, too.

He ran a paw down your head, setting you back on the ground and studying you. Another little roar.

You wiped your tears and chuckled. “You look great, Chewie. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You ready to leave? Is there anything else you need?” Leather Jacket Man asked. He hesitated, but elaborated. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to come back.”

You glanced back at the ruined palace one last time, letting out a long sigh. “I think I’m ready. I could stay here forever picking through it all, but I’ve got everything I need.”

“Alright. Good.” He searched your face for a moment, words dying on his tongue before he turned towards the cockpit.

Finn followed after him, an amused smile on his face. “Never seen anyone do that to you.”

“Do what?”

“Steal the words right from that big mouth of yours.”

Leather jacket man let out a sheepish laugh. Chewie put a hand on your shoulder and let out a little roar.

“I know, buddy. I like them already.”

Legends and Fairytales

The entire camp stopped and stared when the Falcon landed at the resistance’s current base. Leia was right there, waiting, hoping, that the moment that ramp lowered, there would be a powerful new recruit on it.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, bracing yourself as the ship landed, the movement of it still familiar, even with a different pilot. That said, he was a rather good pilot, this man in the leather jacket, whoever he was.

The ramp lowered and you followed Rey off of the ship onto the lush planet, the rebel base spread through the trees. You let out a sigh at the sight. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, you supposed. There were mechanics and comms operatives, bustling to and fro, pilots in their bright orange jumpsuits, prepping for reconnaissance flights.

And in the middle of them was Leia. She stared at you with those knowing eyes, that heartbroken smile. You approached her, wordless, dropping your bag on the ground and surrendering to her arms.

“Leia…”

Her hand cradled your head as she rocked you back and forth. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“I could say the same about you. Tell me…everything.”

She released you from her hold and slipped her hand into yours, giving it a squeeze. She turned to the pilot, as he and Finn finally came off the Falcon. “Thank you, you two. Will you take her things to her quarters for me? We have some catching up to do.”

“On it, General.” The pilot said, scooping up your bag from where you’d dropped it. He reached forward and touched your arm, his hand warm, calloused. “It was great to meet you, your Highness. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” You said with a smirk. “Thanks for the ride.”

Finn had that look on his face again and you could tell by the way he stood next to the pilot as they walked towards your quarters that he was once again on the verge of teasing him.

Leia led you somewhere private. An office. Her office, you realized, looking at the few scattered trinkets from your time in the war together. A holo on her shelf held a photo of your core group: You, her, Luke, Han, Chewie, and Lando, all together, smiling after the war. You sighed, staring at it. You wondered how many of you were left.

“I’m sorry about…everything.” She started. “I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head.”

“I’m still figuring that out myself.”

“Maker, you haven’t aged a single day.” She murmured, looking at you with those eyes, wizened, worried. The same could not be said for her. Streaks of gray ran through her braided bun, a few wrinkles crinkling her face.

She had lived. She had aged. But she was still your sister, you could feel that much. Nothing in the universe could change that.

“So…what’s it like out there? How bad is it this time?”

“Worse.” Leia sighed. “So much worse. They call themselves the First Order. The Empire but…bigger. Their weapons are more dangerous. And they’re led by my son. Ben. He calls himself Kylo Ren these days.”

“You have a son…” You murmured, arms wrapped around yourself. “With Han?”

“With Han.” She nodded, settling next to you. “He…he’s gone now. It was half a year ago now. And it was Kylo.”

“Luke?” You asked.

She shook her head, blinking away tears. “Gone, too. About a month ago.”

Something broke in you when she said it. You’d known it was coming, you could feel it the moment you woke up, that he wasn’t there anymore. Your space boy was gone, and some piece of your soul crumbled along with him. Still, you asked, “Lando?”

“Is out there. Not sure exactly where. He hasn’t been spotted in a few years. You know how he was. Good at disappearing. But I’m sure he’ll pop up when it matters.”

“He always did.” You stared at the floor, tears falling from your eyes as you mourned your fallen. “M-my family. Did they get out in time?”

“Your parents died in protection of their subjects, the few refugees that managed to escape. No one has seen your brother since the attack.” She took your hand. “But Laesynda has been one of my bravest Admirals. And her son is a budding warrior in his own right.”

“I have a nephew.” You said, joy bursting through the surmounting grief.

“Soren. He’s nineteen.” She said.

“Is he here? Is Laecy? I…I want to see them.”

“They’re offworld on a mission, but they should be back to base soon. Within the next few days. They knew I was sending Rey and the boys to get you today, but none of us knew if the medallion was any good. All we had was hope that you’d be on the Falcon with them when they got back.”

“And hope was all we ever needed, you know.” You grinned. “Where did you find it?”

“I sent Poe to get it, four systems out. Took him a week to track it down. It was a longshot. A friend of a friend of a friend got their hands on it after years of searching.” She pressed her lips together, eyes serious as her hand touched yours. “I never stopped looking, (Y/N). I’m only sorry I couldn’t find it sooner.”

“Thank you, Leia. Seriously, thank you.” You said, fingers curling around her hand. “Whatever you need, I’m here. We…well we did it once. We can do it again. And that Rey…I’ve already got a good feeling about her.”

“I was going to ask you about that, actually. I was hoping you’d train with her. Once you’re settled. She’s just starting her journey. Luke taught her some things but…”

“Of course.” You nodded. “I’m sure she and I can help each other.”

***

After one of the mechs gave you a quick tour, you settled in the canteen, eating a rice bowl with some seasoned meat and veggies, sipping some iced tea. And then you just kind of sat there, watching as people came and went. You heard their whispers, saw their not so subtle points. And then, eventually, people stopped coming, the sky outside dark, the lights around camp clicking on.

The thought of going back to your bunk and laying down to sleep made you sick. Mostly the sleeping part. You weren’t sure what was worse, the thought that all of this was a dream, or that you would drift off even further, to when the Empire–First Order, you supposed–got the upper hand and took over the galaxy.

So you sat, listening to the crickets chirp, the footsteps of the occasional crew member strolling by, first watch heading to their posts for the night. You scrolled through the holo you’d been given, catching up as best as you could.

“Did anyone show you where your quarters are? I can walk you there if you’d like.” It was the pilot from earlier, the one with the curly hair and the impossibly warm brown eyes. “They’re not far from mine.”

“They showed me.” You replied. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’ve had enough sleep, I think.” You said with a tired chuckle.

“In that case…” He pulled out a chair. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“By all means.” You motioned him forward. “I never caught your name, flyboy.”

He grinned, meeting your eyes and offering his hand, which you shook. “Poe. Poe Dameron.”

Your face lit in recognition. “So I have you to thank for waking me up. Leia told me you’re the one that tracked down that pendant. I can’t imagine what you had to do to find it.”

He smiled. “It was tricky, but…definitely worth it.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m (Y/N) by the way. (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, your Highness. Luke Skywalker was a legend, but…you were a fairytale.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a smile tugging at the edge of your lip. “A fairytale, huh?”

“Right down to the tiara and magical powers.” He said, eyes soft as he admired you up close. You couldn’t imagine the stories he’d heard about you. “Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted this.” He reached into his pocket and set the pendant on the table in front of you, its pink and purple gem shimmering ever so faintly in the dim light.

Your hand glided across the table, fingers finding the metal token with ease. You lifted it closer so you could get a good look at it. One little metal trinket had made all the difference between whether you slept another thirty years or finally woke. Honestly, you wanted to chuck it deep into the woods, never think about it again, but mementos of your home planet were few and far between. Most of them had fit into one bag. So you accepted the gift, tucking it into one of the pouches on your belt.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I’m really sorry we plopped you into another war, but…I’m really glad we have you. We need you. We need your help. If even half of what they said about you is true, you could make a real difference here.”

You mulled it over for a long time. Another war. You’d just begun to settle into the peace after the last one, and already it had been wrenched away from you. It felt impossible. The dread that ate at you every time you thought about it was nearly too much to stomach.

Regardless, you met his gaze, determination knitted in your brow. “That’s the plan.”

Kindle the Spark

You meditated instead of sleeping, sitting on a stump at the edge of the woods as the sun rose. You reached out for him. For Luke. You knew he had to be out there, his spirit, at the very least. And yet, there was no answer. Your space boy had all but abandoned you, leaving you to fend for yourself in this new galaxy you’d woken up in.

You tried not to be bitter about it.

As the sun warmed your face, you felt Rey standing tentatively at the treeline, eyes watching you.

“May I join you?”

“I was hoping you would.” You motioned her over to another stump, a few feet from yours.

She crossed her legs, perching herself on the surface. She had good balance, you noticed.

“So, where did Luke…leave off?” You asked, still not quite knowing how to talk about him. The image of him in your head, you were sure, was quite different from the Luke Skywalker she had known, the one she had trained with.

“We didn’t cover much ground, actually. He was…hesitant to train me. Or anyone, really.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that. It had been his dream. Your dream. Starting the Jedi again, training the next class. “Oh. Alright, well, then we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. We all start somewhere.”

“Something had happened with his class of Jedi. Kylo Ren was among them.” Her energy shifted the moment she brought him up. “It went very wrong. He blamed himself. Took that as a sign that it was time to end the Jedi.”

“Well it’s not. We both know that. I haven’t been here long, but I can tell. This Rebellion–sorry, Resistance needs us now more than ever.”

“It does.” She met your eyes. “So where do we start?”

Rey was a fast learner. Incredibly fast. You started with some basic drills. You didn’t have a saber, so you used a piece of a branch, playing a lethal game of keep-away through the treetops, where you kept the stick away from Rey’s saber as long as possible, encouraging her to not hit any of the other trees with it.

It was about intention, speed, aim, and of course, agility. And she was good at it.

After something like a ten minute chase, she finally sliced off the end of the branch, earning an impressed smile. You fluttered back down onto the grass, hands on your hips, breathing heavy.

“You’re good. Good reflexes.” You complimented. “You have a fighting background?”

She shook her head. “I grew up on Jakku. Desert planet. It was rough out there, but I don’t have any formal training.”

“We’ll take care of that.” You told her.

“Wow, that was…insane.” Finn complimented, accompanied by Poe, who met your eyes with a smile. “Think you could teach me next?”

You could tell he was joking, that he didn’t think there was any truth in it, but even just standing there, you could tell there was something about him, too. Some spark of potential. Your focus now was Rey, but maybe, in time, you could kindle his spark, too.

After all, you were barely in a position to have one Padawan, let alone two.

“Morning, ladies. Thinking about some breakfast, if you were interested.” Poe said, thumbs hooked through the loops of his trousers, button-up shirt unbuttoned just enough to get a good glimpse at his tanned chest, a silvery chain glimmering against his skin.

You forced your eyes away, meeting his instead. “Breakfast sounds good.”

“How’d you sleep?” He asked as the four of you started walking towards the canteen, where the breakfast trays had been rolled out. Eggs with diced peppers, ronto sausages, some assorted fruit.

“I didn’t.”

He sputtered. “I walked you to your quarters. I kind of assumed that meant you’d go to sleep.”

“Tried. Couldn’t do it. Meditated for a while.” You shrugged. “I’ll live.”

He didn’t look convinced.

You all walked through the breakfast line, taking your servings of food before walking over to an empty table to sit. Once again, the crew members surrounding you were full of whispers, eyes darting to and away from you. You wondered if your clothes were outdated, if you stood out that much, but in most spaces, the wings alone were enough to draw attention, even if you kept them folded down most of the time.

You dug in, the food flavors familiar. It was better than the rations you’d had in your Rebellion days, that was for sure.

“That necklace. What is it?” Rey eventually asked, eyes falling on the crystal hanging around your neck. Clear, and coming to a point.

“I was wondering if you’d notice it.” You chuckled. “This is a kyber crystal. It’s what gives a lightsaber its color and power. Luke didn’t know why I took an extra and…I didn’t either. But if we can’t solve the Mystery of the Missing Saber, I’ll have to try to make a new one. If I could find the parts, that is…”

“What was your saber like?”

“One of a kind.” You reminisced. “Gold hilt. It was made from my mother’s old bracelets. Cuffs like these that I welded into shape. Indigo blade. It was the coolest.”

“Sounds like it.” Poe said, eyes falling on you once again, searching you for something. You wondered if he was like that with everyone…

You spent the rest of your day wandering the base, reading through reports, familiarizing yourself with the war, with your enemies and allies.

Poe was a commander, apparently, according to his files. The best pilot in the Resistance, if not the galaxy. It suited him. And Finn had history with the First Order as a defected Storm Trooper. You were happy for him, finding himself. You wished more people in his position were able to do the same.

Prior to your arrival, there had been a battle on Crait. Heavy losses. The Resistance had reached out for help and…no one had come. You really did seem to be the last hope.

And that was the state of the Resistance. Supplies were running low, recruitment numbers were down…all of you had your work cut out for you.

You went to the hangar, where the pilots hung out. You looked around, introducing yourself to a handful of the other pilots. A guy named Temmin, who went by Snap, a girl named Tess. There was a mech hanging out, hair in long black braids, a pair of goggles strapped to her head. She introduced herself as Aspen. You could already tell she was trouble in the best way.

You met Rose, one of Finn’s friends, and some of her crewmates.

Everyone was nice, welcoming, grateful that you were there. You just hoped you’d live up to the expectations you could feel bubbling under their gazes.

You wandered for a long time, sleep calling to you now finally, the shock of the situation wearing off now that you were somewhat settled, but you ignored it. You still got nauseous at the thought of sleep.

A droid barreled towards you, full-speed. BB-8. Poe’s droid. He stopped at your feet, looking up at you.

“Oh. Hello again. Can I help you?”

He beeped a string of words and you laughed.

“You’re looking for me? Well, you found me.”

“Good work, Bee.” Poe chuckled, carrying a box under his arm, metal pieces clinking and sliding around. “There you are.”

“Whatcha got there?”

“Parts.” He replied, giving the box a noisy shake.

“Yeah, I see that. You building something?”

“No, you are.” He motioned towards the kyber crystal. “You built the first saber. I figured I’d see if it’s anything you can use, your Highness. Scraps, mostly, but…”

Your lip quirked up. “You don’t have to use titles with me, Commander. (Y/N) is fine.”

“(Y/N),” he repeated, voice soft. You liked the way it sounded when he said it. “You did some research, huh?”

“Of course I did. Had to get caught up. I had no idea the best pilot in the galaxy picked me up yesterday.”

He laughed, cheeks reddening. “Yeah, well, you should see me in an X-Wing.”

“I’d love to.” You took a step forward, looking into the box he’d brought you. “May I?”

“By all means. They are for you, after all.”

You poked around, looking through the pieces. With the kyber crystal and your bracelets thrown in the mix…there was definitely potential there. You looked up at him, impressed. “This is really sweet, Poe. Thank you.”

“Anything useful?”

“Definitely.” You nodded, continuing to did. Whoop, there it was. A power cell. Small and cylindrical. Looked like it would be about the right size. If it worked was another question entirely, but with that found, you had all you needed, more or less. “You ever built a lightsaber before?”

He laughed. “Can’t say I have. The only one I’ve ever seen is Rey’s.”

“Do you want to?” You met his eyes.

He laughed again before seeing the look on your face. “Oh, you’re serious. Look, I’m no Jedi.”

“You don’t have to be, but I could use an extra set of hands if you’ve got time. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

He pretended to think about it before saying, “Yeah, of course. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Is there a workshop around here?”

“This way.” He motioned, leading you through the base.

He pushed aside some curtains, leading to an empty workshop at the edge of camp. BB-8 rolled after the two of you, following at a steady pace. Poe set the box on a work table and you began taking out parts, organizing them, hands guided by what could only be the Force and your memories of building the first one.

You took off your bracelets, setting them on the table along with the kyber crystal, which you gently slid off of the leather cord you had been wearing it on.

Poe pulled up a stool for each of you and handed you a pair of goggles, which you gladly put on. He watched with eager eyes, curious to see what you’d do first.

You drilled holes in the corners of your cuffs so you could screw them into place later. The internal bits, you arranged mid-air, using the Force to line them up just so, following equal parts intuition and knowledge.

Poe stared at the floating pieces, watching as they fell into place. He offered his hands and you directed him where you needed him. He held the hilt in place while you wiggled wires, tightened components, nudging the kyber crystal just so, making sure it lined up with the power cell and the focusing crystals.

Your hands brushed against his, warm and calloused. He had a fighter’s hands. A pilot’s hands. They looked so right, cradling the beginnings of your saber.

You shivered.

“You still with me, (Y/N)?”

“Thinking.” You admitted. You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think I’ve got whiplash from how fast everything’s changed.”

“I can’t imagine.” He said, voice brimming with empathy. “You’re okay, though, right? If you need anything, we’re all right here. It’s gotta be a tough adjustment.”

“I’m okay. Part of me is still convinced this is an elaborate dream.” You shrugged. “I think once we get this thing built, it’ll ground me. Convince me that this is real. That…I’m here to stay.”

“Some sleep might not hurt either.” He suggested with a teasing smirk.

“Back to the sleep again.” You chuckled. “Seriously, I’m okay. And after this, I think you might convince me to finally get some. It’s been a…long couple of days.”

He grinned. “Good. We need you at your best. It’s been a quiet few days, but the quiet never lasts long around here.”

Poe held the hilt while you screwed it all together, double-checking everything, racking your brain for anything you might have forgotten, any piece that might have been missing. By some miracle, it seemed everything you’d needed had been in that box.

Then, finally, came the moment of truth. All that was left was to turn it on.

“Alright, you go stand over there. I’ll power it on.”

“Stand over there?” Poe asked, looking over at the doorway, where you had pointed.

“Yeah, if this thing blows up, I will not be responsible for killing the Resistance’s best pilot.”

He chuckled, walking across the room. “Fair enough.”

Once he was far enough, you pressed the activator and a brilliant magenta hue emerged from the hilt. You stared at the ray of light, the familiar hum of a lightsaber filling the room. You’d done it. You’d built a lightsaber.

BB-8 beeped in awe, his words mirroring the look on Poe’s face as he stared at the weapon in your hand.

“I’ve never seen one that color before.”

“Me either.” You murmured, powering it down and strapping the hilt to your belt, a movement that was just about second nature to you. “Feels right, though.”

“I can’t believe we just did that with a box of scraps!” Poe laughed triumphantly, finally walking further into the room again, standing in front of you. His hands settled on your arms, excitement on those handsome features of his, his touch warm and electrifying. “You built a lightsaber.”

“We built a lightsaber.” You replied, warmth blossoming in your chest, his face so close to yours that you were convinced he was going to kiss you. You could feel that he wanted to. Maybe not wanted to. But he definitely thought about it, about what it would be like to kiss a Jedi.

Instead, he let go, the smile on his face not fading. “We built a lightsaber.” He repeated, letting the words sink in. “We should go show Leia. She’ll be thrilled.”

So the two of you walked straight to Leia’s office and showed her. She was thrilled.

“What do you think the color means, (Y/N)?” Leia asked, staring at the light. She knew more than anyone else there the process of making a saber, the relationship you shared with a kyber crystal.

“New beginnings.” You replied, the answer easy as breathing. It was true. This new life, this new place, these new people. This saber would help you protect them. All of them.

Leia layered her hand over yours. “I think so too. This is good news. I’ll let the team know. If you’re up for it, we could really use you in battle.”

“I’m there.” You told her. “That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

“Good. Well, get some sleep,” she met your eyes. “Both of you.”

“I’ll try.” You promised her. This time, you were sure it was a promise you could keep. You could feel it coming already.

“I’ll make sure she does, General.” Poe said, motioning towards the door, a guiding hand settling between your shoulder blades. “Come on, your Highness.”

You tilted your head, giving him an annoyed smile as he ushered you towards your quarters. “Alright, alright…”

The walk there wasn’t all that long. You opened the door with a flourish of fingers across your keypad, lingering in the doorway. You turned back to look at him, his eyes soft in the dim hallway. It was late. Most of the camp was asleep.

“Thank you, for everything. I…didn’t expect this place to feel so familiar yet, but…It’s like I never left.”

He tilted his head, something bittersweet tugging his lip into a pout. “I wish we’d gone to find you sooner.”

“We’ll just have to make up for lost time.” You said. “Kindle that spark again, make people believe, show them that they can fight for what they love. That…that it’s worth fighting for.”

He nodded. “Took the words right out of my mouth. Well, (Y/N), please get some sleep tonight.”

“I don’t think I could fight it if I tried, at this point.” You grinned, meeting his eyes. “Don’t let me sleep for thirty years this time, alright?”

“I’ll wake you up myself tomorrow morning, if it’d make you feel better.”

“It would, actually. I think that would help a lot.”

“Well then. Tomorrow morning it is. We’ll grab some breakfast. I’ll bring you some caf.”

You smiled softly, chest swirling and warm. “It’s a date, Dameron.”

Wake-Up Call

Sleep cradled you like a lover that night, encasing you in total darkness. You didn’t even dream, just rested. You’d needed it.

There were a few minutes of quiet, sunlight streaming through your narrow bedroom window, where you just laid there, reminisced. It was different than your quarters had been in the Rebellion, but constructed from the same materials, made of the same parts.

Outside, you could hear cadets on their morning jog, loud mechanical noises from the various workshops, people moving parts and packages.

You wondered what time it was.

There was a knock on the door. “Wake-up call! Rise and shine!”

Poe. You smiled. He was true to his word after all.

“Coming,” you replied, rolling out of bed and walking to the door, still in a tank top and a pair of Resistance-grade sweatpants. They slid open with a whir, the pilot standing in front of you with a steaming cup of caf in each hand.

“Morning, your Highness. I trust you actually slept last night?”

“I did indeed sleep last night, thank you for your concern, Commander.”

He grinned, handing you a cup of caf, which you took gladly. If there was anything to be said about a Rebellion, it was best fueled by caffeine. “Good, I’m glad.”

“How did you sleep?”

He shrugged. “I slept alright. My roommate snores, so…”

“I don’t snore half as loud as him, for the record.” Finn chimed, walking over with Rey. He lowered his voice, whispering excitedly. “We heard you two built a lightsaber last night?!”

“Almost forgot about that.” You chuckled, picking it up off of your nightstand. “Give me a second to change out of these sweatpants and I can show you outside.”

The boys and Rey stood out in the hall for a second while you changed into your robes, wrapping a few belts snug around your body, slotting the saber into its holster, where your other one used to sit. It was a little different, the shape of it, the feel, but you would get used to it.

You did a quick once-over of your hair and outfit before opening the door again and facing them.

“Alright, let’s go.” You motioned, taking a long sip of caf and leading them out into the open air, unclipping your saber from your belt, activating it for them to see.

“I’ve never seen one that color before!” Rey marveled. “The two of you built that?”

“I gave her a box of scraps and she built that with it.”

“It was exactly the right scraps, to be fair.” You shrugged, deactivating it and putting it back on your belt.

Finn and Rey started wandering towards the canteen for breakfast, but Poe put a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, there’s some guys I want to introduce you to.”

“Alright.” You nodded, following him towards the hangar, where a few pilots were milling around, chatting and working on ship repairs. BB-8 rolled over, brushing against your leg on his way to Poe.

“Morning, buddy. Staying out of trouble?”

He beeped in response, earning a laugh.

“Morning, Poe.” Snap said, looking up at the two of you as you walked in together. “Your Highness.”

“Hello again. Good to see you.”

“You already met Snap?” Poe asked.

“I did some rounds yesterday, trying to learn names.”

“Everyone here is talking about it.” He chuckled. “A real life Jedi of legend, walking among us.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” You shook your head.

“(Y/N), this is Jessika and Karé. The other two members of Black Squadron. Ladies, this is (Y/N).”

“Honored to meet you.” Jessika shook your hand. “I hope our Commander has been accommodating while you’re adjusting.”

“More than.” You chuckled.

“If you ever run into any trouble, we’ve got your back. Glad to have you on board.” Karé said, shaking your hand next.

“Glad to be here, ladies. Thanks for all you do.”

“Alright. Great. Breakfast?” Poe asked.

“Breakfast.” You followed after him, stopped in your tracks by the sound of something breaching the atmosphere.

A ship, engulfed in flame, coming in hot for what was shaping up to be a really rough landing. People started shouting, trying to brace for impact, but it became clear to you that this was a Resistance ship and there was someone important on it.

You jumped into action, sprinting, hands out in front of you, using the Force to slow its momentum, bringing it down to the ground gently, where a team of mechs and emergency response was waiting to put out the flames.

You let out a breath, heart racing as you watched the ramp lower. A woman came out, dressed in Mariposan garb, golden cuff bracelets shining on her wrists. A pair of wings fluttered behind her like a cape, their coloring similar to your own. Time stopped when she met your eyes. Her look of concern, of fear, melted immediately and she ran straight to you, arms wrapping around you tightly.

For a long moment, you just stood there in her embrace, sobs caught in your throat. You held her, letting the familiarity sink in slowly.

This was your sister. Your baby sister, Laesynda. And she was older than you now.

“Laecy?” You asked, voice thick with tears.

“Leia told me they were trying to wake you.” She said, pulling away so she could cup your face with both hands, looking you over. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. They…they took Soren.”

“The First Order?” You asked.

She nodded. “They intercepted us. I tried to stop them, but…Kylo…”

“We’ll find him, your Majesty.” Poe promised. He put a hand on your arm. “Leia’s calling an emergency meeting. Come with me.”

The two of you followed Poe towards the conference room. There were chairs on risers, arranged in a circle, at the center of it, a console. The higher-ups assembled with haste, Laesynda putting a hand on your shoulder before joining Leia with the Admirals and Generals. Poe sat with the pilots and Rey took the seat beside you.

Once everyone was accounted for, Leia started.

“The First Order has taken Soren prisoner. I vote we stage a rescue mission as soon as possible. Small rescue team. In and out. No more than two ships.” Leia said, weaving the pieces together with ease and precision. Your best friend, the princess of Alderaan had become a General, and a good one, too. It was awe-inspiring to watch. Her eyes fell on you. “(Y/N), do you think you’re ready?”

“More than ready, General.” You replied, sitting up straighter. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

“She can take my X-Wing. They’ll never be expecting her. I doubt they even know she’s awake.” Poe said, determination in his brows. “We have the element of surprise, we should use it while we can.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t fly an X-Wing. I’m not a pilot.” You said.

Leia thought for a moment. “Well, there was that one time.”

You almost laughed. “Okay, I have ridden in an X-Wing, but uh…it was a tight fit. We were in a pinch.”

Poe’s eyes lit up, a shocked grin pulling at his lips. “You and Skywalker crammed into one of those things?”

“We didn’t have much choice.”

“Well, I’ll try anything once.” Poe looked to Leia. “She and I can break in, find Soren, open a gate. Finn and Rey can follow in the Falcon.”

Chewbacca roared, volunteering himself as well.

“Then that’s settled. Laesynda, give them the coordinates. You’re dismissed.”

“I gotta suit up. Meet me in the hangar in ten.” Poe said, touching your shoulder before jogging off.

Laesynda walked over, taking both of your hands. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’d do the same for me.” You replied, giving her hands a squeeze. “Besides, it’s about time I met him, right?”

“May the Force be with you, always.” She said, voice strong and true.

“And with us all.” You replied, giving her one last, quick hug before taking off towards the hangar.

Poe was there, loading up BB-8 in the back of his X-Wing, dressed in the iconic orange jumpsuit so associated with the Rebel pilots you had fought alongside. It suited him. Really, really suited him.

“Ready, your Highness?” He asked, motioning to the X-Wing. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Ready.” You looked him up and down, unable to fight the smile on your face. “You look good.”

He smirked, cheeks flushing. “What, this old thing?”

“Brings back memories, what can I say?”

Poe climbed up the ladder first, settling into his seat, pushing it as far back as he could manage. He reached up, offering you his hand as you climbed inside. You sat in the smidge of space between Poe’s thighs, wings tucked away as neatly as possible. Ever the gentleman, Poe let you lead, hands hovering.

“Can you reach everything? Am I in your way?”

“No, I’m good. I just…are you comfortable?”

“As comfortable as I can be, squished between you and the dash.” You chuckled, adjusting carefully.

“Hey, this was your idea.”

“Technically, it was Leia’s idea.” You defended.

“Here, could you…” He hesitated. “permission to touch you, your Highness?”

“Permission granted.” You said.

Poe pulled your back flush against his chest, scooting the seat up the tiniest bit so he could reach better. He tilted you slightly so your face was out of his way and he could see out the windshield. “There, that’s better.” He turned, face suddenly inches from yours, breath warm across your cheek. His cologne was sharp. Sandalwood. He gazed at you though those stupidly thick eyelashes. It was almost unfair, the way he looked at you. “You still good?”

Oh yeah, it was definitely bringing back memories now. That look in his eyes, the tugging in your chest.

“Yep. Yeah. I’m good.” You nodded, nose nearly brushing against his helmet. That inch between you felt like a mile.

“Good. Rey, Finn, how are we doing on your end?”

“Ready when you are, Poe.”

“Great. Ball’s in your court, (Y/N). You ready?”

You took a moment, clearing your mind, reaching out, preparing yourself for the journey to come. You touched the hilt of your new saber, as if to remind yourself that it was there. “I’m ready. Let’s go bring him home.”

Something Old and Borrowed

Poe rolled his X-Wing out of the hangar and onto the landing strip. You were seated comfortably in his lap. Well, as comfortably as you could be with the limited space.

“Alright, I need you to hit that switch.” Poe pointed, flipping three others in the meantime.

You reached up and flipped the metal switch with a satisfying click. Something whirred to life. You weren’t sure what.

He reached around you, arm wrapped tight around your waist so he could take the control rod. “This still good?”

“Yep. Feel free to push me around as necessary.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.” He smirked. “Alright, Bee, punch it.”

BB-8 let out a string of beeps and then you took off into the air. It was definitely faster than Luke’s X-Wing. New gen tech, you deduced. It only made sense that space ships would get better in the thirty years you’d been sleeping.

You took a long breath, the rush exhilarating, especially when you were out of orbit and Poe shifted it into hyperdrive, the Resistance base fading to a mere blip miles and miles behind you. You let out a thrilled little laugh, bracing against the impact of that initial thrust.

“So he really never taught you how to fly, huh?” Poe asked, still obviously hung up on it.

“We were busy.” You shrugged. “I knew some of the stuff in the Falcon cockpit, and my aim is pretty decent with a blaster, but they never had me up here in one of these. I was better suited on the ground. I was really good at drawing fire so everyone else could do the important stuff. Jedi are excellent distractions.”

“I would argue the stuff you were doing was important, too.” Poe said, shifting the control rod just so, arm digging into your side ever so slightly.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve read the reports. Seen some of the archive footage.” He confessed. “There’s a reason everyone on base looks at you like that.”

“Like what?” You asked, looking back at him, coy smirk on your face.

“Like this, I’d imagine.” He whispered, eyes full of warmth, even through his tinted visor.

Your breath hitched, heart caught in your throat. “Poe…”

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking back to the windshield. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shook your head, eyes scanning his features one last time before shifting forward again.

“What’s your ETA, Commander Dameron?” Leia asked over the comms.

“About an hour out from the coordinates, General. Any tips as to what we’re flying into here?”

“Star Destroyer. They’re out in the Shade system.”

Something in you sank, heart racing as you remembered the last time you had been there. How could you forget? After all, that was where you’d died thirty years ago.

“Do we know what they were doing out there, General?” You asked, voice strained.

“Retrieving something of utmost importance.” Leia replied. “We can discuss it when you return.”

“Alright.” You said, deflating.

“What’s up with the Shade system?” Poe asked, watching your expression. “What are we flying into?”

“It’s where I died. And it was where they were trying to…revive Palpatine.” You explained, your shimmering scar seeming to burn as you did, memories of Insidia’s words, the malice in her tone, her blade buried in your hip.

Poe muted himself with a press of a button on the wall, muted you with another, giving you a moment of privacy. “You okay with this? I didn’t realize that was where we were headed.”

You nodded. “We’re not turning around. They’ve got my nephew on that ship. Never met the kid, but…”

Poe nodded. “We’re gonna get him back, don’t you worry about that.”

“What’s he like?”

“Soren? He’s great. Been on base since he was seventeen. Your sister just started bringing him on missions recently. He’s got a great shot. Good at repairs and maintenance. The mechs started teaching him how to fix ships.” He grinned. “He’s a good kid. He’s got the spark like the rest of us, wants to make a real difference out here.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

“He couldn’t wait to meet you, either. Grew up on stories about you.” Poe said. He smiled softly. “We all did.”

There was some comfortable quiet between the two of you. BB-8 piped up every so often with status updates.

“So how do you…fly this thing?” You asked, earning a smirk, Poe’s arm adjusting around you, hand still wrapped around the control rod.

“Thought you’d never ask. So, this controls movement mostly, pitch and yaw, affects my–our trajectory. Speed is this lever over here. That one is hyperdrive. The buttons on the control rod are our blasters. This one to aim, trigger to fire. Different adjustments for stationary and moving targets.”

“And what’s the one you had me flip earlier?”

“The air conditioning.”

You laughed. “Ah, yes, important.”

“Well, you know, I figured it might get a little muggy in here, two of us and all. I’m not used to sharing this cockpit with such a beautiful copilot. Or any copilot, really.”

BB-8 chirped in annoyance.

“I said in the cockpit, Bee, you’ve got your own compartment.” Poe retorted, sharing a look with you. “Droids.”

“Droids.” You agreed with a laugh.

It was more comfortable after that, the two of you chatting a bit until Finn, Rey, and Chewie finally came over the headset. You were getting closer to the Star Destroyer. You’d arrive about seven minutes before the others, try to get them a way in as quickly as you could, as well as a speedy escape route.

“We’re gettin’ close. You ready for action?”

“Always.” You replied. “You got your blaster?”

“‘Course I do. It’s gonna get ugly out there. Always does where Stormtroopers are involved.”

“As long as their aim hasn’t improved too much, I should be all set.” You chuckled.

“It’s never been great, in my experience.”

“Oh, never. I think there’s something wrong with their helmets. They’re not custom-fitted so a lot of them genuinely can’t see.”

“She’s right about that.” Finn said with a laugh. He was speaking from experience. “Can’t believe they haven’t found a solution for that after thirty years.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You got a plan?” Poe asked, trying to plot out his approach.

“Get me in there, pop the lid of this thing, and I’ll handle the rest.” You assured him. “I’m good at making an entrance.”

“Alright, works for me.” Poe pulled up on the hyperdrive and the stream of stars came to a halt, the Star Destroyer seemingly appearing before you. “We’re here. See you three on the other side.”

“Roger that, Commander.” Finn said.

Chewbacca roared some encouragement and then Poe maneuvered expertly past blasts from the surface canons, shifting every which way, doing a barrel roll, his other arm wrapping tightly around you to prevent you from falling up into the dash. After all, you weren’t wearing a seatbelt.

His speed alone was remarkable, but his skill was unmatched. You’d never seen someone fly like that before.

He whipped into the hangar, landing the X-Wing and popping the cockpit open. You put a hand on your saber, using the Force and your wings to propel up and out of the X-Wing, deflecting incoming blaster fires in a flurry of light. You spun down to the ground, skilled movements dispatching Stormtroopers as they approached.

You slashed your saber in a figure-8, returning any enemy fire right back to the senders, knocking them on their asses with a chorus of groaning.

In moments, there was a pile of Stormtroopers at your feet, a very impressed pilot climbing out of the cockpit. He unloaded BB-8, who rolled ahead of you down one of the hallways, following some kind of signal from Soren.

You felt a similar pull, but this one, you could tell, was the Force. It came from your chest, like a tether stretched down the endless hallways, leading you towards him, your nephew. Your family.

Poe gripped his blaster, a hand on your arm. “Bee says he’s this way.”

“He’s right.” You nodded, lightsaber still aglow in your hand. “I can feel it.”

You ran down stark white and black corridors. Maker, did it bring back memories…They were still using all the same designs, color scheme unchanged.

“Landing in four minutes. How are we looking, Poe?” Rey asked.

“We are looking great. She took out twenty Stormtroopers before I even got out of the cockpit.” Poe relayed. “They know we’re here, but we’re on the way to Soren now. Shouldn’t be long before we find him.”

BB-8 stopped suddenly in front of a door, letting you know that this was the one.

You reached forward, focusing on the control panel. It was a biometric lock, only meant for very specific people to get through. They obviously knew who they had their hands on, that this captive was an important one. You felt the mechanical pieces inside, feeling for the one tiny chip, and used the Force to trigger it.

The light turned green, door sliding open. You powered down your saber and hooked it to your belt once you saw the room was empty aside from Soren, strapped onto what you could only assume was a torture rack.

There he was, your nephew. His youthful features were weighed down by exhaustion and pain, blood trailing down from his temple.

“Brings back…memories.” Poe said with a shiver.

“Same here.” You said, walking straight over to him and undoing the restraints with a flourish of your hand.

You stood over him, waiting for him to wake. “Soren?”

Poe gave his shoulder a shake, his other hand on his blaster, eyes locked on the door. “Come on, buddy, we’ve gotta go.”

He stirred, eyes meeting yours through a thick layer of exhaustion. “That was fast.”

“Not fast enough, apparently. Sorry, kid.”

“‘M alright.” He insisted, struggling from the hold of the table. You helped pull him out. “Who are…?”

“I’m (Y/N). Your…mother’s sister.”

“Aunt (Y/N)?” He asked, eyes shooting open. “They…they found you.”

“Did you ever doubt us?” Poe asked with a chuckle.

“Didn’t expect you to be so…young.” Soren noted.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to be so old.” You replied, the boy standing in front of you only younger than you by roughly five years. It was odd, to say the very least, given that he hadn’t existed as of a week ago. “Or to…exist at all, really…”

“Mum and I were on a mission, looking for your–”

There was sounds of struggle down the hall. You watched as a Stormtrooper flew past the open door, thrown, very obviously, by the Force. Rey and Finn ran past after.

“In here!” You called.

They turned and joined you in the interrogation room. Rey held out another saber, gold hilt. For a moment, you thought you had dropped yours, but no, it was a different saber. As soon as your hand touched the metal, you could tell it was yours, your old one. What had happened to it in the meantime was a mystery, but it still fit so well in your hand.

You pressed the switch, its indigo glow stretching outwards, familiar to you. You’d missed it. Somewhere in your soul, you could tell it had been a long time since you’d held it.

“Your saber.” Soren said, completing his sentiment from earlier. “We figured you’d need it if you were going to help us take down the First Order, but it seems like you got your hands on another one…”

You powered it down, offering it to him. “Are you trained?”

He stared at it, flabbergasted. “What?”

“Can you use this?”

“I’m not a Jedi.” Soren said, shaking his head.

You felt it in him, Force sensitivity. But maybe he’d been too preoccupied with his budding membership in the Resistance to notice it just yet.

BB-8 let out a string of agitated beeps.

“Company.” Poe announced, blaster poised at the ready.

“We’ll talk about this later, then.” You assured him, powering up both sabers, the pink and purple filling the cold room with a warm glow. It was like both of you were standing there, your old self and your new self. You’d fought the Empire for years, it was time to give the First Order a taste of what they’d been missing in your absence. “I’ve never dual-wielded before, but…there’s a first time for everything.”

Poe laughed, triumphant, face lit in an excited smile. “I like the sound of that!”

Rey and Finn led the charge back towards the Falcon, where Chewie was keeping it warm. The rest of you followed, Poe blasting, ducking for cover behind pillars you passed, Soren right behind him.

You covered them, deflecting most of the blaster fire sent their way.

The hangar was flooded with Storm troopers. Chewie tried to shake as many as he could, but there were a few on top of the hood, trying to crack into it with a variety of weapons.

Rey handled the ones on the ground, hundreds of troopers doing their damndest to prevent your escape. Bless their hearts.

Your wings fluttered and you spun up onto the top of the Falcon, the five Stormtroopers there stopping to stare at you before redirecting their fire. You spun both sabers with ease, deflecting their shots down onto the troopers on the ground, taking out two dozen or so before they got the hint and stopped shooting.

One came at you with a large, electrified melee weapon. He swung at your feet, but you jumped over it, slicing through the shaft of the weapon before turning and slicing through his armor on the backswing.

You threw a saber at another, using the Force to draw it back in an elongated spin through the air, and then finished off the other three in a few quick moments.

“We’re all inside, (Y/N), ready when you are.”

“Tell Chewie to open the sunroof.” You said, deactivating your sabers and clipping them to your belt. You ran, dropping into a slide just as said sunroof opened beneath you. You dropped into the ship, pressing the button on the wall to close it again.

You strode into the cockpit, where Poe was hovering over the controls, his jaw dropping open when he saw you standing there, already inside. He shook it off, refocusing on the task at hand: escape.

“What about the X-Wing?” You asked before noticing it in flames at the edge of the hangar. Figured. “Nevermind.”

“And with that, we are outta here.” Poe settled into the driver’s seat, Chewie as his copilot.

They sped out of the hangar, weaving through blaster fire until finally, you were all out of range.

“Wanna kick it into hyperdrive for me?” Poe asked, motioning to the lever.

You leaned over him, hand wrapping around the metal handle. “When, now?”

He wrapped his hand around yours, shifting it backwards. “Now.”

The pilot lingered for a moment before taking his hand off of yours, eyes searching your face, as if to make sure you were real, that you weren’t really just a fairytale, especially after watching you in action, leaping around like the famed warrior Leia had always claimed you to be.

He’d believed it before, but he’d just seen it with his own eyes. To say he was starstruck did not even begin to cover what he was feeling.

And somehow, despite it all, you were so normal with him, still bantering, flirting even. Maker, he was in it deep, now.

He pushed it down, that bubbling, boiling, burning feeling, focusing instead on the expanse of space in front of him. He looked at you, forcing a casual smile. Any more than that, and he felt his heart might explode. “You were great out there, Princess.”

“So were you, flyboy.” You complimented. You put a hand on his shoulder, sending his heart racing. “I’m gonna go talk to Soren.”

“Yeah, of course. We’ve got it handled up here, right Chewie?”

Chewie roared, reaching out for a hug that you granted him, all laughs and smiles. “It is, buddy. Just like old times.”

***

The Millenium Falcon pulled into the Resistance base to cheers and applause, the team rallying down on the ground at a rather successful mission. Soren had been rescued, and there had been no casualties, aside from Poe’s latest X-Wing, but that was nothing that couldn’t be replaced.

You walked out of the Falcon alongside your nephew. You had spent the hour back to base getting to know him. He was a bright young man, funny with a dazzling wit and a kind heart. Laesynda had raised him well.

And, of course, she was standing there just outside the ship, pulling both of you into her arms as soon as you reached her.

It was so strange. From an outsider’s perspective, you could have almost been her child, his older sister. Instead, your family tree had been twisted. But in that moment, it was just nice, the three of you all together. Your little family.

Your sister, cupped your cheek with her hand, staring at you for the first time, really taking in the sister that had come back to her after all this time, her older sister that had become her younger sister.

“Thank you, for bringing him back to me.”

“Of course, Laecy. I’d do anything for you.” It had always been the truth.

“I see you’ve met your aunt.”

“She really is something, Mum. Used two lightsabers at once, took out nearly four dozen stormtroopers in five minutes! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I don’t think it was four dozen.” You replied, chuckling.

“Damn near that many.” Poe said, approaching. He was fiddling with his gloves, still wearing his flight suit, the bright orange causing him to stand out. Not that he didn’t already. His mere existence was enough to turn your head. “Admiral, is there anything else you need before I go change out of this?”

“You’re all set, Commander. Thank you.”

“All in a day’s work.” He grinned, eyes lingering on you as he walked back towards the pilot locker rooms.

“Seems the Commander’s taken a liking to you.” Laecy said with a girlish grin.

“I would say so, yeah. Unexpected, but…I’m warming up to it.” Your hands rested on your belt, where both sabers were strapped. It reminded you of your thought earlier. “Soren, would you want to come to training with Rey and I from here on out? It’s okay if I’m wrong, but…I just have this feeling that you could benefit from some Force work. I feel like there’s something there.”

He looked at his mother, as though asking for permission. She nodded, that knowing sparkle in her eye.

“I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. It’s always been hard for me to tell, since you left.” Laesynda admitted.

“You think I’m…a Jedi too?”

“I think you could be, if it’s something you want to work on. It runs in the family, after all.”

“Then I’ll be there. I’d like to try. Help the Resistance however I can.” He said, eyes sparkling with an impossible amount of hope. No wonder Leia had prioritized his rescue so highly. That, and you were sure she wanted to send you on a test run. Make sure you hadn’t lost your touch.

He walked off towards the canteen for dinner, where the rest of the crew was beginning to wander, murmurings of a victory party beginning to spread.

“So, (Y/N), you promised when you came back you’d let me braid your hair.” Laesynda proposed, a certain shyness in her voice, like she was afraid you’d say no. Or maybe she was afraid you’d forgotten her final proposition to you all those years ago.

You smiled, reaching for her hand, which she gladly gave you. “I’d love that.”

So Long, Space Boy

You sat in your sister’s quarters, in a hall with the rest of the Admirals. She had a full-sized bed, quite a few things from home. In a small cooling unit, she had several glass bottles of sweet drinks. She offered you one with a smile and you took it gladly, enjoying the warm buzz of it.

She plucked a brush from the dresser along with some clips and an elastic to tie your hair off and set to work, parting off pieces and carefully weaving them into intricate strands.

“I missed you.” She spoke, breaching the quiet that had settled.

“I missed you, too.” You told her, and it was true. Despite the fact that it had only been a few days since you’d seen her, it still made your heart ache to know that she was offworld, not only alive, but older.

Older than you.

She’d been ten when you’d left with Luke and the others. And you’d blinked and now she was a woman, a few strands of silver mixed into the gentle waves of her hair, wrinkles beside her eyes. She had a son. She’d had a life. It hurt indescribably that you hadn’t been there for any of it.

“Tell me everything. Tell me about your life.” You told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror as she gently worked through your hair.

“Well, I was raised by the few surviving elders of Mariposas on a small settlement of us on Yavin 4. Not a lot of us survived, but…there were enough. I lived there for several years, met a man, got married, and had Soren not long after. Everything was…perfect for a while. Then, things with the First Order started getting worse. Leia touched base. At first, I thought I could stay out of it, but…that just was not an option. The First Order tried to recruit Soren at every turn. I couldn’t keep him safe anymore, so we found Leia, joined up with the Resistance.”

“What happened to your husband?”

“He’s undercover. Doing work underground. Last I heard, he’s safe. We hear from him every few months.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

“He’d love to meet you.” She replied, tying off the braid at the end, laying it over your shoulder. “Leia told me her plan years ago, to track down the last Healers’ Pendant, to wake you. I thought it was too good to be true, but…then she put Poe Dameron on the case. That boy doesn’t know how to give up. He’s one of the best.”

“Seems like it.” You agreed, chest buzzing at the thought. Poe had saved you. You knew that much. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I was going to say the same.” She laughed. You turned to look at her, facing her on the bed, just like when you were girls. You’d always had quite the age gap, but you tried to involve yourself as much as you could while she was young, unlike your brother, who couldn’t be bothered with bonding with either of you.

“Now, it seems you’re ready for that party the mechs were buzzing about.”

“Party? I don’t know about all that. Was this your scheme from the beginning?”

“You’re still young.” She said with a soft, bittersweet laugh. “You should enjoy it. Besides, a certain pilot could very well be in attendance. You never know.”

“Is he usually at those things?”

“On several occasions, he has been known to make an appearance or two.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.” You lied.

“Banthashit. Let’s go.” She stood, ushering you towards your room.

You unlocked it and led her inside, where you went through the clothes you had brought. Admittedly, there was not a lot you were working with. You’d packed light. But she pulled one dress, a long, flowing thing that looked like it had been hand-dipped in a sunset.

“This one. You always looked so beautiful in it.”

“It’s not…outdated?”

“It may be a little old-fashioned, but…I think that’s what they need right now. A little old-fashioned Rebel moxie.”

You laughed, holding the dress up to your frame, thinking about it for a long few moments before committing and changing into it, abandoning your Jedi robes for the summery gown instead. It wasn’t all that long, had some off-the-shoulder sleeves, and of course, the open back for your wings. It had been custom-made for you, a birthday or something, before you’d left to join up with the Rebellion.

You were glad you’d brought it with you.

Laecy plucked your delicate golden circlet from your assorted jewelry and gently set it on your head, her hand lingering against your face. Her lips pressed into a pout and tears welled in her eyes as she looked at you. “This is how I remember you.”

You choked on a sob, pulling her into your arms, gently stroking through her hair like you had done when she was a child. You may have looked the way she remembered you, but the Laecy you remembered was gone now, living on only in your memory.

She had grown up and you would never see her again.

***

Laecy retired to her room to work on reports, giving you one last shove towards the party you were still thinking of avoiding.

You could hear it long before you could see it, talking and music and laughter echoing over the hill. Poe was standing outside the canteen, pacing, nursing a cup of what you could only assume was Jet Juice, if that was still something they made for parties on these Resistance bases.

You approached slowly, second-guessing every step until his eyes finally fell on you and that face broke out into that infamous smile that had the girls on comms giggling and kicking their feet. You couldn’t say you blamed them.

“Didn’t think you’d come down here, your Highness.” He said, eyes raking down your body from the circlet perched in your hair to the dress you were wearing. He bit his lip. “I was hoping you would, though.”

“I’ve never been known to shy from a party.” You said with a chuckle. “Had quite the reputation in my day.”

He smirked. “Oh, I know. Shall we?”

Poe offered his hand and you considered for a moment before taking it, arm tucked behind his as he led you into the canteen. Cadets bobbed along to music one of the droids was playing. One of the other pilots was bartending, mechs crowded around a table playing Space Pong.

Another round of introductions broke out. You sipped Jet Juice from a cup as Poe bragged about your mission, recounting your acts of bravery, the way you made lightsaber wielding look as easy as breathing.

“You’re one to talk, flyboy. I’ve never seen a pilot fly like you.” You told him, eyes meeting his.

“You mean that?”

“Every word.”

Rose held up a box of what appeared to be a drinking game of some kind. Finn stood beside her, Rey with them, all of them unwinding. “Want to play?”

“Yeah, deal us in.” You said, giving Poe a tug over towards them. They had two couches on either side of a small, illuminated coffee table. You sat on the end, Poe in the seat next to you, his leg touching yours and his arm settling on the couch behind you.

“So how was it?” Snap asked, sitting on a chair he’d pulled up. “Cramming another person into an X-Wing?”

“Cozy.” Poe replied, taking a sip of his drink, arm hovering dangerously close to your shoulders. “Didn’t expect it to work so well, honestly.”

“Could have used another seatbelt, though.” You added. “I almost got a face full of windshield when this guy did a barrel roll. Good thing he’s got quick reflexes.”

“Oh so you got cozy cozy.” Finn laughed, eyebrow quirking at the look on Poe’s face when he said it.

“Had to reach the control rod somehow.” He shrugged, glancing over at you. “(Y/N) didn’t seem to mind.”

“Wow, you’re on a first name basis with the Princess of Mariposas?” Snap teased. “Must be nice.”

“After today, I think he’d have to be.” You said with a grin, tucking your legs up against Poe’s thigh.

Poe’s arm finally drifted from the back of the chair, settling around your shoulders as soon as you made a move closer to him. It was like he couldn’t stop himself. And when you met his eyes, you could tell that was the case. His gaze softened, eyes scanning over your face, down the intricate braid that sat on your shoulder. Somehow, you felt closer than you had been earlier, despite the fact that you weren’t literally perched on his lap this time.

His eyes flicked down to your lips and you thought he might actually kiss you, in front of your budding friend group. Part of you wanted him to. Instead, his eyes drifted out the window and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Ummm…”

“What?” You turned to look. Standing at the edge of the woods was a blue, glowing figure.

Luke. It had to be.

Your heart flickered with something between elation and rage. He finally decided to make an appearance. How convenient for him.

“Maker. Alright. Great. I’ll, uh, be right back.” You said, unfurling yourself and brushing yourself off, suddenly self-conscious.

“You want us to wait for you?” Rose asked as a few more stragglers joined their circle.

“You can start without me. Just save me a seat.” You replied, giving the others one final look before turning and walking towards the woods.

From a distance, he looked like Obi-Wan, in a way, shrouded in a phantom hood, his blue glow eerie and awe-inspiring. When you got closer, it was clear. This was Luke, under that beard and long grayed hair. Your space boy had grown into an old man.

“You don’t look thrilled to see me, Princess.” He said, voice echoing at the edges, another reminder of the plane of existence that stood between the two of you now.

“I reached out for you three days ago. Might have been more thrilled to talk to you then.”

He chuckled to himself, sounding bitter. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” You asked, heart racing, a searing rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I…I’ve had the time to do the math, you know. It took Poe Dameron a week to find that pendant. You had thirty years. Pardon me for feeling like maybe you didn’t want me to wake up.”

“Walk with me.” He reached out, offering his arm.

You stared at it for a long moment, anger still bubbling beneath the surface. But you relented, taking his arm as best you could, and walking deeper into the woods.

Fireflies floated from tree to tree, illuminating the darkened moon. You remembered the glowing butterflies of your home planet. You wondered if they’d survived the attack, if any of the fauna had. You hadn’t really stuck around there long enough to find out.

“I wanted to. You have to know I wanted to.” He said, face shifting from his wizened older form to your space boy, eyes clear when they met yours, features identical to the way he’d looked the day you’d left.

“No. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t use his face against me.” You said, staring straight at him. Your heart ached. You motioned to him vaguely. “This Luke loved me. He wouldn’t have let me rot in a healing pod for three decades.”

With a sigh, he aged himself again, long silver beard replacing his smooth, youthful face. “I tried, but I couldn’t.”

“Tried to find it or tried to wake me?” You asked, jaw set on edge as you braced yourself against his words.

“Both, I…I searched the wreckage for days. Couldn’t even find one with the Force. I tracked down the elders after they’d scattered, I searched markets and spoke to smugglers and…every night, I dreamt of your life here. This was your destiny. This Resistance needed you and I knew I couldn’t stand in the way of it. So…I stopped looking.”

“It should have been my choice.” You said, words dripping with venom. “My whole life is gone! Don’t you realize that? You’re dead. Han’s dead. Lando is Maker knows where and Leia has been here alone, knee-deep in a Resistance that you were too stubborn to join! I could have been here! I could have helped train Rey so long ago. So many people died. So many.”

“I know…”

“I don’t think you do! You made one measly attempt to fulfill our dream and then hid in a cave for years!” You took a shaking breath. “My little sister is older than me now, Luke. She had to live her whole life without me. I should have been there for her. I should have been the one raising her. She should have had someone. Her whole family died and you left me there to sleep.”

He nodded, letting you vent for the first time since you’d awoken. “Anything else?”

“No, I think that about covers it.” Your wings flared behind you. You faced him, arms crossed, brows furrowed. “I wish things had been different is all.”

“I do too.” He agreed, eyes wandering back to camp. “And I’m sorry. Maybe someday, you’ll realize why it had to be like this. If I could have taken your place, I would have in a heartbeat, but…I knew you had to be here. They need you. They need you like this. It was always supposed to be you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “Maybe someday, I’ll understand.”

“You already do.” He said, tilting his head. “I loved you, (Y/N), with all my heart, but part of me always knew our destinies weren’t intertwined the way I wanted them to be. That you were supposed to be here…with them, with…”

“With who?”

He didn’t answer. “And I’ll always be here with you. Always. I’ll be here to guide you as best as I can. I lived my life. Now it’s time to live yours. Live our dream, bring up the next class of Jedi, just like we always wanted to.”

Another tear fell down your face. “I just wish I didn’t have to carry it alone. I was supposed to carry it with you.”

“I know, Princess. I…I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me. But I need you to be strong for them. For Leia. She needs you, they all do.”

You nodded, but didn’t say much else, your opinions on the matter still swirling before they settled. Maybe someday, you’d come to terms with it once the whiplash healed.

He walked you back to the edge of the woods, hand held in yours as best as it could be. You hugged him tightly, his phantom form manifesting physically for just a moment, just so you could say goodbye.

“Goodbye, Princess.”

You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek, and then he faded, leaving you alone at the edge of the woods to think over everything he’d said. Your destiny was here, with the Resistance. You wiped away the tear trickling down your cheek, and turned back to the party, more than ready to finish your drink and take your mind off things.

The group around the table was laughing and talking, shuffling through the metal cards in the box, different challenges etched on each. Poe was sitting, deep in thought, the spot beside him saved by BB-8, who looked so silly up on the couch. As soon as Poe saw you approach, his focus jumped to you, searching you like you were a ship’s console, reading the flashing signals to figure out what was wrong.

He left the group for a moment, walking over to you instead, to give you a moment of privacy if you needed it. “How did it go?”

“Fine. Good. I…” you chuckled in advance at how ridiculous it was going to sound, but said it anyway, “I think I just broke up with Luke Skywalker. Or…he broke up with me. Kind of…unclear, actually.”

His eyebrows furrowed, mouth opening and then closing as he tried to find his words. “Are you…okay?”

You nodded, managing a hopeful smile. “I am. Help take my mind off of it?”

“Oh, I’m good at that.” He offered his hand, palm up, fingers splayed.

You took it, his palm rough against yours. Warm. “I know you are.”

You walked back over the couch together, where instead of whatever game Rose had pulled out, the group was now playing a very intense game of Never Have I Ever.

“Oh, right. If you’ve ever pet a bantha, worn a Stormtrooper helmet, been drunk on Coruscant, or snuggled with a Wookie, you have to take a sip.” Poe filled you in.

You reached for your cup and took a long sip from it. “I have indeed snuggled with a Wookie. Chewie gives very good cuddles.”

“Snap, your turn.”

“Alright.” He eyed up Poe and said. “Never have I ever kissed a Jedi.”

Poe shook his head. “Haven’t had the pleasure, myself.”

“Okay that feels very targeted. There were only two of us. Three if you count Yoda.” You laughed, taking another sip. “And we kissed each other back then, so…very limited pool you’re pulling from here.”

“Oh!” Snap laughed. You could tell he had been fishing for something else. “You and Skywalker.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, finally letting the burden of it go. It didn’t need to be a secret anymore, especially now, since it was over. Since he was gone. “Me and Skywalker. Worst-kept secret in the galaxy.” You looked at Poe, testing the waters a little bit. “Besides, what happens in the X-Wing stays in the X-Wing.”

He let out a laugh, shoulders shaking. “What she said. My turn? Never have I ever wielded a lightsaber. There. That’s at least three of you.”

“Three?” You asked, taking yet another sip of your drink. “Who’s the third?”

“Finn has some lightsaber history.” Rose said, swirling the liquid around in her cup.

“Really, that is interesting. We’ll have to get you back on that.”

“You’ve spent like a week here and you’re converting us all to Jedi.” Finn chuckled, reaching for his drink.

“Well someone’s gotta.” You shrugged, curling up against Poe again. His arm rested on the back of the couch, but you could feel him thinking about wrapping it around you instead. You kind of wished he would. You leaned closer to him, face inches from his, liquid confidence finally kicking in. 

His eyes found you, intrigued, watching your every move.

“You can hold mine if you want, you know. All you’ve gotta do is ask.”

His thick eyelashes brushed against his tan cheekbones. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hold what, your Highness?”

“My lightsaber.” You raised your eyebrows, heart racing under his intense brown gaze. “What did you think I was gonna say, Dameron?”

He smiled, tongue jutting over his bottom lip. You imagined them pressed to yours, and you weren’t sure if it was a vision or just a fantasy, the way they’d feel, the way he’d sound. You swore you could feel his stubble tickling across your skin, his fluffy curls threaded through your fingers, warm warm skin on yours.

You snapped out of it with a start. This was why the Force and alcohol didn’t mix.

He didn’t answer. “Your turn.”

“Right. Well, there’s a lot of things I have done.” You turned your attention to the rest of the group that was still sitting there, watching. “Never have I ever been inside a TIE fighter.”

A few people in the circle took sips, laughing and chatting amongst each other. You watched them all. This crew, this Resistance. Maybe Luke was right. Maybe this was where you belonged.

You glanced over at Poe, at the lovesick look that was already set deep in those warm brown eyes of his. You could feel it, stirring around in his heart. Had been since that first night in the canteen. Maybe even since the moment he saw you.

Yeah, maybe Luke was right about other things, too…

The Heirloom

You had something of a headache the next morning. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given the sheer amount of Jet Juice you’d consumed the night before. You got some breakfast before training, sliding familiarly into your seat between Poe and Rey.

He quirked up an eyebrow at your sheer exhaustion. “You feeling alright, your Highness? Looking a little worse for wear.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya, flyboy.” You groaned, reaching for the cup of caf he’d gotten for you and drinking, not bothering to let it cool. The heat definitely woke you up.

“Some party last night, huh?” Finn asked, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

“You should have seen the afterparty on Endor.” You chuckled. “I was hungover for four days after that.”

“I’ve heard.” Poe chuckled. “That party lives in infamy among former Rebels, you know.”

“Oh I’m sure it does.” You grinned into the mug nursed between your hands. 

You tried to ignore the way he looked at you, that absolute warmth in his eyes, but you feared it wasn’t going away any time soon.

After breakfast, you and Rey walked out into the clearing, where Soren was waiting, trying to meditate on one of the stumps up there. He opened his eyes when you stepped on a twig.

“Aunt (Y/N). Good morning. I didn’t know when you wanted to start.”

“How long have you been out here?” You asked with a gentle laugh.

His cheeks flushed. “Probably too long, to be honest.”

“How’s the meditating going?” You asked.

“It’s hard to get my mind to be quiet.”

“It was hard for me at first, too. They used to tell me to just quiet my mind and listen, but sometimes it’s easier to just count.” You told him, sitting on the stump beside him, legs crossed, back straight. “Deep breaths. Close your eyes. Listen to the leaves rustle in the trees. You don’t have to feel anything right away. It’s not something you can push, anyway. All you can do is listen, and if your mind won’t be quiet, just count.”

“Count to what?”

“Up from zero. As high as you need.” You told him, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, listening to the rustling branches.

“What are we listening for today, Master?” Rey asked, voice smooth and even as she sat on the third stump.

“Just listening. Seeing what the Force has to say.” You replied, colors blossoming across the back of your eyelids. You listened, breaths long and even. Your focus was drawn to your heartbeat, steadfast in your chest.

You felt Rey and Soren beside you. You took another breath and felt your sister in her room, working on reports, Leia strategizing her next move in the war that had consumed her life.

You gently searched the others. The pilots, the mechs. Watched as Poe worked on a dilapidated X-Wing, sweat on his brow. BB-8 rolled past his feet. He glanced up the hill, where you were and suddenly, you disconnected, feeling like you were encroaching on his privacy. Some people didn’t take kindly to that kind of thing. You didn’t know the details, but you knew Poe had some experience with Force torture. Not that this was that, but you were sure he might feel a little weird about it, still.

You checked in on the rest of the camp, gently, and when you were done, you opened your eyes, the other two looking at you, ready and eager to learn.

You ran some basic drills, starting Soren with a stick and making him fence with you, also using a stick, both sabers still strapped to your belt. You did an agility course, testing his balance, his precision. He had a lot to learn, but it was clear you were right. He was meant to this. He was meant to follow your path.

***

A week passed. Then two.

Soren was progressing quickly, Rey even quicker. She was already moving bigger objects, but with Soren, you knew you’d have to start small.

You hauled a table out into the trees, along with a handful of trinkets, some rocks and other assorted parts no one would miss. You spread them on the surface of the table and encouraged Soren to stand at the end of it. You guided his hand to the surface of the table.

“Just what, move them?”

“Move one.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them will do.” You replied. “Don’t overthink it. This is the biggest hurdle. Once you can do this, you can do anything.”

“And what if I can’t?”

“Then we keep working on the other stuff and come back to this later,” you encouraged, all positivity. Right now, you had the luxury of training him with gentleness. There was no pressure for you to have a third Jedi. Two was already double what the Resistance had a few weeks earlier.

Soren nodded, concentration furrowing his brows. He pushed and you could feel the effort behind his muscles.

Finn and Poe were standing at the edge of the field, watching somewhat curiously while you and Rey worked with your nephew.

There was a faint buzz on the air and then nothing. The rocks didn’t move an inch. Soren looked to you for help.

“You’re pushing.” You said, noting the discovery, not scolding him in the slightest. “And sometimes you do have to push, but…try pulling.”

“Pulling?”

You held out a hand, and instead of forcing the rock to move, you let it rise, gently pulling it up into the air, where it floated around a few times before you set it back down.

“Pulling.” Soren repeated, and you could tell he got it. He reached a hand out, movements more deliberate, less desperate. He took a breath, let it out, and then, slowly, the rock rose into the air, lifted only by his concentration.

He gasped and the rock fell back onto the table.

“Yes!” You pumped your fist, jumping, wings fluttering at the small victory. “Yes! You did it!”

“I did it.” He breathed, still in disbelief. “I’m a Jedi…”

“We’re getting you there.” You assured him, a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll need to get you fitted for some robes before you know it.”

“On that happy note, lunch?” Poe suggested, motioning back towards the canteen.

“Lunch.” You agreed. “They probably need this table back, huh?”

“I’ll take it back.” Rey assured, using the Force to lift it into the air.

“I was gonna do that.” Poe chuckled, hands on his hips.

“With the Force?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Obviously.” He laughed, offering his hand, but you thought for a moment.

“I’ll be right down. Just need a second with my nephew.”

“Alright.” Poe nodded, taking a few steps away, but lingering not too far.

Soren was all smiles, still in disbelief at what he’d just done. You hugged him, beaming with pride not only in him, but in yourself. You had done it. You’d trained him. You’d helped get him to this point.

“I have something for you. I think you’re ready for it now.” You told him, stepping away and pulling one of your sabers off of your belt, the older one, forged from your mother’s bracelets and a whole lot of love.

His eyes fell on it and his jaw dropped. He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t possibly…we got that saber for you. It’s yours.”

“It was.” You agreed. “It’s made from your grandmother’s bracelets. This saber…it represents family, legacy. You are my family. And someday, you’ll be my legacy. ” You chuckled to yourself. “I think that statement would hold a lot more weight if I wasn’t literally five years older than you, but you get what I’m saying. This saber is meant for you. Someday, we’ll find you a crystal of your own and you can make your own saber like the Jedi of old, but for now, I would be honored if you’d wield this for me.”

You handed it to him, wrapping both of his hands around it to ensure he’d actually take it and he did, staring at the gift and taking a long, shaking breath. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, biting on the end of a sob.

You pulled him back into your arms, comforting him until he was well enough to join the rest of you for lunch. When you turned to walk back to the canteen, Poe was there, that soft, impressed smile on his face.

He touched your shoulder, eyes saying more than words ever could. His hand slid to the middle of your back, just above your wings, gently guiding you as you walked together towards the rest of your friends.

Stained Glass Silk

You shot up in the middle of the night, sweat beaded on your forehead, heart racing from a particularly bad nightmare, the kind that made your wings burn and the scar above your hip tingle.

Insidia.

All signs pointed to her being dead, but that sure didn’t stop you from dreaming about her.

You stared at the ceiling for a while before slipping out of bed, putting on some slippers and walking through the dim hallways to the canteen. There were a few people milling around, but that was it in the dead of night, just a few patrols and custodians, holding the place together while everyone else was fast asleep.

In the kitchens, there was a pile of clean dishes waiting to be put away. So, seeing as there was no one else around, you set to work, putting silverware in their allotted slots in the drawers, unbending a few fork prongs and scrubbing at particularly stubborn spots on spoons, putting them back in the washer to run again in the morning.

“Never thought I’d catch a princess doing the dishes, but stranger things have happened, I suppose.” Poe said, leaning in the doorway, a smirk on that handsome face. “Can’t sleep?”

“Never can, these days.” You shrugged, tucking a few more forks away in their drawer. “And I used to do the dishes a lot, for your information.”

“Why’s that?”

“Chores are chores. Everyone’s gotta do them at some point. Used to help me focus. I liked making sure all the little stuff was done so people could focus on the big stuff instead.”

“My mom used to say that.” He smiled softly, taking a few steps further into the room and reaching for some of the smaller dishes, making sure they were all dry before moving them to the overhead cupboard they belonged in.

The two of you worked in quiet, the sounds of clinking dishes accompanied by the occasional brush of his hands on yours when you reached for the same piece.

“Nightmares?” He asked. “Or is it still…hard for you to go to sleep?”

“Nightmares, mostly.” You confessed. “Sometimes Palpatine. His voice, his…laugh.” You shivered even thinking about it. “Most of the time, it’s Insidia. I know she’s dead. They both are, but…sometimes that doesn’t help all that much.”

He nodded. “What happened? Before you…you know. They say you got stabbed with a saber.”

“I would have died if that was the case.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “No wonder I was such a legend, with info like that going around. No, I…” You moved the fabric of your sleep tank, revealing the scar that still sparkled against your skin, just above your hip bone. “She stabbed me here. Twisted metal dagger. The sparkling is from the healing pod. It’ll go away eventually. And then she…cut off my wings with her saber. You can kind of see where, that shiny gold line there.” You pulled your wings under one arm, closer so he could see.

He stared at it, gaze hardening when he realized just what you’d been through. “Did it hurt?”

You nodded. “Worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Just absolutely…white-hot. I blacked out and…well, you were standing there when I woke up. I guess I’m lucky, more or less. Most Mariposans don’t ever grow theirs back after an injury like that. I think the sheer time I spent in that pod alone is what forced them to grow back.”

He reached a hand out, as if to touch one, but drew it back quickly, suppressing his curiosity for fear of stepping over one of those unspoken lines between you.

Surely, he didn’t know what a statement that was, what it would mean for him to touch them. It meant…something more to Mariposans.

Still, you took his hand, meeting his eyes before gently pulling his palm against the surface of your wings. You let him adjust to the feeling before guiding his hand across them, watching the emotions flicker across his face, tingles running down your spine at his featherlight touch.

“Maker, they’re so…they feel like silk. I thought…well, they look like glass, so…” He whispered. “Can you fly with them?”

“Short distances.” You nodded, gazing up at him through your lashes. “You’ve seen the extent of it by now, I’m sure. They’re not meant for travel, more like branch to branch. We used to live up in trees.”

Poe nodded, listening to every word. His free hand rose to your cheek, calloused thumb skimming across your cheekbone and causing your breath to hitch.

One hand on your wings, the other on your heart, or so the saying went.

“They’re beautiful.” He said finally, but he wasn’t looking at your wings anymore. He took a step closer, the hand on your wing floating down to your hip, pulling you closer, chest nearly flush with his. “Your Highness–”

“There you are, Princess. I was wondering where you had gone. BB-8 said he saw you wander down the hall, so I took it upon myself to make sure you were alright, especially being out and about at this time of night.” Threepio explained, his sudden appearance sending your heart racing. Sure enough, BB-8 was there, too, rolling into the doorframe. “Although, I do admit, I did not expect to find you here as well, Commander Dameron.”

His head swiveled from you, to Poe, and back. BB-8 beeped out an apology.

“Thanks, Threepio.” You chuckled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, buddy. I’m alright. Just getting some dishes put away. I’ll head back to bed soon. And I’ll make sure Poe here gets to his bunk, too.”

“Oh, it is my pleasure! Have a good rest of your night. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

With him gone, you looked back up at Poe, whose thumb was still anchored to your cheek. He shook his head, chuckling before letting it hang down towards the floor, shame brewing in his chest.

You lifted his face with a gentle hand, your feelings unspoken, but hanging there in the air, in your eyes. You knew he felt it, too.

“You know…if the nightmares ever get too bad, my room is right down the hall. We could sit for a while. Talk about it.”

“I appreciate it.” You nodded, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his stubble-covered cheek, just beneath the scar on his cheekbone. “Goodnight, Poe.”

He smiled, frozen by the simple gesture. His eyes sparkled in the dim kitchen as he watched you leave, your wings drifting like a cape behind you. “Night.”

Tags: @cap-lu20

[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 02 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Pairing: mob boss!Steve Rogers x plus size female reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Wordcount: 6k

Warnings: canon level violence (series), body image issues (series), very brief mentions of animal abuse

Notes: hello! meet your friends - Maria Hill, Claire Temple and Wanda Maximoff. thank you all for being here and reading!! I appreciate your enthusiasm soooo much. things are :) about to get :) complicated :) if you see me out in the wild, my main blog is @simmerandcry​

---

The skyline view from the floor to ceiling windows had been the real selling point to Steve taking the penthouse apartment at his latest investment property. Truthfully, he had been growing tired of the brick walls of his old place, despite their aesthetic charm. The new renters could live with that red dust now.

But the view into both Brooklyn and downtown towards Manhattan made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be. Like he was on top of the world, his own little empire carved out in the heart of the borough. Most importantly, his apartment was his home. And that meant work didn’t come home with him, ever.

He drew that line very cleanly, even leaving the second bedroom fully intact as a guest room instead of converting to an office. Because this is where he needed to clear his head, to be Steve Rogers, the plain and simple Brooklyn born boy who loved his city.

Steve Rogers, the war veteran turned real estate mogul and art dealer, who sat at the top of what remained of an old Irish crime syndicate - that man worked on the streets, in the office, in his clubs and galleries and restaurants. That shit was not supposed to come home with him.

Though recently, it seemed to have started to bleed into what little time he spent at home. Mainly because of you and the whole incident outside the restaurant.

“Well, what’s the plan?”

“I already told you, Buck. I’m not retaliating.”

Bucky Barnes, Steve’s right hand man, his oldest friend and main confidant, the literal fist and brawn behind their organization, scoffed. “Someone sent an amateur barrelling into our territory to try and pin you between the hood of a car and your new restaurant - and you don’t want to retaliate? We coulda been weeping over your body right now, Steve.”

“I can recognize an act of aggression when I see it, I’m not an idiot.” Steve tipped his rocks glass against his lips once more, the scent of scotch lingering as he stood from the couch. “We don’t know if it was Rumlow or that new idiot creeping in from Staten Island.”

Steve rolled his eyes and cut off Bucky before he tried to add in his two cents again. “And if someone wanted to kill me, they wouldn’t hit me with a car. You know what. This was some stupid message that was poorly planned and equally poorly executed.”

Sam Wilson, who had been sipping his own concoction from the kitchen table, finally looked up from his phone and piped in. “I mean, I hate to admit it but Bucky is right. You would have been dead if it wasn’t for that beautiful woman saving your ass.”

“Sam.” Steve turned his head, eyes narrowed in a pointed glare. 

“What? I’m not blind. The hips on her were-”

Steve took another step towards his friend and trusted colleague, who had a particularly loud mouth and a flair for getting on Steve’s nerves, and held up a steady hand. “Stop.”

He wasn’t inclined to admit it, but the entire thing had been replaying in Steve’s minds for days now. Ever since you had saved him on that sidewalk, throwing yourself into a dangerous situation for him, a total stranger, something had changed. He was still living, breathing, surviving. And although he was dead set on figuring out just who was driving that vehicle and ensuring they paid for their actions, it was you he couldn’t stop thinking about.

You. Who had been in the right place at the right time, who had risked your own personal safety to make sure he didn’t get hit, who was insistent that it had been an act of good faith, a simple act of kindness. 

You, with the kind smile and generous curves. You, who swept off your actions as innocent and selfless, concerned more about the happiness of your dog than your own well being. You, who left Steve feeling curious and longing to get to know you, to make you smile, to hear you laugh.

God, what he wouldn’t give to have someone like you in his life. While he couldn’t stop thinking about the kind of person you were, he also had your face playing over and over again in his mind too. It didn’t help that his mom called him a few days ago, asking how you were doing and reiterating how much she enjoyed talking to you and…

“Still no news from Hammond?”

Steve knew Bucky couldn’t help but prodding, as if his fingers were itching to find a quick, efficient solution. 

“He said their tech department is behind. I’m inclined to believe him but my insisting this is a priority hasn’t been successful this time. I’m trying to play nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, finishing the last sip of his drink as he stood, tugging on the lapel of his suit. “So I asked Stark to help instead. We’re meeting him at the club.”

 ---

The only good thing about your dreadful basement apartment was the private patio space in the backyard. You had high hopes for it when you rented the garden level unit but once your lease had been signed, everything about the place seemed a lot less shiny. From the shared laundry with the loud, obnoxious upstairs apartment to the inconsistent water pressure and flickering lights, you were counting down the days until your lease was over.

But the backyard - you had done what you could to make it a safe oasis for you and Hercules, with a few pieces of thrifted outdoor furniture and string lights making it a bit more magical. It was a nice location when hosting your girlfriends, especially when such a thing happened so rarely now that your schedules seemed to conflict all the time.

You were so grateful to have your girls. Because at any moment, they all loved to share their opinions on the weird chaos that seemed to stir up in your life. While you had known Maria since college, you had collected Wanda and Claire into your life since starting your new job in the city. You had worked as a server at the same restaurant as Wanda a few summers ago and Claire, an ER nurse, had dropped into your life by chance one night when you were stood up on a date at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Your group had been solid since then - although girls nights were few and far between now, with jobs and the general grind of life making it hard to get together often.

“I’m not saying the man isn’t attractive. Because I have eyes,” Maria was on her third glass of sangria, legs extended out on the brick patio outside. “I just have no reason to trust him.” She squinted down at her phone screen. “What did he say he did for work again?”

You sighed. Perhaps it was a mistake to share Steve’s name and photo - that you found after an extensive internet search - with your friends, but you valued their perspectives. It’s not like anything had happened with the guy. You hadn’t seen him since that day you saved his life and hadn’t communicated either, outside of you emailing him the stupid photo you took.

You had added his number to your phone, though. Just in case. Just in case what? You had no clue. But he had written it down for you and all.

And he said he owed you a thousand favours…

Officer Hammond, though, had reached out to you a few days after the event - asking you to come in and try and ID the driver in a police lineup. It made you feel a bit uncomfortable but you supposed it was your civic duty to do it, if it could help stop this from happening again or to help in delivering justice for wrongdoing. You pointed out the person you best recognized from your blurry memory and moved on, trying not to think any further about the situation.

Although a few strange things seemed to happen since then, if you just used your head it could all be justified. Like seeing the same black, unfamiliar SUV on your street multiple times this week. That was probably just a new vehicle belonging to one of your neighbours.

And that one time you were walking Hercules and a stranger who seemed to be lingering outside your apartment asked to borrow your phone.

Which you promptly said no to, because you aren’t dumb enough to let someone run off with your phone. But instead of going inside with Herc, you continued to circle the block until the blond stranger disappeared. You wouldn’t consider your neighbourhood the safest place after dark, but in the daytime you never felt concerned. 

It was all just sort of weird. 

But completely unrelated to anything else, you were sure. 

That was all behind you now anyway, a strange footnote in the chapter of your life that was playing out. You’d probably never have to see Steve again, though he had crossed your mind a few times…

Okay, you had been thinking about him a lot. Which is why you had told your three closest friends about everything that had occurred.

You replied to Maria, who was nudging you with her elbow. “Oh. Uhm, he works in real estate, I think. He owns an art gallery and some apartments. Oh, and that club on Morgan Ave - Shield .”

“Sounds like a professional landlord. Thumbs down.” Claire chimed in from her chair too, shaking her head and dismissing the entire concept of Steve with a wave of her hand. “Rich at best, financially questionable at worst.”

“And he owns that restaurant the car smashed into?” Maria reached for her own phone. “The one owned by the mob. Okay, that settles it - he’s in the mob then.”

You laughed and shook your head. “The mob isn’t a thing, Hill. What’s your source on that again?” 

Wanda shrugged and finally chimed in, fingers tapping idly against her wine glass as she turned towards you. “Describe his aura to me.”

You groaned, smirking as Claire rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. “His aura?”

“You know, what kind of energy did he have?”

“Is that your way of determining the kind of person he is?” Maria got up from her chair to toss a small toy for Hercules to chase after. “I’d love to know the science between your aura theories, Wan.”

You delayed answering by grabbing the nearby bowl of popcorn and cradling it in your lap, leaving your phone and the thought of Steve on the small crate that sat between you and your friends. “He was very confident.” How could you do any justice to Steve’s intimidating Big Dick Energy without admitting your attraction to him? That last thing you wanted to do was bait your friends with any material to tease you with. Plus, really, it didn’t matter. You had no plans to ever see Steve again. And AND and, even if you did, what made you think it would be romantic in any way? 

Steve was beyond hot - from the trimmed beard and deep blue eyes, to his easy charm and well dressed body. You had no doubt in your mind that the man probably had some equally hot partner. If not, he could have his pick of the entire city. There was no way you would be on his radar.

“I don’t know,” Maria chimed in once more, clapping her hands quickly. “This is the wildest meet cute story I’ve ever heard. If the man is so willing to do you some favours, maybe you should cash in on it, mob be damned. You know what they say about tall guys..”

“You just said you don’t trust him!” You laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

Maria just scooped it up and popped it into her mouth with a shrug. “I don’t trust any man. I trust you and your judge of character, though. Plus, you haven’t been on a date in forever so maybe this was some sort of fate driven happenstance.”

“The universe does work in weird ways,” Wanda agreed. “And you said he really filled out that suit so…”

“You should text him!” Claire sat up tall and straight, pushing her hair over one shoulder as an idea formulated in her brain. You were nervous. “I think how he reacts to a sudden text will be a perfect test.”

“It’s a Saturday night, I can’t text him! And a test of what? All I did was save the man’s life, there is nothing else to..” This was not how you wanted this to go. The last logical thing you could think of doing right now was messaging Steve Rogers anything. What would he think if you texted him out of nowhere on a Saturday night? “What would I even say?”

“Here, allow me.” Maria plucked your phone off the table and damnit, why did you ever tell her your passcode? 

“Maria-”

“It’ll be harmless, I promise!” She glanced up from your phone and opened her eyes wide. “You need to stop playing safe. What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t reply?”

You sighed. YES. The fear of rejection crept up like a weird pain in your chest. “Yeah, I guess. He might think it’s a wrong number or some sort of spam message...”

“Then no harm, no foul.” Her grin grew even wider as she typed something out on the screen. She took a deep breath. You leaned over to see what she had crafted together and sighed. “It’s just a simple little push..”

 ---

Normally Steve would ignore then block an unfamiliar phone number, but this had been intriguing. Given that you hadn’t reached out to him at all, he had tried not to give much of his time to thinking about you. But when the text came in, without a lot of context or forewarning, he figured it was a small gamble to see how it could play out.

Unknown number [10:47PM]: hey, I need to cash in a favour S Rogers [10:49PM]: who is this? Unknown number [10:51PM]: 👀 🍑 🎁 🔄 🥞 S Rogers [10:55PM]: am I supposed to just guess what this means? Unknown number [10:59PM]: yes ;) S Rogers [11:02P:M]: it’ll be easier if you just tell me what you want, angel ;)

You hadn’t struck Steve as the type to flirt like this. If it was you, of course. He could really only safely assume, considering only a certain number of people had his phone number. And now, he finally had yours.

Tony had consolidated all the info he could find about you earlier that week. Steve didn’t feel great about asking Tony to dig into you, but since he had sent your picture for analysis after the delay at the police station, it sort of just happened. Frankly, Tony said your online presence was minimal. You were smart about keeping your social media secure and had a very thorough CV on LinkedIn. Otherwise, he didn’t have much information that you hadn’t already shared. And Steve had no intentions of doing anything suspicious with any of it, it just helped him understand who he had invited into a small corner of his life.

If that’s what he could call it. But you had crossed his mind over and over, and it didn’t help that Bucky kept bringing you up. Especially the part about Steve taking you to the clinic for help from Sarah. That resource was a well kept secret in their family and the fact that Steve took you there had been a big risk.

Beyond Steve’s unavoidable racing thoughts about you, he had been deep into a plan to deal with the actual problem - the group of idiots spilling into his Brooklyn territory. Tony had helped him with that too, finding names and dossiers on everyone who belonged to Rumlow’s extended Stryke gang causing a mess in the boroughs between Queens and Brooklyn. 

For years, Steve had worked hard to make a respectable reputation for himself and now things were getting shaky. And it annoyed the shit out of him, especially when a few of the names Tony pulled were on the NYPD payroll.

“It’s messy,” Tony had said with a shrug, leaning back into the leather seat from their place at the top of the club. 

Another property on Steve’s growing list - Shield was a popular nightclub in Brooklyn, which served as a perfect location for arms deals and financial transactions to float. For Steve and his old friend, tech mogul Tony Stark, it was a safe place to share theories and secrets. The upper level served as a secure hideout from the general population while the downstairs dance floor catered to obnoxious crowds looking for a drink or something else to roll on. 

It was lucrative for Steve, to say the least. 

“Let me know if you want me to get Rhodes involved.”

Steve shook his head. “He’s got enough on his plate. Is he ready for the campaign announcement?” Steve had a serious interest in the upcoming Mayoral election, especially if James Rhodes, former DA, planned on running. And with Tony bankrolling the campaign and some additional under the table support from Steve, it was going to be a shoe in.

“Oh, we’re just getting started, big guy,” Tony stood up and patted Steve on the shoulder as he left the corner area, flitting off in search of whoever might be going home with him soon enough. 

Usually that would be Steve’s next step too, but damnit, if he couldn’t stop glancing at his phone for a response from you. Maybe calling you ‘angel’ again had been out of line. He contemplated sending another message, but no, he had to wait. He knew how to play this game.

The rest of the night carried on, with certain reports popping in with updates for Steve on what was happening out on the streets. Things like confirmed shipments at the dock and successful cash pickups. He had eyes across the whole of Brooklyn, with his growing syndicate working beneath him. Things mostly operated smoothly and this night was carrying on as normal.

Bucky showed up eventually, grumbling about getting turned down by some smart mouthed girl outside the club. Sam corroborated the story, lauding the woman and her tone. 

Steve checked his phone, again. 

“I saw Sharon downstairs,” Sam nudged Steve, eyebrows raised curiously. “Unless you’re off again-”

“We’re permanently off-again,” Steve rolled his eyes. “You have my blessing if you want to pursue, Sam. But good luck, don’t say I didn’t warn you..” That was all Sam needed apparently, finishing off his glass and heading back down to the dance floor below. Steve didn’t miss his cheeky grin.

“You’re thinking about that girl again, huh?” Bucky nodded and tried to hide his mischievous smirk as he scanned Steve’s face.

Steve scoffed. “No, no. I’m not..” 

Bucky laughed, hard and incredulous. “I haven’t seen your head in the clouds like this in ages. Since whatsername in high school, maybe. What was her name?”

Then as if by some weird shift in the universe, Steve’s phone started to buzz. He left Bucky’s commentary lingering as he looked at the screen. You. 

Ah, no text reply but a phone call? Okay, he could get on board. Standing, he headed a few steps from the lounge and brought his phone up to his ear, with a small smile. “Rogers.”

The first thing he heard was your frightened yelling. “Leave me alone! Jesus - oh my god, Steve? Is this Steve?”

He said your name quickly to confirm who he was speaking too but raised his eyebrows in concern. “What’s going on?”

“Someone is trying to - HEY! Stop -” Steve could hear banging in the background. “--trying to break into my fuckin - I’m going to CALL THE COPS! Leave me alone! Please, just..” 

Steve closed his eyes, doing his best to focus on the background noise. Behind your defensive yelling and the attentive reactions of your dog, there was a mixture of other voices. Something about the voices felt familiar. 

“We just want to talk.. Did someone offer you something for that statement? Was it Rogers?”

“If you tell Hammond you got the wrong guy, this will all be over very quickly, honey.”

“Walker, move, let me – Open the door, or we’ll open it for you. Let’s talk..”

“He didn’t offer me - Stop, please! I swear I -”

Steve nearly crushed his phone when the call dropped. He was off like a bullet train, shouting for Bucky to follow him as he pushed past his security guards on the stairs and rushed down towards the back exit of the club. He tried to call you back as he sped through traffic, blatantly bypassing stop signs and treating red lights like suggestions. 

A heavy twisting feeling in Steve’s gut had told him that the aftermath of this entire situation wasn’t going to go smoothly. Especially with dumbass dirty cops on the inside who could share information to the highest bidder.

Steve felt a new responsibility to keep you safe, until this whole mess had been taken care of. He had plans to deal with it all on his own but now, if he hadn’t acted quickly enough and something had happened to you.. God, he couldn’t live with himself. How could he explain that to his mother?

He got to your apartment first, hoping Bucky was close behind. Steve didn’t know what he might be walking into but having backup was never a bad idea.

Steve had not only visited but had also lived in a lot of seedy neighbourhoods over the years. The street you lived on didn’t strike him as anything especially dangerous, but that thought enough couldn’t squash the unsettled feeling in his stomach as he approached. He pushed his way through the small metal gate beside the front stairs, towards the door to your garden level apartment.

His jaw clenched when he saw the damage to your door, clearly kicked in with plenty of force before being shoved closed. He glanced to the front window, nearby - that had been smashed, too. He tried to contain the growing fury and pressed on the door, calling out your name as he made his way inside.

As someone more than familiar with the real estate market, Steve could tell the bones of your apartment weren’t in the best shape. The entire townhouse was in desperate need of updating. But what concerned him more, outside of the low ceiling and old light fixtures, was what he could only assume was a new mess. Your coffee table had been smashed, creating a pile of kindling in your tiny living room. Papers were thrown about, a coffee cup sat shattered on the floor. 

He called your name again as he went in, reaching inside his jacket to pull out his concealed handgun as he listened carefully. Once he stepped into the hallway leading to your tiny kitchen, he took a step back at the sudden lurch of your dog heading in his direction.

Then Steve heard your quiet voice. The dog retreated into the kitchen, planting himself in front of you as Steve turned to look in. His heart sank.

You were seated on the floor, back pressed against the wall. It was clear you were trying to hide, make yourself small. And was that… some sort of steak knife in your hand? When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were wide.

When you tried to press yourself even further back, eyeing down the gun in Steve’s hand, he slowly put it down on the counter and said your name. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was just a precaution.” Shit. The way you reacted to the gun wasn’t a surprise but it made Steve even angrier. Whoever had been here, whoever had done this, well, they probably had guns too. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Steve crouched down, keeping his distance while Hercules acted as your bodyguard. He was trying everything in his power to maintain his composure but god fucking damnit, Steve needed to know who did this and he needed to deal with it. “Are you hurt?”

You took in a deep breath then just shrugged, relaxing just a fraction when Hercules circled around and flopped down to rest his head on your knee. “There were two guys, they had.. They had guns with them. They said they just wanted to talk to me, to … they kept talking about whoever the guy was who drove that SUV.” Your breath picked up as you recounted what had happened. “They..they smashed my phone and..” Slowly, you moved your hand up towards your neck, gently dragging your fingers against the tender skin on your collarbone. “..One guy he..” You winced at the memory.

The heat grew more and more in his stomach as he saw you shaking with fear, recounting whatever the fuck had just happened. How dare any of those fucking imbeciles lay their hand on you? And because of him? If he wasn’t sure of his next steps before, he was going to figure them out now. Because someone needed to pay for this.

His phone buzzed. He stood up and saw a message from Bucky, wondering if Steve needed his help inside. Steve took a step back, turning towards the front door.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded quietly, letting your hand linger in the air as you reached for him. “Steve, please..”

Steve stopped and turned back to you, giving his head a firm shake. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” 

---

A few hours ago you were saying goodbye to your friends as your sangria pitcher finally ran dry. And now? You and Hercules were in an elevator with Steve and his friend Bucky, heading to Steve’s apartment.

Everything that had just happened felt like a bit of a dream - a bad dream. A break in at your own apartment, being intimidated, harassed and assaulted by men with guns, zipping through Brooklyn with Steve as he promised you a safe space to stay for the night.

You didn’t say much to each other once you had left, but you could see the twist of concern and small decisions Steve started to make to ensure you felt secure. A hand at your back, a soft smile, extra attention being given to Hercules to make sure he was okay, too.

You hadn’t gotten into much detail yet but you knew Steve wanted to figure out who the men were who had done this. You were already dreading talking about it again. And god, you likely had another police experience coming your way. What was happening in your life and how could it go back to normal again?

“Hey,” Steve tipped his head towards the door as the elevator opened. You took the lead as you stepped out into the hallway, where just a small handful of apartment doors were spread out. 

Steve’s building was a place you could only daydream about living in. You followed him through the door to his apartment, checking over your shoulder to see Bucky guiding Hercules behind you. 

Bucky was incredibly kind to you throughout this whole thing, especially back at your apartment. He had patiently directed you as Steve made some phone calls, carefully standing outside your room as you packed a quick overnight bag. And he was very taken to Hercules, which you really appreciated. 

Once inside Steve’s place, you made your way into the living room just past the foyer. Steve and Bucky moved into the kitchen briefly, exchanging a few hushed sentences out of your earshot. 

When they joined you in the living room, they found you crouched down on the floor with Hercules. You tipped your head up to look at them. Bucky’s gaze was on his phone but Steve was watching you with a soft smile. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay here tonight?” Steve took a knee on the other side of Hercules, slowly reaching his hand out to scratch behind his ear. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, just a bit, as you nodded. “Yeah, he’s pretty easy going usually.” As if on cue, your dog nudged his head against Steve’s hand for one more quick pet then trotted further into the living room, flopping down on the rug between the couch and windows. “All his adrenaline seems to have worn off.”

And so it seemed had yours.

A few minutes later you were sitting on the couch, with Steve planted in the chair across from you and Bucky standing over his shoulder, arms crossed. Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in. 

God, even in the low light of his living room, the man was handsome. Wearing just a navy blazer and matching dress pants, over a black button up with no tie, he managed to look effortlessly intimidating and strangely welcoming. Like you had no reason not to trust him, as if the dark shadows behind his eyes were a sign of protection instead of a signal of something to be feared.

You took in a long breath and leaned back into the couch.

Steve dragged his tongue over his lips then let out a sharp breath. “Okay, so I need you to walk me through exactly what happened.”

You knew this was coming. The moment Steve insisted on not calling the cops, something shifted for you. This whole situation had escalated beyond what you were used to, that whomever these men were to Steve - it probably wasn’t good. 

But when you looked over at Steve, as much as you wanted to shake with worry about what might happen next, you couldn’t. Despite being way out of your comfort zone, scared out of your mind, coming down from your own rush of adrenaline, you weren’t scared. Not anymore, not in his presence and under the additional watchful eye of his right hand man.

And so you told him and Bucky exactly what had happened. How your girlfriends had left, how you were finding the next episode of your favourite show to watch, how you had some writing to catch up on and planned on staying up late. Then you heard a noise outside, then a knock at your door.

Then… well, then you had called Steve when everything started unfolding.

And after the men managed to get beyond the door and push their way through to you, you had nowhere to hide. Once they smashed your phone, you were going to comply and do whatever they needed to, to get them out of your home but then one of them threatened Hercules, and even kicked him-

“Jesus,” Bucky muttered, teeth clenched. Before he could get his true feelings out, Steve held up his hand and had you continue.

“I shoved the guy who was closest to me, trying to go for the other idiot before he hurt Herc and then..” You closed your eyes, going into vague details about how the man pushed you back, how he shoved you into the wall, the kitchen counter. How he pulled out his gun and put his hand around your throat and..

When you opened your eyes again, taking in the silence of the room as you trailed off, Steve was watching you carefully. Though you safely assumed he was an expert at hiding his emotions, you could see a twitch in his jaw. His fists rested on his knees, clenched and turning white with tension.

“One of them got a phone call and I guess they were beckoned to leave. They had enough time to make more of a mess while I cowered away but..” You gulped, shaking your head. “What if they come back? I think I should just call Officer Hammond and-”

“No.” Steve stood up, taking barely a stride to make his way towards the couch. He took a seat beside you, extending his hand to ever so gently cradle your jaw, turning your head to look at him. He said your name softly, barely.. “I’m going to take care of this.”

Your safe feeling was depleting and as much as you wanted to argue, to put a stop to all of this, to do it the correct way, you couldn’t. Earlier, when the threat was outside your door, you didn’t think of calling the police. It was Steve who had crossed your mind. For some unknown reason, you had a feeling he would help you. 

Steve pulled his hand away and stood again, shooting a glance to his friend. 

Bucky cleared his throat, taking a step forward. “Doll, can you tell me what the guys looked like? Identifying features?” 

You wanted to ask a thousand questions about what happened now, about what Bucky was planning on doing, about his metal arm and lack of hesitation to help Steve. But you just played along, delivering all the details you could. Once you repeated it all and answered a few of his questions, you sat up and leaned forward. “Oh. One of them went by Walker. I’m not sure if that’s a first name or..”

“Last name.” Bucky gave one nod before muttering out a tired laugh. “That fucking moron.” He looked at Steve. “Okay, I know where to go. Nat’s gonna meet me downstairs.”

Steve followed him to the door and you could hear their quiet conversation once more. 

Twisting your hands together, you sat on the couch with your thoughts. You couldn’t believe how your night had played out. Really, if you thought about the last week of your life you’d be hard pressed to believe it was real life. How could the simple act of getting a person out of harm’s way lead to this?

When you heard Steve’s footsteps heading back towards you, after the door shut behind Bucky, you stood up and looked at him. 

Okay, you had to ask. Because a lot of this felt nonsensical, impossible even.

“You don’t really work in real estate, do you?” With the most courage you could muster you met his gaze, which was stoic as he watched you. “My friend Maria had this crazy theory and.. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into here, Steve. But this isn’t… I just did the right thing and saved you from being hit by a car and.. Now what? People with guns are breaking into my home and threatening my dog? And instead of going to the police.. I’m right here in your apartment - with you, a kind, handsome stranger who keeps offering to help and take care of me and I just don’t get it. Is this real?”

He didn’t falter or let his facade break when you spiraled. Instead, he motioned towards his kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

You sat with a steaming mug of chamomile at Steve’s kitchen island. His kitchen felt impressively Steve somehow too, with dark granite counters and cool grey tones decorating the tall cabinets. The light blue kettle that sat on his stove somehow humanized him even more though. 

Steve opted to lean against the counter, shrugging off his suit jacket as he met your eyes. “So. First, let me just say - I don’t want you to feel like I brought you here for any other reason than keeping you safe tonight. I want you to feel safe here, with me. But if you don’t feel comfortable, you can leave. I will put you up in a hotel somewhere or if you have a friend you can stay with-”

You swallowed hard and brought your hand up. “No, that’s not.. I’m sorry for, uhm, going off a bit there. I just..” You left your mug on the island and leaned forward, balancing your chin on your hand while your elbow propped you up. You matched his gaze, somehow both honest and shy. “In college, my friends and I did this thing called honesty hour. Usually after a really late night or when we were a bit drunk. But the point is to be as honest as possible, but gentle, I guess. Feelings were always at risk but if it was after 2am, it was honesty only.”

A small smirk tugged at Steve’s lips as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Okay.”

“So. Honesty hour.” You nodded.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you always carry a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There are often dangerous, poorly- intentioned people in my line of work.”

You narrowed your eyes, pausing to take a small sip from your mug. “Your line of work - in real estate and art gallery ownership?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh. “The scope of my day to day work goes well beyond that.”

God, you had so many other questions but you had a feeling Steve was not going to share any details with you. Maybe it was better that way for both of you. Because answering some of your questions might ruin everything. “Would you rather I not ask about that? Your.. full scope?”

“I don’t think it qualifies for your honesty hour, no.”

You were ready to counter with something but you figured it wasn’t worth pushing his buttons. After another big breath, you closed your eyes. “Do you think those guys are going to show up again? At my apartment?”

The mug that had been resting in Steve’s hand found a careful spot on the counter. He took a big step forward and leaned onto the island opposite you.

Your name left his lips. You opened your eyes.

“I promise they won’t.” It was clear some things were being left unsaid, hidden behind his reassuring smile. His hand landed on yours as it rested on the table. “Trust me when I say I’ll never let that sort of thing happen again.” You looked from him, focusing on the warmth in his eyes and how his palm felt against your skin and…

“My turn.” Steve ran his thumb over the top of your hand, as if searching for the softest spot. “You called me. How come?”

You had never been so grateful to hear someone’s phone ring, because you did not want to answer that question. He tried to ignore it but the buzzing in his pocket filled in the quiet that lingered between you. Just like that, whatever that moment was or could have been - vanished. He gave you an apologetic glance as he stepped away. 

You sipped on your tea, feeling more and more run down by this whole situation. You were tired, finally and Steve’s big sweeping statements gave you some peace of mind. You trusted him, that was the only thing you were certain about. 

Despite everything, including the silly rumours from Maria and the broken remains of your apartment on the other side of Brooklyn… There was something about Steve that made you feel okay about all of this.

But the thought of talking any more about it now made your thoughts spiral out of control. Truthfully, you needed to sleep. And you really needed to talk all of this through in the group chat with the girls. You desperately wished your phone was still functioning.

Before you could even let your train of thoughts derail, you heard Hercules’ feet tapping against the floors in search of you. You took one final sip of your tea and met him in the living room. Your boy was ready for bed too.

You hesitated though, glancing from him to the door. He looked that way too. Maybe it would be smart to take him out one more time before you headed to bed.

Steve found you near the door and reached his hand out to stop you before you could even grab your coat. “Hey. I can take him out, if you want to get ready for bed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I insist.” He grabbed Hercules’ leash from the small entry table and rested his hand on your shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog for months now so this is a nice reminder about responsibilities.” 

Steve’s genuine smile was unmatched and, well, Hercules just looked excited for one last moment of fresh air. “Okay, fine. For your own research purposes. Thanks Steve.”

He waved his hand and pulled on a coat from the hanging rack. “The guest room is just down there.” With his free hand he pointed down the hall behind you. “First door on the right. Bathroom across the hall.”

The minute Steve was outside the door with Hercules, you made your way to the bedroom. You nearly gasped when you opened the door, considering the space was practically the same size as your entire apartment. And god, the view from the windows. A full floor to ceiling piece of glass illuminated Brooklyn below.

The bathroom was just as impressive. After finding a fluffy towel and figuring out how the shower and faucet functioned, you let yourself get consumed by the water. Though you felt far past your breaking point, you held back your tears. Yes, the entire night behind you had been a rollercoaster. And yes, you were nervous about what tomorrow was going to bring.

But you were safe. That’s all that mattered.

--

Chapter 01 - Chapter 03

[zer0brainc3lls]

i bet on losing dogs pt2

masterlist

story summary: what if in the death cure (movie canon) newtmas was canon with a slight plot change added to the mix?

TW LIST: typical dystopian movie stuff (guns, killing etc), s3lf mutilation (tearing at open wounds), description of said wounds in detail, very slight mention of past su1cide attempt (its literally one sentence), cursing (if thats even a tw), thoughts of dying, (if i missed any let me know!!)

word count: 9697

authors note at the end!!!

Soon after Brenda found Newt and Thomas in the empty storage room, a plan was decided. Thomas was going to be used as bait to get teresa away from public view so they could kidnap her and take her to an abandoned church not to far from Lawrence and his army, newt wasn't technically necessary for the plan to work but thomas literally refused to cooperate until gally agreed he could come. After.. The map room incident Gally recognised Thomas had the flare and informed Brenda and Frypan pretty much immediately after Newt ran after Thomas, well that's what Brenda told him anyway. While said plan was being worked out Newt tried to ignore the way the others, mainly Gally, looked at Thomas. Whenever Thomas made even a slightly sudden movement eyes would widen slightly, or brows would furrow into tight lines. The sight made newts insides bubble in quiet yet hot rage, they trusted him not even 2 hours before and now they practically jump whenever he moves. Well except for Brenda, which Newt is grateful for. When gally said they should all get to bed Newt quickly asked Brenda if there was anything he could do to slow down the flare, since she has spent way longer in the scorch than he has. 

“Well look, his symptoms based on what you have told me have progressed.. Rapidly. Very rapidly. That's probably because of y’know.. Wicked and all that so just try to keep him calm.” Brenda's sympathetic words ringing in his head as he sat up against a concrete wall of a room full of crates with god knows what where gally had stuffed them saying “all the sleeping quarters are overcrowded as is so you're just going to have to make due.” to be fair, newt can't complain. This is the nicest place he has slept in months compared to in trucks and tents, at least they had a door and a roof. 

Thomas, Brenda and frypan had all fallen asleep quickly after they arrived. Frypan leaning against one of the many wooden crates with his arms crossed and his legs sprawled out, Brenda laid on her back with her hands under her head and legs crossed, and Thomas sat to Newts left with their hands intertwined as his head rests against the concrete wall with his mouth hanging open slightly as he sleeps. Newt can't allow his muscles to relax into sleep, all he can think about is the days ahead. Is Teresa going to cooperate? If she doesn't, what will they do? And even if she does will they be caught? Kidnapped? Tortured? Sucked dry of whatever wicked wants from them? Thomas killed due to his infection? Even if they find Minho without being caught, will Thomas turn anyway before they get the cure? Will Newt have to watch as Thomas' soft yet determined eyes he loves so dearly turn hollow and somehow full of bloodlust? 

“You trying to cut my blood supply off or what?” Newt hears Thomas murmur playfully as to not wake the others, it's only when he speaks Newt realizes how hard he was gripping onto Thomas’s hand as his thoughts spiraled. Newt loosened his grip before murmuring back “sorry tommy, go back to sleep” he says trying to mask the clear exhaustion in his voice, thomas snorts like an idiot before saying “haha very funny, whats up?” Newt cocks his head slowly towards Thomas with his brows raised before facing away from him again, the humor from Thomas’s reaction slowly trickling out of Newt. Newt feels familiar hands slither around his waist, pulling him close. Thomas doesn’t push any harder and simply just holds him, patiently waiting for a reply. Newt doesn't know how exactly to word his thoughts properly, when he himself cant pinpoint why he feels so anxious. There's always been a risk of Thomas and everyone else in the group getting hurt so why is it bugging him now?? “What if something happens to you?” Newt says, avoiding Thomas' eyes. Newt can almost hear the wheels turn in Thomas's brain as he clenches his jaw in thought. “That's always been a possibility, you of all people know that-” “i know! I know.” Newt lowers his voice so as to not wake the others, he turns to face Thomas's large but at the moment sympathetic eyes. Before newt even registers what he's about to say he bursts out,

“What if I freeze up again?!” he whisper shouts. “You won't.'' Thomas replies sternly, his brows furrowing as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. “No i'm being serious-” thomas grabs both sides of newts face firmly cutting him off. “You. won't. I'm absolutely positive, if you can't trust your own judgment then trust mine.” Thomas lightly shakes his face to emphasize his point, his brows softening and all sternness pours out of him as he softly smiles. “Good that?” 

“Good that.” The words practically spilling from Newt's tongue, Thomas had a strange way of captivating the blonde into believing things, jumping into plans, and overall just following him and trusting him blindly. And at the end of the day, Newt truly does trust Thomas. Thomas’s Judgment got them out of the maze, away from Janson, through the scorch, back to wicked to save minho. Newt sometimes wonders if he has the same effect on Thomas, he's pretty positive he does. It's funny, they’re both so stubborn and refuse to back down and fight others' opinions but when it's each other they’re so easily convinced. They work so well together as if they are intertwined by invisible string, even in fights the work so flawlessly together as if they share a brain. Thomas is Newt's other half, his symbol of hope, a prayer for a better tomorrow. 

Suddenly Newt found himself being held by familiar strong arms, his back pressed against Thomas’s chest with one of Newt's legs draped over his legs. Despite Newt being taller he found himself under Thomas, his fingers tracing along Thomas's knuckles. He listened to how Thomas's breathing slowly steaded into a repetitive rhythm and felt his muscles relax against Newt's back, until he too felt sleep calling to him. 

—

The next day Newt mostly spent his time making sure Thomas was calm, cool and collected to see the person they were about to.. retrieve. When Newt wasn't watching Thomas like a hawk he was mostly with Gally and the others going over the plan, what to do if B happens instead of A, where to lure Teresa, how to keep her in one spot and successfully transport her to the church without causing a ruckus. 

Gally informed them that the whole city was under curfew and there should be almost no one about, so getting her from point A to point B shouldn't be too much of a problem. As long as everything goes according to plan they should have no issues until they get to the church, that's where the real problem lies.. Newt is pretty confident in Gally's interrogation skills and it has nothing to do with Teresa because he's also pretty confident it shouldn't be super hard to make her cooperate. The real problem lies with Thomas, and his new.. Temper. Since the tunnel he's only really had two episodes of the flare really getting to him, first when he punched gally and second in the map room. Newt is almost positive the interrogation is going to at the very least be quite eventful, and at its worst Teresa ends up shot, which isn't exactly ideal. Despite his own personal feelings towards her which aren't exactly positive he's going to try and make sure thomas doesn't end up killing her or seriously injuring her, for the sake of everyone besides teresa. 

The next thing Newt knows he's standing next to gally crouched behind a wall watching as Thomas distracts Teresa while also waiting for the signal. The mere sight of them speaking his skin crawl with repulsion and anger, it's all part of the plan, slim yourself. Newt thinks silently to himself, while still clenching his jaw. He keeps his eyes locked on thomas patiently waiting for signal, after a moment or two thomas nods him and gally over. 

—

Once gally had her tied up, Newt walked slowly behind Teresa, he firmly gripped the black bag that was tied over her head and yanked it off. He made his way back to his original seating spot where he watched gally tie her up not even a moment ago, Newt couldn't ignore the fact that Teresa was staring at Thomas, as if he's going to help her. “I'm going to start off simple, where's minho.” gally begins, he lifts a chair in his arm as he walks over to Teresa “you guys don't seriously think-” the bang of Gally’s chair hitting the ground interrupts her. “Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not going to help you.” Teresa's eyes flick towards Thomas expectedly, almost pleading with him. The look on her face makes Newt feel positivity sick to his core. Newt looks to Thomas and sees him cross armed looking back at her, his face is stone cold and his eyes are hollow. 

“We know you have minho in the building, where.” Gallys voice is laced with authority that sounds practiced, like a record player on repeat. “He's with the others in holding.. sublevel3” she replies reluctantly, her gaze on the floor. “How many others?” Newt asks cooly, he glares at Teresa and all he can think about is that night with the right arm. The screams and cries while bombs rained down, gun powder, flesh, blood. So much blood. How can Teresa think what she is doing is right?? All this suffering and torture for a cure that probably doesnt even exist?? The present world is beyond saving, why wouldn't she want to start anew? It was right there, they were all so close. 

“You can't get in without a thumb print id-'' Teresa's voice stops the swirling in Newt's mind. “That's why you're going to come with us!” Gally says condescendingly. “Do we need her though?” Thomas announces, after a moment of silence he stands up and pulls out his knife from the inside of his jacket. “Not all of her!” he gestures to Teresa with the knife in his hand almost manically. His voice sounds almost humorous? In Between the cracks Newt can tell, Thomas is slipping again. “Thomas.” Newt warns. “No seriously! Do we need her? Hmm?” Thomas questioned out loud, he walks over to her almost mockingly and crouches down in front of her “oh yeah that's right! We have these trackers, property of WICKED and all! So turns out you are needed. So either you cooperate.. Or i just cut your fucking hand off!” his voice drips with insanity, Newt doesn't have to look at him to know his eyes are large black pools with hunger for blood. Newt's eyes lock with Brenda's, her face screaming in desperation to him DO SOMETHING!! Brenda's right, Newt does need to intervene. Despite that seeing Teresa's hand being cut off would be an amazing sight, the flare feeds on blood and adrenaline and that's the exact opposite of what Thomas needs right now. 

“Greenie i SWEAR-” Newt is already walking over to Thomas as he spits out “slim it gally.” not even bothering to look in gally direction he wraps his fingers thomas’s left wrist which is strained tightly around his knife, his eyes flicking in and out of sainty. Newt runs his hand through Thomas's hair completely ignoring the pure terror in Teresa's eyes, Thomas's body relaxes slightly before he quickly stands up and storms back to where he was sitting before, he sits down and twirls the knife in his hand. Newt sits back down not listening to Gallys yells as he berates Teresa further, instead he listens to Thomas's heavy breathing and watches as his head twitches occasionally trying to fight the flare. 

“Keep him calm” 

Newt pries the knife out of Thomas’s hand with his left hand and holds Thomas's now empty hand in his right, Thomas grasps onto Newt's hand, almost crushing it. Their fingers interlocked so tightly Newt can almost feel Thomas's bones, he squeezes back but not as hard and rubs the back of Thomas's thumb with his own. Thomas’s iron grip slowly becomes almost doughy, his head no longer twitching every few seconds. Newt notes how Gally has seemed to stop yelling and stomping around like a mad man so Newt assumes the interrogation is over, Gally lets Teresa out of her restraints so she can get everyone's tags out. 

“Thanks” he hears Thomas murmur, his eyes full of care and thankfulness, back to normal. “What would bloody do without me?” he murmurs back teasingly, Thomas rolls his eyes playfully, a warm smile still remains. 

Gally gets his tag out first, then frypan, Thomas and now Newt sits in the chair. Teresa was pretty quiet while removing the others tags, she attempted to make small talk with Thomas but Newt practically drilled a hole between her eyes when she did so she promptly shut up.

“This is going to sting-” “yeah i figured.” “so try to relax.” he awaits for the scrape but after a second or two nothing happens. “go on then?” “When's the last time Brenda was treated?” “oh y’know just before you called wicked.” he snaps, venom practically running down his chin. “Wait what? She should've turnt by now-” “just do the fucking thing” his voice raising, hes already been around her long enough then needed let alone speaking. Without warning Teresa cuts into Newt's neck, pain simmers into his nape as if boiling water was poured into his veins. “She got her treatment from you, correct?” Teresa asks almost hesitantly. “yes.” Newt replies bluntly. Teresa once again without warning cuts into his nape, slightly deeper this time before pulling out his tag. She uses a clean cloth to wipe up the blood, she presses hard as she does this. Once she's finished Newt quickly stands before walking off to check out the wicked suits. 

Once dinner rolled around it was actually quite peaceful, Gally had brought some rations that compared to newts usual palate may as well be a 5 star meal. Conversation flowed and even Gally seemed to be in a good mood! This was one of the most peaceful moments they've all had in awhile, no talk of wicked, no fear, just a bunch of teens laughing and talking. After they get minho maybe it will be like this every night, hearing everyone laugh especially Thomas fills Newt up with pure hope. After tomorrow they could really be free. Actually free. 

Rations are slowly eaten, conversation turns to yawns and heavy eyelids and almost everyone except Newt, Thomas and Gally remain. “Hey I’m gonna go to bed, you coming?” Thomas asks Newt as he stands up to go find a relatively comfortable corner. “Yeah I’m done too-“ “Newt can you stay for a minute? I need to talk you.” Gally interrupts, his face not of anger and authority but.. is that pity? “Uh sure.. Tommy you go I’ll be there in abit'' Thomas shrugs and walks off into the darkness of the church, once he’s no longer visible newt turns back around expectantly with a brow raised, “not here.” Gally insists before rising to his feet, Newt curiously follows him to the back of the church away from the others secluded fully by darkness. Newt can barely see Gally avoiding his gaze in what Newt can barely make out as guilt? “So what’s up?” Newt asks, getting straight to the point.

“You know Thomas can’t come right?” Gally stated, looking towards Newt. Anger bubbles in his stomach once he says this. “What?! Why??” Newt perfectly knows why, Gally thinks he’ll compromise the mission, go full crank. “We both know he’s a liability, he’s a danger not just for Minho but for you to.” “What are you on about??” Newt spits back violently, not caring if he wakes the others. “I know I haven’t seen you in.. however long but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you care about the greenie. And if it were to come down to you or him you would pick him, you don’t exactly have a fucking track record of putting yourself above others. The mission can’t afford that, Minho can’t afford that.” 

Newt goes to say something back but his throat doesn't let him, because the thing is. Gally’s right. If it came down to Newt or Thomas he’d pick Thomas in a heartbeat, but Newt had made a promise to him. you're not leaving my side. Got it? The words ring in Newt's ears, he can't leave Thomas now. He's at his most vulnerable state. He needs him more than anything, he can't go back on his word. Especially not now. He can't ask Thomas not to save Minho when he's the reason they are even able to do this, he can't leave him. “I can't leave him gally, i made him a promise.” gally’s face tightens in frustration, annoyance more than anything. “You can't ask that of me.” Newt adds on firmly. Gally of all people knows that arguing with Newt is a losing battle, despite that he still searches every inch of his face for even a slight chink in his armor. Newt doesn't back down, he keeps his face stone cold. “You can't ask him to do that.” his voice lowering slightly, his brows furrow. “What if he cranks out newt?! What then?!” he begins to shout but lowers his voice, his face scrunched tightly. “He won't. I’m going to get him that bloody serum even if it fucking kills me.” before Gally even has a moment to register Newt's words he's already turned on his heels storming off in rage. 

Newt manages to find Thomas in a dark corner, the only thing illuminating him is the candles lit inside the church and even then he can barely make out that Thomas's hand is up his shirt scratching rapidly. “Don't scratch love you'll only make it worse” his head flicks up rapidly, his eyes wide full of terror for a second. He stares at Newt quizzically, his brows furrowed as if Newt’s a puzzle before his eyes light up and soften in recognition. The sight before him makes Newt's heart pang with guilt, he slowly walks over to Thomas and sits beside him. He extends his arms and Thomas accepts and allows Newt to wrap his arms around him as he always does, Newt leans across Thomas and grabs Thomas’s bag which was next to him before placing it at his side so he can rummage around for a cloth. He finds the cloth he used the night before. Guess it’ll have to do. He thought as he bit his tongue, Newt gestured the cloth to Thomas. “Are you bleeding?” He mumbles as if he can't see the fact that Thomas's hands are covered in blood. Thomas nods, almost ashamed. “C'mon I'll patch you up, you need new bandages anyway.” “Are you sure? It's super gross- “ “yes i'm sure. Slim it and turn around.'' Newt cuts him off quickly, Thomas turns to face him and lifts his shirt and discards it on top of his jacket that's beside him. Newt rummages around in Thomas's bag for the last of his bandages and rubbing alcohol, he turns to face him and the sight horrifies him. The once 3 almost straight lines are almost torn apart and scratched up, dried and fresh blood drips down his chest, black and green oily puss along side it. The once thin and small black veins are twice their size and triple the length, the darkness fully visible and they pulse like worms beneath his skin. Newt knows that flare victims tend to unwillingly hurt themselves, ripping out their own eyes, biting off fingers and such. But seeing Thomas do that breaks his heart into pieces. How could it progress so fast?? Usually it takes weeks, sometimes a month to even get to this stage and it's been days. 

Stress. Of course. No amount of love and softenness and deter that, their amount to go march into wicked for fuck sake, of course its progressing rapidly what else could Newt expect?? That Thomas is somehow super human and that the flare would progress slowly?? How stupid. How fucking stupid of him to hope. Of course this would happen! Why wouldnt it? Thomas is already showing late signs of the flare, self mutilation, aggressive speech and that look in his eyes moments before, is his memory already deteriorating? How long until he forgets the mission at hand? Until he forgets minho? brenda? Frypan? Jorge? Gally? Him?? 

“So doc how's it looking?” Thomas says sarcastically in an attempt to cheer him up. Newt rolls his eyes before swallowing the lump in his throat, he drenches the cloth in rubbing alcohol, he quickly wipes down Thomas’s hands because there’s no way all that gore and pus could be comfortable, counts down from three and presses the cloth to Thomas's chest. Thomas groans in pain but doesn't flinch or move away from him, his eyes sewn shut and lips pressed together tightly. Any humor left in him seeping from his wounds, Newt can feel Thomas's rapid heartbeat as he cleans out the smaller cuts and scrapes. The smell nauseates Newt, once he finishes he pauses for a moment giving Thomas a minute to breath. “I'm up to the hard part now, i'll make it quick I promise” Thomas grips onto Newt's shoulder, takes in a large gulp of air before nodding quickly.

Newt drenches the cloth again and counts down quickly, Thomas's grip tightens slightly as he does. He quickly places the cloth on his chest, his fingers moving as fast as they can to get the pus out. As seconds pass Thomas's grip only tightens painfully and he starts mumbling incoherently to himself almost angrily, as if he's arguing with his brain to stay put. “Can you go any slower??” Thomas grumbles angrily, Newt ignores him knowing it's not Thomas speaking to him. After a few more seconds Newt removes his hand “There. All done.” he says urgently, Thomas’s eyes flick open. He looks at his chest, then Newt, his chest, then finally he locks his gaze onto Newt. His eyes were full of curiosity. Before Newt can even ask what's wrong Thomas brings his hand up to Newt's head, his fingers softly run through his hair all the way to the back of his head and eventually down his neck. Fire trails whenever his hand moves. His hand finds its way to Newt's jaw, Thomas cups it with his hand and turns Newt's head as if he's looking at an ancient sculpture. “are you ok??” Newt says slowly, crimson spreads across his face. 

“You're so.. Familiar.” 

Whatever is left of Newt's heart sinks all the way down to his feet, Thomas, the only who has seen him at his worst, Thomas the boy he would sneak around with, Thomas with his chapped lips and eyes that seek him out in a crowd, thomas who held him in cold nights in the scorch doesn't know who he is. His whole body feels heavy, his eyes fill with tears that he tries to hold back. “What do you remember?” he manages to choke out. “I care about you, I know that much. And I trust you.” better than nothing. Thomas’s eyes search his face, no freckle, acne scar, or facial feature left unturned. Newt locks his eyes onto Thomas’s staring into his soul, trying to see exactly what he's thinking. “You.. keep a knife in your waistband?” Newt nods at the fact, he doesn't know how to help him remember. He takes Thomas's hand that isn't on his face and intertwines it with his, Thomas reciprocates without hesitation. “I have known you ever since I can remember and I can't remember your name!” he announces harishily. “It's ok take your time” Thomas leans in closer, fully examining Newt's face again. His eyes desperate and angry with himself, he squints as if he’ll find something that will jog his memory. He's impossibly close, his nose almost brushing with Newts. his heart leaps out of his chest at the closeness, his eyes flick to thomas’s lips and back up to his eyes. 

Newt leans in a little before pausing, Thomas doesn't back away. Newt closes the distance between them and kisses Thomas impossibly soft, as if he would shatter into pieces if he's not careful. Thomas holds onto Newt's jaw like a lifeline, like it's the only thing keeping him from slipping away. Newt pulls away barely, Thomas's lips and eyes glistening in the candlelight that illuminates the church. his lips brush against Thomas's as he mumbles, “does that jog your memory?” Thomas's face sparks in recognition before mumbling back “hmm maybe another would do the trick.” Newt hums back before kissing him again, a little harder this time. Thomas pulls Newt in by the waist, Newt basically ends up in his lap. The kiss is impossibly slow and tender and he's loving every second of it, time stops and for a few minutes it's just them, No Wicked, no Janson, no fear for the next day. It's just teeth against teeth, smiles against smiles, shushing each other and holding back laughter. Warmth courses through Newt's entire body, this is the best he's felt in forever. His heart stitching itself back together, it feels like they have all the time in the world. 

Eventually lips part, limbs untangle and bandages are done and it's just them holding hands in that small dark corner of the church. Thomas’s head leans on Newt's shoulder, his breathing soft and steady as he peacefully sleeps. Newt refuses to worry about the next day, or anything for that matter. This is the one night he's just going to sleep with nothing on his mind, and that's exactly what he does. 

The next day is spent planning, double checking plans, trying on wicked suits, triple checking maps, they run it again and again for any possible flaws. The plan is simple: get in, get minho, get the serum, shoot it straight into Thomas right then and there, get out. If everything is where it needs to be it should work flawlessly, they’ll be back in the safe haven happy as ever. Newt repeats the promise he made to himself in his head: I won't let Thomas die, I won't let Thomas die, I won't let Thomas die. Like a prayer over and over, a solemn oath that can't be broken. As if this action alone will keep death's icy cold hands from Thomas’s radiating warmth. The next thing newt knows they are marching through the sensors at wicked front doors. 

Newt keeps his head up and locked refusing to look anywhere but forward, he doesn't dare to breathe as they pass through the sensors. The sensor flashes green and he holds back the urge to sigh from the relief that floods through him, they walk through wicked headquarters, Newt leading forwards with Teresa in the middle and Thomas up the back keeping her up to speed. Soon gally slides into their group almost effortlessly, Newt forgets Gallys a soldier. He's trained for this, the past six months of his life have led up to this very day. Gally marches in front of Newt, leading them to a stairwell. Gally grabs Teresa by the sleeve and harshly pulls her to the keypad next to the door, she reluctantly places her thumb against it and the door opens with a hiss almost immediately. 

Newt storms in, gun up looking around frantically. Newt, Thomas and Teresa start to make their way down the stairs before Gally announces “wait wait i can get in here!” he lifts his mask before thomas replies with “throw me the walkie” gally chucks the walkie to thomas, thomas catches it and goes down the stairs. Newt hears him coughing as he goes, Newt looks at Teresa who's already looking at him. “Newt i think-” “slim it teresa” he retorted quickly. Newt watches as gally drills into the console on the wall, sparks fly as the metal wails at being torn apart. 

Thomas comes back up the stairs, one hand clutching onto the railing and the other radio in hand. “Frypan-” he hacks again before continuing “we’re in how you doing?” “yeah yeah i'm getting there, tell minho hi for me!” gally flings the console open and messes with the wires and whatnot while thomas speaks to brenda on the radio checking in on her as well, newt stands between them gun in hand incase they get caught. “All right, let go!” gally shouts as he stuck something to override wicked systems into the console before slamming it shut. 

Gally leads the way, the twist and turn through corridors and doors. The maps previously studied being brought to life, Newt's heart races as they journey towards the immunes. What state will Minho be in? Skinny and frail? Beat up and bruised?? Absolutely insane from torture?? All the possibilities make his skin crawl. Eventually they make it to the door, Thomas takes the lead gun up waiting for someone to step through. Soon enough someone does and pure chaos breaks out.

Thomas shoots the guy and they storm in guns ablaze, shooting all wicked employees in the room. Bodies drop and convulse on the floor and Newt goes to a cell and opens it, as he does he takes his mask off. When he does the kids in the room physically relax at the realization he's not a wicked guard, the sight is truly sad. What have they done to these kids for them to react like that? He quickly scans the room for Minho, to find nothing. Newt is already walking to the other side of the room when Thomas calls out “Newt go check the other side”, his voice firm and authoritarian. When on missions Newt and Thomas sync as one, doing things before the other asks, covering for each other and sensing when the other is in danger. They work together as a flawless unit. On the rare occasion they do anything alone they barely need to speak to each other, one look, one movement and they know what to do, this is extremely convenient for them and irritating for everyone else. 

Newt goes over to the next cell expecting Minho to be there, pumped up and ready to go. Dread fills him when he sees he isn’t there, he storms over to Teresa and grabs her wrist hard “where’s Minho.” He grumbles, his voice lowering dangerously. “I don’t know-“ his grip tightens and her eyes twitch as she fights to yelp in pain. “If you let go I can fucking check.” Newt clenches his jaw before shoving her away, she glares at him threateningly. Newt raises his brow and she turns around to check where he went. 

“Is that bloody vault open??” He almost shouts in impatience, Newt is usually a very patient person but every second that passes the flare eats away Thomas's brain and that fact makes Newt tip dangerously close to the end of his patience. “It's gonna take awhile, don’t rush me!” Gally barks back as he works on the vault. “He’s in the medical wing..” Teresa says breathlessly, this isn’t something she anticipated. “Alright then, let’s get a move on” Newt says as he moves to the exit, “that’s on the other side of the building-“ she begins, “does it look like I fucking care?? Let’s. Move.” He restrains himself from shouting at her, she moves towards Newt, Thomas following close behind- Thomas is following her??

“Tommy, where the hell are you going??” He raises a brow, his tone shifting from anger to confusion. “With you??” He answers equally as confused. “You need to stay here and wait for the serum-“ he begins patiently before Gally announces “it’s fine I’ve got it!! Get Minho and meet us around back!!” Newt looks between the vault and Thomas a few times, he won’t lie Thomas would be a massive help but what if they don’t make it back in time?? What if something happens- “Newt cmon let go” Thomas says, snapping him out of his thoughts, Thomas smiles at him for a moment and Newt breaks. “.. fine.” He announced before he, Thomas and Teresa leave the room. 

They walk through wicked corridors once more, going up stairs and through doors til they reach an elevator. Newt clicks it impatiently, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t immediately open. When it opens, Newt and Thomas immediately walk in, Teresa following suit. The elevator doors slowly start to close-

A hand reaches between the doors. 

The doors slowly crawl back open to reveal a sight that makes Newt's stomach drop. Janson in all of his rat faced glory. The putrid man steps inside and for a moment newt thinks he is going to pull out his revolver and shoot him and Thomas dead, his hands tighten around his gun as Janson steps next to Teresa. Oh yeah we have masks on newt dumbly realized, newt mostly blocks him out and focuses on Thomas. Watching him from the corner of his eye, waiting for a twitch or tic in case all hell breaks loose. 

“Thomas is here.” The ratman announces.

Well fuck. 

Teresa turns to face Janson and somehow Newt's grip on his gun gets impossibly tighter as his heart pumps in his ears. 

“The surveillance picked him up outside the walls, Ava didn’t want you to know but if he does try to contact you.. well I’d like to think I would be your first call.” Newt focuses purely on Teresa, for any sign or signal she could possibly be giving Janson to tell him yeah about that he’s actually right behind you!! But instead she mumbles “are you going to kill him..?” The care in her tone makes Newt feel sick with anger, she didn’t care when she called wicked and he could’ve died but suddenly she cares now?-

“Would that be a problem?” 

Newt now has decided that the moment he gets the chance he’s going to murder Janson. 

The elevator beeps and Teresa gives a comment newt doesn’t care to hear, she walks out quickly and newt follows close behind purposely bumping into Janson on the way out, a little harder then intended but aw well he doesn’t care. By the sounds of it Thomas did the same, he grins to himself for a moment before continuing on.

—

“Newt you need to listen to me, that serum won’t save Thomas! It might buy him some time but-“ “shut it Teresa.” Thomas spits, pushing her along. “Newt, listen!! You want to save Thomas don’t you??” Newt nearly shoots her right then and there but instead he forces himself to choke out “just open the bloody door” “there’s something about your blood!” She opens the door as she says this and Newt silently walks in, Thomas following suit, he uses all his will power to ignore her and not shoot her brains out. “I promise I can protect you-“ 

Newt snaps

“Oh yeah?!?! Like you protected Minho?! If didn’t need to rescue FUCKING him THOMAS WOULDNT HAVE THE BLOODY FLARE-“ Thomas promptly takes the lead by gently but quickly pulling him back, Newt lets him because if he kept shouting at her every wicked guard within the area would’ve heard him. That's when he begins scolding her as well but in a more quiet fashion… unlike newt. 

“How many more people is it going to take?! How many more people are they going to have to round up, Torture, And kill?!” He refrains from screaming, scolding her through gritted teeth, mask off fully open to anyone who rounds a corner. Newt goes to tell him to put his mask back on before Teresa spits back “it stops when we find a cure-!” Thomas pulls his pistol out of his holster and under Teresa's chin. “THERE IS NO GODDAMN CURE.” So much for being quiet. He's screaming at her now, the black veins that now have knitted themselves around his neck pulse angrily, hungry for blood. 

“Don't waste your breath Teresa!” Janson calls out, newt steps back out next to Thomas who has now pointed his gun at Teresa’s temple. “Tell him to back off!! TELL HIM TO BACK OFF!!” He screams in her ear, he's got her in a head lock as he pushes the gun harder against her head. “Hey Thomas cmon.. it’s me. I’ve known you longer than you can remember, you're not gonna shoot her. Flare or not.” 

Jansons gun is pointed directly towards Thomas as he slowly steps closer, Newt aims his gun towards jansons head, his eyes fully locked on his fingers that rest around the trigger. The safety is clicked off as far as Newt can tell so he’s waiting, watching for any tick, twitch or slight movement in his fingers because if he tries anything, Janson is going to need a headstone. 

“You don’t think so?!” Thomas barks out at Janson almost manically, as if it’s the funniest thing someone has ever said to him. “Ok.. go on then.” Janson lowers the gun by his side and Newt’s heartbeat steadily decreases significantly. “Shoot. Her. Prove me wrong!” He calls back coolly, confident in the fact Thomas won’t shoot, and for once Newt agrees with him. Thomas wouldn't shoot someone like this, Teresa or not. It's not in his moral code. So what the hell are they going to do-

Teresa pushes both Thomas and Newt through the entrance behind them and pulls some sort of red alarm that causes thick heavy glass to come from the top of the doorway and clicks with the floor, a siren sounds, blasting through the entire building. Newt just stares at Teresa, why would she do that? Why would she possibly- 

Those doors aren’t opening back up.

Newt pulls off his mask since clearly the plan has gone to complete and utter shit just so Janson can see his face as he walks after Thomas. 

Newt and Thomas run through the medical wing, dipping into corners, shooting wicked guards and such. At one point they come to a fork in the labyrinth, Thomas sees Ava holding his gun up prepared to shoot, Newt turns towards a different hallway and sees Janson, gun in hand, about to shoot. “THOMAS NO” he screeches, grabbing onto Thomas’s shirt and pulling him into a hallway to avoid the cross fire of bullets that spray through the hallway. 

They continue on like this for a while, Thomas slowly but surely is deteriorating. Not but much, but every so often he misses a shot or almost trips over his own two feet. Luckily for Thomas, Newt is on a mission. He simultaneously covers for himself and Thomas at the same time when needed, when Thomas’s reactions delay Newt has already shot the soldier and a few more. I won’t let Thomas die, the sentence rings through his head and courses through his whole being, he breathes and exhales this promise. Anytime they run out of ammo, Newt has already bagged new guns from once convulsing bodies on the ground and shoves a gun into Thomas’s hands before his own. How his leg hasn’t given out? Newt truly doesn’t know, his leg screams and cries out at every step but it’s as if the pain is just another sensation, another thing. He runs, punches, kicks through sheer will power and determination alone. All the fighting blurs to him, he flies into autopilot. Grenade, bodies. guns, bodies. punches, bodies.

Newt and Thomas are out of ammo and newt just pulled a stunt with a grenade, they turn to run down a hallway until a wicked soldier screams at them to get on the ground. Pure fear lines the blood that travels across Newts muscles and bone, his eyes frantically flick around for something anything-

Minho rams into the guard screaming his head off, grabs the soldier and shoves him into a window causing glass to shatter all across the floor. Once he does he just screeches a low guttural sound of pure pain, grief and anger. It takes him a moment before he even register Newt and Thomas are even there, he stands there eyes wide in shock and disbelief. As if he’s finally lost his marbles and he’s dreaming.

It takes Newt and Thomas a second too, Newt feels like he just came out of a fever dream of screams of the injured and safeguarding Thomas with his life he truly forgot how to feel. For the first time since they entered the medical wing, Newt feels something real, relief. His leg threatens to give out right then and there as Thomas and Newt both run over to him and pull him so tight into a hug newt wonders if his lungs will ever fill with air again, but he doesn’t care. He would struggle to breath all his life if it meant keeping Thomas and Minho safe. 

“Is this real?” Minho asks, genuinely asks. His face shines with happiness and relief that his longing has finally come to an end, before Thomas and Newt can even nod back they hear wicked soldiers storm into the hallway guns ablaze. no time for catching up over tea, they are in a war zone. 

Newt adds to his oath. I won’t let Thomas and Minho die. Minho’s stride is nothing like it used to be in the glade, he doesn’t radiate confidence or steadiness in his feet. No no. His feet and muscles are unsure or where to take him, like getting on a bike for the first time in years. Despite that he is still fast and strong as he runs despite the clear malnutrition and torture his body has been through, no where near the level he was at before but his body miraculously carry’s him, or at least is attempting to, like a runner.   

They all push on, Thomas despite the flare, Newt despite his limp, and Minho despite his treatment they push harder than they ever have, for freedom. For the future. For a promise of a safe tomorrow. They sprint down a hallway until they get cornered by a handful of wicked guards, “IN HERE” Thomas yells as he pushes open a door before locking it behind him, Newt and Minho push a shelf in front of it the moment Thomas backs away. They all connect in sync. Newt and Minho back away from the door, standing next to Thomas who looks just as confused and petrified as him. 

“Well shit.” Thomas mumbled just before the sound of a drill cutting into metal assaults newts ears, sparks fly from top to bottom on the opening of the door. “Any ideas?!” Minho shouts as they all back away even further, Thomas looks out the window and back towards Newt and Minho “maybe.” 

The next thing Newt knows Minho and Thomas are chucking some metal tube out of the window, the glass shatters loudly as the metal cylinder falls. Newt runs next to Thomas and Minho and watches as it splashes into the dark pool below. 

“Ok.. it’s doable. Just need uh- a running start.” Thomas mutters clearly unsure with himself, he backs up from the window as he says this. Newt gives Minho a is he fucking nuts look and Minho reciprocates with the exact same facial expression. 

Well at least everyone is on the same page! 

“you sure about this??” Minho asks as they all prepare to dive out of the window. “Not really!” Thomas replies just as unsure as before. “Nice pep talk.” “Yeah.. we’re all bloody inspired.” That’s when the sound of a bang and a door being kicked open rings through the room, without hesitation they all sprint towards the window and fall down all 20ish stories. Newt feels the wind in his hair and his stomach falling as he drops, he’s felt this feeling before. His screams of terror are luckily met with Thomas and Minhos screams also, the feeling of the water crashing against his body comes faster and harder than expected. 

Newt hasn’t felt being underwater since in the glade, he remembers the early days when he, Minho, Alby and all the original gladers would swim through the small lake they had. And even then he could see the bottom of the lake, even in the deepest part the sandy ground was only inches beneath him. This water does not glisten a bright blue in the sunlight and bring laughter, no. The water is dark and impossibly deep, it makes sense that even wicked pools harbor dark secrets. 

Newt pulls himself out of the water with only a slight struggle, Minho does the same. Newt has to grab Thomas and lift him up and help him get to his feet, it’s getting worse. He swallows the lump in his throat along with his worry before he hears heavy footsteps and guns cocking. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding.” Thomas mumbles as they all turn around, they see 4 wicked guards barking orders at them, Newt desperately looks around for any route of escape. Maybe we can jump in the water and book it? No we would get shot, can I shoot them before they shoot Thomas or Minho? No, it's 4 guys. Even if I do manage to shoot one of them first at least one of us will get shot-

BANG BANG BANG

one of the wicked guards shoots the other three, thank you, gally!!

Gally removes his mask, looks at the broken window above and back towards Newt and the others soaking wet clothes before saying “you guys are nuts. Cmon!” 

They all break out into a sprint, after a minute or two of running they find cover. Newt slides down quickly next to Gally before asking “Gally how far are the tunnels??” “Maybe twelve blocks from here-“ he begins to reply before he’s interrupted by the sound of Thomas hacking and coughing violently. Newt's gut falls all the way down to his toes and worry fogs his judgment. “We can make it” Gally says, trying to ease Newt's nerves to no avail. 

Newt sits there staring at Thomas as he talks to Minho, he can’t help but think about Thomas turning before they make it back to the tunnels. No. No way. Newt will drag Thomas’s limp body through the city before that happens, they’ll make it. They have to.

Newt didn’t even notice Minho sliding next to him as he says “hey, when did he-?” Minho chokes on his words, unable to vocalize Thomas’s condition. His brows furrowed with worry as he looked between Newt and Thomas, “he’ll be fine, just gotta get to Brenda.” Newt manages to reply with, Newt quickly goes over to Thomas and says gently “cmon Tommy we gotta go” he grabs Thomas’s hand with one hand and uses his other hand to grab the fabric of his wicked suit to pull him up, Thomas struggles to gets to his feet and groans as he attempts too, his throat clearly filled with a sickening substance. Newt ignores the sound and gets Thomas to his feet.

When Thomas manages to face Newt his eyes are mostly hollow but he’s still there, Newt looks into his eyes and can tell Thomas is looking back. Newt places a hand on Thomas’s shoulder in case he loses his footing and softly cups his face with the other before mumbling “you’ll be fine, alright?” Thomas barely manages to nod as Newt wraps Thomas’s arm around his shoulder before turning his attention back to Minho and Gally. 

Minho rushes over to wrap Thomas’s other arm around his shoulder, he takes a significant amount of Thomas’s weight off of Newt's shoulders. Gally leads the way as they run through the city, if Minho wasn’t carrying Thomas Newt doesn’t know if he could’ve. His leg whines at him to collapse, to give out, to give up. Newt refuses to collapse even though his body begs him to and ignores the searing pain that shoots up his body every time he steps. 

At one point bombs start raining down, Gally makes some sort of comment newt doesn’t listen to, as all he can hear is Thomas’s shaky liquid filled breathing and the coughing and hacking that becomes more frequent with every minute that passes. Another dreadful reminder of Thomas’s infection as if the literal weight on his shoulders isn’t enough.

“The tunnels are right up ahead-” Gally begins to announce as the sounds of more bombs raining down onto the city interrupts him violently, Newt and Minho lower Thomas as they all take cover. The smell of gunpowder and fire burn the insides of newts noise, a full battle between wicked and the right arm taking place not even 50 meters away makes the ground vibrate and shake aggressively, urging them to move on. “LETS GO LETS GO” Gally commands, Newt and Minho grab Thomas’s arms once more and half help, half carry him through the streets that rage with violence and vengeance. 

They barely make it even a few blocks before they are forced to take cover once more, the realization dawns on all of them. They aren’t going to make it. Newt reaches for his radio to tell Brenda to leave since Thomas is clearly too weak to do so before as if this action alone summoned her Newt hears her chime in on the radio. “How you guys holding up?” She asks concerned, Newt can almost see her brows furrowing, “bloody awful, you guys need to leave without us we aren’t gonna make-“ “no. No absolutely not, I’m not leaving you guys alright?!” She interrupts him harshly, she sounds almost offended that Newt would even suggest that. Newt is stunned and doesn’t know how to reply to her, that’s when he hears the faint sound of a berg roaring through his radio. “Don’t worry newt!! We're coming to you, our rides here!!” Before Newt can even ask what she’s talking about the radio clicks, signifying she’s gone. 

—

“We’re almost there!!” Gally shouts encouragingly, even Newt's good leg isn’t in the best state, Newt doesn’t even want to think about his bad leg as he desperately tries to ignore the unforgiving pain that shrieks at him to collapse to the ground. “You need to- you need to leave me” Thomas struggles to say with his clogged throat, his hacks up sticky black liquid mid sentence. His voice emits full defeat, begging for death. Newt, Minho and Gally don’t even humor his cries as they push through the city. 

Explosions ignite ahead, Newt can barely hear Gallys orders as they take cover from the explosive balls of death that rain all around them. Thomas’s head slowly moves around, taking in the whole scene with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, truly perplexed at the sight before him. His eyes go from souless to full of life in an instance begging to be left behind, insisting they need to run, to leave. Black oil-like substance drips from his mouth and onto his uniform, black veins pulse violently all across his face now, his body limp. His muscles refusing to cooperate with him, eventually he doesn’t even hold his head up anymore as he leans his head back against the concrete behind him closing his eyes, mumbling incoherent pleas to be left to die. 

“Minho, you need to go ahead, get the serum and come back. Gally can cover you.” Newt says, not asks. His voice dead as he speaks, his eyes locked on Thomas’s deteriorating frame. “What-?” “Minho please.” He twists his neck to face Minho, his voice wobbles as he speaks. His throat tightens, his lip quivering. Minho looks between Newt and Thomas before murmuring a barely audible “alright.” He grasps Thomas’s shoulder, attempting to smile encouragingly but it more comes out as sympathy and concern before choking out “I’ll see you later shank.” Thomas lifts his head weakly before muttering, “thanks man.” He smiles tiredly before his face droops once more. Gally presses his lips into a tight line before nodding at newt, his gesture speaking volumes. Gally acknowledges that Newt won’t let anything happen to Thomas, that Thomas is in good hands. 

“if it were to come down to you or him you would pick him” 

Before Newt could even respond with a nod Gally yelled for Minho to go and they ran off into the fire and ash, smoke stings Newt's nose and makes his eyes water. Newt turned to look at Thomas, his breath rigid and his pupils blown in fury, his chest heaving with every gulp of air he took. Black liquid entirely covers his chin now, his speech disorganized and wrong. “Newt you- you need to leave! I dont- I cant-” Newt can barely make out Thomas’s words as they gargle against the liquid that encases his throat, “we need to leave, right now!!” Newt's tone is desperate as he shouts over the shrieks and gunfire. Newt grips onto Thomas wrists, Thomas weakly pulls against him. Newt tugs again, harder this time. Unforgiving. Refusing to let Thomas give up, this time Thomas cooperates and lets Newt basically carry him as he stumbles on his feet in an attempt to walk with him. Newt wraps one of Thomas’s arms around his shoulders, Newt wraps one of his arms around the stumbling boy's waist to keep him up right. 

Newt's own body wobbles dangerously as he practically drags Thomas away from the collapsing city, his whole body is fueled by determination and grief alone. If Thomas's pulse went to a stop, Newt would, too, fall with him. Newt is speaking the whole time they stumble together, “there you go-” “ok put your leg up there's a curb-” “one, two, one, two-” “were almost there I promise-” “just a little further-” thomas really does try, he puts all his effort into every step, his groaning and cries only interrupting by nonsensical mumbling. The black liquid never stops dripping from his mouth as they move, leaving a trail oil like substance for anyone who dared to follow them. 

Thomas goes limp. 

Thomas’s body gives up on him, resulting in Newt stumbling down to the ground with him. Pure euphoria shoots through every vein, muscle and bone in his body at the collapse, Newt wishes he could lay on the ground forever. Watch the bombs die down, witness as the scorching sun rises and falls day in and day out and feel the earth take him into a slow peaceful death. That wouldn't be so bad, no? I won't let thomas die 

Newt forces himself to his feet, he stumbles and fails twice before regaining his footing. All while ignoring Thomas’s pleads to be left behind, forgotten, to pay for the deaths of everyone. He too, wants to let earth take him quietly. They were always so similar weren't they? Newt wraps Thomas's arms around his neck, Newt's back pressed against Thomas’s stomach as he tries to lift the boy's frail feet off the ground. He hears cries of hell-bent determination and agony rip through his ears, he can't tell who's screaming anymore. Maybe they both are, that would make sense. His thought barely made itself out over the chaos, somehow the 6-8 steps Newt managed to carry Thomas felt like enough pain for a lifetime before Newt fell backwards, Thomas’s body weight was too much for him to carry on his back. He doesn't even remember hitting the ground before he's on his feet again, hooking his arms under Thomas's arms as he drags him relentlessly. 

“CMON THOMAS” he wails the loudest he thinks his voice will ever go, every other step he falls down. After the fourth time he physically can't stand, his leg tremors violently. “We- we need to-” His chest heaves, Newt's jaw fully open in an attempt to fill his lungs to absolute capacity. Newt doesn't even realize Thomas's shoulders were pressed against his lower stomach until he rolls off him sluggishly. Newt rolls his head to the left of him where Thomas now lays, the only signs of life being his back taking moves every time he breathes and the hacking that comes along with it. “We need to- to keep moving” Newt closes his eyes as he speaks, for a moment newt hopes childishly that maybe this is all one big terrifying nightmare. That he will wake up in the safe haven vince is always talking about, a beach, green grass with colorful flowers he wishes he could learn the names of, a sun that doesnt turn your skin red and make it peel off painfully, and that maybe he will wake up in a hammock to the sounds of gentle waves. With Thomas nearby sleeping peacefully, the sun bouncing off his chocolatey hair as his breathing is deep and unclogged. Everyone would wake up or sleep in if they chose to, then have breakfast. Newt can almost hear everyone's laughter and talking, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Gally, Brenda, Treasa- 

No.

He can actually hear Treasa. 

“Your blood Newt, it kills the virus! You need to- '' Newt is pulled out of his fantasyland, the rest of her words drowning out as an unimportant buzz in the back of his mind. His eyes snap open, he leans against one of his elbows and looks around for Treasa, Newt realizes she's speaking over a speaker. She's still at the tower, Newt turns his head to face Thomas, to see what he thinks of the fact Newt is the cure. 

…

That's not Thomas.

Authors note!!: hey guys!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 I'm so sorry i took so long to get this done, its hard to write at my dads house since i have to use my phone lol :( also super duper sorry i cut it off like that 😭 i originally planned to do the rest of the scene but then the next chapter would've been significantly shorter then the rest so i do apologize.

this chapter was SO fun to write!! Newt acts a lot differently in this fic then in the original movie and there is a reason, in the death cure HES the one dying so obviously he's weaker and also he's just trying to rescue Minho and not be a burden to the mission. but in this fic that obviously isn't the case, he's so angry at everything thats happened and Thomas slowly losing himself is his tipping point as he slowly loses his patience for everyone except Thomas, Minho and Brenda. he's so determined to keep everyone else alive he slowly loses HIMSELF in the process and i tried to highlight through his anger towards Teresa and Janson and i hope i did an ok job at giving this idea justice.

anyways ill stop my yapping lol, hope your pumped for the next chapter!!!! :D

master list is above but here it is again incase you missed it

PREVIOUS -- NEXT

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Pavia x Human! Reader (Headcanon/s) Brainrot

A/n: My first Reverse 1999 Brainrot! I hope you like it! I've been thinking about who to make first and I decided to make my first main, Pavia! I love this feisty little man. The Navigation List for Reverse 1999 will come soon! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ─────❅───── Genre: Fluff/Suggestive Pairing: Pavia x Human! Reader Warning: SUGGESTIVE, cussing, Pavia (He gets his own warning) Scenting, Marking. Pet names (cucciolata means puppy) Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Reverse 1999 art. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!

Masterlist ─────❅─────

Pavia who would often end up nuzzling your neck and pulling you closer after a rough day of doing his "mixed" works, either escorting a target, killing the target, or transporting goods with his wolves.

Pavia hates heavy workloads, if you were someone who's a workaholic, be ready cause if he saw you working ON weekends or working too hard on weekdays especially since Monday to Wednesdays are his chill days, he'd have a scowl on his face that you probably won't notice cause you're too focused on your task. Pavia is literally right there and you don't want to pay attention to him? fine. he'd drag you away from your pesky computer and flop you on his lap, opening the TV to watch some shitty show or whatever, all he knows is that if this gets you to spend time with him, he'd watch any stupid show you want. If you complained he'd shove a piece of gelato in your mouth, the good ones, and say "Shut up, you're working too hard," he caresses your arm his metal rings gliding on your skin before he places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer so that you rest your body on his. "Take a rest cucciolotta"

Pavia's wolves would also be a part of your lives, every day, Peter, Andrea, Maleficent, Tonika, and Leona would scent you; their scents are all part of Pavia's scent, so he never minded. They are all protective of you, after all, you're Pavia's mate, and they value everything their owner values. Usually, Pavia has them follow you under your shadows, and the ones volunteering would be Peter, Andrea, and Tonika, The other two, Maleficent and Leona, are responsible for updating Pavia if you're in danger, he trusts that his wolves could handle whatever his enemies can throw at you, but the audacity to even try it though? he finds it laughable that they had the balls. Expect to see their possessions in Pavia's cabinet once you're safe.

Every night, once you're in bed with Pavia, they will often go out in the shadows to cuddle you two, be prepared for fluffy voids!

Pavia is canonically a very light sleeper, while he finds it weird why you sleep so damn long, as long as you catch up on your rest, he guessed it's fine, you got a bodyguard for a boyfriend, for free too, you're lucky. He'd usually sleep for just 3 to 4 hours but never fully 8 hours, you wonder how he survives with that sleeping schedule, then again he's an arcanist and you're human.

Pavia has a soft spot for you, although that doesn't change his treatment of you, he will always be blunt and brash when you're being stupid and reckless. He'd be the type to ground you to reality (surprisingly) if he finds that whatever plan you thought of was a literal dream, and by dream, it's not possible to achieve. If you're irrational, he'd be rational with you, imagine if you tried to suggest a stupid plan that could get you hurt, he'd look at you with an incredulous face before saying "That's a shitty plan, let's not do that if you don't wanna lose a limb.", but if it's vice versa, he wouldn't usually listen to you, heck he'd argue with you sometimes; especially if the plan was smart, just reckless, However if you start using your waterworks, he'd stiffen up, cause you crying means he's been a bad boyfriend and he doesn't like that; he'd grumble a bit before letting you win. he won't do the thing he was planning to do.

Pavia as a boyfriend means your life will be in constant thrills, he likes to see you shiver when he threatens you, what I mean by that is if you tried to ask him a simple question, especially regarding his hairstyle, he'd say that it would look great if you were pulling it, he'd be so touchy on you that he'd nibble on your ear just to whisper naughty things. telling you how his hands would fit your neck and how you'd look great withering underneath him. Suffice to say he's a biter and someone who enjoys it rough. Speaking of hands, Pavia enjoys having his hands all around you, as I mentioned before, the reason why is because he loves his hands! they're good for killing and making you squirm under him, it's also slightly bigger than yours, and he loves that, he likes to overpower you with his strength, especially if you're the type to get easily overwhelmed by it. You're like a prey that he keeps around just because he got attached to you.

Pavia likes to steal stuff from you. He likes to use excuses such as "you don't use it" or "I find it pretty" The reason why he does this is because he has a cabinet filled with your stuff, either a broken ballpen, a handkerchief whatever, if it's yours he keeps it, he just likes to hoard, just like how he likes to steal your attention if he finds you focusing on something else (he's very much like a dog and cat mixed together, or maybe a wolf?)

Pavia is unfortunately a bit easy to scam, although who would scam him? He's intimidating, he's the type to stare into a seller's eyes as if he could see into their souls. But if someone like Tennant for example, a person who knows their way into killers like him, as long as they use their words right they could get his money an example of this are people who speak in half-truths and half-lies; since Pavia is someone that could easily detect lies, he usually cannot tell if that person is lying or not when they're using that method. If he found out though that he got scammed when you told him, he will hunt down that asshole and make sure they never see the light of day.

Pavia is the type that when you wear something sexy for him or for an event, he'd whistle and leave a mark either on your exposed shoulders or neck, he's the type of boyfriend that would support you with whatever clothing you'd like, cause if someone even dares to sexualize you, he can fight.

Pavia has a sad backstory if you manage to break down his walls, he's still the same old as he was before all of that jazz except with a little extra love for you since you took the time to get to know him. He'd allow himself to be vulnerable around you, sharing stories from his past. He's the type who may not even realize the extent of the abuse he endured till you point it out, in which, he'd laugh and dismiss it as "Tough love from my aunt"

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 34. Me, a name I call myself

Previous chapter

Masterlist

This chapter is largely setting the scene for what is to come, brace yourselves <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Some angst, canon-typical violence, forgiveness, Bucky Barnes needs a break

“I think perhaps it’s time we address what you remember about your time with Hydra.” Dr. Norris said.

“Haven’t we already done that?”

He flicked through his notebook until he found the page he was looking for, scanning his notes before glancing back at me. “We’ve been over it, but we never appropriately addressed one of the main breakthroughs we made… you said you remember the man in the lab coat telling you where you were born, the date, and your name. That suggests perhaps this was sort of the conditioning; sort of them removing who you were.”

I opened my mouth but closed it again soon after, unsure how to respond. Of course it had crossed my mind, but I’d never really allowed the thought to linger for long. His words sent me reeling, lost in my own thoughts. They threatened to overcome me, it felt like sitting in a vat of honey or molasses, swimming through it was fruitless but the more I wadded the more my limbs grew weary but the sticky, unyielding insanity promised to suffocate me if I sat in it too long. It was only a matter of time before I had to address the elephant in the room, the niggling thought that had lived at the back of my mind for months.

I didn’t know what it was that made this small piece of the puzzle feel especially daunting. Perhaps it was that this was the one thing left of me that hadn’t been up for debate. The one constant even when my mind was muddled and tampered with my name was still mine, even when everything else was stripped from me. “Okay,” I murmured, leaning back in my chair.

“Great. Let’s begin by going back to the room where you were kept for conditioning, then throughout our next sessions we’ll try to dig deeper into your memories from before.”

When I stepped out of the room it felt like my head was underwater, everything was a little distant and muffled. I felt the sun on my flesh as I passed the large floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the corridor, it kept me

“Nads, there you are!” Natasha’s voice pulled me from my reverie.

“Here I am.” I murmured in response. The moment she asked me what I had planned for tomorrow I realized why she was looking for me. “I am not going to Vienna for the United Nations meeting.” I crossed my arms over my chest, resolve evident across my features.

She sighed exasperatedly. “Come on, please!” I turned and began to walk away. “Why so stubborn? You always used to love playing diplomat with me.” She spoke, falling into step beside me.

I shot her an icy glance. “That was a long time ago. Plus, neither of us had a say in it back then, it was all just an assignment.”

Natasha moved to step in front of me, cutting off my path forward. The expression on my face did nothing to deter her. “I know you’d rather be literally anywhere else than in a room with a bunch of world leaders and politician-types, especially given how close to home this all is. Trust me, I understand that completely, but Steve is otherwise indisposed, and I don’t want to do this alone.” The softness in her gaze and the furrow of her brow dripped sincerity and she obviously knew exactly how to wear down my resistance. “Nadia, please. I need you to have my back in Vienna.”

I sighed heavily, giving her an unimpressed look. “You are very annoying, you know that.” A smile spread over her lips at my evident defeat in this matter. I rolled my eyes at the glee she did not even attempt to hide.

“So?”

Another sigh. “I’ve got your back.”

…

I could not believe I’d let her talk me into this. The reality dawned on me as I leaned back into the seat of the plane, watching out the window as the blueness of the sky, dappled by powdery white clouds surrounded us. I attempted to think of something other than the deliberations that awaited us in Vienna. Though, when my mind managed to stray from that, the thoughts were not preferable. Recollections of the white walls, the man telling me all the details of my life, Norris suggesting that everything I’ve known to be true about myself may actually just be a character that was created for me. So, I decided not to think about that either. That left only one other pressing thought.

Pietro had done as I’d asked, taking me to his room and unloading every moment of his communications with Hydra. I had anticipated that he’d be willing to unburden himself about everything he’d shared with them. What I hadn’t been expecting was for him to go into the back of his closet and dig through a torn leather satchel that was hidden at the back, procuring a thick manilla folder.

He placed it into my hands and dropped down beside me in the bed. I stared at it for a long moment, sick to death of seeing these damn folders, it seemed nothing good ever came out of them. Finally, I flipped it open to read through its contents.

“Most of it is just the stuff you already saw. There’s only one other.” I flipped through the pages until I reached the final one. He had taken notes about me after the shipyard it seemed, he’d just never sent them. At first, it was just a continuation of what I’d said and done in the shipyard, he wrote about overhearing me talking about the Graduation Ceremony after Wanda had manipulated my mind. Then it went into a few basic bites about the fight with Ultron on the train. ‘Nadia is persistent, and unyielding, even when fighting something physically enhanced, she keeps fighting. After every hit, she would stand back up and keep fighting’ It stopped there, halfway through a line as if he’d paused mid-thought. That was the last thing he’d written. I closed the folder, leaning forward on my knees slightly as I thought about everything I’d read. There was a part of me that felt freed by seeing it all firsthand, reading everything he’d written, airing the entirety of the secret. The other part of me was still held back by one small factor; he’d kept his notes. I knew it was likely not premeditated and it should really be meaningless, but for some reason, there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that wouldn’t let it go.

“In the Red Room they… sterilized us, removing our uterus was the final step to eliminating weakness and distraction. A reminder of what they had molded us for, the singular path we were given.” Pietro was completely silent as I spoke, barely even breathing. I turned my head to meet his eyes. “They called it the Graduation Ceremony.” He swallowed heavily as those two words passed my lips, eyes shutting tightly, and his head fell into his hands. I wasn’t sure why I’d told him that, why I needed him to know that. I threw the folder down onto the bed, moving to my feet. “That is what I saw when Wanda was in my head.”

“Nadia, I-”

“Do not apologize again, Pietro.” I took a deep breath, angered by how shaky my exhale felt. “Why did you stop there? Why not you send this too?”

His beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears when he lifted his head. Exhaustion was evident in the dark circles that surrounded them. He looked utterly defeated as he gazed at me. He shrugged weakly. “I guess things felt different then. When I agreed to send Hydra intel, I was filled with so much rage I didn’t know what to do with it. It nearly consumed me, the anger and hatred. I just wanted to hold someone accountable for all of our suffering. Back then, all I really knew about you was that you were an Avenger, it was easy to lump you into the blame I had for them. At first, anyway, but then I actually talked to you.” He swallowed heavily, looking down again. “In the shipyard, you said that you didn’t look at me because you did not want to hurt me, even after all the trouble Wanda and I had already caused. You kept your eyes closed when I could have hurt you, you made yourself vulnerable in front of me rather than risk harming me. That is who you are, Nadia, and I saw it in that moment. I tried to hold onto my resentment by writing another letter, but I couldn’t send it because I knew who you really were.” I thought of the day on the train, the feeling of the window cracking beneath my flesh as Ultron pinned me to the wall.  The pain of my head being jammed between his metal hand and the cool glass. I recalled the relief that rushed through my body when Pietro pulled him away. “You said you don’t hate me, but I would understand if you did.”

“That’s really pathetic.” It was mean and I only said it because I wanted him to stop looking so completely shattered because it was killing me. We had made a deal that I would stop lashing out to push him away but, in that moment, it was all I could do to hold onto my resolve. The worst part is the way my voice turned breathy and weak along the word pathetic, I couldn’t even stand by my own words; not when my eyes were stinging again and all I wanted was for things to go back to the way they were.

“I know.” He murmured, tears streaming down his cheeks. “And I don’t care. I don’t care how pathetic I sound when I’m begging you not to walk away over this stupid fucking mistake I made. I have never felt this way about any other person in my entire life, the thought of you leaving destroys me so no I don’t care if it’s pathetic I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just tell me what to do to make this better.”

I watched him cry before me, seemingly stuck to this spot on the floor. I racked my brain for the answer that felt right. What could he do to make this better? How could this be fixed. I thought just knowing everything would suddenly absolve it all but now I wasn’t sure it had. It was hard to know what would fix it or even if it could be fixed but then I considered the rest of what he’d said, and I couldn’t deny that the thought of walking away was the most excruciating of all. I didn’t know what the solution was, but I knew that I was incapable of leaving him like this, so I closed the distance between us and wiped his tears away with the back of my hand. My forehead fell to lean against his.

“You can’t ever lie to me like that again.”

I rubbed at my temples, urging the ache that had sat beneath my eye sockets for days to give me a moment's peace. At some point, I managed to fall asleep and after a fitful sleep filled with memories of Hydra and the pages of information Pietro had written about me, I awoke to the feeling of our plane touching down on the tarmac.

The air that tousled my hair was chilly but the warmth of the sun softened its icy caress. Water dripped leisurely from tree branches as the ice faded and made way for new growth. That night I lay atop one of the plush beds, watching Natasha as she dipped the tip of her index finger into a little round jar of face cream before smoothing it over her skin. “I can practically hear the gears turning in your head from how hard you’re thinking over there.” She met my eyes in the vanity mirror, prompting a sigh from me.

My eyes trailed upward to the ceiling as I attempted to gather my thoughts. “What do you really think about all of this? The Sokovia Accords.”

There was a long moment of silence before Natasha filled it. “Honestly, I’m not really sure.”

“Neither am I.” I looked back at her when I heard her turn around in the chair. “What you said back at the compound about keeping one hand on the wheel, I agree.”

“But?”

“But… Cap had a point too. Governments always have an agenda and if we sign the accords, we become subject to that. More than subject, we become an extension of it.” Her eyes fell shut for a moment before she reopened them and nodded. “What if they really do stop us from intervening somewhere we should? This doesn’t feel like unifying with the government, it feels like completely relinquishing control.”

She nodded again. “Or the opposite, we’re forced to intervene where we shouldn’t.”

“And then there’s that,” I muttered, looking down at my hands. “All of it just feels…”

“Familiar?” When our eyes met, I knew that we were having the same thought. “But maybe our history is where most of the trepidation is coming from. Maybe things will be different. I mean you and I both agree that things have been a little out of control lately.”

Her words did little to soothe me, though I nodded, nonetheless. “Maybe.”

“Let’s just get through the signing tomorrow and get a little outside perspective, then go from there. Staying together is more important than how we stay together, right.”

I hummed, leaning back against the plush pillows lining the head of the bed. The sound of my nails tapping against the wooden side table was the only sound now. My head was beginning to ache with the incessant thoughts rattling around. Natasha’s eyes still lingered on me, evidently sensing that the accords were not the only thing on my mind. “Do you remember the day we met? We were locked in a shipping container, and you asked me where I was from, what did I say?”

“Yeah, of course, you told me you were from St. Petersburg.”

“How do you remember it easily?”

She shrugged. “Well, not many of us knew where we’d come from so it's not like I had a lot of birthplaces to keep track of.”

“Right, but I knew where I’d come from.” I continued to drum my fingers across the side table. “You asked me again in Portugal, you were just trying to keep me from passing out so you could finish removing the bullet from my leg, but you asked me where I was from again and I couldn’t remember.” One final click of my nail against the wood sounded through the room before I stopped, sitting up again to face Nat. “Why would I have remembered the first time but not the second?”

“Portugal was years later, maybe you’d just forgotten as you got older?”

I shook my head. “But I remembered again after that. I believed that I was from St. Petersburg every day up until now.”

“You don’t believe that anymore?”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

The sky was completely grey overhead the next day, almost forebodingly ominous as Natasha and I entered the conference center for the UN meeting. I fiddled with the sleeve of my blazer; palms sweating profusely. This was certainly not the first time we’d played this role, Natasha was right when she said I’d once found moonlighting as a foreign diplomat enticing but this felt completely different because the outcome of today would shape the future of the Avengers. Even with so much on the line, it still felt like yet another role I had to play.

“It’s going to be fine; you’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours, we’re just here to listen and sign some papers.”

I nodded at her, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear to busy my hands. When a blonde woman approached asking for some signatures prior to the commencement of the conference I shared a brief look with Natasha, offering to take care of it. Really, I just wanted something to busy my mind with, fearing that idle hands would only worsen my twitching.

After I’d signed what seemed liked a hundred different documents all just regarding legitimacy and confidentiality a voice sounded over the P.A. system announcing the beginning of the meeting. I found Natasha speaking to King T’Chaka and Prince T’Challa of Wakanda when I returned. Both men offered me a kind smile and respectful greeting as I approached. I returned the favor, mustering a few gentle words of introduction before following Natasha to our seats.

It was King T’Chaka who spoke first at the conference. “When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy. Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a good-willed mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative.” I swallowed heavily, looking down at the table before me, this was the right thing to do, I reminded myself of it over and over. My nails dug into the skin of my palm as he continued, his points sounding genuine, infallible. My eyes trailed over to his son who glanced over his shoulder out the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall behind him. I narrowed my eyes at him as I saw his own twitch slightly, something outside had clearly drawn his attention. “Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace-”

The king had barely gotten the words out before his son came running toward him, shouting for everyone to get down. I grabbed the woman beside me, pulling her under the table with me as Natasha did the same. The crack of the explosion was rivaled only by the sound of glass shattering and smoke billowing. Where there had been the detonation of sound and light there was now nothing at all as unconsciousness lured me into its embrace.

When my eyes opened once more it was with a gasp followed by an abrupt cough as smoke filled my lungs. Flames licked at every surface they could reach, and ashen debris fell all around. My eyes were blurry, my ears ringing as I surveyed the room. Natasha grabbed a hold of my hand; I could see her mouth moving but it was all muffled. The area was surrounded by police and reporters by the time we stumbled out toward a bench, gasping into the fresh air. King T’Chaka was dead and so were 12 other people. Sirens filled the air as the range of different authorities cordoned off the area.

“Can you hear me now?” Natasha asked. The ringing was still there but much less prevalent now as I swiveled to face her on the bench.

I nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.” She murmured, to which I quickly agreed.

“What the fuck just happened?”

She rubbed at the soot smeared across her cheek. “They think it was the Winter Soldier, say he planted a bomb.”

I closed my eyes tightly, scrubbing a hand over my face.

It wasn’t long before T’Challa collapsed onto the bench beside ours. He faced forward, shoulders drooping, eyes haunted. I sat a little more upright, fighting the dizziness making my head spin. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I spoke to him, watching as he fiddled with a silver ring with intricate carvings. He looked at me for only a split second before looking forward again.

“In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green veldt where you can run forever.”

I nodded, taking a moment to process his words. “That sounds very peaceful.”

“My father thought so.” He slipped the ring onto his own finger as he spoke and I could see the shift in his eyes, the pure agony thinly veiled by rage. “I am not my father.”

“T’Challa, the task force will decide who brings in Barnes.”

He stood abruptly. “Don’t bother, Ms Pimenova, I’ll kill him myself.” He was walking away before I could dissuade him further and the lingering headache was rearing its head in an especially painful way now. I rubbed at my temples, attempting to soothe the pain. Natasha calling my name brought my attention back. She held her phone between us, answering and putting it on speaker.

“Are you both alright?” Cap asked.

“Yeah, thanks, we were lucky,” Nat responded, the sound of an ambulance echoing over the speaker just as one raced by had us sharing a conspiratorial look.

I shook my head, returning to massaging my temples. “We know how much Barnes means to you, Steve. We do, but you’re only going to make this worse for all of us.”

“Are you saying you’ll arrest me?”

Natasha spoke up then. “No… but someone will. If you interfere, that’s how it works now.

“If he’s this far gone then I should be the one to bring him in.”

There was no persuading him, that much was obvious from the tone of his voice. I rolled my neck, bones clicking with each movement. The buzzing of my phone distracted me from Natasha reasoning attempts at reasoning with Steve. When I managed to slide it from my pocket, I was surprised to see only one small crack across the corner of the glass rather than an array across the screen. The phone lit up to reveal a full voicemail and dozens of missed calls, Pietro claiming the majority of it. I tilted it toward Nat so she could see what I was doing before I clicked the familiar contact ID, standing from the bench to wander out of earshot.

“I’m okay,” I said the moment the line connected.

Pietro’s exhale was so heavy through the phone I could almost feel the whisper of his breath over my skin. “Jesus, Nadia, is it too much to ask that you go a few months without almost getting killed?”

“Well, now that sounds an awful lot like victim blaming.”

“You’re not funny.”

I ran a hand through my hair, shaking loose a few pieces of debris. “Not even a little?”

There was a beat of silence between us. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m really alright, I promise, a little sore but nothing to worry about.”

He said okay. “Just… call me later, please, just to keep me in the loop.”

I couldn’t fight the way my lips tugged upwards at his words. Even from thousands of miles away, the sincerity of his voice felt like a warm embrace. He took a deep breath, signaling that he was preparing to hang up. “Pietro,” I spoke suddenly, my mouth moving almost before my mind had time to catch up.

“Nadia.” He murmured.

“I miss you. Thank you for calling.” There was a moment of silence before he echoed my sentiment. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The moment of basking was short-lived as Natasha appeared before me, a grave expression across her features. I made a sound of frustration. “You take T’Challa, I’ll handle Cap?” She nodded at me.

“Let’s see if we can’t clean up this mess.”

…

Steve Rogers was not nearly as stealthy as he thought he was, though perhaps that was an unfair critique given that this type of work was my forte. I tracked him to the café with little trouble, watching as Sharon slid a file across the bench in an act of defiance that could most definitely get her fired. The moment she’d departed I slipped through the small crowd and sidled up beside Sam.

“You know for someone whose whole brand is basically being a stickler for the rules, you sure seem comfortable bending them,” I spoke, propping my chin up on my fist atop the counter. Sam flinched hard, whipping around to face me.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

I merely rose an eyebrow at him, as if to say ‘really?’ before turning my gaze to Steve who adjusted the cap on his head with a sigh that was brimming with exasperation. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Nadia.”

“What exactly is the plan here? Walk in and ask politely for Barnes to surrender. Because, no offense, Cap, but that is a really stupid idea. Almost as stupid as this disguise. Seriously, baseball cap and sunglasses? You look suspicious as shit; you’d be more under the radar in that ridiculous blue super suit of yours.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, setting his jaw as he listened, Sam choosing not to engage, though I saw the upward twitch of his lips. “Are you done?” I shrugged, choosing to swallow the last few taunts about his disguise, not the time. “I know you don’t trust him. You have every right to feel that way, but you said that you understand what he means to me. So don’t try to stand in my way, because it isn’t going to work.”

“I know.” My words gave him pause, mouth slightly open still, as if on the brink of repeating himself. “At no point on the way over here was I expecting to change your mind on this. Your plan of action here is undoubtedly flawed and I seriously think you should rethink your disguises in the future but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you walk into Barnes’ den alone.”

Sam scoffed. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

I tsked. “You’ll be busy keeping an eye out from above little birdy.” I taunted before looking back at Cap. “I know I can’t talk you out of going, just like you can’t talk me out of having your back.”

He still tried, though his attempts were half-hearted, resigned to my determination. Or perhaps he really believed that Barnes had changed, I knew that was a large part of why he was so committed to this, he couldn’t let go of the man he knew, he needed to see it for himself once and for all. That wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow, this was part of why I was so set on accompanying him. If things went south or he found himself unable to let go, I’d have no qualms intervening.

As I’d suspected, his plan was incredibly underdeveloped, relying mostly on the goodness of Barnes’ heart. Yet, I followed Steve into the decrepit apartment, nonetheless. The wallpaper was stained and peeling at the corners, and the windows were mostly boarded up or covered by cardboard and newspaper. It was a mess, with various empty food containers and newspapers strewn about. I pushed a pile of paper aside with my foot before glancing up at Steve. “Nice digs,” I muttered. The creak of the floorboards signaling a new presence had me whipping around, spine straightening immediately. He was unkempt, his hair grown out and stubble covering his jaw, but I knew him the moment I saw him. I leaned onto my back foot, taking half a step back.

He seemed different, less icy super soldier, more twitchy; uneasy. As small and troubled as he appeared, I still felt the hair on my arms stand. His blue-gray eyes had been set on me from the moment he entered. “Do you know me?” Steve asked.

Barnes nodded, eyes momentarily shifting to the blond man in his blue, red, and white armor. The freedom from his gaze was short-lived as he looked at me again.

He swallowed heavily, he was like a cornered animal, waiting for attack. I wondered if it was Steve he was afraid of. Or perhaps his impending arrest. Maybe it was me. I was certainly frightened of him. I stood tall, nerves strung tightly but my heart was thumping quickly in my chest and my palms were sweating. “Do you remember me?” He nodded again, eyes casting downward now. “What, don’t you speak anymore?” I managed.

“I know both of you.” He even sounded different. Less gruff, no harsh words spat in Russian. “I read about you at the museum.” He gestured toward Steve then. I knew that must have stung, they’d been friends, it couldn’t have been easy to not be remembered by someone he cared so dearly for; someone he’d risk his reputation and life for. “And we were in the Red Room together.” He nodded toward me.

“Oh, we were in the Red Room, were we?” I raised an eyebrow at him, fear being momentarily side-stepped by rage.

He looked down at his feet, Adams apple bobbing heavily and when he looked back up, he only met my gaze for a split second before looking away. His expression was difficult to read. I thought maybe it was remorse, but that seemed bizarre to me. “I trained you… in the Red Room.” He forced out. I was taken aback by the strain in his voice, I’d never heard him sound so weak. With narrowed eyes, I surveyed him, unconvinced by this shift. My mind urged me to pay attention, wait for a crack in his façade, he could not maintain this cover forever, I’d see through it. Yet, another part of me wondered if this wounded, fearful air was not some kind of ruse. It was not just remorse that I’d heard in his voice but disdain. I’d heard this tone from him before, the discontent, but back then it had been directed at me.

I ducked under the metal arm that struck out in my direction, knee scuffing over the mat as I swerved around his body, grabbing ahold of his upper arm and using it as leverage to swing my legs up and lock them around his upper torso, arms swiftly encircling his neck to put him into a chokehold. I held tight even when he threw himself backward, slamming me into the wall, I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip, body bruised and aching from the exhaustion of attempting to hold my own against someone so much larger than me. He brought his metal elbow back, whirring ringing through the room as he jammed it into my ribs so hard I cried out, losing my grip from the sudden rush of pain combined with my back colliding against the wall yet again. I fell to the mat, gripping my side but forcing myself back to my feet before he won. I kicked him in the back of the knee, but it was fruitless. He swiveled around to grab me once again, cool metal over my forehead as he yanked my head back so his free arm could wrap around my throat. The lack of air had me light-headed, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I thrashed in his hold but at 12 years old I was no match for a military-trained super soldier. I tapped when my vision started to become spattered with black spots, the air that shot into my lungs when he freed me had me coughing uncontrollably. I rolled over on the ground to hide my tear-stained face against the mat and attempt to settle my gasping.

“Ты слаб. Такое разочарование.”

You are weak. Such a disappointment.

I walked toward one of the covered windows, peering through the crevice between the newspaper where light managed to peek through. The task force was closing in around the building, and I suspected there were people making their way to the roof as well. I could vaguely hear Steve speaking about the river and their shared past, imploring the man before him to remember, or at least to believe him. I knew Sam was in his ear, keeping him updated on the movements of the police force around us. When his eyes met mine, I knew our time was up.

“Sam’s compromised, go now.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What the hell are you two going to do?”

Steve looked towards Barnes who seemed resigned to punching his way out. “This doesn’t have to be a fight.”

Barnes sighed, pulling the black glove from his metal hand. “It always ends in a fight.”

“Steve, this is unbelievably stupid!”

“I know, that’s why I’m not going to drag you any further into this. Go, Nadia!” He shoved me toward the door but before I could even reach for the handle glass shattered all around as the windows were breached. The door burst open at the same moment seeing several armed agents enter, I wasn’t really certain what the correct course of action was here, I had been prepared for a potential fight with the Winter Soldier, but fighting to avoid arrest for harboring a fugitive wasn’t exactly on my bingo card. As it turned out, I didn’t need to decide right now because the refrigerator was sent pummeling through the doorway, knocking down or blocking the entrance of the line of agents beelining for me. I glanced back to see Barnes already looking at me, his expression unreadable and momentary as he turned to grab his go bag from the floor. Him ever intentionally helping me was a baffling notion but right now I wasn’t in the position to dwell, instead I slipped by the fridge, moving quickly toward down the hall that led away from the stairs. When I reached the end of the hallway I slipped around the corner, pressing myself to the wall to watch as more agents ran by, heading for the destroyed apartment.

It was mildly difficult and exceptionally tedious to get out of the apartment building unscathed. But it was made much easier by the tunnel-vision officers, hunting Barnes. It wasn’t until I was halfway down the street that I realized they would now be hunting Steve as well.

[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

“What’s so Special About the Moon?”

Jamil Viper x Mac

Ch. 1 – Ch. 2 – (Ch. 3) – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous

I never thought I’d finish this chapter…. LIKE HOLY SHIT I HATED OPENING MY NOTEBOOK BUT THE TIME HAS COME Y’ALL!!! I was planning on posting this before Valentines Day, but I got kinda busy and then almost a whole month passed lol! I’m also convinced I no longer know how to write two characters interacting with each other properly… Maybe the break was needed? No song in this one, but there’s so Mac lore and somewhat talking about feelings! The next (and final) chapter of this will be like a romanticized epilogue. Since I’m not sure how much I want to actually write and plan out for this oc, specifically regarding timeline stuff, it’s not gonna be considered “canon” [p.s. The most beta this gets is a quick read through of a 2nd draft after I finish typing it up so there may be mistakes or sentences that don’t make total sense]

The cream stone walls, lined with gold and crimson ceramics, provided an open, airy atmosphere to the Scarabia’s main Kitchen. Gentle breezes shifted Jamil’s long, dark hair while his busy hands expertly prepared baked pakoras. Their delightful deep-fried scent filled the air, making Mac’s already dry mouth water. Another beat or two of awkward silence oppressed the two as the Ramshackle Housewarden lightly sipped at the nearly empty glass of pink lemonade (including a few tiny chunks of dragonfruit).

“If you would like a second glass, there’s plenty left in the pitcher; second fridge to the right, middle shelf. I’d offer to pour but I must make sure these don’t burn.” Jamil finally broke the silence with more than the single-worded responses Mac was using. Xey supposed they couldn’t run away, least they be called out for being a hypocrite.

“No worries, I mean, I wasn’t really expecting you to serve me hand and foot,” they attempted to joke as a way to ease back into conversation.

“Scalding Sand hospitality would say otherwise,” Jamil easily shot back with a hint of mirth in his tone.

“Well,” Mac dragged out in a tired sigh, “I’m not royalty or a wealthy merchant. Besides, I’m not exactly fluent in any desert customs, Twisted Wonderland or otherwise… Kinda the opposite in fact! So, really, it’s no problem between us. I mean! You don’t need to feel like you have to go through any extra effort or ceremony for my sake.” Their hesitant eyes flicked fervently between filling the lemonade and the calm, sturdy back of the Vice Warden. A panicked symphony of little anxieties added an extra depth to xeir already drooping eyes.

Jamil remained calm. So fucking calm and put together that the Ramshackle Perfect could feel xeir anxiety almost turn to frustration. Almost. That deep well of guilt and shame kept them ‘grounded’ while waiting to hear some type of response.

“No need to concern yourself so much, it’s more force of habit than anything else.”

Mac huffed hardheartedly, “Trust me. I’d rather kill myself than even consider being a bother.” It was meant to be a more lighthearted joke but from Jamil’s reaction, he wasn’t used to such crude self-deprecation. A wide-eyed panic flooded his own eyes quickly as if mentally preparing to start damage control.

“Relax,” Mac continued with a snort, “nihilism is like breathing where I’m from.” A domino effect went through xeir body following their wave of flippancy. A harmless eye-roll, followed by a slightly less strained side-smile, the finishing with a light shrug into a slouch. “Besides, you can only have so many near-death experiences before beginning to think about death with casual indifference. You should try it sometimes… might loosen you up a bit!”

“It seems I’ve gotten too used to Kalim’s more literal style of speech.” the Vice replied through lightly gritted teeth; completely omitting any comment about how he did almost die during his overblot. The forced politeness remained and insisted on the reconstruction of his peripheral walls. It was really starting to piss Mac off. Good thing ze were a nosy bitch!

Fiddling in their lap, they sent a quick message to the ‘Ramshackle Freshies’ group chat letting them know not to wait up. Ze suddenly had a new, and challenging, job to do.

“… Considering how well you two got along I thought you shared that similarity,” the second year whispered under his breath, likely meant just to himself. Seriously, Mac thought, was he really meant to be sneaky? How’d he ever get away with it in the past?

“I was a lot like Kalim when I was younger,” xey replied just to watch Jamil startle out of his thoughtful pout. “Yeah, back when I was 15 before… a lotta things happened. It’s why I can, well, I think I can understand your whole dynamic.” They started rambling again and sporadically moving their arms. It was too easy for him to overshare nonsense that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand.

At least xeir slip of the tongue caught the desert snake’s attention. These two working-class students were both so emotionally huddled up in on themselves, manning their defenses, to properly have a conversation. Both desperately trying to claim secrets and information from the other. (The elder trying to understand and provide comfort while the younger planning to gain back some trust, solve their puzzling nature and…. A little of something else).

Becoming so lost in their own thoughts that the clinking ice cubes in xeir drink began to melt. The only other sounds were of the occasional Scarabia students shuffling path the doors, unwilling to enter the dorm kitchen. It was well-known that the kitchens were Jamil’s domain and kingdom. Add-on the weirdly tense vibes emitting from the two beyond the door. Yeah, this wasn’t the ‘Dorm for Mindfulness’ for nothing. No one would be stepping a foot inside until the other two were long gone.

Looks like it was cafeteria of food from the Lounge this weekend.

By this time, the deep-fried delight was finished and barely cooled down before being devoured. Continuous awkward silence would give the poor magicless Perfect indigestion at this point. I guess I’ll bite first, xey thought, making up his mind.

“This…,” a deep, yet hollow sigh, “isn’t gonna work.”

“What won’t work?” Jamil cautiously prompted, taking his time to search Mac’s body language.

“If we can’t chill out and come to some kind of understanding, everyone will be bugging us for weeks. Or worse… they’ll come up with some stupid, half-baked plan to force us to work it out.” They both felt a disturbing shiver imagining their resident idiot(s) locking them in a closet, or something equally cliche. Not that Mac hadn’t tried the same exact thing before realizing set-ups only work in movies and shojou anime. That would be ridiculous.

“And what do you suggest?” He replied after thinking it over for a moment.

“Twenty questions.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” zeir shit-eating, mischievous, obnoxiously lighthearted grin was practically audible at this point.

“You think some adolescent party game to learn each other’s favorite color will smooth over our interactions enough to fool Vil or Rook?” was the apathetic, snarky argument the Vice Warden shot back.

Mac released a playful gasp as xey jumped to reply, “How DARE you mock the sacred ritual of 20 questions. Or how much a favorite color can provide a little insight. I would know, I passed my Intro to Psychology class in High School.” Their easy wink was all the transition needed to put the testy air behind them. Besides, there might’ve actually been a small bit of truth in xeir joking attitude.

“You’ve tested it?”

“Online dating was a complete bitch and a half. Any ‘simple question game’ keeps the conversation going and vets out creepy weirdos.”

“But I already know how strange you are,” Jamil scoffed out the quip like second nature.

“Sorry, Babydoll, but you have no idea how much of a Freak I am.” Mac shot back with a laugh at the embarrassed look ascending Jamil’s neck and over his face. He seemed to tense on instinct, but decided to push through while he could still look his older underclassman in the eyes.

“Did these type of lines actually work for you?” He asked, standing up to try to brush of his initial reaction and to get started on their dirtied dished.

“If that’s your first question, then yes! I’m pretty good at adjusting to all sorts of personality types, which is great for a hook-up but doesn’t last long when it comes to serious relationships.” Xey answered somewhat matter-of-factually but still tasted of insecurity. Mac wasn’t ashamed, per say, of the occasional good time, but was borderline unhealthy with their distraction of choice.

With that the young servant raised a judgmental eyebrow that arched with a misplaced possessive jealousy, before becoming slightly thoughtful. Jamil had gone through extensive training in order to gain (and retain) a similar skill, he supposed. Not that it was anything he’d revel to the Perfect sitting across from him. Nor did he have to explain or like the venomous feelings he was actively shoving down the back of his throat. Just another poison to keep from spilling over, he thought trying to ignore the blatant irony of the whole situation.

“How about you?” Never mind!

Mac motioned xeir hand out expectantly. Behind his smudged glasses were gentle, pleading puppy dog eyes meaning to encourage Jamil only made him curl in on himself all the more.

“Is that you’re question? Seems hardly fair to just project the same question back,” He responded in a jilted, caved-off taunt. “Shouldn’t you have enough braincells to think of your own questions… instead of making me do all the work.”

Instead of backing off—or acting offended or snapping back with an equally sarcastic response—they simply laughed. Just… laughed. It wasn’t a patronizing huff like his own or a naive giggle like whenever Jamil said something that went over Kalim’s head. Xey laughed with a heavy nostalgia and in relief of finding the groove of conversation once again.

“Sorry, sorry! The version my… friends, I think, played we’d always have to answer whatever we asked. Prevents anyone getting ganged up on or an imbalanced type of questions.” Xe replied with ease.

Jamil answered dryly in response, “I spent the majority of my life following in Kalim’s shadow; we did grow up together after all. When I wasn’t by his side I either had work, chores or school. This didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for deeper friendships, let alone dating.” Surprisingly, the majority of what he said was the true.

It wasn’t the whole truth, but true nonetheless. Equal measurements of shame and embarrassment for being a servant always made the young Viper hesitant to pursue any real relationships while in middle school. Casual friends were one thing, superficial and somewhat difficult to maintain, but achievable. Dating, however, would take his focus away from his duties to Kalim (and possibly endanger the heir)

While Jamil’s thoughts were grim and filled with resentment, the other student hummed in consideration. How the two connected to people; how they both learned how and when to respond to the people they’re forced to be around felt oddly similar. Not the same, not by a long shot, but definitely similar.

“Well isn’t that just completely depressing,” Mac started to say under her breath before quickly transitioning to their own question: “Okay, well, how ‘bout your favorite type of music?” The answer they received back was a ‘cut-the-bullshit’ type of frown. Clearly, he didn’t consider it an equal exchange.

“Okay! Fine! What was your dream job as a child?”

This time Jamil couldn’t control his reactions so seamlessly. The Vice Warden’s eyes bulged as the startled intake of breath entered his body. His entire body took on a different type of hardheadedness to guard compensate his apparent embarrassment. He’s been feeling embarrassed a lot lately.

“Oh c’mon~ Every kid had a silly dream job! I probably went through a dozen, at least. So just spill already.” Ze said, trying to urge him to uncoil the tension from his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter! I knew I was destined to remain a servant my whole life, there was no reason to bother making silly plans.” Jamil hurriedly snapped in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Doesn’t mean some 5-year-old Jamil didn’t want to be a firefighter at some point.” Mac countered.

“I never dreamed of being something so foolish and mundane as a firefighter…” Jamil said, raising a defiant eyebrow.

“But you dreamt to be something or the other! C’mon, Viper, throw me a bone here wouldja?”

The two stared the other down, prepared to go back and forth. Clean-up had already been finished by the end of the first question and now Jamil brought out two, small fruit plates. It was a nonverbal offering to keep the conversation going despite his own dodgy replies. How was it possible that relatively harmless banter could be pulled from a subject as touchy as his lack of childhood?

Mac’s ease and understanding, even with their awkward or overbearing, of conversation had charmed the Viper’s unsettled and distrusting nature. If xey weren’t painfully honest (and particularly bad at keeping secrets for long), Jamil would have been worried she was a spy. Whatever I tell them—Kalim’s probably already told his club members, so there’s little harm to be done, he thought begrudgingly.

“A dancer,” his soft whisper blew past the lightly dripping faucet and over the desert’s dunes. In the heart of his answer—an unexpected level of raw honesty—cascaded over the billowing heat in a brutal, stubborn calm.

Mac wasn’t surprised, but he smiled at the second year anyway. That soft look, a fresh morning dew covering the forest floor in the late spring, both cooled and energized the flustered boy. It was an expression he wasn’t often familiar with; such genuine patience and pride over 3 short syllabus was uncalled for when it came to a servant like him. Such an insignificant moment held so much weight when they looked at him like that. A sight and experience that a much younger Jamil would’ve thought impossible to even dream of.

“I’m pretty sure I wanted to be a ballerina, for a time.” A hushed excitement at their shared interest.

“Really?” He’d seen them dance and… never got that impression before.

“Yeah, for like a week. Then it was a police officer, before I found out how much running around I would have to do. After that it was an engineer; who knew there was so much math involved? For a little bit I was dedicated to become the President.” Xeir answers tumbled out easily with plenty of humor behind each one.

“… President of what?” Jamil asked in confusion.

“Of the country! There’s not a whole lotta royal families back on Earth, but anyway, Politics is messy and absolutely soul-crushing. I would probably have twenty breakdowns a month even attempting to jump into THAT cesspool!”

“Ah…” Jamil mentally noted the casual explanation over the bewildering differences between Mac’s world and his own. It wasn’t the easiest to wrap his head around a country with no king, queen, or Sultan.

“Right?! Felt like I wanted to try a little bit of everything, but I always came back to performing on a stage…” For a moment there was a wistful look in their eye before quickly being pushed away.

“… In what way? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, anyway I can. A pianist, an actress, a singer; all I wanted to do since I could remember was to entertain a crowd of people on a stage while I felt those warming lights beaming down on me.” The wistful expression was back with a small tug of a smile.

“Why tell me all of this in the first place?” Jamil knew he had already asked multiple questions at this point, but he had to know. He had to know everything that made up the strange magicless student across from him even more than he wanted to conceal himself. There was just an insatiable need to be their confidant, an archive of Mac Trivia, to just be anything xey let him be. It was strange and powerful and scared him almost as much as they intrigued him. It was an emotional tight-rope he never expected to need to walk, even now, as he studied his companion’s reaction.

“Because even if I do forget it all again, maybe I won’t have to loose myself entirely. Maybe then at least a part of my story will live on and be remembered. Why would people tell stories or gossip or do anything at all, if not for it to be at least remembered by someone?”

They both took a quiet moment to contemplate the sudden serious tone. It wasn’t the fighting or finger-pointing from earlier, but the air felt different from before. Like the next topic, which was Jamil’s to choose, would make or break the tension that was floating around all day between the two of them.

But what in the Twisted Wonderland was he supposed to ask zer after all that?!

There were so many things that still remained a mystery when it came to who Mac was or where they were from (or even why they were sent here in the first place). An uncountable amount of possible questions sped through the 2nd year’s head, trying desperately to pick the right one.

But this—this moment—was an opening to move forward from any awkwardness. Moving past the caring, nosy nuisance to a bond made of understanding. And if Jamil was honest, something he rarely was but making an effort today, than there was really only one specific he needed to know in the moment:

“The sun or the moon?”

“Huh?”

He had blurted it out less like a question and more as an overall demand. An unconscious hiss slipping from between his twisted lips and tempting tongue. Truly, an oversight considering how much the Scarabia resident was overthinking his options… he somehow lost control of his words.

“Sorry! Um… I meant to say, are you a day or night person? Basically do you prefer the Sun or the moon?” Jamil internally cursed himself as he back-pedaled. The earlier courage lost and desperately hoping to skirt passed awkward tension that might follow.

“Bullshit.” Oh for Seven’s Sake!

Mac slowly let xeir eyes glide over each of Jamil’s facial features. Thinking. Analyzing. Committing to memory the very real, very vulnerable intensity the original question had posed.

“The Sun and Moon are considered two halves of a whole, even if they aren’t necessary opposites; why should they be compared in the first place? Why put two celestial bodies against each other? Figuratively or metaphorically.”

Suddenly, the non-native Twistian held the same intensity as Jamil’s initial slip had if not more. It was the stubborn authority he felt in the laundry room—the same focus and need to understand. To be understood. To struggle with the truth while desperately, insistently, needing it to be said.

It scared him. More than hostage situations or poison testing, Mac scared and impressed Jamil more than he could describe. The fact that they were saying exactly what he needed to hear since he was 6-year-old.

“What’s so special about the moon? The sun will always outshine the moon—it can’t even make it’s own light. Then forced into the shadows without the Sun’s light.” He stated in response, trying to opposing his shaken heartbeat, but his tone sounded recited. It was a line he’d told himself time and time again as a mantra from his parents.

“I don’t think so,” the Ramshackle Perfect answered as simply as breathing, “because the moon is beautiful and mysterious and needed. It can do things even the sun cannot. Yes, the sun is beautiful and lovely and celebrated—but I don’t think you understand just how important the Moon is!”

Jamil responded in the last possible way either students expected him to: laughing his ass off. It was hand to describe any undertones of his laughter, but it wasn’t cruel or crazed like when he overblotted. A familiar bite of bitterness lingered in the air while the body of his laughter rang with astonished sincerity.

This was not the same Vice Warden that had tried to scheme against his childhood friend for a small taste of freedom. It wasn’t the snippy, exasperated retainer simply building back his reputation. Nor was it the frustrated, closed off second year that had been yelling all bout how the Perfect didn’t understand him.

He finally felt a little more free, placated and relieved, now that he’s taken a moment to grow. To learn. To feel and be validated in being his own person. Allowed to be better and show it to someone; show himself, at least partially, to Mac.

------

I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far!! This is one of the longest fiction works I think I’ve committed to! I’m between two different songs to round this story out (Blue Moon by Billie Holiday or Here Comes The Sun by George Harrison) but I have an ongoing playlist of songs that remind me of Jamil. Some of them are jokes or ironic, some a little bit more spiteful, and others that really embody aspects of his character… at least to me lol! Feel free to add random songs that make you think of Jamil and if it’s not already in the monster of a thing.

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty Four

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~3,600

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Eva hung her ochre dress in the closet. After days of lying on the floor, the thing was a crumpled mess and it had taken effort to find a local dry cleaner she trusted to clean and press the garment. Eva would happily exert that effort all over again. She stared at the shimmering fabric, knowing that she would never get rid of it. The dress would go wherever she went for as long as she lived. Always a reminder of the momentous step forward in her relationship with her alpha.

The heat ebbed and flowed, rising and falling over the course of several days. Intense need bracketed by sleep and drowsy wallowing in the bond. Wrapped in Horacio’s arms, Eva felt safer than she’d ever felt in her life. In the bubble of their shared bed, nothing and no one could reach her.

A knock at the door.

Eva flinched and held her breath.

Horacio and Javier were scouting the factory so that they could create a plan of attack. Josh hadn’t moved the place, which was a boon. But, he also hadn’t been seen on-site in several days. Horacio had a hunch that he was staying in one of a few residences nearby, but hadn’t yet figured out which. Finding out where Josh was hunkered down was their primary objective for the day.

Another knock.

Eva moved silently through the apartment. She couldn’t think of a single good reason for anyone to be knocking at her door. Her hand hesitated over the deadbolt, hovering mid-air, before she blew out a breath and opened it. The doorway was empty. She stepped out and craned her neck to look one way. Empty. And then, the other.

Barrel of a gun.

And, beyond, the angry face of Doctor Joshua Moore.

“Hello, Eva.”

She was surprised she could speak through the icy fear, “Hello, Josh.”

The gun was very close. So close that Eva thought she might be able to see the bullet in the chamber, if she squinted. He’d cut his hair. It was razored very near to his head, only the way the color caught the light gave away that he was blond. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. The mouth that once held a constant, self-satisfied smirk, was flat. He looked like a completely different man.

“Where are your manners? Invite me in,” he demanded.

Slowly, Eva backed into the apartment. She kept her eyes on Josh, on the weapon in his hand. Eva was fairly confident that he didn’t come there to kill her, but ‘fairly confident’ didn’t seem so reassuring when death was on the line.

He moved smoothly through the door and closed it behind him, “Sit.”

She sat.

Josh took the armchair opposite her. His posture was casual, the gun resting on his knee, “How are you, Birdie?”

“Fine, I reckon,” she replied, wincing at the crack in her voice.

“Oh, you reck-on?” he teased, “I see you’ve regressed a little since I saw you last.” He rolled his eyes, “Although I suppose I can excuse it, given the circumstances.” When she didn’t say anything, he leaned back into the cushion and asked, “So, what have you been up to?”

Eva searched for words. Her voice, when it came, was high and reedy, “Oh, you know, same old stuff.”

He smiled, “I’ve heard. Diego really did need an accountant.”

She clung to yet another of Josh’s incorrect conclusions, “His books were atrocious.”

A laugh, “I bet.” Then, “Tell me, where are his holdings?”

Eva’s brows drew together, “His holdings?”

He rolled his wrist in a kind of ‘come on’ gesture, “His money, Birdie. Where is it?”

A lie felt like it wouldn’t land well, “I...don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

She shrugged, “I don’t. I have no idea where Diego’s money comes from.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed, “You’re his accountant.”

“And,” Eva replied in a low tone, “he is remarkably private.”

He sucked his teeth in disappointment. “Alright. What do you know?”

She hesitated, “He’s been working with a cartel.” God, why hadn’t she planned a fucking story for this moment? A thought came to her, “You know, I think he’s more of a...what do you call it...a mercenary. But, for drugs?”

Josh stared at her, “A drug mercenary.”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and ran his hand across his face, “Its been months, Eva. And, all you have is drug mercenary.”

She swallowed, “He doesn’t let me see much.”

“He doesn’t let—,” he cut himself off, sighed, and started again, “Birdie, you have to have seen something.”

What he was hunting for, she couldn’t even begin to guess. Eva glanced at the gun while her brain worked to come up with a response. Something—anything--that would fuel his ego. “He’s waiting for you.”

Josh’s brows lifted, “Oh?”

Encouraged, Eva continued, “He...knows you’ve been asking about him. He’s been waiting for you to make contact.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk to me about it.”

“What does he talk to you about?”

There was a softness in his tone that sounded like danger. She felt the hair on her arms stand up in warning. If Eva said the wrong thing, he would lash out. She wracked her brain for every effective strategy she’d ever used to mitigate Josh’s anger.

Eva took a chance at stroking his ego, “You, mostly.”

His tone was intrigued, “Oh?”

“He asked me the same questions you just asked me.”

Josh’s face lit up with interest. Nailed it. “What did you tell him?”

“As little as possible,” Then, “Diego is...perceptive.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m sure you think he’s perceptive.” Then, “He’s been manipulating you, Birdie.”

She looked away, “He kidnapped me, Josh. He took me to a new place where I don’t know anyone, where I don’t speak the language. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little off balance.”

Josh leaned forward, “All this sass is new for you. I don’t like it.” A pause, “That’s not the only thing that’s changed, is it?” He pointed to her neck, “Did he force you, Birdie?” A pause, “Did it hurt?”

Not at all, she thought while saying nothing. Let him project whatever he wanted onto her. Their bond, and the way it was solidified, was private. Sacred.

“Well,” he sighed when he realized she wasn’t going to answer, “that can be fixed.”

“Fixed?” Eva blurted.

Josh’s brows lifted, “Yes, of course. I’m an incredibly gifted pharmacologist—or had you forgotten? With enough time, I’ll break the bond. Don’t you worry.”

She gasped involuntarily, “You’re going to kill me, then.”

“Oh, no,” he replied easily, “I can’t guarantee that it will be painless, but you won’t die. I’ll make sure of it.”

Eva blinked at him, dumbfounded by the sheer audacity. He was talking about something that had never been successfully performed by anyone in the world. And, he was talking about it with all the confidence of a seasoned professional. The sheer arrogance was astounding. Horrifying, even.

Josh slapped his hands on his thighs, “We should go. I need to get back to work.”

Slowly, Eva stood. She couldn’t think of a single thing that would buy her time. Nothing that would get her enough space to leave some kind of message for Horacio.

Moving towards the door, Josh picked up her clutch from the island and threw it at her, “Here. Let him think you went out shopping, hmm?”

Cradling the purse against her chest, Eva let Josh drag her out the door and into the parking lot where a car was waiting. The driver wasn’t familiar, but he seemed to know that Josh would be bringing along a guest. As soon as they were in the back seat, the car took off down the road.

Eva, conscious of the gun in Josh’s hand, pressed into the door, “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” Josh replied, his eyes on the windshield, “Temporarily, of course.”

“Temporarily?”

He hummed in confirmation, “I’m looking for another place. On the beach. This one is just for convenience.”

Eva stared at him, confused, while the car whizzed through traffic. She expected him to be angry, to beat her half to death the second he got his hands on her. And yet, the man sitting less than three feet away seemed perfectly calm. Perfectly genial. Except for the gun.

It wasn’t pointed directly at her, anymore, but that didn’t make Eva feel safe. When the car slowed, she tested the handle on the door, cringing when she realized he’d activated the child locks. She was well and truly stuck until he got her where he wanted to go.

Fuck.

The car pulled into a residential neighborhood, stopping in the driveway of a nondescript house. She memorized the street and house number, repeated it over and over in her mind so that she wouldn’t forget.

Eva had to wait for the driver to get out and open the door for her. She resisted thanking him, but did catch the way his chin dipped in acknowledgment when she glanced his way.

Turning in a small circle, Eva quickly took in the new environment. Manicured lawns. Clean, well built homes. New landscaping. And, down the street, a moving van sat in the driveway.

Recent development. Neighbors that were relative strangers. Money, possibly lots of it.

Just like in Louisiana.

Josh moved close to her and Eva felt the barrel of the gun dig into her side, “Move.”

Reluctantly, Eva let him push her towards the house, up the steps and through the front door. The driver followed them the whole way, stalling next to the entrance. Eva chanced a look over her shoulder to find him standing in the foyer, looking out through the window.

Driver and security, then.

Josh redirected Eva towards a modest living room with spartan furniture and décor. She sat on the couch, disappointed (but not surprised) to find that it was as uncomfortable as their last one. With her clutch on her lap, she shifted on the stiff cushion, trying to get comfortable, “Where’s Myra?”

Josh almost smiled, “You know, I wanted to ease you into this, but I think its better if we just get to it.”

Eva blinked, “Alright.”

“Up.”

With a barely repressed sigh, Eva stood and followed Josh to a staircase. She could see another man standing at the landing and wondered how many guards were scattered throughout the house. Every additional man would make it more difficult for her to escape. And, she was going to escape. There was no other decision that she could make. If possible, she would get a message out to Horacio with a well placed phone call. Barring that, she would run. Not now. Not yet. But, soon.

Eva would start by learning the layout of the house. She would return to her well-honed skill of detecting even the slightest creak in the floorboards so that she could move silently from room to room and then from floor to floor. Then, Eva would work on memorizing the rotation of the men Josh used to keep others out (or in). And, finally, at the most opportune time, she would run. She would haul ass to the highway and hope someone would be willing to pick up a woman in distress.

They cleared the landing and took a turn down the hall. Another man was posted in front of an open door. Josh ignored him as he stepped into the room. Eva followed, stopping four steps inside the threshold while she tried to work through her shock.

It was a hospital room, or looked like one. Machines beeped intermittently and there were all kinds of supplies piled up on every available surface. In the middle of the room, sitting in a bright beam of sunlight, was Alexei.

Sort of.

A man who could once command fear with little more than a look or a well placed threat now looked like he could barely hold his head up. His lanky frame was skeletal, muscle and fat melted away to revel the bone beneath. An oxygen mask concealed most of his expression, but Eva could see anger in his eyes when he looked at her.

Beside him, Myra was pushing liquid into an IV. She looked up, “I see you were successful.”

God, Eva did not miss that tone.

“Yes,” Josh replied, ignoring Myra’s distaste, “Did you have any doubt?”

Myra didn’t answer. She finished up her task and gathered up the supplies into a bucket that she carried into the bathroom. Nose up. Spine straight. Unlike Josh, she still looked very much the same woman that Eva left behind in the States. Not a wrinkle in her clothes. Not a hair out of place.

Josh took a breath and followed, “I did this for you. Now that Eva is here, you won’t have to look after Alexei any longer. You can do what you like with your time.”

The conversation faded a little as he entered the bathroom and pulled the door to. With nothing else for Eva to focus on, her turned her attention to Alexei, “Hello.”

Alexei took a long time to respond, “Hello, Birdie.”

Even his voice was weak.

“I’d ask how you are, but I don’t think you want to talk about it.”

“No,” he replied, “I don’t.”

She shifted on her feet, “I’m sorry. For what that’s worth.”

“Fuck off.”

Eva nodded, “Fair enough.”

The bathroom door opened and Myra stormed out, “You brought a traitor into this house. A traitor that left us to gallivant around Mexico with the man who nearly destroyed our lives!”

Feeling the need to defend herself, Eva lifted a hand, “Technically, I was kidnapped.”

Myra glared at her, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Eva shrugged.

Josh stepped between them, “Eva is right. Diego stole her from us and now she is back. And, while she may have deserved the torture he put her through, she has an opportunity to fix it.”

It took all kind of effort to keep from either rolling her eyes or sneering at Josh. As annoyed at she was just being in his presence, Eva needed him on her side if she was going to get out of this mess.

“Teach Eva how to care for Alexei,” he ordered. “And then, we’ll work on getting you into that new house I built for you down the street.”

Myra crossed her arms, but didn’t disagree. Josh seemed to take that as a ‘yes’ and kissed her on the cheek, “I have an appointment. I’ll see you at dinner.”

When he was gone, they were left with an awkward silence that stretched on for a long while. Eva set her jaw and waited—she certainly wasn’t going to do a single thing to alleviate the other woman’s discomfort. To give herself something to do, she set her clutch down on the side table and pretended to look at the medicine lined up in a long row.

“Well,” Myra said, eventually, “I hope you’re happy. Look what you did.”

Eva met her gaze levelly, refusing to react to the accusation. She wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” Myra griped, “Still so selfish.”

Less than five minutes in the woman’s presence and Eva was already exasperated, “Jesus, Myra, can we get on with this?”

Myra drew back, looking at her anew, “Fine.”

It took several hours. Myra walked Eva through every aspect of Alexei’s care. He was making progress, but required regular antibiotics and physical therapy. They hoped in a few months that he would walk again without a cane.

The scar on his head was healed, but raised and ugly. His skull had cracked with the impact of the bullet. An inch to the right and he would have been dead before he hit the carpet. Even that small mercy hadn’t kept him from seizures and a brief coma.

Alexei was very lucky.

He was also very angry.

Eva couldn’t imagine what it had been like. Relearning how to talk, to eat, to breathe properly. A man of action, he had been relegated to this bed for months—and would continued to be for several months more. Eva would be angry, too.

“I need to start dinner,” Myra said, having finished her lesson. “You’ll stay with Alexei from now on. You will do anything he needs, whenever he needs it. Understand?”

Eva nodded.

“Good. Now, one more thing,” she reached beneath Alexei’s bed and unrolled a heavy chain. “Josh might trust you, but I certainly don’t. Can’t have you running off to tell Diego where you are.”

What the fuck?

Backing away, Eva’s hands curled into fists. She wasn’t going to be subjected to that again. It wasn’t going to happen. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, readying her for a struggle.

Myra’s eyes narrowed, “Juan, can you come in here. I need some help.”

Juan turned the corner. Had he been so big in the hallway? It didn’t matter. Eva squared up with him, perfectly willing to fight, if necessary.  His step slowed and he looked to Myra with an expression that said, ‘really?’. Myra handed him the chain. He looked at it, looked at Eva, looked at Myra, and then sighed.

What happened next was glazed over with fear and anger. Eva grabbed the IV pole next to her and brandished it, uncaring that the IV was still attached to Alexei’s arm. He screamed while she waved it around, actually managing to catch Juan on the side of his head hard enough to draw blood.

Juan ducked her next swing and grasped the pole, yanking it from her hands. Needing to put distance between them, Eva scrambled over Alexei—sorry, sorry—so that she stood on the other side of the bed. She picked up a pair of surgical scissors, holding them in front her while Juan circled towards her.

When he got too near, she slammed the sharp end into his arm. They pierced deep—too deep. She couldn’t get them out again. In her struggle, Juan got his arms around her and threw her across the room where she landed hard on her hip and arm. He dragged her by the ankle with one hand while he reached for the chain with the other.

Despite several well placed kicks and half a dozen curses, Eva felt the cuff go around her calf and click into place. She deflated right there on the floor, cheek smushed into the carpet. Juan pushed his hands into his knees and stood. Eva smiled at the tired groan and the way it took him a moment to stand straight. The smile widened when she saw the line of blood dripping from the wound on his arm. As far as she was concerned, the asshole had it coming.

Myra, who had pressed herself against the wall during the squabble, tossed her hair and looked down at Eva, “Serves you right.”

She waited until Myra and Juan were gone to sit up. The chain clinked as she gathered her legs beneath her. Eva picked it up and studied the length. As before, it was long enough to get to the bathroom. And, as before, it was secured to the bed frame. She ran her thumb over the cuff, relieved to find that it was the same as the last. Eva hadn’t practiced much since Horacio taught her how to pick the lock, but she thought she could manage.

Which left her with an only slightly modified plan.

Break the lock. Run like hell.

Alexei groaned on the bed.

She stood and brushed her hands against her pants, “Sorry about...you know.” Eva searched for the words to apologize for ripping the IV from his arm, “I, uh, panicked.”

Alexei sighed, “Clearly.”

“I can put it back.”

He shook his head, “You’ll roll the vein. Just get it set up and I’ll do the rest.”

Chagrined, Eva did as he asked. Alexei muttered instructions for supplies, let her clean the area with alcohol, and, with confident hands, pushed the IV back into place. Eva gave him room to work, standing a few feet back and watching closely.

When everything was back to where it should be, Alexei leaned back into the pillow and took a cleansing breath, “Seeing you beat the hell out of Juan with an IV pole was the most entertainment I’ve had since I woke up.”

Surprised, Eva barked a laugh. Then, “They didn’t bring you a TV?”

She looked around, noting that the room was as sparsely decorated as the one downstairs. There was a dresser, an arm chair, a side table, and not much else.

Alexei shrugged, “I don’t watch much television. And, the only thing that would be on in the daytime would be telenovelas.”

Eva sat in the armchair and said, “I actually like those shows.”

He lifted a brow, “Really?”

She nodded, “How else was I going to learn Spanish?”

Alexei chuckled lightly and pushed his hair back from his face. It had grown long in the many months since they’d seen each other last, “Well, tell me about it, then,”

And so, she did.

He listened patiently through all the twists and turns. Eva tried to leave out the extraneous details, but kept having to go back because the details were never extraneous. The show always circled around to them at some point, usually with accompanying flashback.

When she was done, Alexei was silent for a moment, “I had no idea they were so bizarre.”

Eva frowned, “I’m not sure if they’re all like that, but that’s the one I watch. Or, watched.”

Alexei nodded and shifted around on his pillows, “Well, I guess I’ll be asking Josh to put in a television tomorrow.” Then, with a smirk, “Can’t have you missing your show.”

[marypsue]

Third (I think? Maybe fourth?) watch of Stranger Things season one completed in one four-episode sitting tonight, and some things clicked that hadn't come together for me on previous watches, primarily character motivations.

I have struggled with the general canon portrayal of Hopper as A Guy We're Supposed To Be Sympathetic To juxtaposed against his decision to sell El out. I got close to figuring it out after the last watchthrough - in season one, it's not about El metaphorically standing in for his daughter, it's about saving Joyce from the pain of losing a child - but I really think I've cracked it this time. Between episode 3's “Please don’t be my kid", and the parallel in episode 7(? 6 and 7?) where Brenner tells Karen Wheeler that he wants to help her find her son but she has to trust him and almost the exact same words come out of Hopper's mouth in the same situation to Joyce, and the way David Harbour plays the moment Hopper cuts open Will's fake body and everything that comes after that - like cutting into what might be a child's corpse is The Line, and he knows it, and once he's crossed it, well, he's already done that, he's capable of anything - and how he initially tries to keep Joyce from coming with him to the lab and how he doesn't even seem to be trying to come up with a plan other than 'break in, wing it'?

I'm pretty sure now that he was planning to sell El out from the moment he walked out of the gym. It's all about saving Will, it's all about Will metaphorically standing in for the child he couldn't save, and do you know what he'd do for that? For a chance?

Anyway. Apparently I was wrong when I said that trying to engender sympathy for Brenner was undermining season one, since apparently 'feel bad for the guy who does abhorrent things to children because he was sad for unrelated reasons!' has been baked into the show from episode one and I was just too busy concentrating on the abused child who escaped captivity and discovered the world and found friends and a family for the first time and gave up everything to protect them, who is the real heart and soul of this show, ask literally anyone who's watched it, you fucking walnuts to see it.

I'm good. I'm good. I'm so normal about this television show you guys.

Speaking of Brenner, the other thing that struck me this go-round was just how much his primary motivation seems to be curiosity. I really struggled with this, too, especially when I was working on the road goes ever on (yes I'm going to link to it every time I mention it on here, it's still the thing I'm proudest of writing), and I don't think I'd quite nailed his character down by the time it got posted. Like I don't think what's in that fic is implausible for his character, necessarily, but I really leaned on pride and a desire for control (and a certain arrogant sense of invincibility) as motivating factors for his character in that fic. And while they're all definitely built into him, I think now that they actually come second to the curiosity.

The Gate gets opened in the first place because he immediately and without question gives up on spying on Russia (theoretically the whole point of this exercise) to go off on a wild goose chase for a scary noise that spooked his psychic spy. He 'dies' onscreen because the Demogorgon comes out of a wall and while everyone else is shooting at it (and getting murdered for their trouble), he just wanders on up, unarmed, unafraid, slightly awed, for a closer look! I'm quite sure that's why he actually lets Hopper and Joyce go after Will - he's not expecting them to come back out, but if they do, think what they could tell him about what's on the other side! He just wants to poke things and see what happens! Sometimes what happens is that whatever he's poking bites his finger off! Science is neat, but I'm afraid it's not very forgiving! Man I wish I'd figured this out before posting the monster longfic because I could have made his entire arc so much better and more convincing with this in mind!

I don't know if that's consistent with how they show him in season four, and frankly, given the degree of character drift (or outright assassination) everyone else is showing in season four, I don't particularly care.

Also, importantly, his primary power - and weapon - is trust. He wields authority to command trust, which he absolutely does not deserve, and it's notable that in the finale he asks Joyce for her trust and she refuses to give it to him. And she's the first and only person to refuse to give it to him. She's been lied to, mistreated, disbelieved, written off as crazy, and she is the only person on the entire show who can see right through him.

And yet, then there's that parallel drawn between Brenner asking for Karen's trust and Hopper asking for Joyce's, and she does place her trust in this man who ultimately gets her what she was looking for all along - and she never asks what the price was that was paid for it. I have to ask myself, now, does she ever wonder? Is that part of the distance between them in season two, the reason why neither of them acted on what was clearly supposed to be attraction between them? Because choosing to trust is not the same as trusting?

Season one really did have levels, and lots to chew over, and new things to find in each watch. When this show is good, man, it is good.

[selkymaiden]

Self-indulgent oc x canon word vomit✌️

hmmm, these two you can kinda interpret two different occasions of them meeting up to discuss business and these types of conversations happen. I'm like on a fine line between I really don't know how to write for 🐧 so I always keep it from Sophie's POV

-----

"How do I know you won't betray me after you've done it to Black Mask?" Oswald's tone is genial but his body language says otherwise, he's almost languid looking but someone who knows better can tell he's all control and business. Yet I figured this conversation was going to steer back to loyalty and honesty. It always happens with these types, yet I can't blame him as trust is hard to come by in Gotham City.

"Long as you don't go overboard with power you'll never have to worry." The reply is straight to the point, I don't like to make things complex and long.

"I don't think that's a good enough guarantee." Oswald chuckled sarcastically back, his mismatched eyes boring into mine.

I'm pretty sure I've never met someone who can keep my gaze so steadily, I wonder slightly if how I feel right now is how others feel when they look into mine. Except for the fact is I'm just conveying warm, green eyes. I'm not using a Gorgon's stare. I do think about it but I shrug instead at him.

"Trust is really just a matter of having faith in someone, yeah? So you'll never know until the time comes and then you'll see what happens." My manner is a bit more Sphinx like and I know it's not something he appreciates, yet The Penguin just gives a sort of hum in acknowledgment.

A silence happens between us before he gets up. His limp draws my attention and I think I stare a little too long because when I look up to meet his eyes-

"I'm sort of disappointed, I've heard of your reputation and we've talked a bit prior to this Sunday afternoon. So wouldn't you... Of all people know not to underestimate the underdog?" I start to take a turn around him, literally, I circle him slowly, watching his shoulders go rigid. His hands are gripped tight in fists next to his sides. Oswald's stance is amusing, he truly looks like a Penguin right now. "I'm still around, because I know how to take care of my business and I don't need protection." I let my words hang in the air as I stop in front of him. "And if you asked me here just to talk about loyalty and be preachy then we're wasting our time."

"Let me give you some advice. It seems the only reason you're still around is that you're protected by Black Mask because you say and do a lot of things... That would make a lot of people upset. And when that happens people die. People like you." His strange gait comes close enough to me that he's slightly standing over me, looking down.

Something boils in me yet I gaze up at him calmly. Like a snake getting ready to strike and impudently the first thing I do is cross my leg over my knee. The foot that hangs in the air I idly rub against his 'bad' leg. It does just what I want and he takes a step back, his mouth opens but all he does is splutter and look disgusted. Maybe even a blush? Either way, I take the opportunity to stand and we're close enough I know he's tensing. But I don't do anything like bodily harm, no, if he wants to be rude then I'll act the same.

Obviously, I'm not about to drop the bomb that's my EX, instead, I weigh my options. "I'm someone very useful with very useful skills so I get special privileges," I answered back cryptically.

Oswald is quick with his response, a quirk to his head and a very feral-looking smile on his face. "No. No I asked you here for more information about your employer as well as you've heard something about the Triads via..."

"Roman. Yeah. I wasn't in the conversation but I was in the room." As we stand in front of each other, for some reason or another I feel compelled to reach out and play with his tie. Instead, my eyes flicker over his person, it must make him uncomfortable because he shifts on his feet. While his face turns into something more perplexed but interested.

"You're just... In there? With him? While he has meetings?" The way Oswald is asking me these questions it's actually pretty funny, but there's something suspicious growing as he starts to put more things together. I bite my lip. "I'm sorry, who are you really to Black Mask?"

It does nothing to earn me points with Oswald Cobblepot. The look he gives me is screaming, 'What the Hell, Woman? What does that mean?!' It's silent but his irritation is written all across him and as if he's resetting himself he brings one of his hands to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose in displeasure.

"Fine. We can talk about that later, let's just get into the details you want to share. The reason I called this meeting."

As if our little bout is over with we both 'time out' of the ring and he directs me back towards my seat while he takes the one opposite of me. It seems we've come to a quiet impasse about certain subjects but others are open.

------

"Do you trust me" The question itself is innocent enough, but the context behind it is a whole lot.

"Yes"

"Wait, really?" The disbelief in his voice is comical.

"Ok, no then."

"No, no, you can't just-" He does a sort of humorless and cynical laugh. "You can't just change your mind. But why?"

"Well, I have no real choice. You're better than Black Mask, for now, so you're the best choice in this situation." I pause as I think about a certain quote before reciting it to him. "all is for the best" in the "best of all possible worlds."

"Voltaire." Oswald's tone is just as flat and dead as the face he gives me.

"Yes! You knew."

"I prefer Shakespeare." He smirks.

"You do seem like a Julias Caeser type." I almost wish I could say Caligula but Shakespeare never touched upon that madness.

[hirazuki]

Hi! Re: the fic writer ask game, what about 1, 42, 49, 14 please?

Hi!! I don't think I actually reblogged the writing ask yet -- I was absolutely planning to once I got home for the day for good -- but you totally anticipated me and I am absurdly delighted 😂💕

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Probably A Step Faster -- it's a very self-contained one-shot which incorporates pretty much all themes/tropes that I'm drawn to, and is a good example of how I like to balance adherence to canon with canon divergence; skirting that line is one of my favorite things. It's also one of my more recent fics, so it gives a sense of what my current writing voice is like, as well as my habit of switching POVs and my preferred way of enjoying romance/shipping dynamics.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

The two that come to mind immediately are: one on my Bleach longfic, where someone said that if they didn't know better, they'd have thought the mangaka himself wrote it; and one on the fic I linked in the previous question, that said they keep coming back to reread it. But literally any comment that someone enjoyed what I wrote will replay in my head for weeks ♡

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Ahaha, I have so much that's in varying states of WIP-ness, but since you're here for the Tolkien, that's what we'll go with. Full disclaimer, it still needs a ton of work ^^;

It takes a breath and a half for recognition and the beginnings of wariness and rage to replace the shock in Maedhros’ eyes of finding someone else skulking in the shadows, but that span is more than enough for Mairon to conclude what Feanor’s eldest must be doing here.

He hates Feanor and his brood – for their obstinance, for the obstacles they have ever proven themselves to be, for the crafting of those miserable jewels that set madness ablaze in all but a few and stole everything from him – but he hates the Valar more.

So, he closes his eyes – perhaps not wise given his once-time prisoner is standing before him; he was not involved in his torment or his hanging, but though he doubts Maedhros grants him the courtesy of that distinction, he also knows this elf with the intimacy of blood and bone upon rock and wind; knows that for all his ruthlessness, he is pragmatic; for all that he is murderer and kinslayer, he still, somehow, clutches to the shreds of principle – and casts his senses out from his body.

It is a simple matter, to find them. He knows them intricately, having lived under their cold, searing light for centuries. He would know them anywhere. He could not forget them, even if he tried.

(He has tried.)

“Third tent on your right,” Mairon says in a low voice. “That blue one.”

Maedhros does not thank him, and Mairon does not wait.

He turns his back – and if that is yet another unwise decision, it is merely the latest in a long line; he has been acting out of character since waking up with salt water in his mouth and seaweed in his hair and loss in his throat and soul – and continues his escape from the camp.

“They’ve put the fire out!” He hears a new voice whisper. “We don’t have much time until – brother, who was that?”

Mairon tenses.

“No one,” Maedhros says after a heartbeat, his voice even; unaffected, to all ears but those who heard every shade of raw inflection in his chords for thirty years. “They’re this way; come.”

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

Hmm, I guess anything that is darker/"problematic" (like idk, rape or very dark/graphic torture)? I have no problem with that kind of content itself at all, but dislike when writing for those things becomes excessive and slips into melodrama, for the sake of shock value, especially at the expense of stuff like good characterization. OH AND REDEMPTION. Omg, I have come to greatly dislike the trope of redemption as I've grown older, because too often I find that it either defangs the character to make them more palatable, or it has this very preachy, holier-than-thou approach about it, particularly with regard to the concept of "deserving," that just leaves the atheist in me me feeling all slimy and gross.

[kasienda]

Would Trust You With Everything - Ch 4: Want to Trust You With Everything

An Adrino Story - Canon Divergent from Rocketear, S4 AU.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Read on Ao3

Chapter 4: Want to Trust You With Everything

“You have an hour and ten minutes, Adrien. Not a minute more. Do not make me regret this,” Nathalie warned, her expression stern. 

He nodded once carefully, unable to suppress the grin that bloomed across his face. “Thank you, Nathalie!” 

He bounded up the stairs to the school’s main entrance, feeling a little bit like Cinderella on the night of her ball. Classes hadn’t yet been released, but Adrien knew the bell would ring any second, and he was determined to spend every minute of free time on Nino. 

He arrived outside the classroom door just as the bell rang and the class filed out. Adrien dodged through the line and slipped through the door. 

Nino was the last one in class, packing up half-heartedly.

“Hey!” Adrien greeted. 

Nino’s head shot up, and his whole face lit up like a child’s in a candy shop. “Dude!” They exchanged their usual fist bump. “I forgot you said you were coming.” 

Adrien glanced at his phone. “I’m literally only here for the next sixty-four minutes.” 

Nino’s smile widened. “Better make the most of it then. How was your show this morning? Did they dress you up in bike handlebars this time?” Nino asked as they made their way from the classroom toward the lunch area. 

“Of course not. Can’t retread old ground.” 

Nino shook his head, laughing.

“How are things with you?” Adrien asked. “Or was that a stupid question to ask?” 

Nino shrugged. “I’m still not okay, but maybe I’m okay with that? Sort’ve?” 

Adrien nodded. “That makes sense to me.” That’s often how he felt about his maman. 

Nino’s face lit up again. “But I have made a new friend. We were able to hang out last night.”  

“That’s awesome!” Adrien said, delighted that Nino was so animated over his night spent with Chat Noir. Or at least, Adrien assumed he was talking about Chat Noir. He supposed he didn’t know for certain. “This person have a name?” 

Nino glanced away. “Uh… yes? But I don’t know if I’m allowed to share?” 

“Did you befriend another celebrity?” Adrien teased, feeling more certain that Nino was referring to Chat Noir. 

Nino’s arm pinched his shoulder. “Yeah, sorta.”

Adrien laughed. “So this is what being cheated on feels like.”

“Dude! You know it’s not like that!” 

Adrien grinned. Teasing Nino was too much fun. “So what’re they like?”

Nino glanced away, and then spoke softly. “He's an amazing listener, really good at getting me out of my own head. He has a ridiculous sense of humor. You'd find him hysterical. And he's just… really thoughtful. And he’s really been there for me these last few days when no one else was.” 

Adrien’s cheeks felt hot, his mouth dry, and he had a lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that he had made such an impact on Nino in so short of time. “Umm… wow.” 

Then Nino looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that to be a dig at you. It’s just—“

Adrien waved away his apology immediately. If Nino only knew. “No, no. It’s fine. I couldn’t be there. I’m glad that someone was.”  

Nino visibly relaxed, and smiled again. “Anyway, like I said earlier, we were talking last night, and I just… I don’t know. Feel like I got a bigger perspective.” 

“So you’re over your breakup now?” Adrien asked. 

Nino shook his head emphatically. “Not even close. You don’t get over a girl like Alya that easily, dude!”

Adrien glanced up at Alya who was sitting next to Marinette across the courtyard. Marinette held her hand, and in that moment at least, Alya was smiling. 

“But I guess, I just feel certain now that I will be okay even if I’m not yet.”

Adrien nodded. “I’m glad that you’re feeling better.” 

“So how did you pull off a visit during the day?”

“A seamstress got ‘sick’,” Adrien explained. 

“Ah. Got it.” 

They continued to chat, avoiding talking about Alya, though that made sense to Adrien given where they were. 

But the lunch period went by too fast, like it was flying by and it’s worse because Nino was deflating right in front of him. And Chat couldn’t come over that evening because he had sacrificed the evening to make this visit possible. 

“You going to be alright?” Adrien asked when the bell signaled the end of lunch. 

Nino offered him a small smile. “I promise you, mec. Thank the dragon for letting you come visit me today. It means a lot to me.”

“I wish I could do more,” Adrien said, giving Nino a quick hug and pulling away to exchange their not so secret handshake. 

“I know. Me too. See you Monday?” 

“Maybe sooner!” Adrien says. He knew Adrien probably couldn’t pull it off but Chat Noir would be there tomorrow. 

And then Nino went to class. 

He glanced at his phone. He had twelve minutes before Nathalie killed him, and there was no point in sticking around anyway. 

But before Adrien collected his things Alya took the seat opposite him. 

“Hey,” he greeted gently. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’m…” she looked up at him. “Is this gonna get back to Nino?” 

“Not if you don’t want it to.”

She nodded. “I’m a mess. I… My world feels smaller now.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it, but he hated how paltry, how small it sounded in the face of what had to be her hurt.

“I’m really glad you were able to come today. Thank you for making it happen. I know that it must have been difficult. That was the most animated I’ve seen him since… our breakup.” 

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” he admitted. 

“It was more than I could do. May I ask how he’s doing?” Her hands were clasped in front of her as she looked at him with cautious hope in her eyes.

“I… umm… don’t know what I’m allowed to say.”

She sighed. “Yeah. That’s fine. I get it. I just was really worried about him. He seems like he’s doing better, but he might just be putting on a show for me specifically—“

Adrien thought Nino might be putting on a show for him as well, but he wasn’t certain either way. He always lit up when Adrien or Chat Noir showed up, but he also looked so low, so down before Nino realized he was there. 

“—and I’m just… not used to not knowing how he is.”

“You still really care about him,” Adrien observed.

She nodded. “Of course I do. I don’t think I’ll ever stop!” 

“Then why did you keep so many secrets from him?” 

She sighed. “Have you ever had to keep something hidden not because you wanted to, but because it was bigger than you?” 

Adrien’s throat suddenly felt tight. He nodded. He did it all the time. He was doing it to Nino right now. If Nino knew that Adrien kept secrets from him, but didn’t know what they were, would he be just as hurt and angry as he was with Alya? 

“I understand why it wasn’t enough for him,” she said. “If our situations had been reversed, it wouldn’t have been enough for me either. But I wish things had been different.” 

Her eyes turned glassy, and a tear fell down her cheek. 

Adrien wished things were different as well. For both her and Nino’s sake.

“I really am sorry,” he said. 

She nodded. “Thank you.” But her words sounded hollow. Adrien felt so helpless. 

…  

The next time Chat Noir landed softly in Nino’s room, he was hyper aware of every secret that lay between his mask and his best friend.

Have you ever had to keep something hidden not because you wanted to, but because it was bigger than you?

It had never really bothered Adrien before that he kept his identity secret from his friends. He had always wanted to tell Ladybug, and had wanted to know her better than the mask between them would allow. Keeping his identity was just part of the responsibility that came with being a hero. 

But that was before he had befriended Nino as his alter ego. How much could keep the secret from everyone cost him? Adrien doesn’t want it to cost him Nino. 

Would Nino care that Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person? 

Well, he would care, but would he be upset? Adrien didn’t think so. 

But would he be upset that Adrien had never told him, never trusted him when Nino had told Adrien everything?

It was easy to push aside his anxieties though when Nino turned into all smiles the second Chat Noir appeared behind his curtains. Like he did that - made that big of a difference for Nino just by being there. 

Nino was one of the few people that genuinely seemed to want Adrien and Chat Noir to be there.

Unlike his father. Unlike Ladybug. 

And it was nice to be wanted. 

And so Chat Noir kept coming over three or four times a week. At some point it stopped being about supporting Nino though his breakup, and just about hanging out because it was fun. 

They ran patrols together. They played tag, rescued kittens, and tried to one up each other in dramatic stunts. In the privacy of Nino’s room they ate pizza, played video games, watched movies and anime, and just talked. Adrien was having a blast going on all the sleepovers he had never gotten to have. He wished he had come up with an excuse to start doing this ages ago.

He wanted to go every night, but he knew he couldn’t because he wouldn’t get enough sleep. He wasn’t sleeping enough as it was, but he couldn’t stop.

The time spent with Nino as Chat Noir was literally the best moments of his weeks, the time that he lived for.

And he was pretty sure the same was true for Nino. 

But Alya’s words still haunted him from time to time. 

Nino shoulder bumped him halfway through a game of Ultra Mecha Strike. “You okay, mec?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Chat said. “Why do you ask?” 

“You just lost a round to me. And you’re just quiet tonight. Something on your mind?” 

“Does it… bother you that you don’t know who I am?” 

Nino’s brows furrowed together. “No? Why would it? I mean, you know I get the whole secret identity thing.”

Adrien couldn’t explain that he only knew Nino’s identity because Nino told him because Nino trusted him. It wasn’t fair that Chat Noir’s identity was just a bit more sensitive, and that Adrien couldn’t reciprocate. Because he wanted to. 

He wanted to trust Nino with everything. 

The same way Nino did with him. 

…

[grippingbeskar]

begging for 12 & 14 with obi-wan 🥂 love your work!!!!

— omfg. anon you are making obi-wan A FREAK i love it for this one!! i didn’t even think of these prompts for him, but holy fuck the ideas came and i was like…brb. thank you for ur brain omfg. i think this is one of the DIRTIEST things i’ve written and it’s for sweet little obi-wan. screaming.

— prompts

🥂 12. open your mouth for me

🥂 14. do you think you deserve this?

—warnings: explicit content 18+ minors dni, (fingering, oral f receiving, dirty talk, obi wan is a SLUT and spits in ur mouth. i literally need to shower) swearing, mentions of canon typical violence

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“You are unbelievable!” Obi-wan paces the empty council room, free to shout as much as he wants now the council has cleared out.

“The council didn’t seem to think so, and we all know how much you love to follow their orders.” He stops pacing, and the sudden halt of his movement and voice makes you think you’ve stepped over a line.

You had been arguing for weeks over this council meeting, Obi-wan believing a covert operation would be best, while you challenged him with an open, honest approach to gain the allied planets trust. The leaders were fair, and had offered their support, so you had no clue why he was pushing this so much.

It had come to the point where you stopped going to his room at night— something you had been doing for months at that point. It was technically your first fight, and the lonely nights nearly became too much. There had been so many times you almost swallowed your pride and broke down his door, admitting your defeat just to have him take you like he does so well. You knew you were right, though, and if you didn’t know for sure Obi-wan’s plan would lead to yet another ally turned enemy, you would have done just that.

After the meeting, when the council had unanimously decided to go with your plan instead of Obi-wan’s, you should of graciously made amends. Instead, you poked him even more, which lead to the two of you yelling at each other in an empty room.

“This is futile. You clearly do not want to fix this.” His jaw is set tight, hands fisted at his sides.

“I don’t want to fix this? You’re the one who’s shut me out for weeks over this!” A bitter laugh cuts the sudden silence, and you walk over to him, anger making your ears hot.

“I have never shut you out. You have had a vendetta against me ever since we disagreed.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head.

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, it is not. You stopped—“

“It is bullshit!”

“Do not interrupt me.” Obi-wan doesn’t need to shout. It’s the tone of his voice that stops you right in your place. Makes all the muscles in your body tighten and the air rush from your lungs.

Of course he notices— he’s the only one who could ever do this to you. Make you want to listen. Cater to that thing in the back of your mind, the one that sees him and wants to just let go, let him think for you. Your position on the council, your work, these past few weeks have been so much— the idea of doing this kind of thing, with him, the man you had been missing so much…

“That is what is it?” Obi-wan calls from his position in the room. He’s standing next to the largest chair in the room, a few steps higher, looking down at you. His arms were folded, body leaning slightly to one side. With his robes still neatly tied, he was the embodiment of authority. Discipline. “You have been cold. All week. Shutting me out, ignoring me. I thought you were angry with me.”

“I was.” Your voice is small. You want to kick yourself, but there’s something else, something stronger than your pride that’s taking over when he looks at you like that.

“You were? But not anymore, it seems. You need to tell me these things. I would never come to you if you did not want me to.” You nod, taking one step up to his level. “I guess I have not been entirely fair to you, either. Letting this come between us.”

He beckons for you to come up another step, and you are close enough that you can smell him. He always smells like something a little woodsy— like a forest planet, no matter how much time he spends in the city.

“You stopped coming to my room.” You open your mouth to explain, but he shakes his head. “How was I supposed to know all you needed was my full, undivided attention?”

“I just— I was angry at you. For not listening to me.”

“I’m listening now. Tell me, what is it you need?” His voice was sending shivers up your spine as you took the final step to meet him next to the chair.

“I need this.” You whisper, instinctively arching toward him, toward his touch.

“Do you think you deserve this?” He hooks one finger under your chin, making you look up. His eyes are shining, more alive than they have been in the last few weeks. You missed this; him, and the guilt of shutting him out would eat at you if he wasn’t already occupying every one of your senses.

“No.” He hums at your squeaked response, a small smile etching onto his face.

“You don’t.” He slowly walks you back, the backs of your knees hitting the chair. He keeps going, and the momentum sends you back into the seat, Obi-wan fitting his looming figure between your already open legs. “However, I feel there are… extenuating circumstances today.”

He bends down slightly, hands on your knees, parting you further. His fingers start slow, sliding up the most sensitive parts of your inner thighs, having you trembling before he’s even really started.

“Obi-wan.” You whimper, and his hands stop.

“Princess?” He almost mocks you, that sweet nickname he coined having a double meaning when he’s like this.

“I—i’m sorry. For before.. just please—“ He shushes you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. The gesture has your mind spinning, and then his hands start moving again, slipping under your dress and pulling down your underwear.

“You don’t have to beg, my love. Just ask. This is not a punishment.” He drops to his knees, hands pushing you apart as far as they can, hooking the backs of your knees over the arm rests. “Although you sound beautiful doing so.”

The position should make you feel…insecure. Exposed, at least, but Obi-wan just stares at you with awe and hunger. There’s no possible way you could feel anything but the connection you two have, and when he leans down closer to you, his lips graze along your skin, kissing everywhere you can.

That’s the thing about Obi-wan. When he gets like this— all controlling and authoritative, he never loses his kindness, nor his dedication towards you. Even if he was ‘punishing’ you, it was never cruel, always only what you could handle, what you asked him for. That was always the most important, that it was what you needed, wanted, asked for. In some round about way, you had really asked him for this, too.

He brushed over your clit with his tongue, lightly, and even at the smallest stimulation your hips bucked into him. His hands held your hips, and he tried again, but you still couldn’t help how you reacted, squirming underneath his hold. It had been a long few weeks, and now he was finally here, it was increasingly difficult not to dive head first.

“Stop moving, princess.” He murmured from somewhere under your dress, and then his mouth was everywhere— hot and wet, tasting you deeper than you ever thought possible.

His tongue flicked over your clit, and he slid two fingers inside of you, knowing you could take him this early. Sometimes, he knew your body better than you did, and it’s how you knew you could trust him to never push you more than you could take.

“Still taste so sweet for me.” He says, voice low.

“Oh, stars— I missed you so much.” You sigh, melting into the seat as he works you inside out. Sparks of electric pleasure awaken your entire body, and he curls his fingers, hitting something absolutely devastating inside you. He hums against your clit at the praise, and keeps working you closer and closer to your release; unrelenting.

It wouldn’t take much. It never would with him in normal circumstances, let alone after you had been deprived for weeks on end. You can’t count how many times you had tried on your own, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to mimic what he manages to do to you, only to end up more frustrated than before. You could feel the muscles low in your stomach, tightening and simmering with pleasure, knowing it would come.

Only it doesn’t, and just when your body feels like it’s about to give in, Obi-wan pulls back, pushing off the chair and standing above you.

“No… no Obi, please don’t—“ His thumb presses against your lips, and immediatly you take it into your mouth, sucking the taste of him and you combined as deep as you can go. He smiles, somewhat akin to how he would watch you when you train, something like a proud smile at watching you be so obedient to him.

“Shh. I told you, I am not punishing you. You do, however, deserve to know just how perfect you are.” Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion as he removes his thumb from your mouth, dragging it down to hold your chin. “You were incredible today. The council are in awe of you, as am I. Even if you are tearing down everything I spent weeks gathering evidence on, I cannot help but be amazed.”

“I just—“

“I know. It’s okay. It seems you were right, in the end.” He leans down a little closer, and you arch your back to lift yourself up. His mouth is sinfully wet, and you know it’s with the taste of you. For some reason, you want to reach up and pull it to your mouth— tasting what you and him are like together, salty and sweet, you imagine. “You are curious?”

“What?” You whisper, and you almost forgot who he is. What he can do. Why he knows your body so well. It’s because he can read you— not just in the subconscious sense, but literally. He can read your thoughts; you always open up to him when you do this, and he would find no resistance if he looked into your mind, like he is right now. You want him to. Want him inside you in every sense of the word.

“You want to taste yourself, my love?” He leans down even further, but teasingly pulls away when you go to kiss him. “I don’t blame you. It’s… heavenly.”

“Please…” He cups your face and guides you back down, so your body is pressed flush into the chair while he hangs over you.

“Open your mouth for me.” You obey, immediately. You make a show for him, sticking out your tongue, and you see him shudder, just for a second. “Good girl.”

The words have you keening, and when his tongue darts out, collecting your heat, your eyes nearly cross, but it’s nothing compared to when he leans down and spits it in your mouth.

You swallow, the intimate act having your brain go fuzzy with need. Obi-wan drops to his knees and you don’t have a second to recover as he dives back under your dress, a new kind of desperation filling his movements.

You cry out, only able to think of his name as he works, fast and hard, to bring you to that edge. All you can think of is the hunger in his eye as he watched you do whatever he asked, and his mouth. His mouth— stars, is it fucking perfect.

“That’s it. Show me what I’ve been missing. Let everyone hear you.” The words vibrate your entire body, and liquid heat has you sticking to the chair as he cracks any resolve you still had for him easily and folds you to how he needs.

You come with a cry of his name, and he holds you down through it, coming to lazily lick at the release that is no doubt all over the council chair. He doesn’t stop, only when you stop flinching from his touch does he return to that pace, and you know you are in for a much longer night than you could have planned. You don’t care, falling into the routine with him again, and in the back of your mind, you know that whenever you disagree with him again, you’ll just ask for this, and he will give it to you.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Okay but I’ve been thinking a lot about Silco working closely with someone else as like a partner in crime and fellow revolutionary in plotting to get Zaun’s independence and them falling for each other and becoming the power couple of the undercity while working to burn Piltover to the ground. If you’re talking requests I’d love to see your take on something like that 👀.

Y'all are ROCKING with these requests, so THANK. YOU! I literally have two different ideas from this one prompt, but for now, take this one and keep an eye out for another in the future 😉

Pairing: GN!Reader X Silco

Wordcount: 1.8k+

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt/comfort, blood/descriptions of injuries, dubious/dark-morals, canon-typical violence, canonical deaths mentioned/implied. (Promise it's fluffier than I'm making it sound, it ends in the softest of smoochin' while plotting out their reign of questionable-morality, I swear...)

Before you had everything. And before you began to reach for anything.

Before Jinx.

Before the empire. Before the barons before the Shimmer, before Sevika...

There was you. Holding the muzzle of your pistol to Vander's face, teeth gritting, fury pouring off you like the rains and the river that splashes around you in the torrent downpour pounding the harbor waters. You want to shake him, yell, scream, cry, sob and wail. 'How could you. How dare you.'

You don't ask any of those things. You don't even open your mouth, you don't trust your voice to let a single sound through.

You just start pulling the trigger, the click of the trigger as loud as lightning and he stumbles, nearly falling back into the river, as if shot.

But you know better, you know the sludge of this toxic waterway has clogged the bullets in the chamber; probably broken your weapon all together. That doesn't stop you from pulling the trigger, all six times, for each round, as if each bullet was perfectly aligned, and still usable, to end him.

The heartache would've been immeasurable if it had.

But not as much as what you just witnessed. And so, you don't glance back once as you turn and trudge from the waters. Benzo is charging down the dockway after you've pulled yourself onto the dock, and there's a brief betrayal in his eyes too, as you raise the weapon again when he reaches for you. He too staggers back, and you take the opening to dart around him, and run.

Vander and Benzo know you don't miss. Every bit of ammo precious, you've trained yourself not to, and everytime you line your shot, you don't intend to miss. You never pull a trigger, with an intention to waste a shot.

You leave them, then. Energy crackling through every atom, you ignore the calls, the roars for your name behind you. Musing darkly as you plunge back into the city, wondering if Vander screams your name like that, in anger, in pain, too. Or as a call for your head, now that you've chosen sides.

Now that you've picked who it'll be, who it will always be now...

"You." You murmur soothingly, and fiercely, arms tight around his. You feel the knife dig deeper into your abdomen, dangerously close to piercing skin and it's shaking at your every word. He thought you had come to finish Vander's job. He really thought you'd come to finish it. An idea that would make you laugh if everything didn't hurt as rawly as it did... "...Me and you, Sil. Me and you, okay? That's all we need, just me. Just you. We can do it, we can figure it out, together..."

You feel something hot and wet dripping onto your shoulder. The knife clatters harmlessly as his legs give out, arms now unmoving steel bands as they cling to you. You lower yourself down with him, murmuring promises, assurances and vows as broken sounds drag from his torn and strangled vocals, nearly as loud as the thunder that rages high above you.

"It's okay... we'll show them..."

-

"...we will show them all."

At that, you finally, and for the final time, turn your gaze from the remains of what was Vander, and to the little girl that clings to Silco. Those were your words, you process distantly. It doesn't even feel like a lifetime ago, you've changed so much. It feels like eons.

He doesn't move from where the girl holds him captive in her white-fisted grip. His head only slightly raises, and Silco's duel colored-gaze meets yours with a silent question, seeking confirmation. 'The sister?

You only closed your eyes. He never asked again.

Rarely making demands, only accepting whatever he felt needed to be done, and offering input when you felt it needed, he had gone quiet at your one, single demand in this entire situation. "Vander is already dead to me," You said bluntly. "He breaths, yes, and he will still be... himself during the process, but I already consiter him gone, Silco." A pause, then you reached over to him, squeezing his palm lightly as you slid his grasp in yours. "... His kids are alive."

Silco didn't blink. Didn't look up from the cracked, blood-speckled glass of the containment area. "Let me send them out of here. Out of this city. Out of our Nation of Zaun."

The grip flexes in yours. You lean even closer, whispering, "I don't want to spill the blood of Vander's children to reach our vision. We're spilling enough of it already, and that is a stain I don't want to spend my life scrubbing out." Death was not a rarity anymore. Not with what you were doing, and you'd both long-since passed the point of flinching from it. But you were doing all of this for the children, the kids, the future of Zaun.

Those who have been born, grown and died a million times in darkness, that you and he now work to show them a glimpse of the sun.

Even Vander's children. Maybe especially his... you wouldn't have gotten this far without his depravity against Silco, after all. It wasn't a perfect thank-you, but you could see how Vander would appreciate a lifetime for his children in Stillwater, over becoming unfortunate, yet soon-forgotten, collateral.

Silco turned then, finally meeting your gaze. A gaze that had seen you do terrible, terrible things to get to this point. You meet it unflichingly with your own, eyes that have seen him do horrible, horrible things.

You could drown for an eternity, just staring into those eyes.

"Make sure they never return to the Undercity again."

But there's still work to be done.

In the present, you turn, feeling the rain sting your eyes as you observe what remains of your men. There's not many. Enough, but not many. "Singed?" There's only startled, unsure glances amongst them, and you sigh, glancing at Sevika. You're used to blood, but the bile rises as you see what remains of her arm...

"...If Singed lives, tell him to get to the city-center safehouse. Keep her alive. I don't care if you have to burn what remains to keep her from bleeding out, she stays alive." If the gang fears Silco, they respect you. Whether it's a byproduct of their fear of the former, it doesn't matter. They dissipate without a word, leaving you, Silco, and the last of Vander's children alone in the wreckage of the warehouse.

You kneel beside them, soft as the rain slows from a downpour to a pattering. A gasp, and a flash of blue from behind even bluer hair that you softly rest your hand on. Her owlish gaze flashes to your right cheek, then to your eyes and you know a part of you is forever hers, in that moment. "Hey there. What's your name?"

Fresh tears well up in her eyes, pouring down a tearstained face, and a bruised cheek. "I-i... imma jinx."

You smile, and sooth your hand down the azure locks. "Jinx... It's a pretty name. Strong too. It suits you." The little girl in Silco's arms raises her head fully to stare up at you, as you smile gently at her.

She never corrects you, merely throwing an arm over to tug you closer, her head tucking in between the two of you at a fresh round of sobbing. It's not as anguished anymore.

It takes a moment, but you feel one arm slipping from the around the girl, before it reaches to wrap around your shoulder.

-

You had asked Jinx where she wanted to go. She said home, and after a brief, silent look at Silco, he'd nodded once.

The Last Drop still reeked of Vander, but, for the first time in years, it was welcomed. Possibly because it was already a fleeting sensation, as the ghost of your old friend was already fading, but the bar had it's benefits. It finally put the little girl in your arms to rest, which was much needed as the rest of the gang came tumbling in shortly after, setting-up shop with equipment and smuggled-supplies from the safehouse. And barricading the door as soon as Singed finally stumbled in.

"She lives." You parroted the order firmly as you observed the mostly lucid, though partially stumbling scientist, who had the worse of his injuries hidden under a hastily-grabbed scarf. You are fairly certain that the fabric wasn't stained red, and particular shades of violet, before the destruction of the warehouse, but the man is still moving and able to work, so you turn away from the makeshift surgery-table the barcounter has become, to Silco.

Gods. You both look like death.

The hand wrapping around your wrist is silent after a moment of staring, and after gesturing the rest of your men to keep at it, get stationed here at The Last Drop, the two of you silently withdraw.

Feet somehow carrying both you and him up the stairs without falling over, you're soon sitting upright as Silco returns with the small aid-kit he'd located, sitting beside you on the bed. The four deep gashes in your right cheek have stopped bleeding, most of the caked blood having been washed away in the rain.

"Parting gift from Van," You comment quietly as his calm hand smoothly slides the wet rag across your ravaged skin. You don't need to ask, you know you're carry these claw-marks for the rest of your life. "... I get the feeling he was annoyed at the bullets." You pause, eyes flitting close as he starts working gauze over it.

The kit is put away. As soon as he returns to sitting beside you, on the edge of the bed of your now-dead friend, you let out a small sigh. Leaning back, you bounce slightly on the huge mattress and stare up at the ceiling for several long, silent beats. This deep in the undercity, the dying rain is barely heard outside the window, peering out into the dimly lit neon streets.

A flick of a lighter, and you close your eyes as the smell of smoke he's gotten used to reaches your nose. The bed dips a bit as he joins you.

You give him a moment, then silently open your mouth. After another exhale, you feel the press of the cigar at the tip of your tongue. You bite down on the dents his teeth have already imprinted into stick, and take a deep, shaking inhale to fill your lungs with the spice.

"... we have so much work to do in the morning." You murmur after a few rounds of that, cracking open your eyes as you hear his rasping breathes, labored with the bruises on his neck, and the smoke he's halfway-chugging. "We have... so, so much to work back. But we did it once, with even less likely odds. We'll be experts at this by the time we're done..."

Silco doesn't say a word. You see the ring of smoke pool into the air, and fall apart before it makes it halfway to the ceiling.

"... Heh. I thought you were the monologue-one, why are you letting me do all the talking...?" There's a warm touch at your bandaged cheek, and he silently turns your face towards him. The green eye is exhausted while the other looks at you with fire, hotter than the ones at the ruins of the warehouse, but the touch of his lips is the softest thing you've ever felt in your life.

It's chaste, but long. Innocent, but saying a million and one things.

It's the first, and after everything, you aren't surprised in the slightest. You still ask, though. Why. Why now.

"... I didn't think we would do it." The admittance is something he trusts you with, and you alone. "You doubted?" "No, never. I've trusted your abilities for much, much longer than I've trusted anyone before."

"... but you still had doubts." You point out quietly, and Silco closes his mortal-eye, so still you think he's fallen asleep. "I thought we would die before we saw a glimpse of our vision. Before we saw our efforts finally begin to step into the light." Again, another confessional he never wants to have out in the open. Another sin only the two of would you ever dare share to one another; uncertainty. "You really think I'd stand by and watch Vander kill you a second time?"

A small huff of air at his lips, where the spice is the strongest, and you can't help it. Leaning closer, once again the closest thing to innocent you know anymore, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "... No." He murmurs, and you feel his mouth move against your touch. "But I didn't expect to get this... this close. Not in our lifetime."

"But we did."

"Yes. We did."

Turning on your side to face him proper, you feel his hand sliding up, lazily drifting into your hair. His hums in tandem with your arm sliding over to lay across his waist, you lifting your head slightly to rest your forehead to his.

"... we lost so much shit today." "That... that we did."

A beat. Then you find each other, and it takes a while for you both to find words again as you become lost. It never goes beyond the ridiculously decorus carting though hair, or the hilariously, ironically, innocent hands smoothing over clothes, unable to pull away even if recently-dead, very irate ghosts bursted into the room to try.

You hope, for Silco's case, he doesn't share the same sentiment. But this moment feels like drowning.

Drowning in the thickest, warmest of waters as you trace fingers over scars. Inhaling every extended breath that brushes against your skin. Suffocating, on the long presses of lips along your jaw, chin, finally trailing over your lips in a way that makes you never want to resurface.

Again, you hope Silco is looking at this a different way.

"... are you okay?" You murmur between breathes, and again go under the waves as a ragged chuckle sounds from throat, vibrating softly along your skin as he firmly presses just above your bandaged cheek. His admittance as casual as possible, for a man who just ended his brother. "Never."

As the one who helped him do it, whose helped him do all of this, you can only smile, whispering just as hoarsely, brokenly, "Me neither."

He reels you back to floating beneath the surface with a hand though your hair, the other coming to hold you under as he runs fingers along the parts of your face where his mouth isn't touching.

"Tomorrow... we're gonna get up, and we're going to own this town," You breathe as his lips pass over yours. Strands of his hair brush your forehead as he nods, thumb caressing your cheek as he moves down to worship your jawline as he agrees, "Begin reassembling the market... grow our influence. Get some power-hungry fools under our thumb. Enforcers are going to be scared witless, need to... gather our forces together before they come sniffing back around."

"We'll need to reach out to the mines again..." The little, open-mouth rasp that leaves him as you run both hands through his still rain-soaked hair, is going to be the death of you, you decide. You repeat the motion, just to die a second time. "... shimmer production. Get it back up to speed, find a new warehouse..."

"... the girl. She stays." It's not a question, even if he sounds unsure. Your lips press a little firmer on his nose, in agreement, and in understanding. "She stays."

"We stay here." "You want to bartend?" "Gods no. But it'll bring in morale."

A hum, as he grows tired, physically and in terms of the eternity you two are sharing, as his lips press a bit firmer against yours as your bodies get ever closer, ever more wanting, needing of the other.

You and him. Him and you. Just like you said, all those years ago, when the words became fact in the wake of betrayal. Speaking of... "You owe me so, so much, for waiting until now." Silco huffs against your lips, pulling back to show the amusement in his eye as noses brush against each other. "Am I not making up for it now?"

"Not even close enough yet."

"I'm sorry." The teasing brush against your mouth shows he's anything but. "I wanted to have this moment, when we have it all. And now we do, it's within our grasp... we only now need to reach." And so were you, goes unsaid as his arm squeezes minutely at your waist, and you can't fault him terribly for waiting.

What better triumph is there, after taking it all for yourself, before taking the one that stood beside you through it all?

It's something you can relate to.

Your hands slide from his hair to hold his face, leaning back far enough to gaze over the face of the man you have given up everything for, that you have done unspeakable things for, that you have betrayed for. That you have stood beside, from the moment you saw him thrust under the waves of a river at his brothers hand, to right here, right now.

"Tomorrow," You murmur softly, watching Silco's eye take every syllable through your lips as gospel. "Tomorrow, we rebuild. And then we reach. And then we show these people our vision... our dream. The nation of Zaun." Those arms move up, and you already feel sleep filter into your mind as he presses you to his chest, snug, and not going anywhere.

"And after?"

You smile, closing your eyes to that perfect, perfect vision you share with Silco, and lean forward. Dipping back beneath waves, which taste faintly of a smoke similar on your own tongue. "And after that... we give back everything they dealt us. And bring Piltover to their fucking knees."

"Me and you."

"You and me. We'll show them..."

A forehead against yours; the blazing eye of Zaun embedded in your gaze as, though you don't know it this far underground, the sun is rising. The first day of Zaun has begun, as you lay there...

"We will show them all."

Together.

[scripted-downfall]

The Archangel Gabriel, in triplicate and nothing alike

I find it absolutely hilarious how all these different writers seized upon the Bible and angels and all the mythos entailed as a well from which to draw plots and characters — I’m thinking especially of Supernatural, Good Omens, Lucifer, etc — with such amazing variations in the same characters across the shows (for example, GOmens Michael is nothing like SPN Michael is nothing like Lucifer Michael, and so on and so forth) but they all 100% came to the conclusion that, whoever Gabriel was going to be, they absolutely weren’t gonna be who they were supposed to be in biblical canon.

Like, you’ve got the Bible, in which Gabriel is the one to appear to Mary and tell her that she’s gonna have Jesus, and he’s all archangelic and Be not afraid and You’ve been chosen by God, and that’s just how it is…

And then you have Supernatural who decided that Obviously, this angel, the Messenger of God, was gonna be the definition of scruffy hair and debauchery, who spends his days eating all the sweets he can magic and rewriting the definition of immaculate conception with a little less immaculate… Who, when trying to think of a safe hiding place, decides that the Very Obvious black Impala belonging to the people he was kinda allied with that was sitting right outside the building was absolutely the best place… Who passes important, life-or-death, End-of-the-World messages through pornos that feature the line I have the kielbasa you ordered… Who would probably convey the baby message in a conversation that went along the lines of Hey, Mary, wassup… How’s it feel to be preggers, huh?  Oh, wait, you didn’t know?  Damn.  That’s rough.  Whoops. with a Tootsie Roll pop hanging out of his mouth.  (No one knew what that strange candy-like thing was, or how he got a hold of it, but things made a lot more sense when they were invented in the 1900s.)

But then you’ve got GOmens Gabriel who’s staid and proper and how dare you consume gross matter with this matter-of-fact this is how things are gonna be and you’re gonna accept it or else.  The guy who only likes Earth for clothing and shouts Very Loudly about his desire to (“secretively”) buy pornography because he thinks it’s Very Inconspicuous.  The guy who — at least if you trust deleted scenes, which I absolutely do — was fooled by Crowley talking to a dress mannequin about How Very Cunning his demonic wiles were and how Aziraphale had thwarted all of them.  (And that baby conversation probably went along the lines of, So.  Mary.  Long time, right?  Listen… You’re gonna have a baby.  Very important, big stuff.  So.  You should be honored.  Congrats from Up There. complete with flashing violet eyes and that clasped-hand thing he always does that manages to be very pretentious and definitely patronizing.)

And then there’s Lucifer Gabriel, who is basically just the gossipiest gossip ever to gossip, who dances when her enemies (Lucifer and his allies) start the incredibly awkward, horribly embarrassing flash-mob-without-music to Can’t Touch This.  Who spams the celestial email accounts with every little thing she comes across and quotes Avengers movies with a divine li’l twist.  Who can keep secrets all she likes (looks askance at her role with Azrael’s dagger) but just… you know… chooses not to.  (And who absolutely told literally everybody that Mary was gonna be pregnant until the last person to learn that Mary was gonna be pregnant was Mary herself, until she was absolutely looking at the strange rambling angel hovering in front of her like she’s absolutely bonkers because she’s just saying stuff like, Hey, Mary, you’re gonna have a kid and it’s gonna be bitchin’.  Peace! before fluttering away again.)

It’s just… With all the differences across these shows, the only thing consistent about Gabriel is that their character is wildly inconsistent, and that is peak humor.