#maz…MA’AM

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: anon request - “one bed plot(they’re on an investigation or vacation but something happens and they need/have to share a bed)”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sleeping at a haunted house, reader being scared,, kissing, fingering, hand job, oral (m rec), unprotected sex, sensual filth

Disclaimer: I made up everything in this story, this is NOT a storyline to one of their videos.

This was supposed to be a snippet, but I got a little carried away..let me know if you want a part two for the first part of this one shot.. I haven’t wrote anything spooky in a while and this sparked something in me. Enjoy!

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You were kidding yourself when you actually thought you were going to get some sleep tonight.

Being in the Maz-Lin Hotel was enough to scare you just by looking at the outside of it, from in your car.

Throughout the night, you swore you kept getting touched and tugged on. You even thought you heard things being whispered to you - It was just downright scary.

So, that’s why you were relieved when the third room they booked to stay in couldn’t be used, so that meant you got to stay with one of the boys, but Sam is who you were going for.

Luckily, it wasn’t awkward because you’ve both shared a twin bed as kids before, but only back then, you didn’t feel what you feel right now for Sam.

“See you guys in the morning.” Colby waves, holding his camera towards you as you all walk into your rooms.

Sam flips the light on as you walk in. “I honestly think we got the better room.” Sam turns to look at you then down into the camera in his hands, “Ha ha. Fuck you, Colby.”

He looks up at you and his upside smile makes you blush so hard you wanted to hate him, but you could never, no matter what.

“So, which side of the bed is yours, y/n?” Sam asks as he shrugs off his jean jacket to replace it with a hoodie, “Doesn’t matter to me.”

You point, “Right is fine with me.” You walk over and sit down, back facing Sam, “So, is this one of the most haunted rooms?” You gesture around the room with your hand.

Sam nods as he walks over do the dresser on your side, placing one camera on the stand facing towards you, “The third room that I was going to be staying in, is considered the most haunted of the three.”

“I would definitely take that as a sign.” You look at him laughing slightly and he shrugs, “Yeah. We can call it luck.” His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips, “I guess.”

There’s a few moments to where you can just feel the tension moving between your bodies.

“So..” you sigh, leaning back, “Colby is the closest to the most haunted room?” You ask, turning to watch as Sam sets up the second camera, angling it towards the door, “Yes ma’am.”

Sam laughs and you look into the camera that’s facing you, flicking it off, “Ha ha. Fuck you, Colby.”

Sam laughs and walks over to sit down. You smile and let out a sigh, “You’re going to record the whole night, right?” You stand up, walking over to bend down in front of the camera. You bend down, laughing at the thought of the up close shot, “You’ll need to cut that.”

Sam smirks and nods, “Yeah, okay.” He laughs and watches as you walk over, “Are these good to turn off?”

You point to the light switch and look at Sam. He gives you a nod and as soon as you flipped the switch down you booked it back, leaping into the bed with a strained yell, “I’m scared!”

Your body collides with Sam’s and his arms go around you, “Oh my god, hey.” He laughs, “you’re fine.” You laugh and as you sit up and kick your legs under the covers, Sam shakes his head, “We’re putting that in the intro.”

He turns around, patting the pillow with his hand before he lays down, “Show people how scary this place really is.”

You roll your eyes, rolling away with your back towards him, “You hate me.” You jokingly pout.

“Hey now, none of that.” He pokes your spine and you laugh, “Goodnight, don’t let the ghost bugs bite.” Sam laughs at your response, “Good one. Goodnight.”

You wanted to shimmy back into Sam, not only because you were scared, but more because you missed being this close to him.

You guys are really close friends, you’re just scared that it’ll eventually end up with comments being flooded with, where is y/n? Or where is Sam?

The thought of it hurt you in a way you know you don’t want to experience.

You managed to fall sleep for maybe an hour, before you’re awoken to something brushing over your head.

You stayed still for a moment before reaching up. You thought maybe it was Sam’s hand, but no, nothing was there.

You look around, squinting in a half sleepy haze then lay back down. Inching a bit closer to Sam. You feel your heart race as you feel his body stir, hoping he throws his arm over you, something.

But he doesn’t. He rolls over, hood pulled up over his head and his back facing you. You let out a quiet sigh, nudging your head against the pillow and you try to fall asleep again.

Another hour goes by and it was dreadful. You kept tossing and turning every so often. Your body kept tensing up with every little sound, creek and groan of the old building.

You checked your watch and it was two thirty, and if you had to admit, you hated being awake at 3 A.M. You text Colby off your watch, You still alive and well over there?

You rest your hands down, waiting for a response, which surprisingly comes through quickly. You lift your watch, reading the text from Colby, Alive yes, well.. ask me again in the morning. There’s crazy noises happening next door.

You swipe at the little screen on your wrist, The only thing I can hear over here is Sam’s snoring.

You look over at him and watch as he rolls over to face you. Your eyes stay focused on his face, watching him get comfortable in the dim glow from the moonlight creeping in.

You suck in a sharp gasp, jolting backwards the second Sam opens his eyes. You slide your arm up, laying your hand over his face, “Don’t ever do that to me again.” You whisper, covering your mouth so your laughing isn’t loud.

He smirks and chuckles lowly, “Hello to you, too.” He checks his watch and lets out a sigh, “it’s almost three.” He covers his face, yawning into his palms before he looks over at you.

He nudged his head against his pillow, “That why you’re awake?”

You nod, “Ever since I started filming these with you guys, I’ve been waking up at exactly two thirty every night.”

He pushes his hood from his face, mainly to get a better look at you. His voice is a whisper, just like yours has been, “it’s either that or three right on the dot.” You hear a noise, sitting up slightly as your head whips to the left, “What was that?”

Sam lays a hand on your leg under the blanket, “I’m not sure.” You wait a few more seconds, trying to hear it again, but nothing happens.

You lay back down, telling him how you texted Colby to check in on him. He pulls his watch up and the glow from the small square screen lights up his face.

He still had that sleepy look, which just made you want him more. He bends his arm, tucking his hand under his cheek, “Are you scared?”

Your laugh is quiet, “Me? Scared?” You pause and look at him, “Yeah, very much so.” He nods, “Yeah, I could tell for the last hour.”

“You were snoring.” You argue and he laughs, “Not when you kept moving.. which was.. mm..” he smirks, knowing him fucking with you is getting under your skin, but you allow it.

“Okay, okay.” You whisper, smirking as you shake your head, “My Apologies, Sir.�� Sam nods, “Uh huh. Thats right.” You smile, rolling your eyes and the quiet banter quickly gets cut off by something falling off the desk and rolling across the floor.

“Sam.” You whisper, every muscle in your body frozen.

His eyes move to yours, “Hmm?”

You look at him, “I don’t like this anymore.” You laugh slightly and he pouts, “Aww, are you tapping out?” You scoff, “Please. I’d rather just lay here under the covers until daylight than get up and turn the lights on in the dark.”

Sam smirks and rolls onto his back. He raises his hand slightly, motioning for his chest, “Well, come here then.”

You didn’t hesitate. You moved closer to him and laid down. Your chest presses against his side, your hand on his chest, forehead pressing against his neck.

Sam’s cheek rests against your head and he lays his hand on top of yours. His other hand tucks the blanket under you, the rests it on your back, “Better?”

You against him, “Much.”

He chuckles and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Try and sleep.” You sigh against his neck, “I’m not tired now.”

Sam nods, “Yeah, same.”

“Oh, when I woke up the first time, something was like-“ You sit up, reaching up to demonstrate what you felt, “I thought it was your hand, like scratching my head, but no.”

“That’s actually fucking scary.” Sam laughs nervously as he pulls his hood down, “Fuck.” You laugh, “Sorry, I thought you’d like to know that.”

He nods, “Oh yeah, no. A hundred percent yes, but not when it’s-“ he checks his watch, “Three oh seven in the morning while I’m trying sleep in a haunted bed.”

“Exactly.” You roll always from him and he rolls after you. He lays his arm over your waist and moves close to press his chest into your back. You lay your hand on his and your eyes search the room in a constant motion before you close them.

A knock from out in the hallway causes you to jump slightly and Sam slips his fingers under your sweatshirt and gently rubs over your skin, “You’re okay.” His voice is soft, sweet.

“Do you want me to try something to help you relax?”

You get a tingle in your stomach and you push your ass against him, “How would you do that?” You turn your head slightly and Sam slides his arm from your waist and slides his hand down to your ass.

“Push those leggings down and I’ll show you.”

You were instantly moving your hands to push down your leggings, moving onto your back as your stare finds Sam’s.

His hand travels from under your bare thigh, to your hip, then over to teasingly drag up and down your thinly clothed cunt.

“Please.” You whimper out quietly, “Sam.”

Sam leans in, pressing his lips to your jaw, “I love when you say my name..” he kisses up to your ear, biting down gently as his fingers work their way to pull your panties to the side.

You feel his fingers slowly draw circles on your clit and your lips part, moaning out quietly as your pleasure grows larger, “F-fuck.”

You slide your right hand down Sam’s body, slipping your fingers into the band of his sweats and you stop, moaning out as he dips two fingers into you.

“Shh, baby. Wouldn’t want to get caught now, right?” Sam asks softly. You nod, whimpering as he slowly works his fingers in and out of you.

“You feel so fucking good.” Sam praises you, “You’re going to feel absolutely incredible around my cock.”

His words cause you to whine and you slip your hand into his sweats, instantly moving past his boxers. He groans lowly, bucking his hips as he feels your hand wrap around him, tugging gently as his fingers continue to work your way to orgasm.

“S-Sam.” You moan out, rolling your hips, “I-I’m so close.”

“Just a little bit longer, sweetheart.” Sam presses a kiss to your cheek and you turn your head, pressing your lips to his.

You pull your hand out and Sam quickly pushes down his sweats and boxers before returning his fingers to the inside of your achey cunt.

You let out a small moan when you feel them curl, arching your back as your slide your hand back down to grip his cock.

Sam presses his lips to your head, groaning lowly as your stroke becomes a little faster, “Please.” You whimper out, “Sam, I’ve needed you.”

“Fuck, y/n.” He groans lowly and pulls you onto his lap, reaching up to pull you down to him. He has one arm between your bodies, holding his cock steady so you can slide down onto him.

You let out a moan as you feel him slide in, a low groan coming from his lips as his grip tightens.

You fall forward, face into his neck as Sam begins to thrust. One hand centered in the middle of you back and the other pressing down on your asscheek, “Fuck, sweetheart I-“ Sam groans and tilts his head back.

You take that opportunity to kiss up and down his neck, earning quiet moans and a harder grip to your hips as you leave little love bites across his skin.

“Still close, babe?” Sam asks and you nod your head, “uh huh.” You clench around him and hold your weight on your right am, hand pressing into the bed by his head, “F-fuck.”

You move your hips up and down, slamming down onto him with a force that is just absolutely prefect.

You let out a slightly louder moan as you finally snap and cum around him. Your body shakes and Sam holds you close, thrusting his hips up to guide you through your high.

He rolls over and continues to thrust, mainly chasing his own orgasm now, “F-fuck.” Sam breathes out, “Where do you want me?”

“I’ll swallow, easy clean up.” You run your hand through his hair and he nods, the urge just to see the imagine of his cum coating your tongue come to life is enough for him to pull out, cursing as he sits up.

You quickly move, lying down on your stomach as your lips wrap around his cock, head bobbing as you urge him to cum.

He places his hand on your head, gasping and whimpering as you suck him dry. He gasp, bucking his lips, “Fuck, okay.” He looks down at you as he pulls up his boxers and sweats, “feel better?”

You nod, fixing your panties and slipping your leggings back on. Sam goes do lay down and right as you go to lay down with him, a little red light catches your eye and you hand slaps over your mouth, “Oh shit!”

You turn to Sam as he sits up, “Sam!” You grab his chin and turn his head, “What am I-“ You turn his head to the camera on your side, and he gasps, “Oh fuck me running.” He looks back at you, your fingers still squeezing his chin.

“Well.. we definitely have to edit this one separate from Colby.” You sigh, “I totally forgot about the cameras.” Sam nods urging you to lay back with him, “I did do, but I’m sure Colby knew this was going to happen.”

You laugh slightly, cheek against his chest, “He was cheering for you to get into my pants?” You look up at him, fighting back a laugh as you listen to him stumble over his words for a second.

“Sam, baby. I’m joking.”

He laughs quietly and shrugs, “He just.. thinks we’d be good together.”

You nod, “For once I think I actually agree wirh Colby. Speaking of, we should probably check on him.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading, let me know if you want a part 2 with the investigation leading up to this part. As always, I love yas 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[theloverofdragons]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am SO ready for the release tomorrow 👀

(still wish alexander was vilmor tho sdfghjklhgds)

[ao3feed--reylo]

HCFD

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/dKwzhPW

by Scyfymom13

Ben Solo smirked, effortlessly reaching to retrieve the breakfast cereal, his long muscled arm resting on the shelf at Rey’s eye level, “Here you go, ma’am.”

“Rey!” She breathlessly corrected, “Thanks.”

Words: 1373, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Series: Part 20 of 24 Days Of Reylo Twitter Prompt Fics

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Rey (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux, Rose Tico, Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Ezra Bridger, Tai (Star Wars), Temiri Blagg, Unkar Plutt, Maz Kanata, Leia Organa

Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo, Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Finn

Additional Tags: Twitter, Prompt Fic, #24DaysOfReylo, Mistletoe, Fairy Lights, HEA, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter Ben Solo, Rey Needs A Hug (Star Wars), Rose Tico Needs A Hug, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Christmas Fluff, Christmas, Fire, Foster Siblings, Foster Care, Hospitals, Secret Santa, Visiting Santa Claus, Christmas Cookies, Dreidels, Christmas Eve, Awkward Flirting

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/dKwzhPW

[gospelofme]

Okay but what if Kix never got his chip removed (bc there weren’t any more Jedi, really, so why bother) but then he sees Rey or something and just. Loses it and tries to kill her and is acting his Tup did when his chip malfunctioned (but no worries because they figure it out before anyone gets hurt)

Why must you hurt me like this 😭😭😭😭

This turned out longer than I planned.

—————-

Kix was beyond ready to stretch his legs. Sitting in his jump seat for the last couple hours with this knees pressed against the co-pilot’s seat in front of him had caused some major cramps. They were headed back to Takodana to resupply.

Maz’s Castle on the planet hadn’t been the only gathering place for unsavory types. It had just been the most popular. Once there, they’d refuel and restock their freeze dried food stuffs. Kix was hoping to find time to visit a place for some actual food. The freeze dried stuff was real, but it reminded him too much of military food.

They landed not too far outside a small town, the weekend market was in full swing. A perfect place to get supplies. And real food. Smells drifted up from pop-up cantinas and food carts. Some Kix recognized from his travels around the galaxy, and some that were foreign to him. He felt like he had been everywhere, but there were still places he hadnt even heard of.

Kix and Quiggold were tasked with getting the food, Kix had some medical supplies he needed to restock as well. They stopped at a food cart and ordered a chunky stew with meat and vegetables. Kix had no idea what the meat was, he didn’t understand the Artiodac who ran the cart. But the vegetables he recognized.

“Finally, something hot and I didn’t have to heat it.” Quiggold muttered, sipping his cup of stew. He sighed contently. Kix smirked and lifted his own cup to his lips and took a sip. He looked around at the patrons of the market, trying to see how many species he can name.

“What’s on your list for medical supplies?” Quiggold asked, checking the medic pack Kix had for the list. He checked their credit limit to make sure they had enough. No answer.

“Kix?” The Gabdorian looked up at his comrade, who had his cup paused halfway to his lips. He was frozen in place. A strange look on his face. Quiggold placed his cup down on a table.

“Hey, Quiggold to Kix? What’s wrong? What are you staring at?” The peg-legged first mate followed his friend’s stare to a woman.

“Oh, yes. She is very pretty. But we don’t have time to gawk at the ladies. We need to finish our shopping.” Quiggold took Kix by the wrist and tried to pull him along. The former-clone stayed put.

“Kix, do I need to pull-“ Quiggold’s threat to pull rank was cut short when the medic’s hand suddenly crushed the cup of stew, the hot contents didn’t seem to phase him. He was now mouthing something, but the noise of the market made it hard to hear. Quiggold was alarmed now, he had never seen Kix act like this. His eyes were still locked on the woman, who was levitating an apple in front of a dark-skinned man.

“Come on, Rey! Quit playing! I don’t think Jedi used the Force for this!” Finn said, reaching for the fruit. The woman used the Force to pull it just out of reach, giggling playfully. She was oblivious to the strange man staring at her.

“Captain, we have an issue. I think something is wrong with Kix. I can’t get him to respond. He’s conscious, sort of. I think he’s saying something like ‘good soldiers follow orders’, but I have no idea what that means.” Quiggold used his comm unit to contact Captain Ithano, Reveth, and Squeaky who were haggling over fuel. Just then Kix dropped the cup and charged the woman full speed, Quiggold only having time to yell at him to stop.

Rey felt a sudden change in the Force, a warning sign. But she didn’t really need it, since she could hear the startled screams of market goers as a man ran towards her at top speed. He was fast and almost too close for comfort. The apple dropped to the ground with a thud as Rey used the Force to push the man back and into a cart selling blankets. The man rolled and got to his feet easily. She didn’t want to kill him, but she didn’t want to die either.

Finn intercepted the man just as Rey ignited her lightsaber defensively. The tackle knocked both men to the ground and Finn initially had the upper hand, but was quickly overpowered by Kix. He was immensely stronger than Finn, the former Stormtrooper was soon pushed aside. Kix hadn’t once taken his eyes off his prey. A Jedi. The latent order from over half a century ago sparked when he had seen her levitate an apple. The words “Jedi” and “Force” sealed her fate when the old chip still implanted registered the terms.

Kix got to his feet, but Finn grabbed his legs and pulled him back down. This man looked familiar. He needed another look at his face. Finn had studied the history of the Stormtrooper Corps. It had been required and he considered himself a history buff. He managed to get the man onto his back and Finn pinned him. Take away the beard, trim the hair back to a military high-and-tight....

A red-skinned, female Twi’lek then bodyslammed Finn, knocking him off Kix.

“No, no! He’s trying to hurt my friend!” Finn tried to explain, looking up to see Rey raise her ignited saber. The man didn’t appear afraid, he looked intent. Determined. Rey Force pushed him back one more time, the man managed to keep his footing. He knew how to fight around the Force. That was the icing on the cake for Finn.

“He’s a clone!” Finn yelled in realization, a look crossing the female Twi’lek’s face. The Crimson Corsair tackled his comrade, and managed to hold onto him tightly. The man struggled fiercely against the hold. Quiggold sedated Kix using one of the syringes from the man’s medic pack.

Finn shoved Reveth off him and scrambled to his feet, Rey looking relieved and startled at the same time. He approached the famous Captain Ithano and was blocked by a Gamorrean. Finn raised his hands to show he was unarmed, watching the Crimson Corsair get to his feet, holding the sedated clone up. Finn had read about the clones and had gone through the histories of some of the famous ones, Commander Cody, Commander Wolffe, Captain Rex. He had read about them being phased out of service and replaced with birth-born soldiers. He had heard Kylo Ren rant about how the clones had always been superior to the current ranks of Stormtroopers.

Finn had read military reports on the actions of some of the clones. But he also liked to indulge in conspiracy theories from time to time. One rumor was that there had been control chips implanted in the clones. And that, once activated, these chips caused the purge of the Jedi Order. Finn had always regarded it as rumor, since he couldn’t find any clear military record of such a device.

“He’s a clone, isn’t he. From the Republic days.” Finn spoke to Quiggold, who looked at Captain Ithano for guidance. The Captain gave his first mate a small shrug, Quiggold nodding to Finn. Finn looked back at Rey, who looked confused. She didn’t know anything about the clones. All she knew was that this man was hell-bent on attacking her. Captain Ithano began to grow uncomfortable with the attention his crew was getting, hauling the medic over his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I have no idea what just happened. He has never behaved like that before.” Quiggold apologized to Rey, who was able to sense his sincerity. She felt something new in the Force. A sense of calm and confidence. She could feel a powerful Force-sensitive nearby. She looked around, her eyes landing on a Togruta woman standing at the edge of a nearby stall. She hadn’t been there a moment ago, Rey was sure of that. Rey blinked and she was gone.

Captain Ithano and his crew arrived back at the Meson Martinet and lowered the loading ramp.

“What are we going to do? We can’t have him doing that. What if we don’t catch him in time?” Quiggold asked the Captain, who remained quiet.

“Perhaps I can help.” Said a voice from behind them. The crew spun around, spotting a white-cloaked Togruta woman. The woman lowered her hood to reveal long white and blue striped montrals and lekku.

“And who are you?” Reveth asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“Ahsoka Tano.”

[rebel-ezra]

back with another star wars review!

here’s the last jedi:

I’m so excited lets gooo

this is a long one im sorry 

“obliterate their fleet” LETS NOT

show me poe pls *poe appears on screen* thank you

“happy beeps”

“hi I’m holding for general hux”

I LOVEEEE POE

“I have a feeling this is not going to end well for the republic. NEVERMIND NEVERMIND”

“excellent” *dies inside*

why is finn in that weird thing is he okay

did something happen to him that I can’t remember

“show me luke show me luke”

“YEAAAAAAA LUUUUUKEE!!”

WHY’D HE TOSS THAT LIGHTSABER 

why is luke acting like an angry toddler lol

“go away” *blasts the door*

CHEWIEEE!!

“where’s han?” TOO SOON BUDDY WAY TOO SOOOON

lmao luke walking away and rey just following him like “nope can’t get rid of me that easily”

“oh wow mysterious tree with mysterious voices what’s up with that”

THE ORIGINAL JEDI TEXTS??

“alright that is pretty much nowhere” JSLDKFJSDLJ

“I came to this island to die. it’s time for the jedi to end” SIR WHAT

is ANYONE going to give leia a HUG??? baby deserves it

“permission to jump in an x wing and blow something up” I am literally SO in love with this man

POEEEEEEEE honey are you alright

LEIA NO 

WAIT WAIT WAIT NO 

DID SHE JUST DIE

OOOHHHHH AKSDJFLAFJ LEIA

HER FINGERS MOVE??? HOW???? HER EYES OPENED?????? OOOHHH SHITT

“LUKE MF SKYWALKER YOU LET REY SLEEP OUTSIDE IN THE COLD??? THATS RUDE SIR!!”

is that luke sneaking around 

istg if you’re leaving and not taking rey and chewie with you

“ARTOOOOOO”

me, upon hearing obi-was name: YEA MY MAN

hi rose I adore you

no one: poe: I want to blow stuff up

maz <3

I wanna know who the master codebreaker is

rey’s first jedi lesson lets go

HAHAH OMG I LOVE REY AND LUKE

“it’s a terrible place filled with the most terrible people in the galaxy” so eat the rich huh

omg I want to meet the master codebreaker

“space vegas??”

DONT THROW BB8 U BITCHES

rey with lightsaber rey with lightsaber

who is this prisoner and why does he remind me of captain hook

FATHIERS ARE SO PRETTY I WANT TO PET THEM

luke you better RECONNECT WITH THE FORCE

oh my god he’s doing it he’s doing it 

omg Luke was going to fucking kill kylo??????

still dont know why the force connects kylo and rey tho

DONT GO DOWN THERE REY THATS STUPID

now we’re in some sort of mirror universe??

REY JUST HIT LUKE ON HIS HEAD HAHA

“YODA????”

YODA WHAT DID YOU DOOOOOO

“missed you, have I” excuse me while I CRY MY EYES OUT

god I love yoda just walking around hitting luke on the head

yoda and luke… so nice… so wholesome…

“let’s not have a scene” “no let’s” I would die for one (1) man and it is mr poe dameron

REY’S HAIR ALKSDJFLSJ PRETTY 

TELL HER WHO HER PARENTS ARE

“yeah we spoke” I am obsessed

NO NO NO THEY WERE ALMOST THERE

“I bet you that’s leia- OHHHH SHE SHOT POEEEE SHE SHOT MR POE DAMERON THE LOML”

I dont like purple haired lady

OOOHHH SNOKE CONNECTED KYLO AND REY

SPACE CAPTAIN HOOK IS A TRAITOR

NOOOO GOD NOOOOOO

hoe don’t do it istg if you kill rey I will RIOOOOTT

YEA TELL THE TRUTH

SAY IT REY

I thought…. her name was rey skywalker

THE LIGHTSABER BROKE

PURPLE HAIRED LADY DESTROYED THEIR FLEET

finn where’s bb8 finn where. is. bb8.

do NOT leave without bb8

BB8!!! LETS GET IT BUDDY

HE SAID LETS GO CHROME DOME LKJLKDSJFLSJF

OHHH BITCH REY DIDNT MURDER SNOKE YOU DID HOE!!!

POE AND BB8 AJSLDKFJ

fucking imperial walkers?? am I seeing this correctly

“THE ONLY WAY IN OR OUT? oh mf we are DOOMED”

those ships are barely holding together babes

YEAAAA THE FALCON

I HEARD THE BLOW THAT PIECE OF JUNK OUT OF THE SKY

finn why didn’t you retreat you’re gonna get yourself killed

ROSE!! ROSE ARE YOU OKAY

AJDLSF ROSE KISSED FINN NOOOO ROSE DIED NOO NONONO

“the spark is out” :(

LUUUUUUKE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THE SPARK IS HERE

LUKE AND LEIA LUKE AND LEIAAAAAA HE KISSED HER FOREHEAD WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS TO ME SHUT UUUUP

he got the fresh outfit n all

“OH ??!!!! MF LUKE BABEYYYY NO”

OHHHHH HE FUCKING LIIIIIIIVED JALKDJFLSFJ

“what are you looking at me for? follow him” YES I WILL MA’AM THANK YOU

REY AND FINN HUG REY AND FINN HUG

MF LUKE DIDNT DIE WHAT THE FUUUUCK THAT SABER WENT THROUGH HIM

IS HE A FORCE GHOST

IS HE A HOLO

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOD YES LUKE

WAIT LUKE ARE YOU OKAY WHY’D YOU FALL DOWN LIKE THAT oh he’s alive its okay he’s alive

JALDJFLASDJF NEVERMIIIIND NEVER FUCKING MIIIIIIIIND

well that was an emotional rollercoaster wow wow wow

IN LOVING MEMORY OF OUR PRINCESS CARRIE FISHER!!!

[trillian22]

Scene 10 of Episode IX rewrite

“Well, Rose... do you pick up any life forms?” Finn said eagerly.

Rose gave out an exasperated sigh. She was scanning the best she could with the out of date equipment at her disposal. She’d even figured out a way to amplify the signal... but still no sign of life. Did Maz give them incorrect intel? Seems unlikely. They rounded another ridge and suddenly there was a blip.... then another... then twenty.

“Stop! I’ve found them. About two clicks to the north. I think it’s a village.” Rose was less eager to find these First Order defectors but was excited because Finn was excited.

Poe landed the ship in a field not too far from the village but hopefully far enough that the villagers wouldn’t get spooked. Then they hiked into the village.

They noticed right away that the buildings were made from material scavenged from First Order ships. Pieces of hulls were walls and roofs. The village was eerily quiet.

“Do you think they spotted the ship and thought the First Order was coming for them?” Finn whispered.

Poe grunted. “Probably. I knew I landed it too close.”

“Hands up where we can see them!”

Poe startled out of his self pity spun on his heel toward the voice. Standing behind him was an interesting sight indeed. She was tall, lean.....harden by the elements and by the cruel hand she’d been dealt in life. Her skin was dark and her eyes were bright with curiosity. She was wearing pieces of a trooper uniform and hand made woven cloth. And she was stunning. Poe forgot to speak.

“I said hands up or has the First Order become deaf as well as dumb?”

Finn was the first to find his voice. “Oh we’re not First Order...I mean technically I was First Order but I defected about a year ago and joined the Resistance and that’s were I met these two, Poe and Rose. And I’m Finn by the way or FN-2187.” He was rambling. Rose thought he was cute when he rambled.

“Woah... breathe. And keep your hands up!” The woman eyed them skeptically. “You defected from the First Order? How? I don’t believe you. We saw your ship. It’s a First Order vessel. Not Resistance.”

Poe’s tongue finally became untied. “Finn did defected. We are Resistance. That ship is stolen and we are on a mission to find other First Order defectors. We were led here with information from Maz who thought the defectors might wanna team up with the Resistance to kick some First Order butt....however if y’all aren’t into that we’ll look elsewhere.” Poe couldn’t take his eyes off the woman defector.

Feeling the intensity of his gaze the woman, instead of shying away, met it head on with her own heat. “I’m Janna. And these are my people. The intel you got was correct. There are First Order defectors here but we are uninterested in your war. We came here to live a peaceful life. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time but you need to leave. Immediately. Before you attract any other unwanted visitors.”

“Please, just listen to us.” Rose tried to sound commanding but it came out desperate.

“No. Leave. You put us all in danger.”

“I understand how you feel. I felt the same way after I broke free of the First Order. All I wanted to do was run away. As far away as I could. But i didn’t. I joined the Resistance and helped blow up Star Killer Base. You can help too. The First Order isn’t the only bad guy in the galaxy anymore. An ancient evil has returned and they have allied themselves with the First Order. The Resistance needs you.” Finn poured his heart into his words.

“An ancient evil? What are you talking about?” Janna sensed Finn’s urgency and honesty and was curious.

“The Sith have come out from whatever rock they’ve been hiding under to reek havoc on the galaxy again.” Poe said with distain. “They have a massive fleet and apparently boo-koos of fanatic followers at their disposal. Which means somewhere out there is probably a Sith Lord too. Now that Luke Skywalker is gone our only hope as Jedi is some untrained girl who just found out about the force a year ago and she’s preoccupied right now with some stupid quest and Kylo Ren has the hots for her.... so yeah we need your help. Oh and can we put our hands down now?”

“Seriously?” Janna was starting to understand the gravity of this matter. “Oh put your hands down.” Her brow knitted together.

“Yes. Please. We truly need your help. You know the inside of First Order ships, you know protocol and routines. You can help us infiltrate ships and sabotage them.” Rose’s logical mind was taking over. She needed them to understand how critical they were.

Janna thought about how great it would feel to take down the First Order. A small smile appeared. Then it dissolved and she resolutely turned toward her group of people. “I know you selected me as your leader but I cannot agree to helping these people unless we all agree to it. A show of hands for joining the Resistance.”

One by one, hand after hand raised in silent assent. The Resistance was growing.

Janna turned back to Poe, Finn, and Rose. “Well I guess were back in the thick of it again. What’s that old Jedi saying? ‘May the force be with you?’ Cause we’re all gonna need a little of that force to win this war.”

She turned to Poe and in an awed whisper said, “Did you all really blow up Starkiller Base?”

Poe said grinning from ear to ear, “well yes ma’am we did.” Janna smiled a toothy wholesome smile and Poe was smitten.

[aria-i-adagio]

Masterpost

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter Rating:  Lemon   (lemon free version, if that’s not your jam.)

Warning: The dream sequence in italics has some body horror and mention of suicidal ideation.

Wordcount: 5800

The streets are quiet - a touch too late for people to be headed to the bars, and a little early for people to be headed back home from them - when we reemerge from the garden.  Julian offers me his arm and I take it, walking close to him, stepping quickly to keep up with is long strides; although, I can tell that he’s slowing his pace for me.

“Why were you at the reservoir anyway?” 

“Hmm?  Oh, yeah, that.  I like being near water.  Helps me think.  Usually I go down by the docks but they’re pretty busy during the day.  It’s a lot quieter there.  The reservoir, I mean, not the docks.”  He squeezes my hand.  “Worked out well enough for me.”

“That’s debatable.”

“What you mean the eel bite?  That’s nothing.  Minor inconvenience.”  He loops his arm around my waist and lifts me over a section of crumbled sidewalk.  I could just as easily have stepped over it.  “Besides what if I hadn’t been there and you fell in anyway.  Doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I’ve got to be good for something after all.”  He stops beside a low stone wall.  “Ah, here we are.  Up and over.”  As with the terrible hazard of the sidewalk, he picks me up and sets me on the walk.  I spin my legs over and drop down into the sideyard of a humble cottage.  Julian vaults himself over the wall landing beside me and steps over the house, pushing open a window.  “Don’t want to risk someone seeing us,” he explains as he boosts me through the window and into a cluttered kitchen.  I don’t have time to look around before he follows, tumbling through the window and knocking a flowerpot to the floor with a crash.

There’s an indignant shout from the room beyond.  “Ilya - tisyache raz ckazala tebe, u menya est’ dver dlya princhiye!”  A short, stout woman holding an oil lamp in her hand and scolding in a language I don’t immediately recognize, pushes aside a curtain and matches on the room.  She grips a spoon like sword in her other hand and shakes it menacingly at Julian.  He cringes dramatically, ducking and throwing his hands over his head. 

“Sorry, Mazelinka.  I’ll um, I’ll get you a new flowerpot.”

“Hmph.  It’s not the pot I’m worried about.”  She looks me over and switches to the trade language.  “And who is this?”  She sets the lantern down on the table and peers at me closely.  Her eyes narrow for a moment focusing on my face, then she shakes her head and takes one slow step back from me.  “Girl, is it actually you?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know you.”  I don’t remember meeting - ever seeing her - before, but does she know me?  It’s certainly possible.  Hypothetically I did know people other than Asra in the twenty five odd years I’m missing. 

She raises one eyebrow at me, then with the smallest shake of her head, turns her gaze on Julian.  “And what is this?  You not only broke in through the window, you’re trailing blood and mud across my floors!”

“Um, yeah, had a bit of a mishap.  Several mishaps, actually.”

She swats him with the wooden spoon.  “Go get yourself washed up, Ilya.  There’s some clothes of yours in the chest by the back door.”

“Mazelinka, this is -”

“Your friend is safe enough with me.  Shoo.”

Julian gives me a helpless look then retreats down a short hallway.  I can’t blame him.  The woman - Mazelinka - commands every last inch of this house.  That much is clear.  She turns back to me, chuckling.  “Scolding them never grows old - even if I do.  You’re not in much better shape, are you?”

“I, um -”  My trousers are covered in mud, my shirt is still stained with blood, and between an unintended swim and running through the streets, I’m positive my hair is a sight to behold.  

“Don’t worry, girl.  If you’re a friend of that scalawag’s you’re a friend of mine.  Come, I think I can find something clean that will do you for the time being.”  She walks back to the curtained off room, steps strong and sure despite her age.  “So what’s your name?”

“Uh, Dema, ma’am.”

She laughs aloud and opens a chest by the foot of the bed, rummaging through the contents.  “Ma’am, huh - haven’t heard that one in a while.  So, what was it this time?  Bar brawl, tripped over his own feet and into a canal, ill considered fight with a bull, waiting for smugglers on the beach, then running from the guards?”

“Vampire eel.  It actually bit me, but -”

“Ah, you were the one who tripped over your own feet and into the canal!  That 'curse' of his is awfully handy at times.”  Mazelinka thrusts a bundle of fabric at me.  “It’ll be big on you, but it’ll do to curl up next to that lout and sleep in.”  She winks, and I feel my cheeks warming at her casual implication that I would be sleeping here.  With Julian.  Not that I am exactly opposed to the idea.  “I'll have your clothes clean by morning, but I’m not sure that bloodstain is coming out.”

“It’s, you don’t have to,”  I stammer through a half hearted protest.  She puts her hand on my arm and pats it kindly.

“You’ve clearly had a hard night.  No sense staggering off to whenever it is you live these days.  Go wash up a bit.  And I'll warm up some soup.  Looks like the both of you could use it.”

She adds two worn, but soft towels to the pile in my arms and shoves me toward the back door.  Confused, but feeling strangely secure under her care, I pull the door open and step out into a walked off yard.  Julian's jacket and shirt are laying on the ground in a haphazard pile, and he's cleaning the blood off his side with a damp cloth.  He looks up and grins.  “Not enough water left to just pour it over my head.  And the curse unfortunately doesn't clean up after itself.”

I drape the clothing Mazelinka gave me over the back of a chair by the door and walk over to him, touching the unbroken skin where the bite should have been.  “Amazing.  Do you know how it works?”

He shivers as I trail my fingers up his chest.  “I don't understand the first thing about magic.  Not the how.  Not the why.”  

"How'd you come by it?"

"I told you, it's As- the witch's work."  

There he goes ago, almost saying Asra's name before cutting himself off.  Just how badly had that ended?  I take a step closer to him, hand now pressed flat against his chest.  "I think I'd recognize Asra's work."  Whatever this magic was, it wasn’t Asra’s doing.  The signature was something even more enigmatic.

"Would you?”  He curls his fingers around my hand, looking down at me with serious eyes.  "How well do you know him, Dema?  Things he's done?"

"I -”  Pulling my hand out of his, I take a step back.  I want to know, but I'm not sure that I want to know.  Asra is my only constant, or at least the comforting illusion of a constant.  "What has he done?”

"Is blood normally used in magic?”

Blood?  What had Asra been up to, if he was using blood magic?  That didn’t necessarily indicate malevolence, but it was a sign of desperation if he had resorted to blood magic.  "Not often.  Blood is very potent as part of a spell - dangerous even.  Julian, what was he trying to do?"  I had never tried anything with blood, but all the books were stern in their warnings.  The amount of power that blood magic could unleash, even if well intended, could get out of hand quickly.

"I, well that is -”  Julian groans and rubs his forehead.  "I don't remember.  But after, after whatever it was, Lucio's room went up in flames, and I had this, this mark, this curse - whatever the hell it is."  He leans over and begins to undo the fastenings of his boots - no small undertaking.  “I, um, don't really even like magic, truth be told.”

“You seem to have an intimate enough relationship with it.”

“Yeah, well, um, sometimes marriages get arranged without much input from the involved parties.”  He struggles out of one boot, then the other, leaving me wondering just why he'd choose to wear something so impractical.  Thick socks come off next, and he briskly runs a damp towel over each foot, pausing to rub at the arch before tossing the washrag in the same pile as his shirt and jacket.  “Guess I should let you clean up some.”  Flexing his bare feet against the ground, he steps back toward the house.  I grab the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head, then realizing I haven't heard the door open or close, I stop and look back over my shoulder.  Julian leans against the doorframe, dopey grin on his face.  I roll my eyes, turn my back to him and peel the damp shirt off, tossing it to the side.

“That's all for now.”

“Mmm... I'll take it, my dear.”

As the door creaks open and closed, I strip out of my muddy and bloody clothing, and hurriedly clean the remaining blood from my hands and torso.  The night is chilly and who knows who Mazelinka's neighbors are.  I toss the shirt she found for me over my head.  It comes well past my knees and threatens to fall off one shoulder or the other, but the rope belt helps hold it in place.  A bit at least.  But it'll do.  I leave my own clothes in a pile beside Julian's, feeling like the world's worst guest, but unsure of what else I could do with them.

Julian is sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in some sort of clean soft pants and a much mended shirt, working on a large bowl of soup.  Mazelinka is talking quietly to him in the same language as before.  I cough, and she looks up, beckoning me over to the table.  “Come eat.  I was just telling Ilya that he isn't leaving until he gets some sleep.  And you look like you need some as well.”

“Maz’, I haven’t really needed that much sleep.  Not since the -”  He yelps as she smacks him once again with her wooden spoon.

“I know, I know.  Since the curse.  Eat.”  She taps the spoon against the top of his head for good measure and ladles out a bowl for me from a pot tucked into a compartment of the massive oven.  Turning aside for a moment, she add a few pinches of herbs to the bowl, followed by a generous spoonful of sour cream.  She hands the bowl to me.  I raise my eyebrows at her and breath in the rising steam.  It's a simple, homey soup, mostly cabbage, onions, and carrots seasoned with plenty of garlic and caraway, but I recognize several non culinary herbs.  All innocuous enough, and all intended for the same thing: encouraging an overly busy mind to rest.  I nod knowingly at her and dig in.  If this actually gets me to sleep, I will insist on the recipe.

She watches with satisfaction as we both polish off a bowl.  “Here, girl -”  She slides a tortoiseshell comb across the table to me.  “Thought you might want to straighten out your hair a bit.”  She disappears down the back hallway.  I grab a lock of my hair and work at the tangles.  

"Here, let me help."  Julian takes the comb from me and starts working on my hair.  "I used to help my little sister fix hers."

"Portia is worried about you."  

He pauses for a moment and sighs.  "I wish she wouldn't.  I'm not worth it.  Anyway -” He continues with my hair.  "How is she?  We didn't have much to talk yesterday, and she spent most of it telling me off.  Deserved it, I'll admit."

"I think she likes working at the palace.  But it's complicated for her.  She really cares about the Countess, so . . ."

"Yeah . . . If I had known, I probably would have just stayed gone.  Everyone would be happier that way."

"Why would you assume that?  She and I want to prove that you're innocent.  Then there's no conflict."

He leans his head against my shoulder, mumbling his next line morosely against my neck.  "There you go again, assuming I'm innocent.  Did your cards tell you that or something?”

"No, but I still believe that you are."

He lifts his head and starts working on the other side of my hair.  "Well, I hope you can prove it.  Not for me, really.  I may not have murdered the Count, but I'm sure I did something to deserve hanging.  But for Pasha. And Maz.  And, well, you.  I'm not a good person to start caring about, Dema."

“I’m not sure that you get much say over who cares for you.”  I’m not convinced that we get much say over who we care for either.  Life certainly would be easier if we did, instead of remaining attached to people.

Mazelinka returns with my filthy clothes dining them into the sink along with a bucket of water and a handful of soft soap.  "Won't be dry until mid morning tomorrow, so I'll leave you two to sleep in.  Don't know about you, girl, but that one is forever owing a debt to Hypnos."

“And Thanatos!”  Julian chimes in, far too cheerily to be about the idea of owing Death.

The old woman sighs and shakes her head.  “Well, then, I’m getting these old bones to bed.  The two of you can sleep in the loft.  Should still be blankets up there from the last time you crashed through the window, Ilya.”  

~~~

There’s a loft, probably intended for storage, over the kitchen accessible by a ladder and closed off with a curtain.  Julian climbs up the ladder then reaches down, offering me a hand that I refuse.  It's easier to climb with both hands.  I roll into the loft and summon a light before I pull the heavy curtains closed behind me.  It’s a small space - not even I could stand upright and Julian’s head threatens to brush the ceiling when he sits upright.  There’s a thick mattress and a pile of pillows and blankets.  It’s a cozy little nook, much more than a makeshift place to hole up for a night.  Julian tosses pillows into a heap at one end of the mattress, snaps a blanket out, and arranges his long limbs out on the bed.   

“Don't worry.  I'll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Oh will you now?”  I lay down on my side next him and trail my fingers over his chest.  “That's a shame.”  Flattening my palm against his shoulder, I push him onto his back.  Or rather, he lets me push him, responding to the slightest pressure from my hand.  He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm and nibbles at my fingertips.  “I'm not much sure I'm interested in perfect gentlemen.”

“I, um, I can -”  He bites his bottom lip as I swing one leg over him, straddling his waist yet again.  I slide my hands up to his shoulders, then his jaw, before cradling his face and running my thumbs over his cheekbones.  Kissing the tip of his nose, I run one hand through his hair and draw the other along his jaw, enjoying the feeling of the beginning of a beard underneath my fingers.  His breath is a gasp, catching briefly in his throat.  “I can be whatever you want.”

“Can you now?”  I lean over and kiss him, slowly, taking my time with his lips and catching my fingers in his lovely hair.  Strong hands wrap around the back of my thighs, sliding up until I'm very aware I'm not wearing anything underneath this shirt.

“Mmm, yeah, whatever you want.  Tell me.  I'll do it."  

What will be the interruption this time?  A flock of angry chickens?  His granny with a spoon?  I should feel worse about canoodling in a house that didn't belong to either of us, but a couple of days worth of frustrated lust was overwhelming good manners.  Well, and given the nudge and the wink I had, it seemed like the old woman both expected and approved of canoodling.  But, a bit of precaution might be in order.  I straighten up for a moment and weave my fingers through the air, adding an extra layer over the heavy curtains to prevent any sounds from passing through and fixing a gently glowing ball of light in one corner of the loft.  Then I untie the sash from around my waist and begin undoing the buttons on my borrowed shirt - probably one of his spare ones.  His hands tighten on me, fingers digging into my ass cheeks.  Leaning back down I press my cheek against his and nibble at his earlobe.  "Tell me what you like."  I drag my teeth against the skin where his neck and jaw meet, end of the day stubble scratching just so against my lips.  He moans.  "Is that something?”

"Yes . . . please, harder."

"Hmm."  I return to his neck leaving a trail of bite marks down to his collarbone, taking time with each one, even if it will fade almost immediately.  His hands slide deeper between my legs, fingertips teasing against the folds that I can already feel growing swollen and wet.  I press my mouth harder to his collarbone, hiking happily against him as one of his hands drags back around my thigh, turning and pushing back between my legs, fingers running along the outside folds, still teasing.  Let him tease.  I feel relaxed and languid, safe in this little nest.  

I slide my hands from his shoulders to his chest, running fingers around his nipples and experimentally catching one between thumb and forefinger.  "And here?”  

"Mmm, still harder."  

I pinch my fingers together as tightly as I can, getting a groan of pleasure from him.  A notion strikes me, and I use magic to chill my fingers, nearly to ice.  He jerks in surprise, then moans as my lips close around his nipple, scraping my teeth over it.  

"Do that again."  

I laugh softly, then repeat the process on the other side of his chest.  When I lift my head, his eyes and closed and his cheeks flushed.  I draw a chilled hand down his sternum, then reverse the spell, raising my fingers to just above body temperature before drawing them back up to his collarbone, pausing and cocking an eyebrow at him.  This please is a gasp.  I smile and press my hand - cold again - against his neck.  He moans, biting his lower lip, and I push a bit harder against his throat before leaning over to kiss the cold away.

"I, uh -”  He gasps again as I press a chilled thumb to the pulse point on the other side of his neck.  I close my teeth over the same spot, biting hard, even if I know that the curse side of whatever spell he’s under will heal the bruise within moments.  His hands tighten on my thighs as he moans beneath me.

I sit up and undo the remaining buttons on my shirt.   "Julian."  His eyes snap open, then widen at the sight of the shirt falling off my shoulders.  "Touch me."  His left hand uncurls from my thigh and ghosts along my stomach, settling over my breast, heel pressing into soft flesh while his fingers toyed the hardened nipple.  I sink into a sigh as his other hand finally works between my legs, middle finger circling my entrance then dragging along my slit, teasing up then back down to push inside me, rubbing just so.  Letting myself fall forward with tiny whine, I find his lips with mine, hips raised just high enough from his chest to give his fingers access while I roll my hips against his hand.  A second finger joins the first curling inside me, while his thumb circles my clit.

His hand withdraws, and I grab at his wrist with a plaintive whine, while he sits up, and pushes me back against his folded legs.  His erect cock nudges between my legs, as he sits up, pulling me against him, sucking at my neck and playing with my breasts again.  I reach down, pausing to dip my fingers between my legs, coating them with moisture before sliding them over Julian's cock.  He groans against my neck as I circle the thumb if one hand around the head of his cock, the other drawing up and down his shaft.   

And it seems we've dancing toward this since the moment he spoke from the shadows in my shop.  I slide down on him, and it's not joining, it's rejoining, picking back up after some inexplicable absence.  I come, gasping, my mouth pressed to his chest, and he follows a few moments later, thrusts exquisite, almost painful, against me.  We’re still for a moment, sweaty foreheads pressed together, panting breaths ghosting across each others lips.  Then, tugging me with he, he falls back against the pillow, leaving behind a hollow, lonely ache as he slides out of me.  His hands pulling me up to smother my face in kisses is some consolation, especially his lips pressing softly against my closed eyelids.  Sated, satisfied, I tuck my head against his neck, curling up on top of his chest, happy to keep our limbs tangled together.   

I’m in a library.  I lift my head off a desk that’s littered with books and notebooks and run my fingers through my hair.  It’s short, barely enough to run my fingers through.  Shorter than I ever remember cutting it.  This isn’t the palace library.  The space is cavernous, cold, utilitarian.  I stand up, running my fingers over the books on the desk.  I know what’s in them.  I could summarize each, but I don’t remember reading them.

I pick a book from a nearby shelf and flip it open.  It's a picture book.  A little girl with hair like mine is sitting in her father's lap while he reads to her.  Hands trembling, I put the book back.  I want to see this.  I want to see it all.  But not now.  Right now, I can't bear it.

The aisle between the shelves leads down to a door.  I push it open and step out onto a bridge.  Chunks of ice float on the surface of the water below.  It’d be so easy to join them.  A fall, a couple of minutes of pain from bones breaking against the surface tension, but no more than three minutes, probably less.  Then nothing but being carried away by the river.  Away from whatever it is that done, whatever I fucked up this time.  

I shudder.  I’ve been here before.  Thought that before.

Turning back to the door, I pull my clothes - wool knits and fur lined coat, so much heavier than anything I own - tight around me.  I don’t want to be here.  Not again.

The door doesn’t lead back to the library.  It doesn’t lead anywhere, not for me.  I’m not in the back room of the shop.  But the room is there, filled with the smoke of an incense I don’t recognize.  But of course, I can’t because I’m not actually there.  Asra is hunched over a table, a curious collection of crystals and bones spread in front of him.  A diagram is chalked on the table - the same one that’s on Julian’s neck.  Julian sits across from him at the table.  His face is a study in confusion and concern. 

“Asra, what are you?  How will this -”

Asra lifts his head, cutting off the question.  “I wonder just how much you’re willing to give, Ilya.”

“For -”  His eyes - both of them, he isn’t wearing an eyepatch - flick to the right, to where I’d be standing.  If I were there, instead of not there.  “Anything.  All of me.  You know that.”

Perspective folds in on itself, and Asra’s face becomes visible.  There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.  Ruthless, cold violet, no sign of their usual softness.  His fingers wrap around a small curved knife.  “Oh Ilya, I don’t need all of you.  Just your hand.”

Julian gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment, then holds out his right hand, bare and unprotected by a glove.  Asra draws the knife across Julian’s palm and holds his hand over the diagram, letting Julian’s blood fall on each of the four points of the diagram.  Julian watches, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  Asra turns his hand over, lips curling into something that resembles a smile, but isn’t quite one.  He bends over Julian’s hand and draws his tongue across the cut before letting go of his fingers.

“What will that do?”

Asra shrugs and stands up.  “Maybe nothing.”  He steps around the table and takes Julian’s hand again, bringing it to his mouth and pressing lips to knuckles.

Julian looks up at him, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.  "And that's all?"

"Why, Ilya?”  Asra turns over Julian's hand, inspecting the cut across his palm.  As he runs his thumb over it the flesh knots back together.  He cups Julian’s jaw in his hand, smearing blood across his cheekbone.  When he speaks his voice is deceptively soft.  "Did you want me to hurt you more?”

Julian clutches at Asra’s hip with his other hand.  His head drops forward onto Asra’s chest.  “Asra -”

Asra tilts his head to the side and strokes his hand through Julian’s hair.  The gesture is almost tender.  “I can’t give you what you want, Ilya.”  He places the emphasis on can’t, as if he somehow regrets what he’s saying.

Julian lifts his head, looking up at Asra.  “I’ll take what I can get.”  

The door reappears and with it my hands.  I pull it open and step out onto a beach.  Grey in the moonlight and smelling of equal parts smoke and ash.  Here the air is warm and humid.  I shrug off the coat, letting it fall to the sand, and unwind the scarf from around my neck.  My hair is long once more, hanging down my back in a simple braid.

A slender figure, white hair glowing in the moonlight stands on the shore, looking out over a bay.  Asra.  I walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  He turns, looking at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen on his face.  No laughter.  No teasing.  Just pain and remorse.  “I’m sorry.  I should have taken you with me.”

"Where?”

"Anywhere but here."

There's a crackle and a roar behind me, and I turn the see the door burst into flames.  "No!”  I bolt for the door, hoping - praying - that this time it would lead back to the library, that I could grab one or two of the books - the books with the little girl who looked like me.  I needed them, needed to know what had happened to her!  Asra catches me, both arms wrapped around my waist.

"Don't, you'll get hurt."

"Let me go."  I twist out of his hands and scramble across the sand.  Another pair of hands stops me, grasping my shoulders.  I look up.  Julian.  He spins me around and grabs my wrists.

"Not again.  I won't let you die.  Not this time."

I struggle against his grip, trying to twist away.  Suddenly, my left arm burns, like it's caught fire.  The flesh peels back from my bones, blackening.  Tendons constricting then giving way, and I can't pull my eyes away.  The left wrist - it's not mine, not anymore - disarticulates as I watch, fingerbones falling into the sand beneath my feet, little sticks of charcoal in the ashy sand.

I wake with a gasp, breathing hard and confused about whether I'm awake or still dreaming, much less where I am, or whose arms are uncomfortably tight around me.  The events of the past day slowly come into focus as the images of the dream fade away.  The red poison seeping into the water, eels, and Julian, no Ilya.  Somehow I feel safer remembering the name Mazelinka called him.  Feeling his warmth beside me.

But his hand is tight around my arm, tight enough that I'm starting to worry about a bruise.  He moans and mumbles in his sleep.  I don't catch much beyond, “sorry, so sorry . . . My fault . . . should have . . .”

I pry his fingers from my arm and summon a dim light.  Behind his eyelids, his eyes are saying back and forth, locked in whatever dream he's experiencing.  “Julian.”  I try to keep my voice low.  “Ilya.  Wake up.  You're dreaming.”  He moans again, and I tap my hand against his cheek.  “It's a dream.”

He wakes with a gasp, sitting up, folding his legs to his chest and hunching over them.  I rub his back and wait for his breathing to slow down. 

“I woke you,” he finally says.  “Sorry about that.”

“Shh.  It's okay.”  I continue kneading his shoulders as much to keep myself calm as the comfort him.  Easier to just focus on him than to worry about what might underlie my own nightmares.  “What was it?”

"A beach, a fire..."  He hides his face behind both hands for a moment then pushes them back through his hair.  "Always those fucking fires..."

My own breath catches in my throat and I feel my heart start to pound again.  He was dreaming of a beach and a fire as well.  Were we somehow in the same dream?  I chew at the edge of my thumb, caught between equally powerful impulses both to ask and to not ask the next question.  "Who were you apologizing to?”  

Julian shakes his head sadly and turns his face to me.  He runs his thumb along the lines of my face, before leaning over and kissing me gently.  “Someone I failed.  Someone I lost.  But I can never see her.  Just an outline against flames."

Was I . . .?  It would explain so much: my immediate sense of connection to him, his murmured not this time, how I just knew in my bones that he wasn't a bad man - no matter what he said about it.  I settle back on the pillows and pull his head down to my breast where I can continue to play with his hair.  “It’ll be okay.”

"You keep saying that."  His breath is warm on my collarbone.  The implication, of course, is that I don't know.  And he's right.  I don't know.  I don't know if I can find evidence that will exonerate him.  I don't know that even if I do that the Countess, that Nadia, will accept it, no matter how much I hope that Portia's faith in her isn't misplaced.  Perhaps Julian is right that Asra has some of the answers, if only he can be convinced to reveal them.  But neither of us know.  And while the more bits and pieces (or rather gaps where there should be at least hints of information), I uncover are leading me to believe that untangling this knot of stories around the Count's murder will have something to do with my own missing memories, I don't know that.  I don't even know that I want to know.

I do know that I want Julian.  I want him whether I ever recall the memories of him that I've decided are there, hidden away past the smoke, past the fire.

"Let's leave."

"What?  What are you talking about?”

"Here.  Vesuvia.  Fuck Vesuvia, let's just leave."  I never wanted to be involved with the Countess anyway.  I didn't care who had murdered the Count.  And if we stayed - if Julian stayed - and I didn't figure that out, he'd die for something he hadn't done.  I don't trust my skills as an investigator or an advocate that much.  And Asra, well, whatever there is  between us, I can't continue what we've been doing.  No matter how much I care for, how much I love him.  I’ll leave him a note with his tarot deck.  If he actually wanted me in his life he could damn well come find me instead of leaving me to wait for him.  

"Leave the city?"

"Yes."

"But, but isn't your whole life here?"

"My whole life - the part I can remember - is three fucking years."  And really only two of those are clear.  My memories of the city are little more than glimmers of recognition seen out of the corner of my eye, only to disappear when I turned my attention to them.  And Julian . . . Julian is the brightest of those glimmers.  "That's not much to leave behind."

"Three years?”

"I can't . . . I don't know how to explain it.  I only remember the last three years."

"Nothing else?”

"No.  Nothing that I can reach.  Sometimes I get hints, intuitions, that there's something there, but I can never grasp it.  Then I get these awful headaches."

"Dema -"

"I know it sounds impossible.  It should be impossible.  Yet it's the truth.  And you, I feel like I know - knew - you."

Julian raises one hand to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple as though he feels a headache coming on.  "I don't remember you, but . . . what you're describing, it's so, I mean, I feel the same, I think.  But I came back here to try to figure out why my memories from three years ago are so shot full of holes.  I can't leave until I do that."  He sighs and snuggles back against me.  “I can’t even remember what I did that makes me feel so guilty.  How do you come back from doing something awful?  Can you even?”

I continue to run one hand through his hair, and drape the other across his back, holding him tight against me.  “We don’t get much of a choice.  We just have to."

His eyelids pinch closed in a pained expression, and I run my thumb lightly over them, trace the bridge of his nose, and brush over his lips before letting my hand slide down his neck and return to his.  I’m surprised when he falls back asleep, seemingly lulled by the simple touch.  I'm more surprised when my mind slows, and I follow.

Next chapter.

Masterpost

a/n: chapter title from Franz Ferdinand, ‘Katherine, Kiss Me’

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

loft beds are (not) for lovers [ficlet, ii/ii]

Ben’s always wanted a loft bed. Rey has a loft bed.

(That’s it, that’s the ficlet.)

Now with a bed-breaking second chapter, because I couldn’t resist. (Still rated T though, so please don’t get your hopes up!)

Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe come say hi on Twitter or buy me a Ko-fi?

“Almost done?”

Rey spares Ben a glance over her shoulder before she returns to her contemplation of the loft bed. He’s running out of boxes to bring down to the truck, a sign of a job well done on both their parts, but that means she can no longer put this off.

“Just about,” she tells him, tilting her head as if a new angle might provide her with the elusive magical solution she’s been waiting for. “I’m not sure what to do with this. There’s no way it’s going out the door in one piece, and it’s not like anyone wants it anyway.”

She could just leave it here, but then it’d be Maz’s problem, and the sweet old lady doesn’t deserve that.

“I guess we could take it apart,” Ben suggests, as if it’s as simple as twisting free a few screws and stacking up nice, even parts.

“See, the thing is– Ben!” Rey squeals as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest, giving a half-hearted struggle to escape his iron hold. “I’m all sticky,” she points out, painfully aware of the beads of sweat trailing down her back and now soaking into his shirt.

He shrugs, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t mind.”

“And I’ve got dust and dirt everywhere–”

Ben silences her protest with a nip to her earlobe. “Dirty girl,” he growls teasingly, pressing a warm kiss to her neck before he turns her around and picks her up in one fell swoop. After a year of practice, Rey likes to think they’ve got this move down pat, working in sync as his hands curve under the swell of her bum while she wraps her arms and legs around him.

“We need to leave soon,” she reminds him, not surprised in the slightest by the breathy quality of her voice. The way he holds her tight, the way he looks up at her like she’s everything – she’ll never get tired of this, never fully get used to it. “And I’ve still got boxes in the kitchen–”

“I think we’ve earned a break, don’t you?” Ben says, feet carrying him forward out of sheer muscle memory before he realizes his destination no longer exists. The sofa bed they usually make use of had been the first thing to go, moved into his home office three days after he first pointed out that she barely ever spends time here anymore and wasn’t her lease up soon anyway?

Everything else had followed shortly after, moved either to his – well, their – apartment or the secondhand shop Rey had scavenged so much of her furniture from in the first place. Now all that remains is the loft bed, standing tall and proud in the gutted out shell of her former home.

Ben, determined as ever, barely falters as he pivots with her in his arms and makes for the kitchen. Rey supposes a break won’t hurt, and maybe after this she’ll finally figure out what to do with the bed–

“Wait, wait!” She unwraps her legs from around Ben’s hips, trusting him to let her down gently even as the tiniest hint of a frown forms on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rey assures him, tugging him back towards the bed with a grin. “It’s just, since no one wants this anyway, I was thinking… it wouldn’t be a terrible waste if something were to happen to the bed.” She leans against the ladder and looks up at him with a smirk, waits until the processing look on Ben’s face transforms into something else entirely before she turns around and starts climbing up. Halfway through she twists around to look at Ben, and laughs when she finds him stepping out of his jeans as he pulls his shirt off.

“What’s the rush?”

“Figured I’d make things more convenient,” Ben shrugs before he reaches out and lightly smacks her backside. “Now up you go, sweetheart. No time to waste, right?”

Rey shakes her head at his enthusiasm and hurries up the last three rungs, filling the apartment with her laughter when Ben practically flings himself over the edge only to freeze as the bed creaks in protest.

“You really weren’t kidding about this thing collapsing, were you?”

“I mean, I’m impressed it didn’t fall to pieces when you got on the ladder,” Rey tells him as she kicks off her shorts. “When I built it I wasn’t even sure it’d hold me, let alone a hundred-and-eighty-pound gym rat–”

Ben lunges forward to hover over her. “Hey, I’m not a gym– wait, what did you just say?”

He looks a little too distracted for it to be a gag, but Rey plays along anyway. “A hundred and eighty, babe. It’s nothing to be ashamed of–”

“No, no, the part about you build–”

And that’s when the ancient bed slats choose to give out under them with a terrible, disastrous snap.

“Fucking fuck!” Ben yells as Rey lets out a startled scream, the two of them holding tight to each other as the rest of the precarious structure caves in and sends them tumbling to the ground, mattress and all. “Jesus Christ, Rey,” he says a whole minute later, the two of them still breathing hard, staring up at the ceiling they were close enough to graze just moments ago. “You made this thing?”

Rey turns to him with a frown. “Well, obviously. What did you think?”

Ben sits upright, taking her with him. “I thought it was made by an actual manufacturer!” he says, sounding just the slightest bit freaked out as he runs a hand through his hair and roughly tugs at the ends. “With a healthy fear of lawsuits and decent workmanship!”

His eyes are huge and impossibly round right now, and it’s funny, really, that’s she’s known him for more than a year yet this is the first time she’s ever seen Ben freaking out. “Hey,” Rey huffs, biting back a smile as she makes a big show of crossing her arms and pinning him down with a glare that has no real heat in it. “Are you saying my workmanship is shoddy?”

“I’m saying I think I have splinters in my ass, sweetheart,” he tells her in the driest tone possible, almost challenging her to disagree with him and defend the quality of her work.

It was never her finest piece to begin with, but like hell is she admitting that to Ben.

“Oh, poor baby,” she croons instead, shuffling closer on her knees while Ben watches her with wary eyes. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

His lips twitch as Rey settles between his legs and loops her arms around his neck. Once, twice, and then– “If this is your way of telling me you’re into butt stuff…” Ben begins with that shit-eating grin she can never help but kiss off his face.

A year later and it still works like a charm.

Rey shakes her head and draws away, pulls Ben down onto the mattress with her. “Some other time, babe. For now, let’s do it on a loft bed while we still can.”

“Um, Rey, I think that ship sailed about five minutes ago–”

She sighs and hooks her legs around his waist, uses her feet to slide his boxers down. “There are pieces of the bed under the mattress, which means we’re still on the bed. Which means it counts, Ben.”

A beat, and then–

He grins again. “Have I ever told you you’re the smartest person I know?”

“It’s always nice to hear it again,” Rey shrugs as she pushes his boxers past his knees and nudges his hips with her own to draw his attention back to the matter at hand. “Now will you please get on with it?”

Ben jolts at the unexpected skin-to-skin contact. “Oh. Oh. Right away, ma’am, whatever you want–”

Rey shakes her head. “You’re lucky I love you too much to get rid of you,” she mutters, and swallows whatever smartass reply he might have with a kiss.

. . .

For their honeymoon, Rey books a cabin with a beautiful view, gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows, and a huge master bedroom with a mezzanine floor for the bed, accessible only via a built-in ladder.

In other words, it’s as close to a loft bed as they’re ever going to get.

I can't believe I finally wrote a ficlet-length ficlet... only to write a second chapter that's nearly three times the length of the original piece. Clearly I was born in the wrong era, because imagine if we were still doing that whole "paid by the word" thing. Alas, here I am, a penniless millennial.

Anyway... As always, thank you for reading and I hope you liked this! Please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment; it really does make my day. <3

[thewayofthetrashcompactor]

CHAPTER TWO ON AO3

(chapter 1)

Rating: T (M later) Words: 4241 / 40k Tags: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Finn, Rose Tico, Unkar Plutt, Leia Organa, Snoke, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Fairy Tale Elements, Moon, Scavenger Rey, Reylo Fanfiction Anthology, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change

Summary: Rey has a busy schedule: between her part time jobs, trying to get a degree, and breaking into certain people’s homes to steal items she can pawn off to Unkar Plutt, she doesn’t have time for anything mysterious or unusual. And she’s not exactly in the habit of returning lost property.

However, something gets her to make an exception. Which somehow mixes her up with Ben Solo, and that turns out to be a hard bond to break.

Notes: Thank you again to everyone who was part of the @reylofanfictionanthology​ and who helped make this happen. <3

@persimonne​ , incredible human that she is, made a beautiful piece of art for this fic, right here! Spoilers for upcoming chapters, but it’s one of my favorite things ever.

-

The day passed in an exhausted haze, from the garage to classes, barely staying awake through the lecture, and then a short break before she had to clock in at Maz’s. She could use a nap, but the chance that she wouldn’t wake up in time wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, she pulled out the bag from its hiding place.

Glancing over her shoulder to double check that her door was closed, she took the coat out and lay it on her bed. It felt just as soft as she remembered, with that same indefinable draw. She refrained from burying her face in it and instead dug in the pockets of the bag for the note. With it in one hand, she pulled her phone out with the other and sat on the bed looking between them.

Realistically, the number probably wouldn't even work. Or it would be answered by someone who had no idea who Ben Solo was and didn't know what she was calling about. Even better, it could be answered by someone who did know who he was and called the cops on her. The odds of this going well for her were not in her favor. The paper crinkled as her fingers tightened around it. She let out a slow breath.

(cont. under cut)

The rational thing to do would be to burn the note and hide the coat with the garbage. If she wanted to risk it, Plutt would still likely give her a couple hundred for it. Even though he'd give her a hard time, it'd probably improve her odds with him in the long run. Instead, she dialed the number.

Her phone showed it as a California area code, and she stared at the screen as it dialed out. It rang several times, and she was about to give up when the call connected with a click. Her heart stopped.

“Hello?” said a voice on the other end. It sounded like an older woman, and Rey couldn't breathe. “Hello?” she said again, more impatient.

Rey unstuck her tongue. “Hello,” she rasped.

A beat of silence. “Who is this?” the woman asked.

“I, um.” If Rey had thought about what she would say, it all went completely out of her head. “Is this...Mrs. Solo?”

The woman hesitated, and Rey thought again how there was no way this would work; it was probably some complete stranger --

“Organa-Solo,” the woman corrected. “May I ask who's calling?”

“This is -- I'm Kira,” Rey said, stumbling over the lie. “I think...I found something of yours? Or your son's maybe? This number was in the pocket.”

There was a sharp gasp on the other end. “Ben?” the woman asked, voice sharp with desperation. “You have something of Ben's?”

“I - yes, it's a coat, his name -”

“You found his coat?” Rey flinched and held the phone away from her ear.

“Yes, a fur coat -” A choked sob on the other end interrupted her this time. “Ma’am?”

The other woman didn't say anything for a bit and Rey listened to the sounds of barely restrained tears overlaying various swearing and a few words she didn't understand. “Are you okay?” Rey ventured.

She could almost hear the woman drawing herself together on the other end. There was a rustling of clothing and she could imagine this woman sitting straight, composing herself. “I am… much better than I have been,” she said haltingly, but with an undeniable firmness to her voice.

Rey waited. “Should I… send it to you?” she said eventually.

“I - why don't you bring it to my son? I think that would be best.”

Rey started. “You know where he is?” She had a sudden vision of being sent the address to a cemetery to pay respects to someone she'd never known.

The woman laughed bitterly. “Despite some very determined efforts, yes. I do. I assume you found his coat nearby? Are you in Daxam?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Perfect. Ben lives at 96 Sienar Street, apartment 218.”

Rey blinked. “That's not far.”

“Could you take it to him then? I'm sure he would be very grateful.”

“Er, yeah. I could do that. But…” Rey trailed off, not sure what she was going to say. Nothing about this had gone as she'd expected.

“Good,” the other woman said decisively. Then, in a gentler tone. “Thank you, Kira. I can't tell you how much this means.”

“It's… no problem,” she said weakly.

The woman laughed again, genuinely this time. “I am very sure that's not true. I appreciate it anyway though.” She fell quiet and Rey started wondering what a tactful way to hang up would be in this kind of circumstance. She'd never been famed for her grasp of social niceties, and how to say goodbye to the mother of a stranger who's stolen coat she'd rescued wasn't covered in public school.

Thankfully, the other woman somehow had a more graceful grasp on the situation. “I should let you go,” she said, and Rey thought she sounded genuinely regretful. “But I would very much like to talk to you again, Kira. Maybe after you've seen my son?”

Rey hesitated. This was yet another bad idea, but the woman sounded so hopeful, she didn't have the heart to turn her down. “Okay.”

“Thank you so much.” Rey could hear her smile. “Again. I look forward to hearing from you.”

continue reading on ao3!

[poeticandors]

I’ll Come Back For You Part 6

Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: After Rey is captured by Kylo Ren, Y/N, Finn, and Han make their way to rescue her.

Warnings: Curse words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I do not own anything!!!

Tags under the cut.

“Rey! Come back!” You yelled after Rey, who took off into the forest. Han walked up to you, ready to question you but you stopped him.

“Dad, Rey is gone. I don’t know where she went and…” People around you began to point up at the sky, some yelling in terror and you looked up, gasping at the sight.

In the sky were red beams of light, going towards other planets. Your dad place a hand on your back and you raised a hand to cover your mouth, tears threatening to spill.

“It was the Republic. The First Order, they’ve done it.” Finn yelled after you and you looked at him, pulling your hand away from your mouth. “Where’s Rey?” Before you could explain, Maz came up to your group and begged you to follow her.

You watched as she handed the lightsaber to Finn. The air around you suddenly felt heavy, just like on Jakku, and the whirring of TIE Fighters helped explain the reasoning.

Grabbing your blaster, you followed your father and Finn back outside, meeting up with Chewie. Stormtroopers immediately began shooting at you, causing you to duck and find cover. Your father and Chewie led you to cover, shooting every Stormtrooper in sight.  

“Hey, can I try that?” Your dad asked, pointing over to Chewie’s bowcaster.

Chewie growled and nodded, handing it over to him.

“Oooh yeah, me next.” You pleaded and watched as your father effortlessly shot at a pair of Stormtroopers.

“I like this thing.”

“Ok you had your fun.” You snatched it from his hands and began to aim at a group of Stormtroopers. “Now it’s my turn.” A rush of adrenaline surged through you as you pulled the trigger, watching as the blast took out the group.

“Oh my stars that was fucking awesome!” Your father snatched the bowcaster from you and nudged you hard.

“Language!” Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your blaster again and began to shoot at the Stormtroopers.

A whirring sound caused you to turn and you watched as Finn ran after a Stormtrooper, who was carrying a weird electric thing.

“Uh, dad—“

“Already on it, kid.” Finn was thrown back and you watched as your dad shot the bowcaster at the Stormtrooper, causing him to fly back.

You and your father reached down to help Finn up, when a group of troopers raised their weapons at you. They took your weapons and began to walk you to an empty area. Rather than shoot you right away, the troopers began to take cover from something and you looked up at your dad, who lowered his hands.

“It’s the Resistance.” In the distance, a group of X-Wings came closer to the castle and you took cover as they shot down the Stormtroopers surrounding you all.

Grabbing your weapons, you stood next to Finn and watched in awe as one of the X-Wings began taking out Stormtroopers, then Tie fighters, all while doing flips in the air.

“What a show-off!”

“Whoo! That’s one hell of a pilot!” You and Finn shouted at the same time, causing you both to laugh.

The weight you felt earlier began to feel stronger and you lowered your weapon. A blaster behind you went off and you gasped as a sharp pain appeared on your left side. Feeling dizzy from both the weight and the blaster wound, you began to fall to your knees. Finn leaned down to help you up and you shook your head in panic.

“M-my b-brother…” You shakily whispered and Finn looked at you in confusion before looking up and his face dropped.

Leaving you, he began to run and call out Rey’s name. Your father came up to you and helped you up, looking at you in sadness and worry. As you took a step, a burning sensation shot up your side and you yelped.

The sound of a freighter lowering caused you to look up and, with your father’s help, began walking towards it. Finn ran back up and was rambling something about Rey, your father ignoring him as he looked towards the freighter as if he was waiting for something.

You were about to yell at him for being rude, when you heard the ship door open and saw Resistance members walking out of the ship. Your mother was the last to walk down the ramp, stopping as she laid eyes on you.

Pulling out of your father’s grasp, you ran into her embrace, ignoring the pain in your side. She sighed in relief and pulled away, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Mom.” She smiled and placed a hand on your cheek and looked behind you towards your father.

You knew this was a moment they needed, so you called for Finn to help you onto the freighter, a small ounce of hope blooming in your chest.  

Finn sat beside you; asking if you multiple times if were fine, reassuring him that you were. You almost forgot about BB-8 and sighed when he rolled up next to you.

A voice over an intercom said they were pulling up to the landing strip on the Resistance Base.  Finn helped you up and began walking you towards the door.

“Y/N…” Finn began to say and you turned to look at him. “I’m so sorry for what I said back there, about Poe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You gave him a sad smile and reached for his hand.

“I know you didn’t Finn and it’s okay.” Finn forced a smile and you squeezed his hand. “I forgive you.” The doors hissed open and Finn helped you down the ramp.

It was done. You got BB-8 back to base with the map and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The only thing that would make you better is if Poe was with you.

Finn started to help you walk away from the ship. Crew members were hurrying around you, trying to help the injured or tend to their ships. People waved or nodded at you and you just smiled.

Finn had stopped walking and you turned to look up at him, the look on his face was as if he’d seen a ghost. Before you could see what he was looking at, BB-8 nudged your leg as he rolled quickly past you. Following the droid, you froze as you saw the man he was rolling to.

It was Poe.

Your Poe.

A gasp escaped you and you watched as Poe saw BB-8 and immediately ran to his droid, leaning down to pet him. You pulled away from Finn and began to slowly limp towards him.

“Poe?” You whispered to yourself and as if he heard you, he looked at you and his face instantly lit up.

“Y/N/N?” He stood up and made his way towards you.

“Poe!” You yelled this time and took off running, ignoring the pain in your side.

His arms opened for you and you jumped into them, holding tight as he lifted you up and spun you. Finally, you became overwhelmed with emotion and began sobbing into his flight suit, daring not to let go.

Poe finally lowered you and pulled you away before placing his hands on the side of your face. He couldn’t help but smile widely and pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, but then melted into the kiss.

The kiss was everything you had imagined, and so much more.  As soon as his lips touched yours, it was like time stopped all around you. Your lips matched perfectly with his and you were still left with wanting more.

Poe finally broke the kiss and brought his forehead to yours.

“I have been waiting for a long time to do that, Y/N/N.” He whispered and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I never thought I would see you again, Poe.”

“I told you before, princess, I will always come back for you.” Smiling at him, you fisted his flight suit and pulled him in for another kiss.

Poe pulled away, placing a feather light kiss on the tip of your nose and began to scan your body for injury. His eyes lit up in realization and he bit his lip as he looked back up at you.  

“Is that my jacket?”

After yours and Poe’s reunion, Finn ran up after you guys and the two of you explained what had happened after the crash.  When Finn told him about Rey’s capture and where they were going, Poe then decided he would help you persuade the Council.

As you walked up to your mother, someone bumped into you and you hissed in pain, having forgotten about your wound. Poe looked down on you, concern filling his eyes, and you told him you were fine, that you would get it checked out after they agreed to help. Poe hesitated, but nodded and grabbed onto your hand.

Your mother turned towards the three of you, smiling at you as you approached her. She glanced down at yours and Poe’s entwined hands and raised a knowing brow, throwing a smirk at you.

“Moth- I mean Genral Organa this is Finn, he is the Stormtrooper that helped Poe and I escape the First Order.” Your mother looked at Finn and smiled, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

“That was incredibly brave what you did: renouncing the First Order, saving not only this man’s life, but my daughters as well.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Finn quickly said. “But a friend of ours was taken prisoner.”

“Yes, she was taken by—“

“Han told me about the girl.” Your mother reassured you and grabbed your hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ma’am, Finn is familiar with the weapon that destroyed the Hosnian system.” Poe spoke up. “He worked on the base.” Your mother looked back at Finn with hopeful eyes.

“We are desperate for anything that can help us.”

“That’s where Rey was taken, I’ve gotta get there fast.” You nudged Finn in the ribs with your elbow.

“You mean we’ve gotta get there fast.”

“And I will do everything I can to help you both, but you need to tell us all you know.” Finn agreed and followed your mother to talk about the weapon.

You were about to follow them when you felt Poe pull you back and led you towards a secluded area. He turned to look at you, grabbing your face with both hands and pulled you in for a needy kiss. Smiling into the kiss, you placed one hand on his chest while the other hooked onto his shoulder.

Before the kiss became too heated, you pulled away and smiled at Poe, who was staring at you with stars in his eyes.

“I was so worried about you, Y/N/N.” Poe said, brushing a thumb on your cheek. “I thought I had lost you.” Placing a hand on his, you leaned into his touch.

“I was worried about you too, Poe. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and if you were hurt or…” You trailed off; looking to the ground and Poe pulled you in for a tight hug.

“I was worried that it was too late to tell you how I felt. I was too scared to tell you before, but when I woke up after we crashed and couldn’t find you, all I felt was guilt. I thought that I would never get a chance to tell you my true feelings.” Looking up through your lashes, you felt the corner of your mouth lift up.

“And what are these feelings, Poe?” He smiled and placed his forehead on yours.

“Y/N, I am truly and head over heels in love with you. I always liked you from the first moment I saw you, attitude and all.” You both laughed at this. “But it was that moment on Naboo where I completely fell for you. The way your face lit up as soon as you saw the planet and that was when I knew. I wanted to be the one to make you smile like that and I wanted to be able to hear that beautiful laugh of yours for the rest of my life.

“When Kylo Ren was torturing me, I tried not to think of you, so that he wouldn’t see that you are my weakness, but I couldn’t help it. All I could focus on were your Y/E/C eyes and that smile that makes my stomach do flips. When he brought you in there and I saw you on the ground, I felt like I was letting you down because I was not able to take away that pain from you. I love you, Y/N and I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.” You couldn’t contain the wide-tooth smile and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Poe’s lips.

Poe smiled against you and pulled you closer, his hands tickling your neck as he trailed them down to your back. You pulled away once more.

“I love you too, Poe.”

After yours and Poe’s private moment, he dragged you to the medical wing to get your wound fixed up. A few antibacterial cleaners and one bacta patch later, you stood in between Poe and Finn as they began talking about Star Killer Base.

You stared in admiration at Poe who was explaining the details of the Star Killer Base. He truly was a natural born leader and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for him. Suddenly, a holo popped up in the middle of everyone and showed a comparison between the Death Star and the Star Killer Base.

“So, it’s big.” Your dad said nonchalantly.

“How is it possible to power up a weapon of that size?” Admiral Ackbar asked before Finn spoke up.

“It uses the power of the sun. As the weapon is charged, the sun drains until it disappears.” One of the other Resistance members walked up and handed your mother a message, her facial expression dropping, and she sighed.

“The First Order is charging the weapon right now.” Everyone around you gasped and began to speak up while Poe noticed your uneasiness, instantly placing a comforting hand on your back. “Our system is the next target.”

“Okay,” Your dad spoke up. “How do we blow it up? There’s always a way to do that.”

“Han’s right.” You took notice of the look she was giving your dad and you smiled to yourself.

“We’ll go in there and hit that oscillator with everything they’ve got.” Poe said determined, everyone nodding in agreement.

“Wait.” You spoke up. “What about the shields? We can’t do anything until that problem is solved first.”

“We can disable the shields.”

“Finn, you worked there. What do you think?” Finn nodded at you and looked back at everyone.

“I can do it. I can disable the shields, but I have to be there. On the planet.” You glanced at your dad, who immediately knew what you were thinking and nodded.

“Well we can get you there.” Han smirked.

You saw from the corner of your eye the way Poe glanced down at you, but you chose to ignore him.

“I’m going with you.”

After the meeting had ended, Poe grabbed you and dragged you to his quarters. He didn’t speak to you the entire way, but you already knew what this was about. As much as you knew he was going to try to convince you, you couldn’t stay behind on base.

Something was coming and you just had to be there to help bring Rey back.

Poe pressed the button to his door and it opened with a whoosh. He stood to the side, letting you walk in first, and followed in behind you. The room was silent—the air thick with tension—and you finally turned towards Poe.

He was standing there with his hands on his hips and looking away from you, clenching his jaw. Twiddling with your fingers, you took a cautious step forward.

“Poe?” He exhaled sharply, but still refused to look at you.

“Poe.” You took another step forward. “You can’t stop me from going. Rey is my friend I can’t just leave her at the hands of the First Order. You of all people should understand that.” He finally shot you a look, his eyes fueled with fire.  

“This is exactly the reason you do not need to go, Y/N. I just got you back; I am not going to lose you again.”

“Poe, please—“

“You were tortured, Y/N.” He said firmly. “You sprained your wrist, and you got shot not even mere hours ago. I can’t let you can’t risk your life-“

“Oh but you can?” You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You are allowed to go and lead a squadron to fight against the First Order but I can’t go help save my friend?”

“Yes I am allowed to because it is my job!” He yelled, taking a step forward to lessen the distance between you.

“It’s my job too! And it is my job to protect my friends! If it weren’t for Finn we both wouldn’t even be here. As for Rey, do you know how many times she has saved my ass?” Poe stayed quiet. “Two times, Poe. I can’t just leave her there, Poe. Please, you have to let me do this.” He looked away from you, shaking his head.

“I can’t, Y/N.” You huffed angrily.

“And why not? Why do you get to risk your life but I—“

“Because all I am able to think about is you dying at the hands of Kylo Ren!” He yelled in your face, causing you took a step back and looked at him with fear in your eyes.

Poe’s face softened and he ran a hand over his face before wrapping his arms around you. He placed his head into the nape of your neck and squeezed tightly, as if he was afraid you would disappear. Hesitating, you placed one hand at the back of his neck and the other around his back.

“Poe, I will be fine.” You whispered. “I will have Finn, Chewie, and my dad with me.” He shook his head and replied with a shaky voice.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt like last time. I keep picturing you on the floor screaming in pain and me being forced to watch. I don’t want him hurting you again, Y/N. Especially since I just got you back.” You pushed Poe back and placed both of your hands against the side of his neck.

“He will not hurt me again, Poe. I don’t know if what I saw was true, but the last encounter we had with him, I saw him hesitate a little when he saw me. My mother still thinks there is light in him and I think she may be right.” Poe sighed and brought his forehead towards yours.

“If you say he won’t hurt you, then I trust you. But I want you to be smart about this, Y/N. You need to stay by your father and Finn the entire time, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.” Sighing in relief, you nodded and Poe smiled softly at you, placing a hand on your cheek.

“I love you, Poe.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, princess.”

Tag List: @sabertooth-potato @extraterrestrialsky @readingvogueonprivetdrive @jessicaguerreiro07 @allisjustok @puredicks @ihollandtom @heyjess-marie @valeriariosarevalo @thewaywardangelsclub @nimgaled

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[ao3feed--reylo]

I See The Real You

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hyYLnw

by booklover_93

Everything was going great for Rey, countless jobs done for Rebel Technology over the last five years. But one job undercover at First Order Research and her life will change forever. But for good or bad? — “That’s not her.” Kylo growled slamming his fist into the wall.

“What do you mean? That’s the same girl.” Hux and Phasma both scoffed looking at Kylo like he had lost it.

“No, the girl in the video is small with brown hair. Not tall with blonde hair. It seems that we have someone with a unique power against us.” Kylo growled glaring at the screen.

“Did you see a girl with brunette hair and a blue earring here at any point?” He turned asking the girl that was shaking in her boots. “Um I think I saw a girl like that, but that was a year ago. She bumped into me in the parking lot one day. I didn’t know she was still here, and I’m sorry sirs and ma’am but I have no idea what’s going on.” She sobbed as tears ran down her face.

Growling and throwing a chair with his power Kylo glared at the image on the screen. “She’s telling the truth. God damnit we had a spy here for a year!!!”

Words: 3534, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Phasma (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Finn (Star Wars), Han Solo, Leia Organa, Dopheld Mitaka, Kaydel Ko Connix, Maz Kanata, Chewbacca (Star Wars)

Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Violence, Alternate Universe - Different Powers, I’ll put more if I think of any.

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hyYLnw

[cryptid-killjoy]

orleans-jester​:

Ellie was trying to convince Elsa to go and visit Dale. There was no way that her parents were going to send her on a plane to a different continent by herself to go and hang out with a boy. Even if it was Dale Laveau. They wanted to trust him. They liked him. They did. But after their daughter had come home with bruises and scrapes and black eyes and split lips the one time, they were a bit more wary. Elsa’s word had soothed them over for now. But it was still a no-go unless Elsa went with her.

Okay, that was a low blow from Chip, but Ellie didn’t fight against it because she knew that Jax had a point. Maz and Jax would still be happily working on the island if Babyface hadn’t been taken, but it wasn’t like that was her fault - or was it? She still had that feeling inside that she should have broke him out earlier. Should have taken Dale up on his offer but she was thinking of things from Babyface’s point of view, or trying to. He seemed to want to go to juvie. To learn more there than he did in school. Make his family proud or whatever. She wanted him to be happy, even with Maz’s and Jax’s precautions.

It hit hard.

But there was also that fiery part that told her that it was not her fault. The part that had grown up reading Elsa’s diaries and reading all of the blame that she had put upon herself her entire life and refusing to let that be her. She would take responsibility for her actions. But only her actions.

She remained quiet while Babyface and Jax fought again. While Chip tried to diffuse the situation a little bit. She patted her cousin’s arm. That’s what Chip was, almost. A replacement for River, basically. “Don’t worry about us,” She told him, putting Jax’s present back under her arm since he didn’t want it. “I have ways to cool him down if he becomes too much of a hothead.”

Prom wasn’t really a thing to her. Not like she was invited. She’d much rather be with her friends getting Jax situated wherever he wanted to be than dancing in some lame ballroom.

“You swam to us for a reason, Jax,” Ellie said, walking up to the curly haired boy, not afraid of him. Not afraid of his anger. She had stormed right on up. Looked him eye to eye. “You came off of that island and you came TO US. And we helped you because we goddamn love you, so you need to take it down a notch and get real. Would you have rathered your sister keep going Lolita with that creepy old geezer? No dude, that’s gnarly as hell. Babyface took care of it because he loves her too. I kept up with your annoying homework so that you could return to life here if you wanted for MONTHS once we got you out, but you want to come at us like that? You can yell and moan and bitch all you want, you were a donkey and that fucking sucks but it’s because of us and Dale that you came back so - I think you owe Chip a wham bam thank you ma’am and then we can figure out next steps. Deal?”

Jax never had quite forgiven Ellie for telling Dale in the first place, “hinting” to Dale as she kept correcting to try and make it better that she fucking opened her damn mouth. Mazzie and Jax were never same after that. They could all make excuses with by calling out the good things Dale had done for them in time, but Ellie didn’t know the behind the scenes conversations a brother and sister had and how many other ways things might have turned out, other plans might been hatched if Dale hadn’t been involved at all. Ellie gets upset at herself for not taking Dale up on his initial offers for help. So did Jax. It was like what was the point of opening her mouth if she wasn’t going to utilize the resource until their lives were ruined? Or how about maybe their lives wouldn’t have been ruined if she’d have let them handle this their own way. Jax was angry at Mazzie for ever opening her mouth and telling Ellie. Everything felt out of Jax’s control because he was the one who got no choices in all of how everything played out and it affected him the most from the very start. 

Jax looked right at her and said, “I didn’t ask you to do my homework.” 

Then he looked at Chip. “Thanks for changing me back.” 

But, he didn’t succumbed to Ellie’s words like he was all moved, hurt, changed, revolted, or understanding of them. He wasn’t having some epiphany. He was thankful. He would say so. But, he didn’t have that cow down personality type that looked at domineering face and just did what it was told. He took in how Ellie felt about it and filed it down deep. 

“But, yeah, you’re right. Fine. I’m just all fudged up right now. Sorry. Thank you. Deal... as long as you stop calling him that. I can’t deal with that right now. He’s just the Coachman. The Magic Man. Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him. You just don’t get it. Then deal.” 

Somewhere in him he just wasn’t giving it up. There were little details he was having a hard time letting go of he once did, but now that it turned out this way, he leeched right back onto in an I told you sis kind of way except he had no sister to shout it at. He needed to shake it off, walk it off, get further away from it. But, what did it matter anymore? It played out this way? These were the people that cared now. These were the people that followed through. It needed to sink in. It was hard when everything backfired on him so hard. Everything hurt so bad inside. 

“I just need to go home or something. Relax.”

“No. NO.” Babyface jumped up. “They don’t even know you’re back, J-dog. Fuck that. I got the crib set up. You stay at the crib.” Babyface wanted Jax to be able to think for himself in a clear space. If he wanted to go home after that so be it. He wouldn’t stop him. But, god damn. He just wanted some time. He had so many questions and he knew Jax wasn’t ready to answer yet. That was so clear. 

“Come on man. It’s the crew’s crib. You hang there first. You’re part of the crew. Don’t do this bro. We got you back.”

“The crew.”

Putting it that way seemed to pull Jax back to the old days.

“Yeah, the crew.” Babyface confirmed glancing over at Ellie. “We gotta keep the crew tight.” He said trying to prove it always them. All of them. 

Jax glanced over at Ellie. She was the last and newest member of said crew by a few class periods. Fudgers. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go to the crib for now. No promises. I need to sort my head out. I need my sister.” 

“That’s all I ask, dude. That’s all I ask.” 

Babyface went in for one and looked at looked over Jax’s shoulder at Ellie as he hugged with the expression of ‘motherfuck me this was suppose to me easy’ and overwhelmed that wasn’t on his face. 

Chip in the meantime had snuck out and went snooping for the cookies to take back to the girls. When he came back people were hugging so he hoped that meant things were getting sorted out because he was heading back camp. 

[ao3feed4reylo]

via AO3 works tagged 'Star Wars - All Media Types' read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hyYLnw booklover_93

by booklover_93

Everything was going great for Rey, countless jobs done for Rebel Technology over the last five years. But one job undercover at First Order Research and her life will change forever. But for good or bad? — “That’s not her.” Kylo growled slamming his fist into the wall.

“What do you mean? That’s the same girl.” Hux and Phasma both scoffed looking at Kylo like he had lost it.

“No, the girl in the video is small with brown hair. Not tall with blonde hair. It seems that we have someone with a unique power against us.” Kylo growled glaring at the screen.

“Did you see a girl with brunette hair and a blue earring here at any point?” He turned asking the girl that was shaking in her boots. “Um I think I saw a girl like that, but that was a year ago. She bumped into me in the parking lot one day. I didn’t know she was still here, and I’m sorry sirs and ma’am but I have no idea what’s going on.” She sobbed as tears ran down her face.

Growling and throwing a chair with his power Kylo glared at the image on the screen. “She’s telling the truth. God damnit we had a spy here for a year!!!”

Words: 3534, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Phasma (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Finn (Star Wars), Han Solo, Leia Organa, Dopheld Mitaka, Kaydel Ko Connix, Maz Kanata, Chewbacca (Star Wars)

Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Violence, Alternate Universe - Different Powers, I’ll put more if I think of any.

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/3hyYLnw

[aria-i-adagio]

Yes, I Love You, I Mean, I’d Love to Get to Know You (sfw)

Masterpost

Fandom: The Arcana

Chapter Rating: This version has no lemons.  If you want the lemon, go here.

Warning: The dream sequence in italics has some body horror and mention of suicidal ideation.

Wordcount: 5800

The streets are quiet - a touch too late for people to be headed to the bars, and a little early for people to be headed back home from them - when we reemerge from the garden.  Julian offers me his arm and I take it, walking close to him, stepping quickly to keep up with is long strides; although, I can tell that he’s slowing his pace for me.

“Why were you at the reservoir anyway?”

“Hmm?  Oh, yeah, that.  I like being near water.  Helps me think.  Usually I go down by the docks but they’re pretty busy during the day.  It’s a lot quieter there.  The reservoir, I mean, not the docks.”  He squeezes my hand.  “Worked out well enough for me.”

“That’s debatable.”

“What you mean the eel bite?  That’s nothing.  Minor inconvenience.”  He loops his arm around my waist and lifts me over a section of crumbled sidewalk.  I could just as easily have stepped over it.  “Besides what if I hadn’t been there and you fell in anyway.  Doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I’ve got to be good for something after all.”  He stops beside a low stone wall.  “Ah, here we are.  Up and over.”  As with the terrible hazard of the sidewalk, he picks me up and sets me on the walk.  I spin my legs over and drop down into the sideyard of a humble cottage.  Julian vaults himself over the wall landing beside me and steps over the house, pushing open a window.  “Don’t want to risk someone seeing us,” he explains as he boosts me through the window and into a cluttered kitchen.  I don’t have time to look around before he follows, tumbling through the window and knocking a flowerpot to the floor with a crash.

There’s an indignant shout from the room beyond.  “Ilya - tisyache raz ckazala tebe, u menya est’ dver dlya princhiye!”  A short, stout woman holding an oil lamp in her hand and scolding in a language I don’t immediately recognize, pushes aside a curtain and matches on the room.  She grips a spoon like sword in her other hand and shakes it menacingly at Julian.  He cringes dramatically, ducking and throwing his hands over his head.

“Sorry, Mazelinka.  I’ll um, I’ll get you a new flowerpot.”

“Hmph.  It’s not the pot I’m worried about.”  She looks me over and switches to the trade language.  “And who is this?”  She sets the lantern down on the table and peers at me closely.  Her eyes narrow for a moment focusing on my face, then she shakes her head and takes one slow step back from me.  “Girl, is it actually you?”

“I’m sorry I don’t know you.”  I don’t remember meeting - ever seeing her - before, but does she know me?  It’s certainly possible.  Hypothetically I did know people other than Asra in the twenty five odd years I’m missing.

She raises one eyebrow at me, then with the smallest shake of her head, turns her gaze on Julian.  “And what is this?  You not only broke in through the window, you’re trailing blood and mud across my floors!”

“Um, yeah, had a bit of a mishap.  Several mishaps, actually.”

She swats him with the wooden spoon.  “Go get yourself washed up, Ilya.  There’s some clothes of yours in the chest by the back door.”

“Mazelinka, this is -”

“Your friend is safe enough with me.  Shoo.”

Julian gives me a helpless look then retreats down a short hallway.  I can’t blame him.  The woman - Mazelinka - commands every last inch of this house.  That much is clear.  She turns back to me, chuckling.  “Scolding them never grows old - even if I do.  You’re not in much better shape, are you?”

“I, um -”  My trousers are covered in mud, my shirt is still stained with blood, and between an unintended swim and running through the streets, I’m positive my hair is a sight to behold.  

“Don’t worry, girl.  If you’re a friend of that scalawag’s you’re a friend of mine.  Come, I think I can find something clean that will do you for the time being.”  She walks back to the curtained off room, steps strong and sure despite her age.  “So what’s your name?”

“Uh, Dema, ma’am.”

She laughs aloud and opens a chest by the foot of the bed, rummaging through the contents.  “Ma’am, huh - haven’t heard that one in a while.  So, what was it this time?  Bar brawl, tripped over his own feet and into a canal, ill considered fight with a bull, waiting for smugglers on the beach, then running from the guards?”

“Vampire eel.  It actually bit me, but -”

“Ah, you were the one who tripped over your own feet and into the canal!  That 'curse' of his is awfully handy at times.”  Mazelinka thrusts a bundle of fabric at me.  “It’ll be big on you, but it’ll do to curl up next to that lout and sleep in.”  She winks, and I feel my cheeks warming at her casual implication that I would be sleeping here.  With Julian.  Not that I am exactly opposed to the idea.  “I'll have your clothes clean by morning, but I’m not sure that bloodstain is coming out.”

“It’s, you don’t have to,”  I stammer through a half hearted protest.  She puts her hand on my arm and pats it kindly.

“You’ve clearly had a hard night.  No sense staggering off to whenever it is you live these days.  Go wash up a bit.  And I'll warm up some soup.  Looks like the both of you could use it.”

She adds two worn, but soft towels to the pile in my arms and shoves me toward the back door.  Confused, but feeling strangely secure under her care, I pull the door open and step out into a walked off yard.  Julian's jacket and shirt are laying on the ground in a haphazard pile, and he's cleaning the blood off his side with a damp cloth.  He looks up and grins.  “Not enough water left to just pour it over my head.  And the curse unfortunately doesn't clean up after itself.”

I drape the clothing Mazelinka gave me over the back of a chair by the door and walk over to him, touching the unbroken skin where the bite should have been.  “Amazing.  Do you know how it works?”

He shivers as I trail my fingers up his chest.  “I don't understand the first thing about magic.  Not the how.  Not the why.”  

"How'd you come by it?"

"I told you, it's As- the witch's work."  

There he goes ago, almost saying Asra's name before cutting himself off.  Just how badly had that ended?  I take a step closer to him, hand now pressed flat against his chest.  "I think I'd recognize Asra's work."  Whatever this magic was, it wasn’t Asra’s doing.  The signature was something even more enigmatic.

"Would you?”  He curls his fingers around my hand, looking down at me with serious eyes.  "How well do you know him, Dema?  Things he's done?"

"I -”  Pulling my hand out of his, I take a step back.  I want to know, but I'm not sure that I want to know.  Asra is my only constant, or at least the comforting illusion of a constant.  "What has he done?”

"Is blood normally used in magic?”

Blood?  What had Asra been up to, if he was using blood magic?  That didn’t necessarily indicate malevolence, but it was a sign of desperation if he had resorted to blood magic.  "Not often.  Blood is very potent as part of a spell - dangerous even.  Julian, what was he trying to do?"  I had never tried anything with blood, but all the books were stern in their warnings.  The amount of power that blood magic could unleash, even if well intended, could get out of hand quickly.

"I, well that is -”  Julian groans and rubs his forehead.  "I don't remember.  But after, after whatever it was, Lucio's room went up in flames, and I had this, this mark, this curse - whatever the hell it is."  He leans over and begins to undo the fastenings of his boots - no small undertaking.  “I, um, don't really even like magic, truth be told.”

“You seem to have an intimate enough relationship with it.”

“Yeah, well, um, sometimes marriages get arranged without much input from the involved parties.”  He struggles out of one boot, then the other, leaving me wondering just why he'd choose to wear something so impractical.  Thick socks come off next, and he briskly runs a damp towel over each foot, pausing to rub at the arch before tossing the washrag in the same pile as his shirt and jacket.  “Guess I should let you clean up some.”  Flexing his bare feet against the ground, he steps back toward the house.  I grab the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head, then realizing I haven't heard the door open or close, I stop and look back over my shoulder.  Julian leans against the doorframe, dopey grin on his face.  I roll my eyes, turn my back to him and peel the damp shirt off, tossing it to the side.

“That's all for now.”

“Mmm... I'll take it, my dear.”

As the door creaks open and closed, I strip out of my muddy and bloody clothing, and hurriedly clean the remaining blood from my hands and torso.  The night is chilly and who knows who Mazelinka's neighbors are.  I toss the shirt she found for me over my head.  It comes well past my knees and threatens to fall off one shoulder or the other, but the rope belt helps hold it in place.  A bit at least.  But it'll do.  I leave my own clothes in a pile beside Julian's, feeling like the world's worst guest, but unsure of what else I could do with them.

Julian is sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in some sort of clean soft pants and a much mended shirt, working on a large bowl of soup.  Mazelinka is talking quietly to him in the same language as before.  I cough, and she looks up, beckoning me over to the table.  “Come eat.  I was just telling Ilya that he isn't leaving until he gets some sleep.  And you look like you need some as well.”

“Maz’, I haven’t really needed that much sleep.  Not since the -”  He yelps as she smacks him once again with her wooden spoon.

“I know, I know.  Since the curse.  Eat.”  She taps the spoon against the top of his head for good measure and ladles out a bowl for me from a pot tucked into a compartment of the massive oven.  Turning aside for a moment, she add a few pinches of herbs to the bowl, followed by a generous spoonful of sour cream.  She hands the bowl to me.  I raise my eyebrows at her and breath in the rising steam.  It's a simple, homey soup, mostly cabbage, onions, and carrots seasoned with plenty of garlic and caraway, but I recognize several non culinary herbs.  All innocuous enough, and all intended for the same thing: encouraging an overly busy mind to rest.  I nod knowingly at her and dig in.  If this actually gets me to sleep, I will insist on the recipe.

She watches with satisfaction as we both polish off a bowl.  “Here, girl -”  She slides a tortoiseshell comb across the table to me.  “Thought you might want to straighten out your hair a bit.”  She disappears down the back hallway.  I grab a lock of my hair and work at the tangles.  

"Here, let me help."  Julian takes the comb from me and starts working on my hair.  "I used to help my little sister fix hers."

"Portia is worried about you."  

He pauses for a moment and sighs.  "I wish she wouldn't.  I'm not worth it.  Anyway -” He continues with my hair.  "How is she?  We didn't have much to talk yesterday, and she spent most of it telling me off.  Deserved it, I'll admit."

"I think she likes working at the palace.  But it's complicated for her.  She really cares about the Countess, so . . ."

"Yeah . . . If I had known, I probably would have just stayed gone.  Everyone would be happier that way."

"Why would you assume that?  She and I want to prove that you're innocent.  Then there's no conflict."

He leans his head against my shoulder, mumbling his next line morosely against my neck.  "There you go again, assuming I'm innocent.  Did your cards tell you that or something?”

"No, but I still believe that you are."

He lifts his head and starts working on the other side of my hair.  "Well, I hope you can prove it.  Not for me, really.  I may not have murdered the Count, but I'm sure I did something to deserve hanging.  But for Pasha. And Maz.  And, well, you.  I'm not a good person to start caring about, Dema."

“I’m not sure that you get much say over who cares for you.”  I’m not convinced that we get much say over who we care for either.  Life certainly would be easier if we did, instead of remaining attached to people.

Mazelinka returns with my filthy clothes dining them into the sink along with a bucket of water and a handful of soft soap.  "Won't be dry until mid morning tomorrow, so I'll leave you two to sleep in.  Don't know about you, girl, but that one is forever owing a debt to Hypnos."

“And Thanatos!”  Julian chimes in, far too cheerily to be about the idea of owing Death.

The old woman sighs and shakes her head.  “Well, then, I’m getting these old bones to bed.  The two of you can sleep in the loft.  Should still be blankets up there from the last time you crashed through the window, Ilya.”  

~~~

There’s a loft, probably intended for storage, over the kitchen accessible by a ladder and closed off with a curtain.  Julian climbs up the ladder then reaches down, offering me a hand that I refuse.  It's easier to climb with both hands.  I roll into the loft and summon a light before I pull the heavy curtains closed behind me.  It’s a small space - not even I could stand upright and Julian’s head threatens to brush the ceiling when he sits upright.  There’s a thick mattress and a pile of pillows and blankets.  It’s a cozy little nook, much more than a makeshift place to hole up for a night.  Julian tosses pillows into a heap at one end of the mattress, snaps a blanket out, and arranges his long limbs out on the bed.  

“Don't worry.  I'll be a perfect gentleman.”

*****

I’m in a library.  I lift my head off a desk that’s littered with books and notebooks and run my fingers through my hair.  It’s short, barely enough to run my fingers through.  Shorter than I ever remember cutting it.  This isn’t the palace library.  The space is cavernous, cold, utilitarian.  I stand up, running my fingers over the books on the desk.  I know what’s in them.  I could summarize each, but I don’t remember reading them.

I pick a book from a nearby shelf and flip it open.  It's a picture book.  A little girl with hair like mine is sitting in her father's lap while he reads to her.  Hands trembling, I put the book back.  I want to see this.  I want to see it all.  But not now.  Right now, I can't bear it.

The aisle between the shelves leads down to a door.  I push it open and step out onto a bridge.  Chunks of ice float on the surface of the water below.  It’d be so easy to join them.  A fall, a couple of minutes of pain from bones breaking against the surface tension, but no more than three minutes, probably less.  Then nothing but being carried away by the river.  Away from whatever it is that done, whatever I fucked up this time.  

I shudder.  I’ve been here before.  Thought that before.

Turning back to the door, I pull my clothes - wool knits and fur lined coat, so much heavier than anything I own - tight around me.  I don’t want to be here.  Not again.

The door doesn’t lead back to the library.  It doesn’t lead anywhere, not for me.  I’m not in the back room of the shop.  But the room is there, filled with the smoke of an incense I don’t recognize.  But of course, I can’t because I’m not actually there.  Asra is hunched over a table, a curious collection of crystals and bones spread in front of him.  A diagram is chalked on the table - the same one that’s on Julian’s neck.  Julian sits across from him at the table.  His face is a study in confusion and concern.

“Asra, what are you?  How will this -”

Asra lifts his head, cutting off the question.  “I wonder just how much you’re willing to give, Ilya.”

“For -”  His eyes - both of them, he isn’t wearing an eyepatch - flick to the right, to where I’d be standing.  If I were there, instead of not there.  “Anything.  All of me.  You know that.”

Perspective folds in on itself, and Asra’s face becomes visible.  There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.  Ruthless, cold violet, no sign of their usual softness.  His fingers wrap around a small curved knife.  “Oh Ilya, I don’t need all of you.  Just your hand.”

Julian gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment, then holds out his right hand, bare and unprotected by a glove.  Asra draws the knife across Julian’s palm and holds his hand over the diagram, letting Julian’s blood fall on each of the four points of the diagram.  Julian watches, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  Asra turns his hand over, lips curling into something that resembles a smile, but isn’t quite one.  He bends over Julian’s hand and draws his tongue across the cut before letting go of his fingers.

“What will that do?”

Asra shrugs and stands up.  “Maybe nothing.”  He steps around the table and takes Julian’s hand again, bringing it to his mouth and pressing lips to knuckles.

Julian looks up at him, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.  "And that's all?"

"Why, Ilya?”  Asra turns over Julian's hand, inspecting the cut across his palm.  As he runs his thumb over it the flesh knots back together.  He cups Julian’s jaw in his hand, smearing blood across his cheekbone.  When he speaks his voice is deceptively soft.  "Did you want me to hurt you more?”

Julian clutches at Asra’s hip with his other hand.  His head drops forward onto Asra’s chest.  “Asra -”

Asra tilts his head to the side and strokes his hand through Julian’s hair.  The gesture is almost tender.  “I can’t give you what you want, Ilya.”  He places the emphasis on can’t, as if he somehow regrets what he’s saying.

Julian lifts his head, looking up at Asra.  “I’ll take what I can get.”  

The door reappears and with it my hands.  I pull it open and step out onto a beach.  Grey in the moonlight and smelling of equal parts smoke and ash.  Here the air is warm and humid.  I shrug off the coat, letting it fall to the sand, and unwind the scarf from around my neck.  My hair is long once more, hanging down my back in a simple braid.

A slender figure, white hair glowing in the moonlight stands on the shore, looking out over a bay.  Asra.  I walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  He turns, looking at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen on his face.  No laughter.  No teasing.  Just pain and remorse.  “I’m sorry.  I should have taken you with me.”

"Where?”

"Anywhere but here."

There's a crackle and a roar behind me, and I turn the see the door burst into flames.  "No!”  I bolt for the door, hoping - praying - that this time it would lead back to the library, that I could grab one or two of the books - the books with the little girl who looked like me.  I needed them, needed to know what had happened to her!  Asra catches me, both arms wrapped around my waist.

"Don't, you'll get hurt."

"Let me go."  I twist out of his hands and scramble across the sand.  Another pair of hands stops me, grasping my shoulders.  I look up.  Julian.  He spins me around and grabs my wrists.

"Not again.  I won't let you die.  Not this time."

I struggle against his grip, trying to twist away.  Suddenly, my left arm burns, like it's caught fire.  The flesh peels back from my bones, blackening.  Tendons constricting then giving way, and I can't pull my eyes away.  The left wrist - it's not mine, not anymore - disarticulates as I watch, fingerbones falling into the sand beneath my feet, little sticks of charcoal in the ashy sand.

I wake with a gasp, breathing hard and confused about whether I'm awake or still dreaming, much less where I am, or whose arms are uncomfortably tight around me.  The events of the past day slowly come into focus as the images of the dream fade away.  The red poison seeping into the water, eels, and Julian, no Ilya.  Somehow I feel safer remembering the name Mazelinka called him.  Feeling his warmth beside me.

But his hand is tight around my arm, tight enough that I'm starting to worry about a bruise.  He moans and mumbles in his sleep.  I don't catch much beyond, “sorry, so sorry . . . My fault . . . should have . . .”

I pry his fingers from my arm and summon a dim light.  Behind his eyelids, his eyes are saying back and forth, locked in whatever dream he's experiencing.  “Julian.”  I try to keep my voice low.  “Ilya.  Wake up.  You're dreaming.”  He moans again, and I tap my hand against his cheek.  “It's a dream.”

He wakes with a gasp, sitting up, folding his legs to his chest and hunching over them.  I rub his back and wait for his breathing to slow down.

“I woke you,” he finally says.  “Sorry about that.”

“Shh.  It's okay.”  I continue kneading his shoulders as much to keep myself calm as the comfort him.  Easier to just focus on him than to worry about what might underlie my own nightmares.  “What was it?”

"A beach, a fire..."  He hides his face behind both hands for a moment then pushes them back through his hair.  "Always those fucking fires..."

My own breath catches in my throat and I feel my heart start to pound again.  He was dreaming of a beach and a fire as well.  Were we somehow in the same dream?  I chew at the edge of my thumb, caught between equally powerful impulses both to ask and to not ask the next question.  "Who were you apologizing to?”  

Julian shakes his head sadly and turns his face to me.  He runs his thumb along the lines of my face, before leaning over and kissing me gently.  “Someone I failed.  Someone I lost.  But I can never see her.  Just an outline against flames."

Was I . . .?  It would explain so much: my immediate sense of connection to him, his murmured not this time, how I just knew in my bones that he wasn't a bad man - no matter what he said about it.  I settle back on the pillows and pull his head down to my breast where I can continue to play with his hair.  “It’ll be okay.”

"You keep saying that."  His breath is warm on my collarbone.  The implication, of course, is that I don't know.  And he's right.  I don't know.  I don't know if I can find evidence that will exonerate him.  I don't know that even if I do that the Countess, that Nadia, will accept it, no matter how much I hope that Portia's faith in her isn't misplaced.  Perhaps Julian is right that Asra has some of the answers, if only he can be convinced to reveal them.  But neither of us know.  And while the more bits and pieces (or rather gaps where there should be at least hints of information), I uncover are leading me to believe that untangling this knot of stories around the Count's murder will have something to do with my own missing memories, I don't know that.  I don't even know that I want to know.

I do know that I want Julian.  I want him whether I ever recall the memories of him that I've decided are there, hidden away past the smoke, past the fire.

"Let's leave."

"What?  What are you talking about?”

"Here.  Vesuvia.  Fuck Vesuvia, let's just leave."  I never wanted to be involved with the Countess anyway.  I didn't care who had murdered the Count.  And if we stayed - if Julian stayed - and I didn't figure that out, he'd die for something he hadn't done.  I don't trust my skills as an investigator or an advocate that much.  And Asra, well, whatever there is  between us, I can't continue what we've been doing.  No matter how much I care for, how much I love him.  I’ll leave him a note with his tarot deck.  If he actually wanted me in his life he could damn well come find me instead of leaving me to wait for him.  

"Leave the city?"

"Yes."

"But, but isn't your whole life here?"

"My whole life - the part I can remember - is three fucking years."  And really only two of those are clear.  My memories of the city are little more than glimmers of recognition seen out of the corner of my eye, only to disappear when I turned my attention to them.  And Julian . . . Julian is the brightest of those glimmers.  "That's not much to leave behind."

"Three years?”

"I can't . . . I don't know how to explain it.  I only remember the last three years."

"Nothing else?”

"No.  Nothing that I can reach.  Sometimes I get hints, intuitions, that there's something there, but I can never grasp it.  Then I get these awful headaches."

"Dema -"

"I know it sounds impossible.  It should be impossible.  Yet it's the truth.  And you, I feel like I know - knew - you."

Julian raises one hand to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple as though he feels a headache coming on.  "I don't remember you, but . . . what you're describing, it's so, I mean, I feel the same, I think.  But I came back here to try to figure out why my memories from three years ago are so shot full of holes.  I can't leave until I do that."  He sighs and snuggles back against me.  “I can’t even remember what I did that makes me feel so guilty.  How do you come back from doing something awful?  Can you even?”

I continue to run one hand through his hair, and drape the other across his back, holding him tight against me.  “We don’t get much of a choice.  We just have to."

His eyelids pinch closed in a pained expression, and I run my thumb lightly over them, trace the bridge of his nose, and brush over his lips before letting my hand slide down his neck and return to his.  I’m surprised when he falls back asleep, seemingly lulled by the simple touch.  I'm more surprised when my mind slows, and I follow.

Next chapter.

Masterpost

a/n: chapter title from Franz Ferdinand, ‘Katherine, Kiss Me’