#shadi's ocs week

[amazingdeadfish]

Self indulgent OC post

[oukabarsburgblr]

Oils and Incense [Masseur AU]

FEATURING : AITO SOUSUKE (OC) X male reader

Following your friend's suggestion, you went to a health & beauty spa, specifically for a massage and you're surprised to find a fellow student working there as a part-timer. What's that smell and why do you feel so hot? This was the wrong room? Your body won't be the only thing getting oiled up!

dubcon af, rough sex, aphrodisiac on both ends, shady reader(?), sousuke munching, profile

Find out more under the cut!

"All the rooms are full?"

The clerk standing at the register nodded with a polite smile on her face. (m/n) frowned, feeling the ache on his shoulder weighing on his figure.

It had been a harsh week for the (h/c), catching up on his assignments, managing his club activities and after sleeping on his desk for a week straight, his muscles were tense and in pain.

His friend, Daisuke, had suggested this place, a high-end beauty spa and of course it was expensive that motherfucker was loaded. But you decided to treat yourself, as a reward for getting through the semester and you drove over to the place after your classes.

Unfortunately for him, all the rooms are filled and busy.

"Well, we do have a private room available. Although it is usually booked in advance for regulars, I can make an exception for you." She winked at him, feeling sorry seeing the (h/c)'s tired expression. "I'll take it."

"And what kind of package would you like?"

(m/n) didn't bother reading the whole brochure, only skimming through the numbers. "Two hours, please."

The lady escorted her to the room, opening the door inside and (m/n) awed at the interior, fluffy flooring, multiple candles on mahogany cupboards with decorations to make the room more presentable with gold and green highlights with a warm lighting to compliment the whole design.

A massage table stood in the middle, layered with a white covered mattress and a hole for the face in the head area. "The rooms are designed for your privacy and comfort, thick walls and we provide a change of clothing afterwards. Your assigned masseur will be here soon." He thanked the lady and placed his bag on one of the lush seats.

(m/n) stood in the room idly, peering at the ceramic dishes and balls before hearing a conversation outside.

"Make sure you take the right incense and oils, okay. He's not one of the usual clientage." The woman from before seem to be speaking to someone. The masseur perhaps.

"Yeah yeah, I know." The voice replied with a drag, implying annoyance followed by a smack.

The door opened and (m/n) turned to see a familliar person, holding a basket of bottles and taper candles. Said person, with his long red hair in a claw clip with strands sticking to his forehead, froze seeing the (h/c). He had adorned the usual white piece, what masseurs would usually wear.

"You..." He seemed to be taken aback, although his face doesn't show much, (m/n) could definitely tell he knew him and vice versa as well. "...We go to the same university, right? Keio Shiki?' (m/n) broke the awkward silence with a nervous grin.

The redhead seemed to snap back out of his trance as he coughed into his fist and moved to one of the cupboards, setting up the session, placing the taper candles in its holders. "Yeah, we do." He replied dismissively.

"We shared a class once, too. Aito? Was that your name-?" "It's Sousuke. Just Sousuke." (m/n) tensed, nodding quickly as he rubbed his nape.

(m/n) had seen Sousuke around campus before, always alone and keeping to himself with his muted red hair that had always caught his attention. When they shared a class together, the (h/c) had attempted to converse with the redhead but was ignored or only received half-assed answers.

He only knew snippets about the redhead from his peers, who told him to stay away from the man, saying that he brought trouble everywhere he goes. However, (m/n) thought of otherwise.

"So you work here? I thought your dad runs a dōjō." It's not everyday you get to talk to the brooding guy in your prestige university, especially when he's supposed to service you. (e/c) eyes gazed at him with a smirk, teasing the redhead whose hazel ones squinted at him.

"...It's temporary. Until that old man gets off my back." He mumbled, lighting one of the candles with a long nozzle lighter, clicking it a few times. The (h/c)'s eyes still wandered, lingering on his muscular back the white uniform couldn't hide. "Do you remember me? You looked shocked when you first walked in here-"

(m/n)'s words were cut off as Sousuke promptly pressed a white fluffy cloth to his chest. "I do. (l/n)." The redhead emphasized, pushing the article on his chest with pressure. There's a hint of annoyance but (m/n) can see the tip of his ears turning red.

"You can call me (m/n)." His lips stretched a smile, cheekily looking up at the redhead through his lashes.

Sousuke stared for a second before turning away. "Change."

The (h/c) held the cloth Sousuke had given to him, it was literally just a white fabric meant to tie around his waist. "Just this-?" "Yes." Sousuke huffed as he turned back to the (h/c), his fingers snapping a pair of black latex gloves on his hands. "In other words, strip."

"Will do." (m/n) whistled, pulling his clothes off.

The redhead rolled his eyes, rummaging through the cupboards as the (h/c) had his fun teasing the former.

Sousuke did not expect the (h/c) as his customer for the evening. His father had sent him here for work since he had broken three sandbags at the dōjō, apparently his old man's friend owned the place and needed a pair of strong hands to cover a few shifts. Unluckily, Sousuke had been taking a degree in physical education so he was more or less qualified to work here.

However, the clerk suddenly called him on his break, saying that there was a fill-in in one of the private rooms, he was never allowed to step in there by the way, and the woman told him that there was someone looked like around his age while lecturing him about grabbing the right bottles or whatnot.

Sousuke had mindlessly grabbed the basket for the private rooms, there can't be much difference there can it? Probably just the brand itself or whatever.

Fuck, why is he here? Sousuke grumbled silently. He had known the (h/c), (m/n) (l/n) who had caught his eye ever since he walked on campus. His stupid cute smile, really nice build and those fucking thighs-

He snapped himself out of his thoughts hearing shuffles of clothing behind him as he lit the incense and waving the smoke around, letting it dissipate. Something smelled weird. He's dealt with incense before but this one smells more honey?

"I'm done."

The redhead had to stop himself from looking too much as he ushered the (h/c) to lay stomach down on the massage table.

(m/n) pouted, seeing the redhead was quick to place him down as he straddled the massage table, putting his head in its place and his face facing the floor through the hole.

Sousuke helped him place his legs on the rest of the table, his large gloved hands pulling his calves up before setting it down, avoiding looking at the (s/c) presented before him.

The (h/c) felt like he was purring in bliss. "It smells...sweet?" "It's the candle. Nothing much." Sousuke reassured (m/n) and himself, he had never used this specific candle before.

Taking a bowl of warm water, he placed three different sizes of ceramic balls or spheres, letting it sit in the liquid while the (h/c) attempted to start a conversation with him. "How've you've been? Anything interesting coming up?" "None of your concern." (m/n) scrunched his nose at the immediate rejection.

Was the room supposed to be this hot?

He felt warmer than usual, the blood rushing to the lower part of his body. (m/n) continued staring at the carpeted floor beneath him, talking to the redhead. "My team is having a practice match next week. With a university in the next town over."

Tilting the glass bottle, Sousuke dripped the oil in his gloved hands before rubbing them together, warming it up. "So?" "Will you come watch?" He huffed. "For what?"

"For me." There's a hint of flirt and Sousuke had to take a breather before nearing the laying (h/c), avoiding looking at his (s/c) legs. "I'll start now." "What-?"

(m/n) bit his tongue to prevent a moan from escaping his lips when warm gloved hands pressed on in between his shoulders. Fingers moving around, testing the waters as Sousuke gently spread the oil on his back like slicing butter on a piece of bread.

When the redhead felt the skin beneath him less tense, he slowly pressed his fingers deeper, kneading the muscle beneath him, rubbing his thumb in the notches and crooks of his shoulder blades.

Then he moved upwards, trailing his hand and poured more oil directly on (m/n)'s shoulders, letting it stain the cushioned table and he dipped his fingers in the skin between his neck and his shoulder, inching closer to his chest as he massaged his clavicle.

Sousuke was wondering why was the chatterbox underneath him was quiet. Usually customers would let out a satisfied groan every now and then. Maybe it was better for the redhead himself, not having to answer to the (h/c)'s incessant questions.

Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, sliding down the tip of his nose. (m/n) was holding in his breath, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when Sousuke's fingers massaged his nape, pressing his knuckles on the base of his neck, letting the pressure subside when he reached his hairline.

He had been holding in gasps and groans from his throat, feeling so pleasured with the service he's receiving. He felt more fired up than usual. (m/n) almost released a whine when Sousuke pulled his hands away, walking over to the front of him, where the bowl of water was and (m/n) stared at his legs, licking his lips.

"...Everything okay down there?"

Yeah I want you down here- "All's good." (m/n) felt his cheeks flushed, trying to focus back but his mind was foggy, all fuzzy and warm, he couldn't keep his head straight only thinking about those nice thick gloved fingers touching his skin.

Sousuke carefully picked up the smallest ball, placing it in the middle of (m/n)'s back, the latter letting out a noise of confusion. "It's a new thing they brought in. Constant pressure isn't good but the warmth helps and we've been receiving positive feedback..." The redhead muttered, stabilizing the sphere.

"Is it okay for you?"

(m/n) nodded drowsily. "Yeah, yeah. Anything's good from you." Sousuke's mouth gaped from the comment before looking away, grabbing the second ball while ignoring the butterflies raging wildly in his stomach.

"Don't move." He mumbled, balancing the second ball on his upper shoulders, near his nape. He rolled it around, using it as a tool before letting it rest on (m/n)'s body. Sousuke was unaware of the drooling (h/c) who was resisting the urge to utter the most sinful things human beings have ever heard.

The redhead paused, his steps stopping as he gazed at the taper candle, his eyes brimming suspicion before (m/n)'s voice brought him back to reality.

"Hurry up." He whined. Sousuke gritted his teeth, his cheeks warming at the cute noise the other had mewled out. "Be patient." (m/n) grinned. "Don't think you're supposed to talk back to your customers."

He heard the redhead sighed, his legs coming into his line of sight and Sousuke's face suddenly appeared close to his. "And I don't think you should be acting like a brat but here we are. Be quiet...and let me do my job." Hazel eyes stared up at him, his position crouching on the floor near the massage table.

(m/n) was silent, taken aback by the sudden proximity of his handsome face. He definitely got hard. "... Yes, sir." Sousuke groaned in annoyance, immediately standing back up, secretly adjusting his pants.

Immediately, he retrieved the third sphere, letting them all line up on (m/n)'s lower back, the latter letting out a guttural groan at the pressure. Hazel eyes leered at the (s/c) legs on display, sighing lowly as he poured another batch of oil on his gloved hands.

Steadily, he placed his hands on the (h/c)'s thighs, near the cloth and he dragged his palms down, pulling the muscle and knots all the way down to the ankle. Heat was looming all around his crotch as he massaged (m/n)'s foot, rubbing his fingers in between the appendages.

"You're like...mmn- really good at this."

Sousuke heard the drowsy comment from the mouth at the other end. "I work here. It's my job." "Wasn't it temporary?" "As I've told." "Wish it wasn't. I'd come for you everyday."

(m/n) was slurring his words, his cheeks flushed, his dick hard and sweat was dripping from his face to his nose. Fingers massaging him all over, caressing his thigh, pushing his skin and god he wished those fingers were in him.

Just fuck me- The (h/c) grinned to himself, not noticing the reddened masseur who pulled away, grabbing the spheres as well, eager to end the session already.

"Sit up. We'll work on your front next." "...My front?" "Yes. Is there a problem?" Sousuke went to grab a pillow to fill the hole in the head area so (m/n) could lie down on it but when he turned around, the (h/c) was on his side, his face looked embarrassed and he looked away when Sousuke's eyes travelled down to (m/n)'s crotch.

"...It's normal." The (h/c) frowned, mad that Sousuke isn't getting the hint. What the hell? Is it normal for customers to get hard after you massage them or what? (e/c) eyes glared at Sousuke, who was panicking in his head.

"And if I say it's intentional?" "I won't believe you."

He couldn't deny his slight attraction to the (h/c) and what the fuck why does he feel so hot right now? Sousuke staggered when the loop of his pants was tugged.

"Is it normal for you to get hard too?" (m/n) whispered into his ear, huffing his warm breath into the shell of Sousuke's ears that flushed at the contact.

The redhead looked down and he was indeed hard. Had he not noticed the whole time? Sousuke pulled away, facing the cheeky (h/c) who was kneeling on the table, the cloth around his waist barely hiding his erection and an amused expression on his face.

"Stop that." "You don't hate me." "I can." "I don't think you will."

What? Sousuke pressed his lips into a thin line, his head dizzy. (m/n) was so lax around him, closing the gap he had with others, toying with his boundaries like he was edging the redhead, wanting to draw a reaction out of him.

It's the same when they had first met too, when they shared a class. To (m/n), it was normal but to Sousuke, it was thrilling and confusing.

He was melting under the (h/c)'s gaze, his lips quivering and he felt his eyes water. "Are you flirting with me?" (m/n) purred. "Maybe." He winked and held out his hand.

The redhead swatted it away. He can feel his sweat building up on the collar of his uniform. (m/n) looked like a meal in front of him but he couldn't, his heart conflicted.

"Don't...play about these things. Don't toy with me." Sousuke stated, him placing down the pillow, covering the hole in the massage table, (e/c) eyes following him. "....I'm not."

Sousuke clenched his jaw, his neck tense as he felt fingers inching on his nape, tugging his claw clip. He yelped, his hair now loose, red strands laying on his back as the redhead glared at the (h/c).

(m/n) clipped the hair accessory onto his own tresses. "You should kick me out. I'm harassing you and all, aren't I?" The redhead stared at the now sitting (h/c) who swung his feet back and forth. He glanced at his hair clip on the (h/c)'s head.

"I ought to." "...You're hot, Sousuke." A cough escaped his lips, exasperated at the sudden confession. The redhead scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. (m/n) gleamed at him, glancing at the taper candles behind him.

"If you wanted to have sex with me, all you had to do was ask." "What?"

"You think I don't see that?" (m/n) jutted his chin to the candle holder behind Sousuke, the one he had lit up earlier. "Lucky Clover. Common choice but it does its job."

Sousuke snatched the candle out of the holder, blowing out the flame, his eyes scanning the brand name edged on the side of the candle. He had grabbed the wrong basket. "I didn-"

"Haa...now I'm all hot and bothered. It's not fair you're not as affected as I am." "I took the wrong candle. I didn't mean to-" "Whatever was your intention, it doesn't matter." (m/n) rested his chin on his palm, his body was coated with sweat, his back smooth with the oils Sousuke had rubbed in earlier.

"I have at least an hour and a half left. Now come here and do your job, masseur."

Something snapped inside the redhead at that moment, something raw and viscous. His feet slowly moved to the (h/c), settling behind him and grabbing a bottle of oil.

Sousuke should have never denied the attraction he had for the (h/c). His words that jumbled his thoughts, his eyes that made his legs quiver, his tongue that flicked against his teeth that made the redhead desire to grab his neck so he can-

(m/n) leaned his back against Sousuke's chest with a satisfied sigh, smudging the redhead's white uniform. Biting his lower lip, he grinned while staring at across the room. Sousuke was something (m/n) had wanted to solve, it wasn't a priority, but with the massages and the oils, it was like a candlelit dinner for him.

The claw clip was pulled from his hair, Sousuke swiping (m/n)'s hair back and clipped it in properly, (m/n) rubbed his cheek on the redhead's hand, the latter not responding and the (h/c) heard him picking up a glass bottle.

Slippery liquid trickled down his chest, Sousuke tilting the whole bottle on (m/n)'s torso letting it trickle down onto the (h/c)'s crotch. He placed the bottle aside, cracking his fingers. The redhead placed his arms underneath (m/n)'s own, looming his hands over his body before placing it flat against the (h/c)'s chest.

(m/n) gasped when Sousuke cupped his pecs, rubbing his nipples in between his fingers. "Mmnn!" He mewled as the redhead continued his work, massaging his man tit, rubbing his hands up and down as (m/n) gripped Sousuke's arms.

He squirmed when Sousuke's movements became rougher, squeezing his chest and essentially groping him. The redhead's right hand trailed down and rubbed the oil all over his stomach, kneading it into his side.

(m/n) was wrong when he had stated that the redhead was not affected as he is. The redhead had only not noticed. His will is strong, not something that is easily swayed by a mere candle.

Sousuke had bear flirts, jabs, and allure from the (h/c). He's a man. He has sensual passion. Although the redhead simply locked his aptitude to bite back deep inside himself. However, (m/n) was brave. Almost like he was aware Sousuke would let him trample all over him.

Hovering his tongue over the (h/c)'s shoulder, he licked a stripe experimentally. (m/n) flinched, his head turning to the side, looking with his glossy (e/c) eyes. He was panting disheveledly, Sousuke's hand still playing with his chest, gripping the fat and pinching his nipple.

The redhead leaned in closer, his face close with (m/n)'s and their breaths mixed. (m/n) was staring at the masseur's mouth, gazing over his lips and the redhead was looking for any sign of desire in his eyes until (e/c) met hazel.

There was only pure unholy lust. Sousuke pushed his mouth towards (m/n)'s awaiting lips. The latter moaning as they mushed their tongues together, exchanging drool and (m/n) was so excited as he sucked on the redhead's muscly organ.

"Aanh haa ah ah!"

Sousuke's right hand went lower, cupping (m/n)'s erection as he squeezed it lightly. The (h/c) bit his lower lip in response, the redhead gasping as (m/n) stuck his tongue inside Sousuke's mouth.

Tearing the fabric at (m/n)'s waist off, Sousuke grabbed (m/n)'s cock, pumping it up and down, earning whines from the (h/c). It was so slippery, so easy to move with the oil coating (m/n)'s skin and Sousuke gave no mercy to the (h/c) whose hips started to stutter in his hold.

(m/n) bucked his hips, loving the attention his cock was receiving as he pulled away from the makeout session. "I-I'm close- nggh ahh ang ahh!"

Ropes of cum spurted from his tip as Sousuke gripped his base, dragging out (m/n)'s orgasm. His hazel eyes had a fire in them, one (m/n) had ever since Sousuke laid his hands on him.

Drool seeped from his lips, (m/n) was in a daze as Sousuke laid his body on the massage table, letting him lie stomach down. He shivered when he felt the redhead pour more oil on his bottom, the liquid dripping on his ass, seeping and touching his twitching hole.

"You wanted this." Sousuke grunted, pulling off of his sticky uniform, revealing his sexy sweaty torso. His hand rubbed one of the (h/c)'s asscheeks before bringing it up and slapping it. The (h/c) yelped at the contact and Sousuke spanked him again, rubbing the oil on the cheek before swinging his gloved hand back down.

"Ah! F-Fucking- ah!" (m/n) screamed, feeling his cock twitch every time Sousuke smacked his ass. His hips stuttered he felt the redhead gripped and spread his ass, revealing his perky hole, Sousuke dipping his covered thumb in experimentally and scratched his rim.

Whining endlessly, (m/n) flinched as Sousuke spat on his hole, feeling the cold liquid trickle down. The redhead pulled his hips up, (m/n) hugging the pillow for stability, his nails digging into the fabric and pushing his face into the pillow.

Sousuke laid his tongue flat against (m/n)'s balls, licking up until he reached the wet entrance and he pushed a finger in, hearing a squeal from the (h/c). Digging inside, he shoved another gloved finger in to spread the hole with a scissoring motion. The (h/c) could only emit muffled cries, staining the pillow with his saliva.

The redhead licked his hole, a flinch from (m/n), and he pushed his tongue inside, brushing his fangs against (m/n)'s rim. He kissed, licked and spat on the twitching entrance, taking his time and ignoring the begging (h/c).

"P-Please- mmn ahh! I-I'm sorry- ungg mmn!"

Sousuke didn't want an apology from the (h/c). All he cared about was the ass in his hand he was eating right now. The redhead sucked on (m/n)'s balls while pistoning his fingers in and out of the (h/c)'s puckered hole.

He stopped when a hand grabbed his arm, Sousuke glaring down at the crying (h/c) whose back was facing him. "T-Too much. I'm s-sorry- mmn!" (m/n) cried, his tears and drool wetting the pillow under him.

"...Then what do you want?" Sousuke asked nonchalantly as he released (m/n)'s hips, letting him drop onto the table. (m/n)'s lower half was trembling.

"I w-wanna suck you off..." "Is this your apology?" (m/n) shook his head. "I want your c-cock in my throat." He mumbled.

Sousuke stared at him, (m/n) tried to calm down his nerves but his entire body was so hot, the oil covering almost every inch of his skin. "Get on the floor." He heard the redhead ordered.

Shakily, (m/n) pushed himself off of the table, landing on the floor on his knees with a pitiful whine. He turned to the unimpressed redhead who stood, his back leaning against the massage table, his flowing red hair framing his gorgeous face.

"I don't understand you, (m/n)." Sousuke mumbled, grabbing his jaw when the (h/c) inched closer to his crotch while on his knees, his (s/c) glistening under the warm spotlight.

Caressing the (h/c)'s inner thigh with his shoe, Sousuke gazed at his dripping dick, raising his line of sight to (m/n)'s panting flushed face. "You don't have to..." The (h/c) closed his eyes, enduring the tightening still gloved grip Sousuke had on his face.

"You're so...confusing. Pushing my buttons, testing my limits. I'm a man, (l/n)." (m/n) nodded drunkenly. "Handsome man..." He slurred and Sousuke rolled his eyes at that and extended his hand into (m/n)'s face who pulled off the drenched latex gloves with his teeth.

"I can't believe you're into this shit." The redhead raised his bare hand, slapping (m/n)'s face, not too hard but enough to leave a red mark. "You like this? You like getting slapped?"

Sousuke smacked the (h/c) again, who only cried out wantonly, his body leaning closer to the redhead's. "Does your friend know? That you're a fucking freak." (m/n) shook his head, tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be special then?" (m/n) couldn't even talk properly, getting slapped for the third time. He only slobbered, his eyes peering up at Sousuke's hazel ones. "I-It hurts..." He whined.

The redhead released his tight hold, carressing (m/n)'s cheek. "Went too far, huh? Least' I know your limit now." He gently stroked the (h/c)'s reddened cheek fondly, as if its a way for him to say sorry. (m/n) purring into his touch.

Extending his hand, (m/n) tugged Sousuke's pants, sticking his tongue out eager to suck his cock. The redhead scoffed, his face expressing amusement. "You're cute, y'know?" The (h/c) pawed at the redhead's zipper, pulling it down and shuffling his pants off.

Sousuke pushed his briefs down, his hardened cock springing out and (m/n)'s eyes brightened, his tongue drooling and he whined even more, leaning closer into the redhead. Sousuke cooed, running his fingers through the (h/c)'s hair and he pulled the hair clip off, placing it on his own head.

(m/n) placed his tongue under Sousuke's tip, sliding it gently as he licked the base, caressing the veins. The redhead groaned, bucking his hips and accidentally gripped the (h/c)'s hair. Moving his head forward, the (h/c) took the long cock in his mouth, slobbering his spit all over the shaft.

It was a wonder how their dynamic switched. When (m/n) had first walked in, he was so adamant at poking at the redhead, now he was the one on his knees, sucking Sousuke's cock so desperately.

His cheeks hollowed as he hummed, (m/n)'s palate being grazed and the tip touching the back of his throat. He choked and coughed, Sousuke wanting to pull back but (m/n) grabbed his hips and shoved his own face into the redhead's crotch, his chin touching his balls.

"Anngg- mmff!" Sousuke held onto the table, his fingers clenching on the cushion as he closed his eyes, hot pleasure focusing on his dick and the (h/c). Cum shot from his tip and he was ready to pull out but (m/n)'s nails dug into his hips as he hissed in pain. Sousuke pulled his other glove off with his fangs.

The (h/c) sucked everything he could muster out of the redhead, letting the semen pool on his tongue as he shakily stood up and grabbed Sousuke's face, pushing his tongue in so the redhead could have a taste of himself.

Sousuke choked and gagged as the (h/c) shoved his tongue into his mouth as they stumbled, the redhead's arms around (m/n)'s waist and the latter around his neck. They planted themselves back onto the massage table, (m/n)'s back lying on the stained cushion and he spread his legs.

"Put it in." He breathed out, staring at hazel eyes who gazed back at (e/c), their sweaty foreheads touching each other. Sousuke took a breather and he adjusted himself, pumping his cock and lining it up against (m/n)'s hole.

"Just a second." The redhead spoke, he leaned forward, (m/n) stupidly clinging onto his body and rubbing his cheek against his face as Sousuke grabbed a decanter, biting the cork off and spitting it on the floor. The (h/c) rubbed his dick against the redhead's abs, letting his precum smear all over the rockhard muscles.

Sousuke pushed (m/n) to make room, tilting the decanter and pouring oil onto the (h/c)'s thighs, the liquid dripping down onto his ass and the redhead used his fingers to push it into (m/n)'s throbbing hole.

He also spilled the oil onto his own body, letting it drip from his chest and onto his dick, (m/n) now thrusting his hips to get the redhead's attention. "I know, I know." He mumbled, brushing his lips over (m/n)'s forehead.

Carefully, he held the (h/c)'s waist, adjusting both of them and he pushed in, the slippery oil letting him thrust all of his cock in one go. (m/n) let out a satisfied mewl, his thighs shaking as Sousuke pulled his cock out until only the tip nestled inside the twitching anus.

"Aannh ann ah ah ha ahh!" (m/n) wailed as the redhead began to pound himself with wet sloppy noises emitting around the room. Their squelching was so loud, the oil making their skin soft and wet as it smacked together.

Sousuke licked the (h/c)'s ear, his fangs biting the shell as the (h/c) spread his legs even wider, letting his ankles dangle in the air and the redhead slapped his inner thigh. "God you should've came here earlier." Sousuke groaned into (m/n)'s ear who nodded ferverently.

"Fuck fuck fuck." The (h/c) cussed with a moan , every time the redhead's cock kissed his prostate, his shaft dragging against his walls. Sousuke poured more oil on his base, as he pushed (m/n) down on the table, humping and fucking his meaty cock into his drenched ass.

The candle's waft still lingered in the air, although not as intense as earlier but (m/n) wished that it would last longer. His untouched cock was flicked by the redhead's fingers and (m/n) came, cum shooting out of his stimulated penis and it landed on both of their chests.

Sousuke wanted to kiss the (h/c), however he opted to graze his neck and sucked on the skin there instead, leaving hickies and marks. His hips stuttered as he shallowly thrusted into (m/n)'s bottom, his orgasm arriving and reaching its peak and (m/n) locked his ankles around the redhead, forcing him to still and cum inside his ass, filling his hole with his white batter.

(m/n) pulled Sousuke by his hair away from his neck and crashed his lips onto his and their teeths clashed. There were biting and saliva dripping from their chins, the (h/c) pushing his hips, indicating his want for a second round.

Sousuke climbed onto the massage table, asking (m/n) to kneel like him and he positioned himself behind the (h/c). He rammed himself inside (m/n) who arched his back and started to bounce himself on Sousuke's lap in time with his thrusts.

The redhead hands sneakily cupped (m/n)'s chest, groping his pecs and rubbing the skin. (m/n) whimpered when Sousuke scratched his nipple with his nails, pinching and twisting it as he continued slamming himself in and out the (h/c)'s throbbing hole, his previous cum spilling and dripping out of (m/n)'s rim.

(m/n) turned his face to the side, his (e/c) eyes begging Sousuke for a kiss as he stuck his tongue out. The redhead obliged licking (m/n)'s lips and kissing him again, them sloppily making out for the nth time already. The table shook with each thrust, shockingly still able to support the two.

Sousuke came inside the (h/c) again while (m/n) was pushing his ass back desperately for his own orgasm, the redhead gritting his teeth as (m/n) prolonged his climax by using his cock like a joystick.

Both of them lost any sense they had as they succumbed to their arousal, having sex on the table as much as they could. (m/n) was having the time of his life getting slapped, used like a fleshlight, begging Sousuke to fold him into many position and the redhead indulged in his cries, pushing him up against the cupboard, forcing him to ride his cock and they only stopped when the clerk had came back, knocking on the door while Sousuke was pushing (m/n) into a mating press.

"Is everything alright in there? Aito, the session is supposed to be over."

The redhead grunted out a half-assed response as he covered (m/n)'s mouth and quickly fucked himself inside the (h/c) making them both cum. (m/n)'s body was sweaty and slippery, his skin covered in oils and bite marks, his neck filled with hickies and his ass was dripping spit and cum.

Sousuke pulled the (h/c), pushing him and himself into the small shower station they had and quickly washed themselves clean, (m/n) begging the redhead for one last round and he unceremoniously followed through, making the (h/c) cum on his cock under the pouring shower head.

The redhead forced (m/n) to help him clean, changing the cushions, wiping the floor, throwing away the candle tapers so the clerk won't lecture him for using the wrong ones. Sousuke checked everything, making sure he didn't leave any evidence behind as he changed the drowsy (h/c) into a simple clothing the spa provided for customers.

He packed (m/n)'s clothes and his dirty uniform into a paper bag, clocking himself out of his shift as he left the spa hurriedly with the (h/c) hugging him fondly. Sousuke made sure to drive (m/n) back to his dorm with the latter's car, not trusting him to arrive safely as the (h/c) immediately passed out in the passenger's seat.

-

"(m/n), someone's looking for you." His classmate called him, the (h/c) lifting his head from the table he was sitting in. The class had just ended and (m/n) wanted to stay behind to finish his notes before his classmate yelled for him.

It had been three days since the whole massage thing and he couldn't find the redhead, not even at the spa. Hilarious to think that (m/n) actually went back searching for him but the clerk informed him that Sousuke asked for a few days off, him claiming that he had exams to study for and the (h/c) frowned, knowing that the redhead was avoiding him.

Understandably he was taken aback when he was met with the sight of the abashed redhead, who was standing with his hair still clipped in that purple accessory, his shoulder bag on his side.

"I thought we should go on a date. After that whole y'know." Sousuke handed him a singular sunflower, its stem jagged and (m/n) could tell that he didn't bought this at the florist.

(m/n) caressed the petals as he laughed. "Now which poor gardener did you stole from?" The redhead jabbed his finger behind him, the window showing the university's prestige courtyard with many beautiful flowers blooming, people won't notice one going missing.

"How sweet." The (h/c) smiled and Sousuke looked away, his ears reddened. "Let me grab my bag first. Where are we going?" "Eat. You need some meat if you want to win that practice match."

(m/n)'s heart fluttered, Sousuke remembered the practice match he had mentioned and he took it as a sign of him attending it for him as he hurriedly retrieve his books, shoving it in his bag as he skipped to the redhead.

"Told you I wasn't toying with you." The (h/c) teased Sousuke as he hugged his bicep. The redhead only rolled his eyes, letting (m/n) hang off of his arm as they walked through the hallway, earning weird looks from the rest of the students.

"The sunflower reminds me of you." Sousuke quirked an eyebrow, he had only chose said flower because it was the biggest one in the flower patch. "A flower?" "The sun." The redhead was silent, not understanding what he meant but shrugged. He'll let his potential boyfriend run his mind in weird places.

"Say...do you have it?" "Have what?" (e/c) gleamed up at the redhead. A knowing grin on (m/n)'s face as Sousuke slightly opened his shoulder bag, letting (m/n) peek inside.

The same candle taper, a new one, Sousuke had grabbed some from the spa. He'll cover a shift or two later and (m/n) kissed his cheek, the latter flinched and blushed heavily.

"Can't wait." The (h/c) was now pushing the redhead, eager to start and finish their lunch date so he could make room for their raunchy dinner that would last from the early evening to the dead of night.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

profile

I had debated the plot for this au but i didnt want it to be some random drugged bunny fuck so theres the convo, the trifling comm, and the buildup there. Everything is better w feelings involved and its good if its one that makes u think, its what gives character

I wished this fic was what debuted sousuke on my page argh. this might be my proudest work yet. When i meant rough I meant ROUGH

This will probably be my last one before i disappear for a couple of weeks. I'll reply to stuff but to post nahhh new sem starts soon so imma be super bz.

Haha i got happy cuz ppl commented on my last post so i shat this one out as quickly as i could.

comment lots and ill post lots mkay🍖

more of aito sousuke! 𖤓

[mountainsandmayhem]

Tess's Treasures

18+, MDNI

Pairing: Tess x Joel x OC!Female x Female!Reader Summary: After perfecting the art of pickpocketing, you’re invited to join Tess’s Treasures. They’re infamous around the QZ and the initiation process is not what you expect, but exactly what you need. CW: If you’re not into foursomes/bi girl shit then you are in the wrong place. MFFF, bisexual females, fingering, masturbating, oral, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink. Unprotected p in v. Overstim and squirting. Please read this at your discretion. If this isn’t for you, that’s perfectly fine. AN: You can thank @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for being good little girls and filling my mind with depraved and twisted thoughts. This fic has truly been a labour of love, taking me almost 6 weeks to put together and edit. I'm not the least bit sorry about the word count, grab a snack, probably some electrolytes and maybe some spare batteries lol. Special shoutouts to @pedritoferg for their kind words when my imposter syndrome had the best of me. As always, dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Friendly reminder that I'm phasing out my tag list, follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for new fics.

Word Count: 9005

Becoming one of Tess’s Treasures seemed like a fallacy, a pipe dream. A fairytale life only reserved for the most vicious females that prowl the shady streets of the Boston QZ, and you aren’t a killer. A thief, yes; but not a killer. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure if the organization existed. Sure, Tess was a real person, but did she actually have a horde of women she called her Treasures? 

She was infamous in the seedy underbelly of Boston, her and her henchman Joel. Granted, no one ever seemed to see Joel, unless he was about to kill you. And sometimes not even then, he was often hiding in the shadows, shadows darker than the demons that allegedly haunted him.

Outbreak day happened when you were just little, you don’t remember much of the journey from your old hometown to Boston. Everyone here is poor, doing what they can to get credits to buy basic human needs; making trades and swaps were what most people did. You, however, were much more clever. After discovering a book detailing the art of sleight of hand you started practicing, and now you can take anything, right in front of someone's eyes, without them noticing. 

Or so you thought. After stealing a pistol from a FEDRA officer and replacing it with a banana, all while having a conversation with him in broad daylight, Tess approaches you.

“Come to my apartment next week. I wanna see if you have what it takes. Mum’s the word.” It’s a hushed whisper as she passes you, slipping a small card in your back pocket as she goes. 

You follow the cards' instructions, arriving at the exact time, going up to the top floor and then doing two quick, sharp knocks on the worn out door.

“Enter,” Tess says from inside. The door creaks on your way in. It’s the hottest day Boston has seen in years, and even in your small sundress, the room is stifling hot. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on. There’s a fan oscillating in the corner, the paint chipped off the cage that protects the blades. As it blows warm air past you, you realize that the other smell is sex. 

Tess is sitting on the couch to the right of the door, two mismatched wooden kitchen chairs in front of her. Straight ahead from the door is a small kitchen, and to the back left of the studio style apartment is the bed. Unmade, sheets tousled like someone just woke up, but based on the heady taste of the air in the room, the messy sheets are definitely from two people rolling around in them.

“Come sit,” Tess says firmly. You click the door shut behind you and head to the empty chair that’s waiting for you. The other chair is occupied by a small brunette woman. She has long slender limbs and doesn’t look like someone who would hang out with raiders, poachers and drug runners. Her hands are folded in her lap, ankles crossed under the chair. She doesn’t look over at you.

Tess leans forward, spreading her denim clad legs wide and resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you two know who I am?”

You both nod slowly. Up close, Tess is terrifying. She could have you killed with just a snap of her fingers, and Joel would do it however she wanted. From what you’ve heard, very slowly was her favourite way to have people eliminated from this earth. Quick deaths weren’t something she enjoyed when someone had fucked her over. 

“Speak!” she commands. The brunette jumps and even though you’ve mastered the art of pushing your fears down and masking your emotions, a small butterfly flaps its wings behind your navel. 

“Yes,” you say hoarsely as a meek ‘yes ma’am’ sounds beside you.

“Good. So then you know the….perks of being one of my Treasures,” Tess’s eyes twinkle as she says perks like she knows something you don’t. Like it’s more than the better living arrangements, food and medical care. Better than a sense of family and belonging.

She continues, “I’ve seen both of you at work. You,” her steel grey eyes are laser focused on yours, “With your quick hands, and you,” she adjusts her attention to the petite woman beside you, “With your ability to talk a man into almost anything. Before you can officially call yourself my Treasures, there’s a small matter of your…” Her voice trails, mouth ticking up on one side as she cocks her head and drags her eyes across both of your bodies.

“Well, your initiation.” She leans back onto the couch, knees falling wider. One arm drapes across the back, the worn cushion deflating slightly. The other rests on her thick, toned thigh. “I take care of my girls, but they need to show me that they can listen.”

The air seems thicker, and harder to fill your lungs with. Every move of her eyes is suggestive. Is she saying what you think she’s saying? You feel yourself begin to soak through your panties at the possibility of getting to fuck.

You aren’t left wondering for long as she points a long finger at the girl beside you, “Stand up, take off your clothes.”

“W-what?” the girl sputters. 

“I said to stand up and take off your fucking clothes,” the words almost seem to burn as she repeats herself. 

The girl stands so quickly that the chair falls, making a loud crash against the worn hardwood flooring. She stares at Tess for a moment, unsure if she should pick up the chair before she decides against it and pulls her blue cotton baby tee off, revealing a lacy white bra underneath. 

“That’s it,” Tess groans. “Take off those little shorts next.”

With shaky hands she moves to the button fly, each drag of the metal on denim seems to echo in the silent room. Tess licks her lips as she slides her shorts down her legs and kicks them to the side. “Come here,” Tess says, her voice already husky and deep. The woman walks over to Tess, stopping between her spread legs. Tess’s strong fingers grip the girl's hips and she gasps. “Turn around,” she urges, dragging her fingers along her hips as the mystery girl spins.

“What’s your name?” Tess asks. The girl's bright green eyes land on you and you see her breath hitch in her slender throat. She’s petite, probably a few inches shorter than you and at least a foot shorter than Tess. You’ve always been attracted to both men and women and there’s no denying that this little stranger is absolutely stunning. 

“Lydia,” she croaks.

“Are you nervous, Lydia?” Tess asks, cupping the globes of her ass in her hands, kneading and squeezing. Spreading them gently, exploring what she’s about to claim as hers. 

She nods her head and lets out a shaky moan of agreement.

“Go pick up your chair and sit down, Lydia.” Tess swats her bum as she walks away and Lydia yelps quietly.

Tess’s eyes now come to you. Staring straight into your soul. I’m sure if she could, her eyes would incinerate your clothes right off of you. It’s intoxicating. You, unlike Lydia, are not nervous. Not in the slightest. If anything, Tess’s attention on you only makes you wetter. Your panties are practically soaked through already. “And you, my little thief. What’s your name?”

You say your name confidently and squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease some of the ache that Tess’s newfound attention is bringing to the apex of your thighs.

Tess whispers your name back at you and it sends a shiver down your spine. She continues, “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me.”

Lydia swallows loudly beside you as you drop to the floor, crawling seductively to Tess, head held high. The worn hardwood planks creak under your weight. Even the floor is warm and sticky from the weather. You make it to her, sitting back on your heels like the good little girl you are. She leans forward and tugs on the hem of your dress and her syrupy voice says, “Arms up”. You lift your ass slightly and she slips your dress up and over your head. It was too hot for a bra today so you’re left in just a lacy pink thong.

“Mmmm, look at those pretty tits,” Tess hums, her fingers gliding along the plush soft skin of your breasts before ghosting over your nipples making the arm whoosh from your lungs. “You like that? Me touching your nipples.”

You breathe out a yes, eyes shutting as she pinches your pebbled buds roughly. “Oh god, yes.”

The old worn couch groans as Tess sits back, “Go take her bra and panties off.”

You climb to your feet and walk over to Lydia, holding out a hand and helping her stand. You move behind her and trail your fingers down the soft skin of her spinal column before popping the clasp of her bra. Lydia slides it off her body, arms crossing to block her now exposed breasts. Goosebumps rise across her from head to toe. You shush her and rub up and down her arms. Lydia relaxes under your touch and she drops her arms, Tess nods at you once, a silent encouragement to continue. You get down on your knees, hooking your index fingers in the waistband of her panties and sliding them down. Her round ass is in your face, she smells like fresh linen and rain. You fight the urge to kiss the sensitive little spot right where her ass crack starts.

“So fucking beautiful. Sit back down, Lydia.” Tess says and you want to cry out in protest. Her body is so enticing, soft and warm. She focuses back on you and says, “Stand in front of Lydia so she can take your panties off.”

You stand gracefully, biting your bottom lip as you maneuver yourself in front of Lydia. “Spread your legs,” you whisper, determined to help her so you can put on the best show for Tess. Lydia parts her knees and you twirl to face Tess, gathering your hair in one hand as Lydia slides your soaked panties down your legs. You kick them to the side and seductively drop your hair, smiling sweetly at Tess.

“Sit,” Tess barks. Lydia gasps behind you, but you like this; being told what to do. Commanded. Used. Tess continues after you sit, “I want you both to touch yourselves. Show me how you like it, but don’t come. You haven’t earned that yet. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lydia says, looking down at her hands. You nod eagerly, already sliding your ass to the edge of the chair and spreading your legs wide for her. Tess stares at your glistening core hungrily, leaning forward again to rest her muscular forearms on her knees. Her hair falls forward and frames her face. Her expression is hard, like you don’t want to disobey her in these moments. Brows are slightly knit together, lips in a thin line. She looks beautiful and dangerous, but as you bring your pointer and ring fingers to your entrance she softens a little, cocking her head to the side slightly. 

Lydia keeps her legs closed, slipping a finger down her slit and rubbing slowly from side to side. She whimpers silently beside you, glancing at you nervously. Your fingers easily slip inside of your soft, dripping hole. 

Tess’s eyes dance between the two of you. “Two very different girls,” she says to the room, neither of you stopping what you’re doing, both determined to become a part of her Treasures. “One of you seems shy, but I can work with that. Help you get out of your shell. And then there’s you,” her focus locks on you as she gets up with a grunt and saunters over to you. “You are a little whore, aren’t you? So eager to please.”

You feel yourself getting wetter at her attention and mean words. She pets your head lightly a few times, laughing quietly at how you lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering closed. Just as your lashes hit your cheeks she grabs a handful, pulls hard and gets within inches of your face. “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t ya?”

“No,” you gasp, your orgasm right on the precipice, so you slow your motions. “I’ll be good, Tess.”

“Did I say you could slow down?”

“I - I’m gonna come,” you whine. 

“No, you’re not. You just told me you’d be good. And good girls don’t come until they’re told.” She releases your hair and you suck in a breath. Tess’s presence is palpable, she seems to take up all the space and air in the apartment by just being here. “Do NOT come, that’s an order.”

Just as the last sentence leaves her mouth the door opens and the apartment gets smaller, like your whole existence is being put in a vacuum sealer. The deep chuckle that comes from whoever just entered makes your scalp prickle, but you keep your focus on Tess.

“What’re we doin’ here, Tess?” The voice is deep, with a slight southern accent highlighting an occasional word. It can only belong to one man, the only man allowed near Tess’s Treasures. Joel Miller. He’s feared and revered in the Boston QZ. Runs the drug trade that keeps both FEDRA and the seedy underbelly running. You’ve never seen him before, but you’ve heard stories.

“Recruits,” Tess says, walking over to Lydia, crouching in front of her. “This one is shy. The other one - well, I might need your help with her.”

Your clit feels like it’s zapped with electricity at her threatening promises and you moan loudly, pausing your fingers that have been plunging in and out of you as per Tess’s requests. “See,” she says flatly, hands massaging Lydia’s plush tanned thighs. 

You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as he walks towards you, you can feel his heat and smell the tobacco coming off his skin. When he steps into your line of vision everything blurs. He’s beautiful and dangerous, but overall he’s the most incredible specimen you’ve ever seen. Your brain seems to go blank, like a hard reset, until all you see and smell and care about is Joel. You keep your eyes locked on his face, his brows crease, lips pressed tightly together. He plants his hands on his hips as his coffee and whiskey eyes slowly trail down your body. When he gets to your soaked and swollen pussy he licks his lips. “You gonna let her come?” He asks Tess but doesn’t take his eyes off you.

The fog clouding your brain clears and you glance towards Lydia and Tess. She has her legs spread and Tess is smiling encouragingly up at her, hand on top of hers, teaching her where to touch. 

“She can come when she’s earned it. Lydia’s earned it though. Haven’t you?” She nods at Lydia as she squirms in the wooden kitchen chair. “That’s it, show us.”

Lydia speeds the up and down motion of her hand sloppily, you can hear the wetness as her movements become more erratic. Joel’s eyes haven’t left you, still watching you fuck your fingers in and out of yourself, almost mesmerized by you. 

“Tess,” Lydia murmurs.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Let me see that pretty little pussy twitch.” 

Lydia’s body starts to shake as she cries out, her hand slowing as she whines and moans, “Oh god. Oh god. Yesyesyes.”

You peel your eyes away from her and squeeze every muscle in your body as tightly as you can, holding on, not letting yourself come. Looking at Joel makes it nearly impossible not to tip over that very tantalizing edge, so you clamp your eyes shut. “Tess,” Joel says, his voice a baritone whisper. “You’re torturing this one, look at her.”

He’s right, she is torturing you; but, what Joel doesn’t know is that you love it. You love being denied just as much as you love being used. You love being pinned down or tied up. You love having your throat or pussy or ass fucked in any and all positions known to humankind. The world is a dark and horrible shit show, but sex? Ya, sex makes you feel alive. 

“Torturing her would be not letting her touch herself at all. She should be thanking me.” Tess turns her attention back to Lydia, helping her stand up and pulling her to the couch. “You did such a good job for me. You looked stunning as you fell apart.”

You open your eyes at the movement of them. They stop and stand facing each other in front of the couch as Tess removes her shirt, her breasts are small and perky with light pink nipples. Joel looks away from you, staring appreciatively at the woman he’s sworn to protect. She pops the button on her jeans. “Take them off her, Lydia. Tess shouldn’t have to work this hard,” Joel commands. 

You whimper at the timbre of Joel's voice when he’s giving instructions and his eyes whip back to you. “You like that, don’t you? Being told what to do.”

“Yes, oh god, please can I come Tess,” you cry, eyes still locked with Joels.

“Lydia is going to lick my pussy, Joel is going to move out of the way so I can see you, and when I say you can come I want you to be loud. I want to hear those slutty little moans. Got it?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, stepping behind your chair. He must be leaning over you because you swear you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. Tess sits on the couch and tugs at Lydia’s wrist gently, encouraging her to kneel in front of her. “Come on,” she whispers and then places her finger at the top of her pussy. “Just lick and kiss right here. You can do it.”

Lydia moves slowly, giving you a knowing glance over her shoulder as she gets into Tess’s desired position. You suddenly realize that she’s more clever than you initially thought. She’s not shy, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Tess likes to lead, so she acted like she needed the guidance. And now she’s come and you haven’t. Tess’s head falls back, jaw going slack as Lydia tastes her. 

“Does that turn you on?” Joel whispers, his warm breath hitting your neck. “Seeing Tess being eaten out. She deserves that every day, you know. She’s gonna take such good care of you, so you better care for her.”

“I will,” you mumble. “I’ll do whatever she needs. Whenever. Fuuuuck.”

“Look how wet you’re getting, I don’t think you can hold it for much longer.” He’s taunting you now. “Little thing loves to come, doesn’t she?”

“No, Tess gets to - oh god - she says when,” you’re squeezing as tight as you can, holding back the orgasm that’s right there, like a seesaw teetering, so close to tipping to the other side and slamming through you. 

Lydia slurps at Tess, you can hear her sucking at her clit as Tess moans and tangles her fingers into Lydia’s hair. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, right there.”

You let out a breathy whine and Tess’s eyes come to you. “Ssshh, not yet. Oh shit, Lydia. So good.”

Joel laughs into your ear. “Just come, what’s the worst she’s going to do? Spank you? Let me fuck your throat? I bet you like being punished.”

You shake your head, trying to block out all the lewd mental images he’s creating. “No, Joel.” you huff, refocusing on holding it in, thinking of all the unsexy thoughts you can as you watch Tess, waiting for your time. 

Tess’s legs begin to shake, “get ready, baby. We are going to come together.” 

Your wrist begins to ache, it feels like you’ve been fucking yourself for hours. “I need to, please. You look so - “

She cuts you off, “Joel, take over for her. I’m gonna come.”

Joel practically leaps in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling your drenched fingers out while slipping his two thick fingers into your mouth. You bob up and down on his fingers still looking at Tess. Her eyes are glazed over, and a bead of sweat slides down the line of her toned stomach and lands in her belly button. 

“Now, Joel,” she whines and Joel wastes no time slamming his fingers inside of you. You cry out at the stretch, pleasure mixing with pain before he pumps his fingers forward. “Come right now,” Tess says. 

You look down at Joel, his thumb coming to caress your swollen bundle of nerves and you cry out, the room filled with your loud moans just like she wants. You hear both her and Joel encouraging you. Joel’s Texas twang washing over you,  “that’s it, fuckin clenchin. Fuck you’re so tight.”

Joel is relentless, curling and dragging his fingers in and out of you as you writhe in your chair. “Tess, oh god, yes.”

Joel's other hand slaps the inside of your thigh, “LOUDER!” he demands.

You squeal at the hot pain that splashes along your thigh, “hhnnngg, thank you. Fuck.” Your pleasurable moans turn into whines of pain as the overstimulation starts to seep in. You try to pull back and bring your knees together and Joel lets out a growl. He looks up at you dangerously and your stomach clenches. This is the wild, animalistic Joel Miller that everyone fears. 

You start to panic, he’s not stopping and you don’t know if you can take much more. You’re so wrapped in his onyx gaze and a mix of fear and arousal that you don’t notice Tess behind Joel until she speaks. Her voice is soft yet firm as she cards her fingers through his greying curls, “Joel, that’s enough.”

He blinks hard, seemingly coming out of some sort of trance, and then slips his fingers from you, strings of milky arousal coating his fingers. “Good boy,” she whispers. “Help her up, but you don’t get to touch either of them until I say so.”

He nods and then stands, helping you up. Lydia is lounging lazily on the couch, her face still glistening with Tess’s juices. Your knees shake underneath you and Joel wraps an arm around your waist. You’ve had plenty of orgasms in your life, but never one that deep and strong. Your pussy is aching and you just want to sleep.

Tess sits on the chair that Lydia was on and spreads her legs slightly. “Lydia,” she crooks her fingers at her, calling her over. “Turn around, pretty girl. Straddle my thigh.”

Lydia follows Tess’s instructions, that fake nervous pout of her lips on display for Joel. Clever, very clever, you think through heavy eyelids. 

“Joel, help her on the other thigh and bring that chair.” Joel guides and steadies you as you sit on Tess’s thigh, then places the extra chair in front of the three of you. “Use the chair for balance,” Tess instructs, her hand running up and down your spine gently. 

You both lean forward, your sweaty palms slipping slightly against the wooden chair. You both gasp quietly as your swollen clits press into her muscular thigh, as she caresses your backs and hips. Joel sits on the couch across from you, one arm draped across the back and his legs spread. He watches you intently, eyes blown out and curls sticking to his forehead. It’s not lost on you that he hasn’t focused much attention on the other girl. You look over at Lydia and she’s smiling flirtatiously at you. Your faces are just inches apart and she nudges at your nose with hers.

“Ladies,” Tess starts, “this is the part where you show Joel what you can do. He’s going to kill people for you, and when he does, you need to repay him.”

You graze your lips against Lydias, her skin tastes like peaches and Tess’s cunt. 

“Pretend my thigh is Joel's cock, show him how you’ll ride him.”

You flick your attention back to Joel, and his expression shifts from hard to a tortured need. You rake your eyes down his strong chest, still concealed by that fucking denim button up that you want to rip off with your teeth. He’s dangerous and could easily snap your neck with two fingers, but fuck, if that doesn’t make you want him more. Lydia presses her lips to your throat and you start to grind back and forth on Tess’s thigh. 

You continue to take in Joel’s body, stopping when you get to his lap. Your eyes widen at the distinct outline of his hard cock pressing behind the zipper of his jeans. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you lock eyes with him again. His coffee coloured irises are almost onyx as he shifts in his seat. He wants you - just as much as you want him, and you just hope that you can break him enough so Tess lets him have you. 

Tess’s strong hand travels up the smooth skin of your back, tangling her hands in the hair at the nape of your neck. “Tell Joel how good it feels, baby. Lydia, keep kissing her.”

Lydia’s lips suck at your skin. “Mmm, fuck Joel. Feels s’good. Wish it was your big cock filling me up, sliding in and out of my tight, wet pussy.” Tess tugs at your hair to open your neck more for Lydia and you yelp.

“Keep talking, baby girl,” Joel says, his hand moving to palm himself over his jeans. “Tell me what you want.”

You grind harder into Tess’s thigh, between the sting in your scalp from her hand, Lydia’s soft lips on your neck, and Joel’s intense stare, it almost becomes hard to breathe. Every bit of their attention is on you.

“I-I want you to, mmmm, to pin me down,” you take in a shaky breath, never taking your eyes off him. “To f-fuck me…from behind. Want you to f-fill, oh god, fill me.”

Joel pops the button of his jeans, reaching down his pants to grip himself through his tight grey boxers. You continue breathily, “Wanna feel you spank me. Slam inside of me. Dominate me.”

“Good girl,” Tess says, releasing her grip on your hair and pulling Lydia off your neck, before pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re flush with her thigh. You crane your neck to keep your eyes on Joel, looking at him through the wooden slats of the back of the chair in front of you. “Your turn, Lydia. Tell Joel what you want.”

She clears her throat before beginning, “If he killed for me, I wouldn’t make him do any work. I’d lay him down, lick and kiss every inch of him before sliding him in my mouth. Taking him deep, cradling his balls with my hand. I’d swallow every drop.”

Joel lets out a noncommittal grunt, almost like a secret language between him and Tess. Joel leans forward and removes his denim button up and t-shirt in one swoop. His tanned and toned chest makes your mouth water. His chiselled pecs and soft belly have trimmed salt and pepper hair dusted across them, he toes off his shoes and then lifts his hip, sliding his jeans down his legs. His skin glistens with sweat and you want to lick it all off of him, drink up his salt and musk, his innate Joel-ness. 

“Come here, Joel.” She says. 

“Sit up,” she says softly to you. Joel stalks forward like he’s about to claim what’s his and your pussy clenches around nothing in hopes that it’s you.

“Ride my thighs, girls. Whoever cums first, Joel gets to fuck.” You spit into your hand and reach between your legs, gently spreading your lips and coating yourself in saliva.

A deep, “holy fuck” leaves Joel's lips at the sight of you. Yes, he definitely wants you just as much as you want him. You move your hands from the chair to Tess’s knee and grind your hips in small, slow circles. Your arms push your tits together for Joel. Beside you, Lydia stops moving. She sits as still as a statue, looking over her shoulder seductively at Tess. A loud slap fills the room, followed by a lust filled moan that you didn't think Lydia was capable of. 

“Tess,” she says, all airy and breathy. Her tone feels sweet on your skin. “I don’t like sleeping with men.” 

You keep grinding, your focus on Joel. He’s so close that you could reach out and grab one of his muscular forearms. You’re going to fuck him. You want to fuck him. Any way he wants. Any hole he wants. None of it matters, you just want to feel him, smell him, taste him. 

Tess lets out an impressed sigh. “You’re even more amazing than I thought, Lydia. Had me telling you how to lick a pussy, how to touch yourself. But you already know. Don’t you?” She slaps Lydia’s ass again and the loud noise even has you clenching. Fuck, you want Joel to spank you. Or Tess. Even Lydia at this point. 

It’s wrong. And taboo. But who can say what’s right or wrong in this new world anymore? 

“You are going to have to do things for Joel, little temptress. It’s part of the deal.” You see Tess’s hands come to Lydia’s hips, encouraging her to grind at the same pace you’ve set. “So ride me. Let me feel that slick little pussy, let me feel it quiver on my thigh.” 

Things are quiet for a moment, just the squelching sounds of both your cunts gliding along her smooth thigh. You lean into Lydia, desperate for more. More what, you aren’t sure. Just more.

She responds to your touch, her nose brushing your cheek before you turn into her and kiss her deeply. Slanting your head to taste her tongue against yours. She’s sweet, like strawberry jam. Lips so soft they almost don’t feel real. Her teeth clamp onto your bottom lip and you cry out. The perfect amount of pain to increase the pleasure between your legs. When she lets go you’re panting. 

“She’s close, Tess,” Joel murmurs like he knows your body so well, but he’s not wrong. He continues speaking casually to Tess as if you aren’t in the same room. “Do I really get to fuck her if she cums first?” 

You grind down harder, kissing Lydia again. You love them talking about you as if you aren’t here. Making the decisions for you. 

“As soon as she cums, you take her to the bed.” Tess’s strong hand lays a sharp slap on the meaty globe of your ass and you crumble. 

“YES!” You scream, convulsing as the pleasure courses through you. You look up at Joel through your lashes, jaw slack, voice weak and desperate. “Joel. Please. Please.” 

He drops his boxers and his thick cock spring free. Slapping against his belly. The tip is smooth and leaking, he’s bigger than you thought and somehow your throat dries out as your cheeks fill with saliva. As you come down from your second orgasm you realize that you can do this. You are going to do whatever Tess says and become one of her Treasures. 

“Think you can take him?” Tess hums as Lydia falls apart beside you, moaning sweetly. Tess adds, “Good girl, Lydia. So perfect when you cum.”  

You decide to take a page out of Lydia's book and act innocent. “N-no,” you stammer. “It’s…I don’t…it’s too big.” 

Joel snorts, “You’re not a very good liar my little slut.” 

Before you can respond he’s lifted you up and over his broad shoulder. His skin is warm against your belly. You giggle mischievously as his hands dig into the plush skin on the back of your thighs. He can so easily overpower you, so easily destroy you - mentally and physically. And you’d let him, and to make it worse, you’d thank him afterwards and probably ask him to do it again. 

He drops you on the bed. “Don’t move.” 

You nod and swallow the dry lump in your throat. You definitely want this, even if you shouldn’t. Even if that logical voice inside your head is screaming at you to put up the wall, block him out like you do with everyone else. But the infinitesimal hint of softness in his face that can only be seen by the two of you keeps you sucked in. He won’t hurt you, no. Something in his eyes gives him away, he wants to please you with those hands that have brought pain and torture to so many others. 

He walks back over to Tess and Lydia who are completely entranced with one another. Lydia is now sitting fully in Tess’s lap. Her back pressed to Tess’s front, both her legs draped over Tess’s as she pressed kisses along the tops of one of her shoulders and rubs her fingers gently from her pussy up to Lydia’s. Joel kneels in front of them, both of their legs spread, wet pussy’s glistening and on display for him. The sight of Joel Miller on his knees does something unexplainable to you. He’s so goddamn delicious. 

He looks over at you again, that softness still coaxing you deeper into his web, tangling around you, claiming you. His large hands cup Tess’s inner thighs and then he dives into both their pussy’s. Jealousy swirls in your stomach as he draws a sloppy wet line from Tess’s entrance to her clit, then up to Lydia in the same manner. 

“Oh, fuck Joel,” Tess cries as Lydia whimpers.

“Too much, baby?” he says gruffly to Lydia who nods before burying her face into the crook of Tess’s neck. “Little more, m’kay?”

He licks at them again, Tess’s moan ending as Lydia’s starts. Joel doesn’t stop. He uses long languid and lazy strokes of his tongue as he eats at both of them.

“J-Jo - fuuuck Joel!” Tess murmurs, her head falling back and mouth falling open in a silent scream. She wraps her arms tightly around Lydia as her legs start to tremble. Joel’s deltoids and biceps flex as he pushes to keep her thighs apart.

“Fuck, Tess.” Lydia purrs, “You look so goddamn hot when you cum. Suck on her clit, Joel. Make our girl squeal.” You can hear him slurp her swollen and twitching nub into his mouth. As it slips along his soft and puffy lips her pained sounding moans start to become mumbles of pleasure. Joel works her through her orgasm, not stopping until he knows she's good and sated.  

Lydia reaches back, twisting to kiss Tess deeply and then whispers into her lips. Whatever she says gets Joel's attention and he releases her clit with a pop before looking up at the two women. You haven’t moved from where Joel left you, as fun as being a brat is, he could probably dish out a punishment so intense that even you would break and use whatever safe word he gave you. Lydia whispers more, Joel smirks at whatever she’s saying and then the three of them all slowly turn to look over at you.

Fuck

Joel stands, his hands coming to the outsides of Tess’s knees and guiding her as she closes her legs, then he gives a hand to Lydia to help her stand before repeating the same with Tess. He stands tall and broad, completely naked and fully erect between these two powerhouse women, linking his fingers with Tess and smiling over at her. She gives him a little nod and your stomach flips as your pussy clenches.

This is it, you think.

“Little slut,” he says deeply, “‘M’gonna fuck you now, while they hold you down. Understood?”

You try to say yes, but just air seems to leave your lungs. Tess and Lydia climb along each side of you, hooking their arm under your leg and pulling back to open you for Joel. Your arms are trapped under their bodies as they lay beside you.  You’re pinned and exposed; fully at Joel, Tess and Lydia’s mercy. 

The bed dips as Joel settles between your thighs, his large body looms over you, resting himself on one forearm beside your head, his other hand wrapped around his cock, running it up and down your folds.

“So wet for me. So soft,” he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance and you gasp. “Shit! S’tight too, baby girl.”

Tess and Lydia nuzzle into you, lightly dragging their noses along your neck and jawline. “J-Joel, fuck me. Pleaseplease. Fuck me”

Joel presses his hips forwards, and the thick, smooth mushroom head of his cock pushes at your weeping cunt again. “Look at me, little slut,” he rasps. You don’t hesitate, look at him with big innocent eyes, biting your lower lip. He spits into his palm and then coats his throbbing dick with it, fisting himself up and down. He raises an eyebrow at you cockily, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, please!”

Without warning Joel slams into you, stretching you painfully and your body jolts. You try to slam your knees together but the naked women on each side of you keep you spread open widely for Joel. “Shit baby,” he says through gritted teeth as his body folds over yours, his hands caging all three of you in. Tess nips at your neck, while Lydia sucks at your earlobe after whispering, “Relax, little slut, we all got you.”

Your lungs slowly come back to you. You take a deep, full breath in, and it feels like you haven’t taken a proper breath since seeing Joel for the first time. As you exhale you’re completely surrounded by Joel Miller. His large body is all you can see and feel. Meanwhile, all you can taste and smell is his tobacco scent and the salt of the sweat that coats his tanned skin. You’re addicted, you want to be able to inject him right into your veins. Your pussy relaxes around him and the pain ebbs into pleasure, and you need more.

“More, please more,” you murmur into his neck.

“There she is,” Tess whispers in your ear and you whimper.

“Say it again,” Joel commands.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you cry. “Please, fuck me. Make me your little slut for real.”

Lydia giggles seductively in your ear, pulling you into her tighter.

“Open her all the way for me,” he says to the other two. “S’too tight for me.”

He sits himself up and your knees are pulled open and back. Joel keeps his eyes locked on yours as he tilts his chin a bit and splits on your already soaked pussy. His veiny hands come to the back of your thighs, squeezing and massaging at your sensitive skin.

“Think I should fuck her, Lydia?” He starts, and soon they’re talking about you again as if you aren’t even there, the slick walls of your cunt fluttering as they speak.

“She's been good, hasn’t she?” Lydia says in a syrupy aroused tone.

“No she hasn’t,” Tess says between kisses along your jawline. “She’s a thief. She’s a bad girl.”

Joel slaps the inside of one of your thighs, with just enough of a flick in his wrist that it immediately sends a zap of pleasure toward your clit. Lydia feels you relax more into her grips, “She likes it when you hit her, Joel”.

“Of course she does,” Tess moans. “She’s a little slut.” She hits the t at the end of the word hard and Joel slaps you again. Right in the same spot, precision that you’ve never known before from a man who kills without being seen. 

“Should feel how tight she is, maybe she had us fooled,” Joel says, eyes shifting between the two women, wholly avoiding your gaze. You’re so desperate for his attention, and the humiliation of him not returning it arouses you so much more than it should.

“What’d’ya mean, baby boy?” Tess asks, her warm breath hitting your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Like a virgin, squeezin’ me like a vice.”

“She’s shakin,” Lydia adds. “Poor girl.”

“You two don’t stop kissing her while I do this,” they both nod and he flips his attention back to you. “I wanna hear you screamin’. Got it, little slut?”

You shudder under his intense stare. “Yes, yes, Joel. Please, just fuck me. Pleeease!”

He pulls halfway out and then slams back in, his heavy balls slap at your taint and asshole, your needy high pitched moans filling the room. Your whole body constricts around Joel and as it relaxes it feels like heaven. No one has made your body feel like this. “That feel good?” Joel says tauntingly, his hands gripping into the back of your thighs.

“Please - fuck, yes. More,” you mumble, almost incoherently. 

“Show our girl, Joel. Show her what he can have once she’s my Treasure.” Tess commands.

What’s that saying, ‘You say jump, I say how high’? Well, when Tess says jump, Joel is already mid jump, doing it exactly how Tess wants it. He’s already dragging his cock out slowly, all the way to the tip, before slamming fast and hard back into you.

“Harder,” Tess growls, biting your neck as Joel repeats the motion. Lydia squirms against you, her soft warm skin slipping along the thin sparkling layer of sweat that coats your body. “Look at her. Pliant, soft. Letting Joel do whatever he wants.”

“That’s cuz she’s a good girl,” Lydia moans, kissing the sensitive skin under your earlobe. 

Joel brings one of his hands to cup your chin, his thumb running around your bottom lip softly. “Gotta relax for me, little slut.”

You take a breath and as you exhale you can feel the grip your pussy has on his thick cock loosen. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

“Good job, baby girl,” Tess whispers, kissing at your throat again. 

“Fuck her now, Joel.” Lydia says, “We got her.”

Joel sets a quick pace, slamming in and out of you. His name and a string of swears leaving your lips with every thrust, just the screams of your pleasure and the squelching of your pussy filling the room. Tess and Lydia whisper praises as Joel is possessed by your cunt. Pounding and pounding into you without pause. Over and over, he’s relentless. A man possessed. You can’t help but wonder if he’s like this with all other women or if this is just for you. His hand falls from your chin, landing beside Tess’s head on the mattress, the other still gripped to your thigh. His short nails dig into your skin, leaving you marked with signs of him. 

“That’s it,” Lydia hums. “Taking it like such a good girl.”

Tess’s teeth lightly scrape at your jawline. “Come on, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Joel says each word at the end of his harsh thrusts. His voice is gravelly and deep. Seeping under your skin and into your DNA, the very fabric of your being. You belong to him, no questions asked.

“M-more. I - more - please.” You aren’t sure what you mean by more, but Joel seems to know your body better than you as he sits himself back up and brings his thumb to your clit, teasing it gently and you writhe under him. It’s almost too much but you need it, and even more, you need Joel not to stop.

He hammers into you again, slower this time, but still with an intense flick of his hips at the end. The leaking tip of his cock pressing against the perfect spongy part behind your clit.

“Can see you in her stomach, Cowboy.” Tess moans. Both the women feather long, lingering kisses along your neck. The juxtaposition of their soft actions and the bruising dance of Joel’s hip is just as confusing as it is arousing. 

“Rub her clit a little harder, Joel. I think she’s getting close.” You clench around him at Lydia’s words and cry out loudly. 

He swirls his thumb easily along your lubricated clit, the mixture of both of your arousals and his spit making it slippery. “Ohgod, hnnnnggg, J-Joel pleasepleaseplease.”

“Sssshhh, baby,” he soothes, pausing with his hips pushed flush to your ass. “Gotta relax, remember?”

You whimper in agreement, nodding your head as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. “There she goes,” Joel moans as your pussy walls flutter and then relax.

He starts to fuck you slowly, circling your swollen velvety nub with the rough pad of his thumb. His other hand leaves your thigh, massaging your breast, pinching at the nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. Gonna fill you one day.”

“Today, please!” you protest through a salacious moan.

“Tell her,” he says to the women holding you in their arms, speeding up the circles of his thumb.

“Lydia,” Tess whispers, like it’s a secret just for the three of you, “Tell her your plan.”

You’re lost in a daze as Lydia says your name into your skin. When you don’t respond she nips gently at you and says, “Baby? You with me?”

“Y-yes. Fuuuuuuck,” you say wantonly.

“Joel is gonna make you cum, then pull out and cum all over our faces. After, we are going to lick it all off each other.” She says it with a hint of mischief and lust in her voice.

The three of them praise and encourage you as Joel keeps fucking you and rubbing your clit at the same time. You have no idea how long you’ve been in this apartment, how long you’ve been floating on a vibrating fluffy cloud of pleasure and craving. Whispers of “Good girl”, “so pretty”, and “fuck listen to how wet you are” travel through you.  

The electric currents of pleasure that sizzle along your skin all come to the base of your spine. Pressure building, so very close to exploding around all of you. “Come on, little slut. Let go for me.”

Lydia and Tess say ‘Come on’ and ‘relax into it’ at the same time.

“Shit, J-Joel,” you whimper. A tear runs down your cheek.

“I know, I’m here,” he says, voice slightly softer than earlier. “I know.”

The pressure becomes unbearable and then everything snaps. Your pussy flutters as the pleasure starts to consume every single inch of your being. Your vision blurs, every muscle going lax as you twitch unconsciously underneath him. 

“Good girl. Yes, that’s my good little slutty girl,” he growls. Your orgasm continues to tear through you, ripping you in half and you know when you come down only Joel will be able to stitch you back up again. 

Joel presses his large palm to your mound, and just as you feel yourself start to come down you’re on the precipice of another orgasm. “Got another one for me, baby?”

“Yesyesyes - yeeesss,” you’ve forgotten words, you’re just a bundle of pleasure. No muscles or bones or thoughts of your own. Just a pliant body, that’s fully under the control of Joel Miller. 

Your second orgasm hits you hard, tearing anything you had left in half. “She’s gonna squirt,” Joel mumbles.

“Just let it go,” Lydia whispers, suckling on your earlobe. 

You push into the feeling, letting it overtake you as liquid gushes from your cunt, coating Joel's pelvis and pooling on the bed below you. It splashes as Joel keeps up his pace. You scream out in pleasure. Lydia and Tess talking you through it quietly, “Good girl. Stay relaxed for me,” Tess says as Lydia adds, “Let it take you, we’re right here.”

The pleasure starts to ebb, it’s becoming too much as Tess whispers, “Breathe, baby girl. Just breathe.”

“Can’t, Tess.” you whimper, turning your face towards her. “Please,” you plead. If you learned anything from earlier, it’s that only Tess can make him stop. 

“Ok, baby, you’re ok,” she hums. She looks up at Joel above all of you and drops her voice, “That’s enough now, Joel.”

Joel pulls away from your clit and you sigh in relief, both his hands coming to your breasts, squeezing them roughly as his thrusts become sloppy. “Get ready,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Both Tess and Lydia scoot up so their faces are pressed against yours.

Joel slips out of you with a lewd pop and practically bends you in half to get over your faces. “Open your mouths and look at me,” he commands. The three of you obey, anything for the man who is going to kill for you or defend you to the very end if need be. 

His hand is tight around his cock, pumping himself quickly, the cords of muscle and veins along his forearm start to pop. His balls are full and heavy, tight against his body as he edges closer to his release. You stare at him, soaking in how wrecked he looks as he gets closer. His brows pinch together, onyx and whiskey flecked eyes looking only at you before his face goes lax and he lets out a deep, loud moan. Warm ropes of opaque white cum paint your faces.

As soon as he’s done he pulls away, Tess and Lydia letting go of your legs as the three of you kiss and lick at each other's sticky faces. Joel tastes better than you could have imagined, a heady mix of saltiness that leaves you insatiable for more.

Joel sits back on his heels watching the three of you slurp him up. He has a proud smirk on his face and when your eyes find his he winks at you before getting up and grabbing a towel off the top of the small dresser near the bed. Tess says something hushed to Lydia as you and Joel look at one another. Lydia pressed a kiss to your cheek before getting off the bed and following Tess into another room, the unmistakable sound of the shower alerting you to where they’ve gone.

Joel climbs beside you, looking down at you hesitantly. “You ok?” he whispers.

“Ya,” you sign sleepily. “I’m ok, Joel.”

He brings the towel to your thighs, soaking up your arousal. “I didn’t hurt ya?”

The towel ghosts along your swollen folds and you gasp, turning your head into Joel’s strong upper body. “I know, sorry.” He hisses, hating that he’s causing you discomfort. “But I gotta clean you up.”

He dabs gently with the soft towel causing an aftershock that shakes through your body and you feel yourself squirt again. Not nearly as much this time but a euphoric moan leaves your lips. Joel tucks the towel between your legs and guides your face up to meet his. His brown eyes burn themselves into your soul, “do you need more, baby? Just tell me.”

“It’s sensitive,” you whine.

He lifts an eyebrow slightly, “does it hurt?”

You stick your bottom lip out and nod sadly.

“Need me to kiss it?” he asks gently, his hooked nose rubbing against yours. 

You look at him hesitantly. Of course, you want Joel’s plush lips on your pussy, but a flap of a butterfly wing could probably cause you to implode at this point. 

“You can say another time,” he whispers, lips hovering over yours. He doesn’t know where this side of him has come from. Joel Miller is a simple man. Murder who Tess says, fuck any one of her Treasures that offer to get the adrenaline out afterwards, then leave them in their apartment pumped full of his cum. He usually can’t wait to rush back to his apartment to take a shower and shoot back a mix of whiskey and sleeping pills. But with you, he feels the need to care for you afterwards, and he has a strong feeling that you’re going to be a very large distraction in his life from now on. 

I’m fucked, he thinks to himself.

You lean forward to sponge your lips against his. He kisses you sweetly, pulling you in tighter as you hum contently into his lips.

“I don’t think I can tonight,” you say softly after breaking the kiss. 

“That’s ok, little slut.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re resting on top of him. Legs straddling his hips and your head resting on his chest. You shiver against him, tucking your arms into your body. His hands scramble for the blanket, wrapping it around the two of you, kissing the top of your head. “Tomorrow, after Tess officially makes you her Treasure, that will be your gift from me.”

You nod into his chest, he smells like gunpowder, fresh sawdust and sweat as your eyelids become heavy and the world seems to slip away. You have trouble sleeping normally, I mean who wouldn’t in this fucked up new world you’re all in, but with Joel, it happens almost too easily. Sleep just takes you to a deep and uninterrupted place for who knows how long. But when you wake you’re in a large grey t-shirt in a small bedroom, not the same one you fell asleep in. You hear the peaceful and melodic breathing of someone beside you. You move slowly, peeling open your eyes to see Joel sleeping beside you. The moonlight dances softly along his face, grey hairs glinting in the light. He looks so peaceful, nothing like the man that was crazed by your pussy early. He’s still visibly dangerous, but fuck is he beautiful. 

I’m fucked, you think to yourself.

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 1

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“What…is it?”

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

The Princess, the Jedi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I may?” Luke offered his arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joyride in the Falcon?” Han offered.

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

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

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

Leia had already been talking about weddings.

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

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

***

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

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

“Maker, I’m so glad we found you…”

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

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

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

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

How the Jedi Die

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

“Training awaits, Your Highness.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the Jedi.

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

And then you heard a voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any leads?”

“I got one.”

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

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

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

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

“What is?”

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

“Where are we going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“You sure about this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woahhh!” You shielded your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You spun your saber and followed him into the shadows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are No Healers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Han looked at Leia and the other guy.

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

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

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

“Is Luke okay?” You asked quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

Luke’s saber.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need a minute. I’m sorry.”

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

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

Luke’s.

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

Tears of the Princess

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly–”

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

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

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

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

“Boys, are you in need of anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m (Y/N).” You introduced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

“I know, buddy. I like them already.”

Legends and Fairytales

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

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

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

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

“Leia…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m still figuring that out myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soren. He’s nineteen.” She said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t sleep?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

Kindle the Spark

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

You tried not to be bitter about it.

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

“May I join you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t.”

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

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

He didn’t look convinced.

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

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

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

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

“What was your saber like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Hello again. Can I help you?”

He beeped a string of words and you laughed.

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

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

“Whatcha got there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything useful?”

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

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

“Do you want to?” You met his eyes.

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

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

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

“Is there a workshop around here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shivered.

“You still with me, (Y/N)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wake-Up Call

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

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

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

You wondered what time it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you sleep?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning, buddy. Staying out of trouble?”

He beeped in response, earning a laugh.

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

“Hello again. Good to see you.”

“You already met Snap?” Poe asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“More than.” You chuckled.

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

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

“Alright. Great. Breakfast?” Poe asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The First Order?” You asked.

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

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

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

Once everyone was accounted for, Leia started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We didn’t have much choice.”

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

Chewbacca roared, volunteering himself as well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brings back memories, what can I say?”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, this was your idea.”

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

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

“Permission granted.” You said.

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

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

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

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

“Ready when you are, Poe.”

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

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

Something Old and Borrowed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” You said, deflating.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s he like?”

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

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

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

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

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

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

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

“The air conditioning.”

You laughed. “Ah, yes, important.”

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

BB-8 chirped in annoyance.

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

“Droids.” You agreed with a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me about it.”

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

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

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

“Roger that, Commander.” Finn said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m (Y/N). Your…mother’s sister.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In here!” You called.

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

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

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

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

He stared at it, flabbergasted. “What?”

“Can you use this?”

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

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

BB-8 let out a string of agitated beeps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see you’ve met your aunt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I’m…a Jedi too?”

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

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

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

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

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

So Long, Space Boy

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

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

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

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

Older than you.

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

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

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

“What happened to your husband?”

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

“I’d love to meet him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he usually at those things?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not…outdated?”

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

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

You were glad you’d brought it with you.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

He smirked. “Oh, I know. Shall we?”

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

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

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

“You mean that?”

“Every word.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ummm…”

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

Luke. It had to be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With who?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Snap, your turn.”

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

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

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

“Oh!” Snap laughed. You could tell he had been fishing for something else. “You and Skywalker.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, finally letting the burden of it go. It didn’t need to be a secret anymore, especially now, since it was over. Since he was gone. “Me and Skywalker. Worst-kept secret in the galaxy.” You looked at Poe, testing the waters a little bit. “Besides, what happens in the X-Wing stays in the X-Wing.”

He let out a laugh, shoulders shaking. “What she said. My turn? Never have I ever wielded a lightsaber. There. That’s at least three of you.”

“Three?” You asked, taking yet another sip of your drink. “Who’s the third?”

“Finn has some lightsaber history.” Rose said, swirling the liquid around in her cup.

“Really, that is interesting. We’ll have to get you back on that.”

“You’ve spent like a week here and you’re converting us all to Jedi.” Finn chuckled, reaching for his drink.

“Well someone’s gotta.” You shrugged, curling up against Poe again. His arm rested on the back of the couch, but you could feel him thinking about wrapping it around you instead. You kind of wished he would. You leaned closer to him, face inches from his, liquid confidence finally kicking in. 

His eyes found you, intrigued, watching your every move.

“You can hold mine if you want, you know. All you’ve gotta do is ask.”

His thick eyelashes brushed against his tan cheekbones. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hold what, your Highness?”

“My lightsaber.” You raised your eyebrows, heart racing under his intense brown gaze. “What did you think I was gonna say, Dameron?”

He smiled, tongue jutting over his bottom lip. You imagined them pressed to yours, and you weren’t sure if it was a vision or just a fantasy, the way they’d feel, the way he’d sound. You swore you could feel his stubble tickling across your skin, his fluffy curls threaded through your fingers, warm warm skin on yours.

You snapped out of it with a start. This was why the Force and alcohol didn’t mix.

He didn’t answer. “Your turn.”

“Right. Well, there’s a lot of things I have done.” You turned your attention to the rest of the group that was still sitting there, watching. “Never have I ever been inside a TIE fighter.”

A few people in the circle took sips, laughing and chatting amongst each other. You watched them all. This crew, this Resistance. Maybe Luke was right. Maybe this was where you belonged.

You glanced over at Poe, at the lovesick look that was already set deep in those warm brown eyes of his. You could feel it, stirring around in his heart. Had been since that first night in the canteen. Maybe even since the moment he saw you.

Yeah, maybe Luke was right about other things, too…

The Heirloom

You had something of a headache the next morning. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given the sheer amount of Jet Juice you’d consumed the night before. You got some breakfast before training, sliding familiarly into your seat between Poe and Rey.

He quirked up an eyebrow at your sheer exhaustion. “You feeling alright, your Highness? Looking a little worse for wear.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya, flyboy.” You groaned, reaching for the cup of caf he’d gotten for you and drinking, not bothering to let it cool. The heat definitely woke you up.

“Some party last night, huh?” Finn asked, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

“You should have seen the afterparty on Endor.” You chuckled. “I was hungover for four days after that.”

“I’ve heard.” Poe chuckled. “That party lives in infamy among former Rebels, you know.”

“Oh I’m sure it does.” You grinned into the mug nursed between your hands. 

You tried to ignore the way he looked at you, that absolute warmth in his eyes, but you feared it wasn’t going away any time soon.

After breakfast, you and Rey walked out into the clearing, where Soren was waiting, trying to meditate on one of the stumps up there. He opened his eyes when you stepped on a twig.

“Aunt (Y/N). Good morning. I didn’t know when you wanted to start.”

“How long have you been out here?” You asked with a gentle laugh.

His cheeks flushed. “Probably too long, to be honest.”

“How’s the meditating going?” You asked.

“It’s hard to get my mind to be quiet.”

“It was hard for me at first, too. They used to tell me to just quiet my mind and listen, but sometimes it’s easier to just count.” You told him, sitting on the stump beside him, legs crossed, back straight. “Deep breaths. Close your eyes. Listen to the leaves rustle in the trees. You don’t have to feel anything right away. It’s not something you can push, anyway. All you can do is listen, and if your mind won’t be quiet, just count.”

“Count to what?”

“Up from zero. As high as you need.” You told him, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, listening to the rustling branches.

“What are we listening for today, Master?” Rey asked, voice smooth and even as she sat on the third stump.

“Just listening. Seeing what the Force has to say.” You replied, colors blossoming across the back of your eyelids. You listened, breaths long and even. Your focus was drawn to your heartbeat, steadfast in your chest.

You felt Rey and Soren beside you. You took another breath and felt your sister in her room, working on reports, Leia strategizing her next move in the war that had consumed her life.

You gently searched the others. The pilots, the mechs. Watched as Poe worked on a dilapidated X-Wing, sweat on his brow. BB-8 rolled past his feet. He glanced up the hill, where you were and suddenly, you disconnected, feeling like you were encroaching on his privacy. Some people didn’t take kindly to that kind of thing. You didn’t know the details, but you knew Poe had some experience with Force torture. Not that this was that, but you were sure he might feel a little weird about it, still.

You checked in on the rest of the camp, gently, and when you were done, you opened your eyes, the other two looking at you, ready and eager to learn.

You ran some basic drills, starting Soren with a stick and making him fence with you, also using a stick, both sabers still strapped to your belt. You did an agility course, testing his balance, his precision. He had a lot to learn, but it was clear you were right. He was meant to this. He was meant to follow your path.

***

A week passed. Then two.

Soren was progressing quickly, Rey even quicker. She was already moving bigger objects, but with Soren, you knew you’d have to start small.

You hauled a table out into the trees, along with a handful of trinkets, some rocks and other assorted parts no one would miss. You spread them on the surface of the table and encouraged Soren to stand at the end of it. You guided his hand to the surface of the table.

“Just what, move them?”

“Move one.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them will do.” You replied. “Don’t overthink it. This is the biggest hurdle. Once you can do this, you can do anything.”

“And what if I can’t?”

“Then we keep working on the other stuff and come back to this later,” you encouraged, all positivity. Right now, you had the luxury of training him with gentleness. There was no pressure for you to have a third Jedi. Two was already double what the Resistance had a few weeks earlier.

Soren nodded, concentration furrowing his brows. He pushed and you could feel the effort behind his muscles.

Finn and Poe were standing at the edge of the field, watching somewhat curiously while you and Rey worked with your nephew.

There was a faint buzz on the air and then nothing. The rocks didn’t move an inch. Soren looked to you for help.

“You’re pushing.” You said, noting the discovery, not scolding him in the slightest. “And sometimes you do have to push, but…try pulling.”

“Pulling?”

You held out a hand, and instead of forcing the rock to move, you let it rise, gently pulling it up into the air, where it floated around a few times before you set it back down.

“Pulling.” Soren repeated, and you could tell he got it. He reached a hand out, movements more deliberate, less desperate. He took a breath, let it out, and then, slowly, the rock rose into the air, lifted only by his concentration.

He gasped and the rock fell back onto the table.

“Yes!” You pumped your fist, jumping, wings fluttering at the small victory. “Yes! You did it!”

“I did it.” He breathed, still in disbelief. “I’m a Jedi…”

“We’re getting you there.” You assured him, a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll need to get you fitted for some robes before you know it.”

“On that happy note, lunch?” Poe suggested, motioning back towards the canteen.

“Lunch.” You agreed. “They probably need this table back, huh?”

“I’ll take it back.” Rey assured, using the Force to lift it into the air.

“I was gonna do that.” Poe chuckled, hands on his hips.

“With the Force?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Obviously.” He laughed, offering his hand, but you thought for a moment.

“I’ll be right down. Just need a second with my nephew.”

“Alright.” Poe nodded, taking a few steps away, but lingering not too far.

Soren was all smiles, still in disbelief at what he’d just done. You hugged him, beaming with pride not only in him, but in yourself. You had done it. You’d trained him. You’d helped get him to this point.

“I have something for you. I think you’re ready for it now.” You told him, stepping away and pulling one of your sabers off of your belt, the older one, forged from your mother’s bracelets and a whole lot of love.

His eyes fell on it and his jaw dropped. He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t possibly…we got that saber for you. It’s yours.”

“It was.” You agreed. “It’s made from your grandmother’s bracelets. This saber…it represents family, legacy. You are my family. And someday, you’ll be my legacy. ” You chuckled to yourself. “I think that statement would hold a lot more weight if I wasn’t literally five years older than you, but you get what I’m saying. This saber is meant for you. Someday, we’ll find you a crystal of your own and you can make your own saber like the Jedi of old, but for now, I would be honored if you’d wield this for me.”

You handed it to him, wrapping both of his hands around it to ensure he’d actually take it and he did, staring at the gift and taking a long, shaking breath. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, biting on the end of a sob.

You pulled him back into your arms, comforting him until he was well enough to join the rest of you for lunch. When you turned to walk back to the canteen, Poe was there, that soft, impressed smile on his face.

He touched your shoulder, eyes saying more than words ever could. His hand slid to the middle of your back, just above your wings, gently guiding you as you walked together towards the rest of your friends.

Stained Glass Silk

You shot up in the middle of the night, sweat beaded on your forehead, heart racing from a particularly bad nightmare, the kind that made your wings burn and the scar above your hip tingle.

Insidia.

All signs pointed to her being dead, but that sure didn’t stop you from dreaming about her.

You stared at the ceiling for a while before slipping out of bed, putting on some slippers and walking through the dim hallways to the canteen. There were a few people milling around, but that was it in the dead of night, just a few patrols and custodians, holding the place together while everyone else was fast asleep.

In the kitchens, there was a pile of clean dishes waiting to be put away. So, seeing as there was no one else around, you set to work, putting silverware in their allotted slots in the drawers, unbending a few fork prongs and scrubbing at particularly stubborn spots on spoons, putting them back in the washer to run again in the morning.

“Never thought I’d catch a princess doing the dishes, but stranger things have happened, I suppose.” Poe said, leaning in the doorway, a smirk on that handsome face. “Can’t sleep?”

“Never can, these days.” You shrugged, tucking a few more forks away in their drawer. “And I used to do the dishes a lot, for your information.”

“Why’s that?”

“Chores are chores. Everyone’s gotta do them at some point. Used to help me focus. I liked making sure all the little stuff was done so people could focus on the big stuff instead.”

“My mom used to say that.” He smiled softly, taking a few steps further into the room and reaching for some of the smaller dishes, making sure they were all dry before moving them to the overhead cupboard they belonged in.

The two of you worked in quiet, the sounds of clinking dishes accompanied by the occasional brush of his hands on yours when you reached for the same piece.

“Nightmares?” He asked. “Or is it still…hard for you to go to sleep?”

“Nightmares, mostly.” You confessed. “Sometimes Palpatine. His voice, his…laugh.” You shivered even thinking about it. “Most of the time, it’s Insidia. I know she’s dead. They both are, but…sometimes that doesn’t help all that much.”

He nodded. “What happened? Before you…you know. They say you got stabbed with a saber.”

“I would have died if that was the case.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “No wonder I was such a legend, with info like that going around. No, I…” You moved the fabric of your sleep tank, revealing the scar that still sparkled against your skin, just above your hip bone. “She stabbed me here. Twisted metal dagger. The sparkling is from the healing pod. It’ll go away eventually. And then she…cut off my wings with her saber. You can kind of see where, that shiny gold line there.” You pulled your wings under one arm, closer so he could see.

He stared at it, gaze hardening when he realized just what you’d been through. “Did it hurt?”

You nodded. “Worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Just absolutely…white-hot. I blacked out and…well, you were standing there when I woke up. I guess I’m lucky, more or less. Most Mariposans don’t ever grow theirs back after an injury like that. I think the sheer time I spent in that pod alone is what forced them to grow back.”

He reached a hand out, as if to touch one, but drew it back quickly, suppressing his curiosity for fear of stepping over one of those unspoken lines between you.

Surely, he didn’t know what a statement that was, what it would mean for him to touch them. It meant…something more to Mariposans.

Still, you took his hand, meeting his eyes before gently pulling his palm against the surface of your wings. You let him adjust to the feeling before guiding his hand across them, watching the emotions flicker across his face, tingles running down your spine at his featherlight touch.

“Maker, they’re so…they feel like silk. I thought…well, they look like glass, so…” He whispered. “Can you fly with them?”

“Short distances.” You nodded, gazing up at him through your lashes. “You’ve seen the extent of it by now, I’m sure. They’re not meant for travel, more like branch to branch. We used to live up in trees.”

Poe nodded, listening to every word. His free hand rose to your cheek, calloused thumb skimming across your cheekbone and causing your breath to hitch.

One hand on your wings, the other on your heart, or so the saying went.

“They’re beautiful.” He said finally, but he wasn’t looking at your wings anymore. He took a step closer, the hand on your wing floating down to your hip, pulling you closer, chest nearly flush with his. “Your Highness–”

“There you are, Princess. I was wondering where you had gone. BB-8 said he saw you wander down the hall, so I took it upon myself to make sure you were alright, especially being out and about at this time of night.” Threepio explained, his sudden appearance sending your heart racing. Sure enough, BB-8 was there, too, rolling into the doorframe. “Although, I do admit, I did not expect to find you here as well, Commander Dameron.”

His head swiveled from you, to Poe, and back. BB-8 beeped out an apology.

“Thanks, Threepio.” You chuckled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, buddy. I’m alright. Just getting some dishes put away. I’ll head back to bed soon. And I’ll make sure Poe here gets to his bunk, too.”

“Oh, it is my pleasure! Have a good rest of your night. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

With him gone, you looked back up at Poe, whose thumb was still anchored to your cheek. He shook his head, chuckling before letting it hang down towards the floor, shame brewing in his chest.

You lifted his face with a gentle hand, your feelings unspoken, but hanging there in the air, in your eyes. You knew he felt it, too.

“You know…if the nightmares ever get too bad, my room is right down the hall. We could sit for a while. Talk about it.”

“I appreciate it.” You nodded, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his stubble-covered cheek, just beneath the scar on his cheekbone. “Goodnight, Poe.”

He smiled, frozen by the simple gesture. His eyes sparkled in the dim kitchen as he watched you leave, your wings drifting like a cape behind you. “Night.”

Tags: @cap-lu20

[orginllazyblog]

Where Are You?

Summary: Yuu stopped showing up in the HoM mainly because of the canon story still processing. This took place before and during Book 7.

Note: Gender-neutral Yuu (can use your Yuu oc for this)

It has been an exhausting day in school for Yuu. They just dealt with Idia's and Ortho's overblot a few weeks ago, and now Yuu has started to gain awareness. They notice how each overblot resembles the Great Seven's by the vivid dreams they are having, and now worrying for the next one. 

"*Sigh* I need to get ready for work. Just need to rest for a while before dinner." 

As minutes went by, Grim woke up Yuu to remind them that it's about to be dinner time, well, mainly to remind them of his tuna. Yuu couldn't blame Grim for this one, he did get kidnapped and probably never eaten his favorite food. 

"Sure, Grim. Let's go to Mr. Sam's shop. Maybe get more than three this time."

"Fnagh? You will?"

"Yes, I have been saving up from my job. Remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well then, let's go in a hurry as I have to go to work in about an hour."

*

*

*

In the House of Mouse, Yuu serves the food to the great sevens as they are the only waiter who wasn't afraid of them. Also the fact they can handle it. Yuu also knows about their evil deeds from their vivid dreams, but after dealing with the OB boys, they kind of got used to them and see the similarities between them. 

After their work hours, they are on their break so they went to the seven's table to chat with them.

"So Yuu, how's your day in Night Raven College?" (QoH)

"Busy as the upcoming exams are coming next month." 

"If you need help, you can ask one of your classmates. Why not ask Azul? I'm sure he'll help you without paying any debt." (Ursula)

"I'm pretty sure they'll ask Riddle as they are not what they call "shady" Ursula." (QoH)

"Aren't you forgetting that Leona is wiser than those two. He's even older than those brats." (Scar)

'Oh boy, here we go.' 

"Oh wait! I forgot to mention that I won't be able to come back to work."

"So when will you be back from your exams?" (EQ)

"I would say about a week or two. I'm not sure how long it'll take considering it's a different school system from my home world, but I know it won't take long."

During the conversation, Yuu didn't bring up another overblot incident, which happened to be the shroud brothers. They didn't want to make them worried, but Yuu still needs to tell them about their vivid dreams and know the truth about them. They just need to wait until the time is right. 

After hours pass, the clubhouse is about to close. Yuu farewell to the great sevens and the other disney characters as they left. Mickey congrat them and gave them their paycheck of 5,000 thuamarks. 

"Thank you, Mickey."

"No problem, Yuu."

"By the way Mickey, I won't be able to work in the next couple of weeks. I have an upcoming exam so I would need time to study and a small break as well."

"Oh okay, thank you for reminding me, Yuu. Remember to take it easy. I'll have to tell the other staff about it."

"No worries, I also told the great sevens about it. I'm sure the rest will understand my situation."

"Okie dokie! Good night, Yuu." 

Little does Yuu know this might be the last time they see the rest of the disney characters again.

________________

After a couple of weeks, Mickey and the staff were able to work knowing Yuu is busy with their education. There was some mischief going around, but it was only from Pete, and one of the great seven's shows up one time only. So far, everything seems normal. Nothing can go wrong… right?

It's been about a month, and the whole House of Mouse Club was panicking. Yuu should have been done with the exams. Where are they? Did something happen to them? 

Of course it wouldn't make sense, Yuu wouldn't just quit their job as they need money to buy their needs or send a message to Mickey or anyone to let them know. 

Even the great seven's were wondering what happened to them. Someone like Maleficent, who has access to travel to Twisted Wonderland world only to find out she can't.

 As if there is a barrier that she can't enter. That's when things are going downhill.

Mickey and his friends try to calm everyone down, but nothing seems to work. Until the lights went dim, the front stage, the screen went black. Then the loading screen started, which is not just any loading screen but the twisted wonderland loading screen. Everyone then quieted down as they sat down at their table as they watched how book 7 started.

*

* half an hour later…

*

With all there is, the screen went black again. With half of them, questions to what just happened and the sleeping beauty cast, now know what's going to happen next. 

Then again, 2 months later, the theater screen went black and the twst loading screen play. Now playing Book 7, chapter 2. 

"Hey Mal, do you know what's going on?" (Hades)

"How I'm I supposed to know? I can't enter Twisted Wonderland because the canon story is happening so I can't interfere." (Maleficent) 

"But do you know what will happen? This is where he will began to overblot." (Jafar) 

"Let's just watch it. There's no way my descendant won't-" (Maleficent)

*Malleus OB by end*

"..." (Maleficent) 

"You were saying~?" (Scar)

"Shut up." (Maleficent)

_______________________

Knowing there's like 5 chapters in Book 7, I have no clue for how long will I continue writing. So I just stop at where chpater 2

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter II

Prologue | Chapter I | Misc references & details

Summary:  Set about a month after the first Chapter, Gale heads into town for supplies and to make a reunion with the survivors of 'the bloody hundredth'. Lorena accompanies him on this journey, while the road-trip together is new territory - the reunion proves a success. Gale and Lorena get to see glimpses of each other at their best, in their elements and the new perceptions of each other are complimentary. Setting the foundation for bonds built to last.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc), everyones favorite Bucky Egan makes an appearance.

Warnings:  Race is a factor but there will be no overwhelmingly racist outbursts. It is more so a discovery element and explorations, different worlds, a little forbidden love element.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter II

Sitting in the car Lorena takes inventory of her purse for a third time. The drive into the nearest major city is five hours and Gale makes the trip once a month to pick up necessities without the markup of the local city. With his current profit margins it’s no need but he’s a man of routine. Lorena looks him over realizing this is the only time he’s freshly shaven with coiffed hair. His clothes are pressed and starched to perfection and he looks like he could belong in the pictures. Turning back to her window she wonders if he has someone in town or if it’s a bid to get someone in particular’s attention. She’d never asked any questions about his romantic life in the four months she’d been with him. Rose had disclosed the important stuff. He had been engaged prior to the war, but then before victory his intended decided to leave him for a Hollywood producer. Gale’s fiance was beautiful, Rose says they looked like a Hollywood couple. It was now weeks since Lorena’s breakdown and things were closer to normal again now. She was back to her easy going nature. Reaching into her purse she gets out a book getting Gales attention as she flips through pages before starting at the beginning. He focuses on the road for about five minutes until Lorena grows restless again. It makes him smile remembering his best friend.

“My best friend’s gonna meet us in town,” Gale says, breaking the silence.

“You have friends?” Lorena asks, surprised.

“I do” he nods and Lorena smiles pleased for him.

“So you speak to him? Full sentences or … how was the friendship developed?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing.

“Bucky talks enough for the both of us, you two are very similar” Gale responds with a shady smile.

“Bucky’s a woman?” Lorena asks, being cheeky.

“No, he’s one of my brothers from the war. We trained together, flew in together and were prisoners of war together” he says candidly, sometimes it felt good to tell the truth.

“Sorry” Lorena says not wanting to mock anything about what was undoubtedly a painful time in his life.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Bucky’s a flirt but he means nothing by it, he’ll probably tease the both of us unmercifully but it’s just his character. He can be juvenile at times but there’s no better man to have on your side in a pinch” Gale says with reverence for his comrade.

“I’m not easily offended” Lorena comments. “Also, I’d rather not interrupt a reunion of soldiers” she says with the wounds still fresh from her own ejection of Reggies life and times as a soldier.

“It’s fine, some of the guys will have sisters, wives, girlfriends and such with them. Rose thought it would be a good idea. You could shop and have some female company.” Gale proposes always the Major, always considering others. Somehow, it wasn’t infuriating to Lorena that they were discussing her behind her back. Gale and Rose really did seem to have her best interest at heart.

Lorena takes in her surroundings the drive in had been so full of strife and anxiety that there was no time to enjoy the mountain ranges. Everything looked far more picturesque than any painting she’d ever seen of the west. If her granny was still alive she would tell Lorena that this was the kind of place you survived at god's mercy. Her childhood experiences lead her to think of exodus, or maybe this was her Joseph moment as a girl. She hoped her grandmother's prayers would protect her in this new journey, through her rebellion and absconding of her home and family. Her grandmother would be proud of her survival instincts. Gale pulls over into a gas station to top up the tank.

“I can drive if you’d like?” Lorena offers.

“I’m fine, doll.  I’ve managed longer with more challenging hardware” Gale smiles, seeming happier than ever before. There was a gleam in his eye that she’d somehow seemed to miss every day at breakfast and dinner.

“Okay” Lorena nods, heading into the station with Gale. He checks the bathroom before allowing her inside. He stands outside the door considerate of the world’s ugliness and prejudice. Lorena found Gale even more protective than her own older brother. He was always hyper vigilant, assessing levels of danger and prospective threats. It was a symptom of the sickness the war left behind according to the mature ladies who’d lived through the return of men from the Great War. Gale catches all the eyes looking at Lorena and decides against using the restroom for the next few hours of his drive. He had his demons and didn’t need to risk letting that part of himself out while in the presence of a woman who’d never known that level of dysfunction. His daddy was a drunk man with a predisposition for violence. The very opposite of the kind of man Gale wanted to be.

“I’m fine to wait here” Lorena says.

“No” Gale swallows.

“You could ruin your bladder” Lorena tells Gale who smiles.

“I’ll be fine, doll” he scoffs.

“My Pa is a physician, he had a lot of patients in their old age suffering from incontinence, which means they can’t control their bladders.” Lorena explains.

“I know what it means, I’ll be fine Lorena” Gale says in an even tone. Smiling, Lorena turns away looking out the window as the sun begins to set. It was another thing that set Gale apart from the rest. She’d gone through life with the ability to charm the opposite sex with sweet smiles and fluttering lashes. Her granny always told her it was a danger to be so pretty - Gale seemed to think so too.

“What?” He asks, noticing her dimples.

“Just thinking about my Granny” she shares.

“Granny? You don’t send her any letters”

“No she’s passed on, something about you just now reminded me of her. She didn’t like many people either and was very protective. Took no advice or no nonsense, people gave her space and respect” Lorena explains. Gale shakes his head scoffing without comment. 

“A woman” he says finally, a callback to the Bucky debacle.

“I meant no offense Gale and besides, Granny was knockout - way prettier than you” Lorena teases getting a genuine laugh out of him. He’d received the pretty boy jokes his entire life, especially in the war. Never from a woman though. It reminded him of something Bucky would say. It was a strange thing to find the qualities you admire in someone who’d entered your life so unexpectedly but it was settling to both Gale and Lorena. Granny and Bucky have both been pillars of their lives during the times they were becoming the core of the people they were now. It’s dark when they arrive in the city, Gale takes the cases up to a room leaving Lorena confused. There was only one bedroom and one bed.

“Is there another room?” She asks looking up at Gale who seems ashamed.

“Not tonight, take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch, it’ll be safer that way” he explains as Lorena turns towards the door again. He’d spent practically an entire day on the road in an uncomfortable car, a couch would not suffice. “Before you start, I’ve slept in far worse conditions” Gale says, taking a seat.

Sighing Lorena says not another word to avoid a quarrel, she heads to the bathroom to freshen up and ready for bed. When Lorena had shown up at his door he was suspicious at first, a beautiful woman, young and with an unbelievable story. At first he was sure someone had sent her for him, then he was sure she was pregnant and looking to hide a child and then he was puzzled. She was remarkable and somehow through dumb luck or divine intervention she managed to travel all this way without knowing the evils of this world. Divorcee’s were usually more prickly around the edges but Lorena’s naivete shone through. Perhaps Gale hadn’t yet placed it but it had helped him come a long way. Done a lot to show him that his sacrifice had meant something to this world. That there were eyes that would never see the worst of it.

__________________

Noise startles Lorena, rousing her from a deep sleep. Turning she finds the other side of the bed empty once again. Waking, she swallows her bitterness like she had every day since she’d discovered another woman was a part of her marriage. Pulling on a housecoat she pads to the bedroom door only to find a sleepy looking Gale speaking to a tall smiling brunette.

“Gale, where’d you find her?” The man says pushing past Gale breaking all rules of decorum to shake Lorena’s hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips as he looks her in the eyes.

“You must be Bucky” Lorena smiles amused by his pageantry.

“That’s right,” Bucky smiles.

“I’m Lorena” she says and it takes some time for it to register. Bucky frowns a bit before turning to Gale in confusion.

“Buck, you didn’t say she was gorgeous. That’s not the kind of thing you leave out.” Bucky exclaims before turning back to Lorena. “Lorena, it’s a pleasure doll” Bucky says more respectably.

“Gales, a man of few words, he was conserving ink” you tease.

“Ohhhhh, I like her,” Bucky laughs, turning to Gale who nods knowingly.

“Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the women.” Bucky suggests.

“Not like this! I have to get ready!” Lorena says, alarmed.

“Might as well sit Egan, she’ll be awhile” Gale comments putting on a kettle.

“If you wake up like an angel, I’m all for seeing how you look all done up” Bucky says with his special brand of charm, it makes Lorena giggle. Gale had gotten used to her pageantry. At first it seemed silly, but he noticed how uncomfortable not being put together made her. Marge was beautiful too, drop dead gorgeous, the first time he’d laid eyes on her his heart stopped. They hadn’t had time to get to know each other really before the war. She was this woman who was perfect every time she appeared in front of him. There were no hairspray, cans and palettes of makeup and products, rollers and itons. There were no bottles of nail polish and strange scents about the house. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she’d left him for someone else. Perhaps he’d taken her for granted, perhaps he was too quiet, boring, reclusive and all the other things people said about him. He’d heard the commentary, grouchy recluse, tyrant, miserable hoot. He’d also heard the rumors started by the women. He was impotent or maybe the Germans had castrated him when he was captured. None of it was true, it was heartbreak although no one saw it that was. Just like no one could see through all Lorena’s pretty that she spent some nights sobbing. That sometimes all the makeup and pageantry was used to cover her puffy eyes and flushed skin. Sometimes the partying and drinking was her only medicine. It had occurred to Gale, watching Lorena over the past four months, that the women of the war had their own pain they had no outlets for. That they didn’t think twice about setting their pain aside for their men.

“She’s nice and beautiful - why’s she in the middle of nowhere with you?” Bucky whispers curiously.

“Her husband… ex-husband found someone in Europe and brought her back home. That’s about all I know, she doesn’t talk about it much”

“I bet you never asked” Bucky swallows, turning back to her door.

“I hate to see her upset Egan, whatever it is she’s run pretty far she clearly doesn’t want to face it” Gale explains.

“Is she a flirt?” Bucky asks.

“Not genuinely no, her hearts still hemmed up in her ex. I think it was real” Gale shares with a close eye on the door.

“Well she doesn’t look hard to love” Egan comments leaving Buck to shake his head. “What about Marge, you hear from her?” He asks.

Gale sighs, tasting bitterness in his mouth, “No, but I think she'd be doing well in Hollywood, with that big producer. The mountains aren't her idea of happiness. I tried fighting for her - she doesn’t want me” he confesses with defeat.

“Screw it, there are plenty of good women out there, bad ones too - I know where to find those” Egan winks, making Buck laugh.

“Ready” Lorena smiles all done up in her finery. A touch more than even Gale was used to but they were in the city now and it seemed appropriate to bring her nicer items out of hiding.

“Where the hell did you find her?” Egan whispers as the three of them take the stairs to the party.

It had been months since Lorena was truly happy to throw a party. It was like a fish getting back in the water, she couldn’t help but smile along with the other women. In two hours she had the hall all done up for the 100th Bombardment Groups reunion. It looked swell, especially the champagne tower she’d managed all on her own. Everyone likes her sunny disposition and warm smile. She’d also disappeared with the women for the first two hours of the reunion, Gale knew it was to beautify them. He’d never met a person that enjoyed seeing others at their best as much as Lorena. The way the other woman clung to her and the way they laughed made his day. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that ever, he’d never seen her so happy. This seemed to be her element. She was a people person, generous with her time and natural abilities. She seemed to be so comfortable entertaining, a debutant of sorts. Even the wait staff was at her mercy getting drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the men and women of the reunion. Every time Gale took his eyes off of her she’d magically teleport to another corner of the room.

This reunion was therapeutic for Lorena, to see the men smiling and whole after all they’d endured. They were generous with the stories of their experiences both good and bad. She wasn’t prepared for some of the horrors she heard but they only made her appreciate the men all the more. Reggie had been on land while they had been in the sky. After learning about their “bloody hundredth' moniker she found herself thankful that Reggie had made it home whole, even if he didn’t love her the way he did before he left. Lorena hadn’t expected to host parties every weekend but she’d hoped to make a home for him, invite his comrades over, host, have children and give him something to look forward to so he could put the horrors of the past behind him.

Feeling her mood dip Lorena heads to the bar trading the happy bubbly for her newly acquired bad habit of whisky. The bartender gives her a glass and she turns to the party happening around her. Sipping the strong liquid she turns away from Alexander Jefferson and his wife. They share a kiss and it brings back fond memories. Spinning around on the barstool she looks at the glass of the liquor display trying to quiet the heartbreak in her chest. Reggie had been devoted to her like that once upon a time.

“Whisky” she hears from behind her only to see Bucky.

“A touch more ladylike than the moonshine the boys drink at the lakehouse” Lorena smiles.

“Don’t do that, not for me. Don’t pretend to be happy Lo - there’s nothing sadder” Bucky comments with sympathetic eyes. Smiling, she blinks away her tears. “I had all these grand plans and then I was in prison and week after week not a single letter. All the guys had their sweethearts and I had to find my own reasons” Bucky tells her candidly. It’s a deeply personal thing to share and incredibly vulnerable.

“Have you found anyone yet?” Lorena asks hopefully.

“Not yet, the guys write to me though” Bucky says.

“I will too and I’ll keep an eye out for you” Lorena adds, making Bucky smile.

“What’s your story, how does a city girl end up in the mountains?” Bucky asks, causing Lorena to drain her glass. Tapping the glass onto the bartop she beckons another needing more liquid courage for her truth.

“Reggie, my ex husband, was in the war. We were just married before he left, newly weds of sorts at least it was still the honeymoon. We had friends and a home and people say perfection doesn’t exist but I had no complaints. We were so complimentary, nothing he did annoyed me. He went over and heaven only knows what he saw, I understand it was horrible, I do, and my heart seems a small price to pay for his life but it's hard all the same” Lorena confesses wiping away stray tears. “He came back and it was different. He was trying to fill the shoes of what we had been. Bucky he’d never tried before. It was as easy as breathing, then I found letters from her and then I saw them together and as much as it hurt I was relieved. You know when you love someone that much it hurts to live with a ghost or a shell of them. So when I saw them and all my intuition was confirmed I left. Reggie didn’t need another great battle and it would’ve soured into resentment if I stayed. If I stayed at home I couldn’t survive it so I drove.” Lorena shrugs, wiping away more teats.

Bucky nods a few stray tears falling out of his own eyes.

“If I ever meet that sorry son of a bitch” he comments, making her smile. She takes her new glass of whisky, taking a sip as he stares at her. “I can tell you one thing for sure Lorena and I know men, your Reggie is a coward. A real man would’ve told the truth and carried the burden. You shouldn’t have had to run, you did nothing wrong but I’m glad to have met you. Glad to know you.” Bucky smiles, holding out a hand to her. Smiling, she shakes it.

“Likewise” Lorena agrees.

“I know what I’m gonna call you,” he smiles.

“What? Buck-ette?” Lorena teases, making him laugh.

“Angel,” he nods.

“Why Angel?” Lorena asks.

“Cause you're too good for this world” Bucky nods. “The kind of woman us men pray for” Bucky says.

Sitting at the bar Lorena finishes her drink and Bucky gets through three before he's up dancing and singing. He’s a hell of a good time, they dance together as friends until she overheats and finds a seat. Fanning herself as she watches Bucky go off on a tear she can't help but laugh. Familiar cologne tells her Gale is near and he sits in his perfectly tailored uniform. Lorena had known he was a good man but she never dreamed he was the kind of hero he was to these men. Brave, loyal, dependable and adventurous.

“Haven't seen you dance” Lorena comments.

“I don't dance,” Gale responds.

“No of course not” Lorena smiles watching Bucky belt out the words to the record playing.

“You have quite the moves”

“I was a debutant, there were lessons upon lessons and then there were lots of parties and I loved to dance. Seems silly now, but it's still a good time” Lorena confesses happily.

“Angel, I need you for the next one!” Bucky walls from the floor.

“Angel?”

“I’m officially one of you now, I’ve got my nickname” Lorena winks standing to smooth her dress. Watching them, Gale feels a curious longing in his chest. She fit so well he wondered if maybe the warm reception from his comrades at arms and neighbors in the mountains meant maybe they could be something more.

[yuzukult]

crush 03 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 03 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.4k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: sorry i actually finished this weeks ago but forgot to post it.. embarrassinng frfr

This place looks… a bit shady.

The address Wonwoo sends you doesn’t show a brief description on Google Maps as it normally does, and it’s missing a preview picture of what the location is supposed to look like. When you pull up into the driveway, the asphalt fades into a dusted dirt road with cars of all ages, models, and manufacturers that line up against the fencing before you notice a building with an open garage on the opposite side.

That’s where you spot Wonwoo, crouched over in a white tank and torn up black jeans with a soiled rag over his shoulder. The driver’s window of an old Chevy is down, and Wonwoo has his forearms resting against the panel, casually conversing to the operator of the vehicle. He’s… got nice arms. But that’s besides the point.

He taps against the door. “Tell me when you need me to take another look at the ventilator. Should be workin’ this time around, but if not, Imma have to advise you to get ‘nother car.”

At first, you didn’t get to make out the facial features of who was inside. The reflection of the beaming sunlight hitting the front windshield made it arduous to identify the driver, but when she peeks her head out just barely, you could pinpoint the owner of those pearly white teeth anywhere. It’s the cute flag girl that Seokmin took home that one day.

“Why? When I could just keep coming back to you instead?” 

But in lieu of reacting decrepitly to those pretty lashes that brush against her cherry tinted cheekbones like Seokmin does, Wonwoo is a major contrast when he slaps the top of the car with a charming smile. “Sweet, but it’s better to see your mechanic less and not more. Head home now, and only call if something happens to your car.”

With a failed sigh and pout, she waves goodbye to Wonwoo who watches as her car takes off.

Although when his eyes lands on you and your shitty ass Toyota, a show stopping grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. Wonwoo gestures for you to come to where the flag girl was earlier, and part of you feels a bit… special from the way he looks at her then at you. He seems happier, excited, even. 

Why couldn’t Seokmin look at you in that way?

Hopping out of the car, you puff your cheeks. “When I said I’d let you take me on a date, I didn’t think it would be here at your shop.”

“I know girls like you,” he begins, crossing his arms before leaning against the doorframe of the garage. Raising a brow, you’re not sure where he’s going with that, but you remain silent to let him continue. “You probably get asked out often and have the most boring dates. What’s the last date you've been on?”

That required some thinking. Maybe it was that guy you met on Tinder and took you out for a candlelit steak dinner. Or even that one dude who took you to that art gallery.

You don’t respond though because Wonwoo seemed to have wanted to guess himself. 

“Steak? Dim lighting, candles, maybe? Museums? How about even a walk by the river or waterfront, letting the cool breeze hit your face? Bet he tried to get into your pants after, which was why you didn’t call him back.”

That last one got you. You’ve been on that one before too, and had the same scenario happen. “What are you getting at here?”

He leans over to open your door wider, and you step aside. Reaching to pull the tab that pops the hood of your trunk, it only confuses you more on what he’s going to do next. “Well, I wanna be memorable, not some guy you went out with. Imma teach you how to change a flat.”

“I don’t have a flat.”

“Make believe, doll,” he chuckles, slamming your door shut. He walks to the back of your, pushing the trunk up, and his eyes skim the contents of the back. That term of endearment from Wonwoo is a new one, and for some reason, if it came from someone else, you’d be disgusted. But from him? It’s… kind of alluring? “Why you got so much junk in here?”

You flinch, immediately rushing to his side when the memory of what’s in your car comes to mind. “Oh shit, I—”

“Emergency one night stand kit?” He quirks a brow, lifting up a little tote back with the words woven into the canvas fabric. “You don’t look like the type.”

“It was a gift!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your cheeks as you snatch it back from him. “The contents inside don't match what the writing insists the purpose is for, I promise. I don’t do one night stands.”

��I know.” Wonwoo watches you in amusement, adoration swirling in his pools of chocolates he calls eyes. “You're one of those hopeless romantics. It’s taking a lot for you to even come on this date with me.”

You roll your lips in response, avoiding his loving gaze as you shuffle the stuff to make way for the lid of the compartment at the bottom of trunk. “How would you know that?”

“Because I see the way you look at Dokyeom, and it’s kind of the way that I look at you.” You choke on your saliva. Were you really that open of a book? Surely, it was true, but you didn’t think you were that obvious.

Dokyeom. It’s weird how Seokmin is your supposed best friend and yet there was so much about him you didn’t know. There was something underlying that he was hiding, and you want to dig deeper. Who was Dokyeom as this version of himself that he never once shared before? 

You clear your throat, warmth rushing to your cheeks. Wonwoo is rather bold. “Um, so… are you gonna teach me how to change my tire or what?”

Wonwoo knows he caught you in that moment, but he doesn’t pry for more. “Aight, well roll up your sleeves and let’s get our hands dirty, love.”

He shows you the compartment to find the spare and tools, the latch that you’ve always looked over is the one he pulls to expose another layer of your car. Was that what it was for? You sort of just threw your shit on top of it and hoped for the best. 

“Here, you’ll find your spare tire. I highly recommend that you don’t just ride it forever just cause you got it on. It’s a spare, it’s temporary. Don’t ever use it for long, it’s not meant for it.”

There’s a long, metal tool he brings out that resembles a cross. “This is a wrench,” then he grabs an unfamiliar mechanism in the shape of a diamond with a flat top, “the jack,” and finally, he points to the tire that peeks out just barely. “Lastly, the tire. Kinda heavy, but I can help you—”

“I got it,” you state daringly, shoving him to the side. 

He chuckles at your boldness with that look of veneration on his face like you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. “Okay, well, grab that—” Wonwoo gestures at the tire, watching carefully to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, “and just… lay it on the ground. And we’re gonna put the jack under the car.”

Oddly enough, Seokmin never really wanted to teach you how to change a tire. You’ve mentioned it to him once before—you found yourself on the side of the road on a highway, phone up to your ear as you frantically called your best friend to be your knight in shining armor. 

And when he arrived twenty minutes after your cry for help, he slammed the car door behind him with that smug look on his face as he said, “You rang?” 

But that was when he was more reliable.

These days, your calls are missed and you rarely see him as often as you used to. He’s so caught up in his new life, his career, and all the girls that you’ve only become a sliver of importance to him.

Somehow, you end up with a smear mark on your cheek from moving all the equipment around. Wonwoo thinks you’re cute like this; admittingly, you were just a girl he found attractive with an amusing attitude. But that night. That night the two of you exchanged numbers—it was the first time he ever met someone that tugged on his heartstrings in this way. How’d he get looped into talking to a girl over text for hours?

“Like this?” You query, looking up at him from below. The tire lock is fastened onto the lug nut of your rims with a socket wrench in your hand. “So, I just…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo leans over, hand on yours as he shoves the head of the tire iron to fasten against the lock. “Then you just…” he drifts off, and instead of pushing you aside to do it himself as Seokmin would’ve, he guides you with his movements. Thrusting his weight and yours against the wrench, he turns it multiple times before the first one releases and drops onto the floor with a clank. “The first one is always hard because it’s anti-theft, but the other ones are a bit easier. If you can’t get it out, just… put your hands on the hood of the car and jump on it. Wanna finish it off?”

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Getting the lug nuts off was easier than you thought (were they on tight enough to begin with?) The tire tilts over to you, and you’re quick to catch it and set it aside. Wonwoo rolls the spare in your direction, watching as you puff your cheeks with a layer of sweat on your skin. You don’t seem bothered, despite the droplets that stream down the side of your neck, and he sort of expected you to confront him about this being a first date. Who takes a girl to learn how to change a flat for a first date?

Not many guys, that’s for sure.

With Wonwoo, he doesn’t act like a savior. When you’re struggling with pulling the tire off, he doesn’t come in and take over—he asks if you’d want his help, and when you’d reply with ‘no,’ he stays put. 

“Okay, next, you should put the spare where you took off the flat. Then secure it with the nuts, and put the car down with the jack. You should be good to go after you use the wrench to tighten it some more.”

“Hold this for me,” you drop the wrench in his palms and he’s fast in abiding. Aligning the spare tire to the bolts, you mount them by tightening the lug nuts into their initial spots by hand. Finally, stepping back, you lower the vehicle with the jack as he advises, snatching the tool back as he snickers at how focused you’ve become. 

You use all your strength—practically the entirety of your weight impeling into the wrench to secure the bolts in place. With a puff of exhausted air, you shove it back into Wonwoo’s hold. “Okay, done. Check it.”

He eyes you impishly, making his way to the spare that you proudly installed yourself, casually popping the head of the wrench to fit the lugs without much difficulty. Wonwoo does it with ease; everything happens so fluidly, from the way he checks the tightening of the lugs to the kick of the tire to see if it would slip out in any way. Your breath gets caught in your throat, a bit anxious of the results, but when he turns to you with a soft smile, your chest releases the tension.

“Wow, impressive for the first try. You sure you’ve never changed a flat before?”

“Promise,” you cheekily grin back. He’s sort of… cute. He reminds you of those flakey croissant pastries, expectant on the outside that the dish you pair with a cup of coffee would be just buttery. But taking in a bite, the strawberry jam spews from the insides, the fruit preserves leaving a candied taste on the tip of your tongue.

This was just part of the date, you soon learn, because after Wonwoo helps you wash your hands in the sink in his garage, he leads you behind the building where a field of green lies. 

His auto shop was located on the borderlines of the city and the suburbs—just a couple blocks over, if you took a step to the left, you would’ve been on the outskirts of the city lines but one move to the right, you’ll find yourself in the heart of the crowd of skyscrapers. Farther back of the property, the dusty road fades into a green field (well, sorta. It’s got patches, definitely needs some TLC, but you digress), and although it’s not the prettiest with scattered pieces of car junk across the lawn, his setup that he has displayed makes it… cute. He’s got this red and white checkered blanket that lays on the grass, boxes of screws on either corners and a hammer thrown at the other. 

You glance over at Wonwoo.

He’s quick to shove it off the blanket, dropping the wicker basket where the hammer once was. 

“Were you premeditating a murder?”

“If the night doesn’t go well, maybe,” he jokes. “I’m kidding, I had a feeling it was gonna get windy and I didn’t want the two of us spending half the day trying to get the thing to stay still. I did it myself before you came.”

He’s kinda cute.

“I couldn’t dress as nicely, I realized I don’t think I own any pairs of pants without a grease stain on it,” Wonwoo admits apologetically, plopping down on the blanket in his raw hemmed black jeans and the short sleeve button up that he doesn’t bother actually buttoning up. Part of you is tempted to ask him if he bought those jeans like that or if he cut it himself (you think it’s the latter). 

Seokmin always had a thing about his appearance. The cleaner and slicker you seem, the more name brands that decorate your clothing, and the type of vehicle you drive says a lot about you. 

But to Wonwoo, it’s clear that those things don’t matter. 

He’s not rich in terms of the money stashed in his pockets or the digits in his bank account, but his wealth resides within his personality and knowledge. As you slice off a piece of cheese to pair with your cracker and prosciutto off a charcuterie board he attempted to make (you give him props for this as he humbly mentions he gives all the credit to those moms on forum websites posting their recipes), you learn more as to why Wonwoo never went to college—both willingly and unwillingly. And yet, he harbors so much wisdom in terms of cars and racing, earning all your respect that he chose a non-traditional route and remains successful.

You recall that night over the phone how he wished he could go to college, but he doesn’t have the means to. Wonwoo dropped out of high school during his senior year, just months before graduating, and although he didn’t fully explain why, the admiration in your gaze when he mentions he’d gotten his GED several months ago is evident. 

Wonwoo isn’t what you’re used to; growing up, it was established that you were to meet a man with a bachelor’s degree, and the bonus is if he obtains a master’s. When your hands are stained, whether it be grease from the stove, oil from a car, flour from dough, or paint off a canvas, it’s recognized as a labor intensive job and the more physical work you do, the less intelligent you are.

This was not the case. 

Admittingly, he doesn’t know anything about kinematics or conservation of energy, but he knows what to do when your carburetor is failing or if your water pump leaks. Analyzing the works of Shakespeare or reading a novel without dozing off wasn’t quite his forte, but he’s better in other fields and there’s so much admiration for that. “I like jobs that give back to society,” he said that night, and it gifts you the perspective that there is more to the world beyond being employed at a corporate company. Wonwoo sets a different standard for you, but even on a sweet date like this where he’s pouring a glass of moscato for you as you watch the sun setting in the horizon… you can’t help but let your thoughts flood with Seokmin once again. 

When Wonwoo’s eyes curl into moon crescents with a laugh so buttery and deep, you discern a lot more clearly how much Seokmin has a hold on you. A great guy sits before you and you can’t get your head unwrapped from Lee Seokmin.

“When’d you get into racing?” You ask, deciding that maybe if you get to know him better, you’d stop thinking about the guy who’d rather be at a rooftop bar downtown with a girl he just met fifteen minutes ago. “I’ve never seen you at any of the tournaments.”

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his hands off each other from the crumbs. “About a month before that cup. One of the sponsors of the stadium saw me racin’ on the streets a couple months ago. Once he found my name, he got me a competitor’s license and forced me on the track. Said somethin’ like he’d help me pay for everything, including two months of mortgage on my shop.” Wonwoo shrugs, reaching over to grab another cracker from the bag. “Two months is a lot. Plus, if he’s paying for everything else and all I needed was a crew, not a big deal. It’s really just a money game.”

You purse your lips. “Any reason for him to want you to race?”

“It’s probably gettin’ boring watching Dokyeom win all the time.”

Oh. You never really thought of it like that. “But he won the circuit,” you clarify. “I don’t get it.”

He grabs a handful of the crackers and lays it across the wooden board for you, adjusting himself on the picnic blanket as he tilts his head to the side. “Yea, but I also came in second with milliseconds on the clock. Not to mention that this is the first of the series–I think they just want somethin’ new to the competition ‘cause there hasn’t been any fresh meat lately. Or, if there are any, they ‘un really last.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re not fresh meat–you raced on the streets.”

Wonwoo winks playfully. “You know that, but they don’t.”

There’s a lot to unpack–the recruiting of Wonwoo into an industry that he didn’t really see himself in, only to be lured to race with a bribe because it was getting boring to watch Seokmin win so frequently? You have a never ending list of questions, ones that Wonwoo couldn’t necessarily answer, but one you were suspicious enough to keep digging. But when Wonwoo lifts the honey dipper made of turned wood to collect the honey from the jar and onto your chunk of cheese, he says one last thing that erases all your curiosity.

“Dokyeom almost got a monopoly on stock car racing. No new consistent racers in the past two years entering this category, instead they’re headin’ off to Formula 1 or drag. They’re losing all potential new money ‘cause there’s nobody that can match his potential. Thinkin’ that the guy just wanted me there to get the ball rollin, let people know that it’s not impossible to beat the Lee Seokmin.”

Popping the piece of parmesan into your mouth, you roll your lips. “Well, you didn’t beat him either,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes with a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. He’s got the same sense of humor as you do, and he makes it a little hard not to get enticed by his charms. “So what of it?”

“I didn’t have to beat him, I just had to get close enough,” he grins. “Why? Are you not impressed that I didn’t beat him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Mm,” he nods slowly while feigning a frown. “Damn. Should’ve told me earlier, maybe I would’ve actually tried beating him then.”

How did this conversation end up looping right back into Seokmin when you asked to distract yourself from him?

“Do… Do you even like racing, Wonwoo?”

“Honestly?” he glances over at you before looking back at the sunset. The hues of warmth that radiate the ordinary star is a pretty sight as it shines on his face, and it’s evident why he’s enamored by many. “No. I like cars, and I love the speed, but I prefer being under the hood than behind the wheel. Knowing how the gears turn and what’s the reason for the black smoke and why your car stutters is more appealing to me than burning rubber on asphalt.”

“Hm,” you hum, remaining silent to bask in the fresh air. You say it often, but Wonwoo is…different. He indulges in the present moments in life; he doesn’t dwell on the past, in fact, he embraces it and learns from it. The type of person that travels with a loose agenda, a couple locations and hot spots in mind to touch, but never abiding by what’s written as if it’s set in stone. 

He’s carefree. Flowing like linens hanging dry on the clothesline on a warm, breezy day.

“And what about you?” he asks, those chocolate swirling orbs just full of adoration and interest. Wonwoo looks at you in a way that you could only dream for Seokmin to do the same, but he’s slowly easing you into the idea of it being someone else. “Do you like cars? Racing?”

“Have you seen my car?” you laugh, quirking a brow. “To me, a car is just something that takes you from point A to point B. Otherwise, it means nothing to me.”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Tilting your head to the side, it’s your turn to gaze at him with intrigue. 

“You just… see cars differently than I do,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s not bad, but it holds so many meanings for me, left core memories, and for you, you blatantly say that it’s a means of transportation.”

You feel bad for saying it like that but… it is just a car.

“It may seem like just a car,” he begins, and you think for a second that he reads your mind. “But every meaningful moment in my life had a car involved in it.”

Maybe Wonwoo has a point—it’s like how some people just view a croissant as just a flaky pastry you could have with coffee in the mornings or tea in the afternoons. But others, the aroma of freshly baked croissants imbues the kitchen, creating a wave of nostalgia sweeping over them. The residual butter left on their fingertips when they tear into the crisp, crescent shaped pastry is a sign that it’s been made with the utmost love, just as their elder relatives baked it.

“Do you have something like that?” It’s… a good question. Truthfully, you’ve never thought about that before, and maybe it’s from the way you live your life, but you’ve hardly stopped and just immersed yourself within a moment. “I… I don’t think I do. I’ve been so caught up in preparing for what’s next that it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Well,” he begins, taking a bite from a cracker. “Let that be something you figure out before the next time we meet.”

You quirk a brow in amusement. “You’re already thinking about another date?”

“Aren’t you?” He mimics your expression. “I thought you’re always thinking one step again. Unless, you don’t view me in that way and decide that there wouldn’t be a next time?”

There is definitely a next time. 

Actually, there ends up being a lot of “next times.”

In fact, meeting with Wonwoo has become a routine. 

There’s excitement that runs through your veins, similar to the adrenaline rush that Seokmin raves on about when he races, except this is simply because of your eagerness to see Wonwoo after work. Once the clock strikes five, your bag is already slung over your shoulder with the door shut behind you.

Some nights, you find yourself drowning in projects with deadlines, stuck in the four walls of your office that feel like they’re closing in. It’s suffocating—spending more than the required eight hours in what feels like an enclosed space, wishing that you could be anywhere else but there.

That is, until you and Wonwoo grew closer.

You never thought of yourself as someone who would find comfort in the sound of tools clanging against each other or on the concrete ground. Wonwoo likes to blast a mixtape he made back in high school—which basically was just a list of songs that you’d know the lyrics to because you used to have it on full volume with your whole emo getup back in your rebellious and angsty teenage years.

When you started to spend more time in his shop, he made a note to build a make-shift desk for you–yes, it was basically a tool cart with a long piece of a wood plank, but with the wheels locked, a swivel chair he used to run reports at his shitty computer (that was also on another tool cart) and a lamp he bought from Walmart (it has a pink base, he thought you’d like that), it felt welcoming. After a long day at the office with work still not done, this change of scenery is nice, especially since Wonwoo makes it crystal clear that he wants your company.

Some days are more uneventful than others, but nonetheless, they’re nice. You liked the calmness–there was something soothing about that roar of the engine when Wonwoo would lean into the open window to turn the key in the ignition for a test run.

Today, though, falls a bit outside of that placid routine.

You drop by, mostly because you’re bored and you don’t want to be alone in your apartment, plus it’s almost guaranteed that Wonwoo would be at the car shop (well, also because his place is literally… connected to it. You opened the wrong door trying to find the bathroom once, only to see this huge backroom that looked like a loft. Wonwoo loves work so much that he lives in it).

As you enter the garage, eyes glued to the screen of your phone, your car keys dangle from your fingers as you’re tapping away. “Do you wanna order dinner? I heard there’s this Chinese place a couple blocks down–they deliver so we can just call–”

“Ehem,” Wonwoo clears his throat, arms crossed over his chest. Attention now on him, that’s when you notice the other four men in the shop, casually sitting on the couch, leaning on a car, and standing beside Wonwoo. “Um, so these are my friends.”

Friends. Wonwoo introduces you to them; Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon are their names, and from what you recall, they seem to have been the same guys that were on his crew back at the track. They’re all car guys, you learn, knowing Wonwoo from way back and it makes you wonder if they knew Seokmin–or well, Dokyeom–at the time but you don’t probe for more. If Seokmin wants to remain mysterious, then he can stay that way.

“So,” Mingyu, who is definitely over 6-feet tall, begins cheekily, pushing himself off the car. “Are you the reason why Wonwoo won’t come out with us to drink? We’ve been asking him for the past month to come out and he keeps giving us bullshit excuses.”

You blink blankly. Was… Wonwoo turning them down to see you?

“I’m sorry,” you turn to stare at Wonwoo for a brief moment before turning back to Mingyu. “Was… Was he doing that? I didn’t even know.”

“He must like you,” Seungcheol chimes in, snickering as Wonwoo smacks Seungcheol’s chest with the back of his hand. “What! I’m just sayin’. You never reject us. Except for that one time your mom came into town, but other than that, you’re basically always comin’ with us. Did a surprise drop by… lo’ and behold. Jeon here's got a girlie.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he twists around to snatch a carton of cigarettes off the shelf of his supplies. “You came for the cigs, bro. Stop saying shit. You’re gon’ scare her.”

“Ohhhh,” Minghao chimes in teasingly. “So you care about what she thinks of you–thinks of us. That’s cute,” he hops up from the couch before coming over to you. “If Jeon gives you a hard time…” with a wink, he then gestures to the other boys to follow. “Just lemme know. Or any of them. We’ll be back around, so we’ll catch you later. Nice to meet you, cutie.”

When they leave, you’re left alone with Wonwoo once again.

“Am I holding you back?”

Wonwoo stares at you blankly with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the red tool cart roller. “Holding me back from what?”

You shrug, putting down your phone onto the make-shift coffee table (it’s just a creeper parked on a cardboard box). “I don’t know. They made it seem that way—I mean, we’re not really dating, so I feel bad if I’m… holding you back from anything. You should see your friends—whether or not we are together.”

“I can make that decision for myself,” Wonwoo shoots back, pushing himself up as he makes his way to the car in the garage. “They’ll see me around, not a big deal. And yeah, I’m down for Chinese. You tryna get me the vegetable lo mein?”

You eye him carefully. The thing with Wonwoo versus Seokmin is that he says it straight up—no hesitation, no crazy maze where you need to probe for clues to reach the end, and he doesn’t expect you to figure him out in a heartbeat. Wonwoo inspects your actions, and if you give it away that you don’t understand, he’s transparent with how he answers.

Wonwoo doesn’t feel like the game of cat and mouse.

“Do you want to share sweet and sour chicken and maybe some wings?”

“Of course. And make sure they have Coca Cola—not Pepsi.”

When you’re both sitting on his secondhand couch of the garage, utilizing one of the ULINE tool cabinets as a more sturdy table, there’s boxes of Chinese food that’s sprinkled all across. His carton of lo mein is now empty, remnants of the grease left on the sides with bits of bean sprouts too small to grab with his chopsticks and the bones of the chicken wings are left on those crappy napkins that you’d find in fast food joints and coffee shops, saturated in the oils and probably leaving marks on the cart. Wonwoo eats fast but he always stays seated until you finish your meal despite being done his.

He used to keep his garage cold, the overhead rolling door made of metal and not including much insulation from the weather outside, but ever since you’ve kept him company more frequently, he’s installed some ceiling mounted unit heater to keep the area warm. The humming of the machine is what breaks the silence between the two of you, but Wonwoo doesn’t fail to bring it up, nonetheless.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “You usually are babbling about your day right about now. Didn’t you and Sunny go shopping yesterday? She didn’t spill any gossip?”

You roll your lips. Are you normally that talkative around him? And if so, are you really that comfortable?

“Um, yeah, we did,” you begin, placing down your carton of rice. “And sorta. Not really. Mostly complained about work.”

He makes a sound by sucking in his teeth before sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. “Alright, what’s up? Tell me.”

Normally, you’d just… tell the other person to let it go. Even with Seokmin, when he pries, you’re quick on your feet to tell him to ‘not worry about it’ and that ‘this unreasonable feeling will pass eventually.’

But Wonwoo is great at breaking barriers that you never thought you’d do.

Placing down your chopsticks, you let out a sigh along with the drop of your shoulders. “Okay, okay. I just feel bad. We’re not official—and that’s entirely on me, and I really do enjoy spending time with you—whatever this may be—but I also don’t want to be the one to hold you back on things like going out with your friends, meeting other girls, or just… I don’t know. Seeing those guys just made me think of that. I know that you might like me and—”

“Mm, hush.”

You blink blankly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo begins, hands together stiffly in semblance to this situation. “That’s on me too, right? I don’t think you’re leading me on, in fact, I think you’re establishing boundaries—like you are now. I went on a date with you, and it didn’t work. So be it. But—let’s make this clear, we are friends. I’m good with you coming over here whenever you want. And yea, I do like you. You gimme a lot of reasons to, but that don’t mean we can’t be friends. And if it makes you feel any better, I do hang with ‘em, they’re just bein’ dramatic because I spend my weekdays with you the most.”

“Oh,” you reply doltishly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Well, start,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Look, I know that you and Seokmin have these unspoken feelings and I’d rather you resolve them if you decide to take anything further. I’m cool with just chillin’ as friends, and we’re not doing anything wrong by it. I just may be a lil’ sweeter for you is all, only cause I got a crush. But my feelings aren’t hurt by it.”

This is… different.

Although you constantly say that Seokmin and Wonwoo are opposites (well, duh, they’re not the same person), it’s almost become repetitive and annoying how frequent you come to these “realizations.” Wonwoo has evidently seen a lot in his life, endured a lot, and due to that, he’s… emotionally mature. 

As for Seokmin—well, need you say more?

Somehow, the end of the evening isn’t awkward. He makes you laugh with a story about how a client came over, exclaiming on the top of their lungs how the backseat wouldn’t prop itself up, only for Wonwoo to find the seat belt covering the opening that holds it up. Although it was very tempting to smack a $300 invoice to his customer, he chose the better route of just telling them upfront what the issue was.

Although he’s understanding, prioritizing the friendship he’s created with you, he doesn’t make it hard to consider him as more than a friend.

“Well, you look giddy.”

“Hmm?” You respond dumbly, looking up from your phone full of texts. Wonwoo ended up feeling bad that his friends thought he’d been neglecting them, so he agreed to go to a bar tonight with them and maybe hit a club afterwards–but that doesn’t stop him from constantly messaging you. “Me? Or Sunny?”

P flicks your hand. “You, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Sunny snorts in amusement, placing another strip of meat onto the grill. It sizzles from the impact of heat and the fat content of the beef, steam filling the air for a brief second before the ventilator sucks it up. “You didn’t tell us about that date with Wonwoo. You dodged all the texts in our group chat.”

You shrug, grabbing the spare tongs to help Sunny add more meat onto the grate. “Um, because it’s kind of weird.”

P raises a brow. “And how is it weird? Was he strange?”

Sunny’s attention is off of cooking now, diverting toward you. “OMG. Did we make you go on a date with a weirdo?”

You glance over at the two. “Wait-what?” Pretending to resume to the grill, you poke a couple of the raw pieces that lay across with another set of tongs. “No, no. He… He’s honestly great. I haven’t felt that connection with someone in a while–he taught me how to install a spare tire–”

P blinks blankly. “He taught you how to change your spare? What kind of date is that?”

And for a moment, a wash of judgment appears across Sunny’s face but it softens when she finally realizes. “... Because you told him that Seokmin promised to come and “save the day,” didn’t you? Then Wonwoo probably thought for a first date idea… teaching you how to change a spare…”

Then it clicks for P; her shoulders loosen and fall when she’s aware of the meaning behind the date. “He… didn’t want you to depend on Seokmin anymore.”

Sunny frowns, flipping over the meat on the grill. “If that’s the reason… Why’s that weird? Sounds sweet. If anything, I kinda give him props for that. Did he at least take you out to dinner?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Well, he made a whole picnic basket.”

Both Sunny and P glare at you. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“He’s… not Seokmin.”

Gross. It sounds pathetic leaving from your mouth.

The looks that Sunny and P give you are full of pity. How could you be so weak for a guy that doesn’t even respect you enough to hide when he has flings? Someone who claims that they’re yours, but they spent most of their time pursuing anyone but you. It’s a constant recurring thought, and the reminders are always smacking you in the face and yet, you’re here, sitting in front of your two best friends after going on a date with someone who could potentially give you the world and more yet Seokmin still remains on your mind.

“Listen,” P begins, placing down her chopsticks by the side of her plate. Sunny clears off the grill and lowers the fire, mimicking P’s actions with her tongs. “Sunny and I talked about this, and we realized that yes, although we really don’t support this unrequited love between you and Seokmin, it’s still your life and your choices to make. We want you to know that we’re by your side, and behind you through it all, even if you end up with Seokmin, but we’ll say this one last time.”

“We think you should move on, love.” 

Your phone lights up beside you, Wonwoo’s name on display with the preview of his text. He asks if you like mint chocolate, a debate that he and his friends have had since God knows when, and it may determine if he wants to keep chasing you. When you unlock the phone, Seokmin’s chat is pinned to the top with your message being the most recent and sent two days ago. He just… disregarded the picture you shared of the two of you in college, his arm over your shoulders with smiles stretched across your faces.

“It’s… It’s hard,” you admit, and this time, it feels like the weight on your chest releases. “I think… I’d already had this idea that he and I would end up together engraved in my brain that I can’t seem to let go.”

“Well, how about this? You at least keep giving Wonwoo a shot if he does make you happy or if you’re even remotely interested. He seems sweet, and he also seems to know where you stand with Seokmin, which makes it easier to not have to explain to him the situation.”

You roll your lips. “I–Okay.”

Just then, your screen lights up again. Speaking of the Devil.

Wonwoo [11:54PM]: You can hold off on that political question for later. Since you’re still awake… my other friends wanna meet you. Wanna come out and grab a bite w us?

Quickly, you show your phone to the girls.

“Fuck yeah, tell them to come here,” P nearly shouts, and you hush her. “Forreal, give Wonwoo the address. We’ll get more chairs–switch tables if we gotta. I’m tryna see him in person.”

Sunny starts touching up on her makeup in her compatible mirror. “Get them to come! It shouldn’t be too far from where they are, right?”

It wasn’t.

In fact, Wonwoo and his friends were a couple blocks down–when you sent him the text of where you and your friends are, he eagerly sent a screenshot of Google Maps to show how close he was. 

When they walk into the BBQ joint, it’s very hard to miss them. For one, you spot familiar faces—Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon from the shop, followed by three other guys you never met personally before, but you remember them from Wonwoo’s pit before the tournament. It makes you wonder—did he just hire all his friends to be his pit crew members? And if he did, that’s… impressive. You don’t think you could name any of Seokmin’s friends that would spend their Saturday rushing to change his tires—not to mention that they probably aren’t even trained to do it.

Then, you spot Wonwoo. He pushes through the group, shuffling to see where you are, and when your eyes meet, his smile doesn’t fail to stretch across from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, probably from all the shoving. “It’s… Good to see you. Kinda thought you were avoiding me after the mint chocolate question. It can be a touchy subject for some people.”

You let out a laugh; it’s so genuine and warm when it releases from your chest that it causes both P and Sunny to raise a brow at you before glancing at each other.

You’re different around him.

It’s so clear to both your best friends why Wonwoo is the choice you should make, and you’re displaying it right now. The comfortable body language, the laugh, and how you introduce them to him without any nerves. He’s so sweet when he offers to cook (only for one of his other friends to snatch the tongs from him with a hiss to take over, it’s still the thought and attempt that counts).

Wonwoo takes the seat next to you. Of course he does, he likes you, but there’s something inside of you that has trouble with swallowing that information. And truthfully? It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company or want to reject his feelings—if anything, you’ve caught yourself imagining the what-ifs. 

Then, Seokmin’s face shows up in those fantasies.

It’s a reminder of why you need a remedy for your lovesick symptoms, mostly because if a guy like Wonwoo is here with his rowdy friends, unable to keep his eyes that are full of adoration for you, then why would you waste your time with someone else right here?

You could… You could see yourself falling for Wonwoo. It’ll take time, that’s for sure, but you don’t think it’s impossible.

“How do you like your steak?” He asks, tongs in hand as he turns his head away from the grill to look at you. “Medium? Fully cooked?”

“Medium rare,” you answer, and Wonwoo serves you first before kindly asking the same question to your friends. P and Sunny are impressed, rolling their lips to suppress their giggles and teasing, wiggling their brows in your direction. 

“So,” P begins, putting down her chopsticks. “We heard you’re a racecar driver.”

He chuckles, rubbing his nape awkwardly. “I–I wouldn’t necessarily say that. Was a temp thing.”

Seungcheol nudges Wonwoo. “Don’t act all humble. It’s aight to say it, you’re a racecar driver now. You got to compete with Kyeomie, I’d say you deserve the title.” He winks teasingly, but you know he says it to give Wonwoo the push he needs. Seungcheol naturally leads their group of friends; you’ve seen him gesture to Mingyu to grab the tongs and start cooking when he sees plates empty, tell Minghao to ask the server for more drinks when the liquid in the glasses get low, and even just now, when he encourages Wonwoo to be a little bolder. Wonwoo’s pit crew wasn’t just his “pit crew”... they’re his friends. You admire that.

The night runs smoothly. P and Sunny are so impressed and smitten with Wonwoo, constantly encouraging you to make moves on him. Quite frankly, you even… forgot about Seokmin for a moment.

That is, until your eye catches him entering the restaurant.

← last chapter | next chapter →

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Man-Sized 5/9 Rebound Effect

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He left after that.

And what was more, he left without saying goodbye, he just sneaked out in the morning and left her with a bunch of money on the table. At some level, it made her feel like a prostitute, even when she knew that was not what Simon had meant.

She didn’t harass him for leaving like a thief in the night because the man had obviously freaked out. It would do no good at this point to try and have a therapy session about it. But what she did comment on was the money roll he had left her with.

She wasn't bitter, only bereft. She had thought Simon would stay at least a few nights if he was on leave. Truth be told, she had thought he'd stay for a week like he used to when he came to watch her at the club. But he was running away from guilt, not her; protecting her by pulling back the potential threat that was him. As soon as she realized he only did what a soldier would do, all confusion left her. It was admirable, but she feared it also meant that the silk gloves were back on.

You forgot something on the table.

A gift. Don't take it the wrong way.

If you say so.

Thank you.

Anytime.

The gratitude came mainly from remembering her manners. But it got under her skin, so much so that she felt like there was more to this than just Simon wanting to help her out or play the provider.

In a furious decision of not submitting to the role of someone who just waited for their man to come home from work or war, she tried to concentrate on her studies. But the next time she visited the library, she walked straight to the psychology shelf and loaned books about PTSD and war-related trauma.

She read about the major symptoms of torture victims, the PTSD treatment for combat veterans, she read how to screen for impulse and control issues. Whatever had happened during Simon's career as a soldier had left more than just scars. Combined with a traumatic childhood, it was a marvel he was doing as well as he was. If she were to continue down this path with him, she would have to take it slow.

Slow and steady would win the race. Creating an atmosphere of safety would win the poker game. Again, she could hear the alarm bells ringing but did nothing about it.

Simon had left but wasn’t wholly unavailable this time. He wasn’t working in the field and had more time for her. He even called, and not just once, but nearly every night. For the first few times, it was only a brief session, just an exchange of how are you’s and how’s it been’s. It was a change and a welcome change at that. The calls soon turned into hour-long marathons.

He shared more details about his life in the base of the unnamed military organization he was working for and revealed that he was the commanding officer of his team. The person she had taken for a shady ladies man and a simple soldier turned out to be a warm-hearted, level-headed leader who was fiercely protective of his subordinates.

The way he and his team found humour, even in the most grim situations, was hilarious, and she spent most of the calls laughing with tears in her eyes. Simon seemed especially vexed with a certain Scottish teammate who was the exact opposite of him: extroverted, silly, and cheerful. So lovably childish that it was clear that Simon was more like a father figure than a superior officer to this man. And it was also clear that he wasn’t actually vexed at all: he loved this particular person, who was codenamed after being good at "cleaning", more than anyone.

"What do they call you? Skeletor?"

"Very funny."

"Why is your alias a secret but Soap’s isn’t?"

He finally told her, and another door into his soul opened. It was labeled with one simple word.

"Ghost."

And of course it would be something memorable and ominous.

"What’s the story behind that one?"

There was a short silence on the other end.

"I was buried alive once but came back."

At her end, the silence was much longer, much more palpable. It sounded like a stupid joke, but she knew better. The men she had previously dated were definitely not in the same league as Simon.

This was fucking crazy. She tried to sound casual as she made a quip about another horrible trauma this man had suffered.

"So you’re the Kill Bill Bride instead of 007."

"I used the jawbone of the dead man I was buried with to get out."

Jesus Christ on a motherfucking surfboard.

"Oh, or a MacGyver."

There was a husky laugh at that, but she was fucking horrified.

That stuff followed her even to her dreams. In them, he was the undertaker, and she had to get out of a coffin by using a skull he gave her. Another test… not assigned by Simon, but by Ghost and those eyes that wanted her dead.

In other dreams, she was there with him in the field, invisible to everyone but him, helping him find a way through bombarded buildings like Ariadne escorting Theseus in a labyrinth. She liked those dreams more because in them, Simon needed her and not the other way around.

He seemed hellbent on his protocol of not updating her on where he was, what he was doing, and when they would be able to see each other again. She kept her apartment always tidy in case he would stop by, she put on makeup, even when she went to grab something from the store. Her eyes roamed the campus in search of a tall man dressed in black, and the smell of cigarette smoke made her stomach pinch with excitement. If Simon was even half as into her as she was into him, he would have serious trouble concentrating on his work.

She was tired of being the one always waiting for him. In that department, slow and steady started to feel like an absolute torment. Appearing calm and collected, playing hard to get had worked for a while, but what would happen if she went all in and made him want and wait? What if there was a hidden jackpot in being a tease?

She sent him photos in various states of nudity, cuteness and temptation: when she was chilling on her bed, or about to walk on the stage, once even when she was at school — always with the enticing words Wish you were here or Thinking of you. It was raunchier than the first time, highly uncharacteristic of her, and so much fun that she didn't even have to fake a smile in those photos. It was a pure attempt to seduce him.

And it worked: after only a few days of sending such pictures, Simon came back. As always, there was no warning, unless the radio silence after the fourth photo could be considered a warning that a storm was coming.

She was at the club, and her gaze had turned inwards when Simon had walked into her life. She didn’t choose a guy from the audience anymore. She only danced for herself and him, wherever he was.

She noticed him only in the middle of her show and started smiling, something she never did while on the pole, at least not here. The second she saw him in that familiar setting with a scotch in front of him and those eyes burning, the whole world shifted. Had he taken a day or two off just to come here and make her pay for her little come-hithering? The rest of the dance was energetic and wild, and that beaming smile gave her a roar of applause she had never experienced before. The whistles followed her even to the bar as she went straight to his table and all but radiated delight.

"I've forgotten how bloody good you are on that thing," he said with a thicker voice than usual.

"Nice to see you too, honey."

He looked at her with a full-blown smirk then and was, all in all, completely different from the guarded stranger she had first met at this very same place.

"I've been promoted to honey?"

"Don't take this new position lightly."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He downed that scotch, and she went to get her things, and when they walked to her apartment, he took her in a gentlemanly arm-in-arm escort. It felt good, the kind of possessive that said he was committed, that they were in a relationship. An established couple.

But as soon as the front door of her home was closed, the gentleman turned into a ravenous mercenary who pinned her against the wall, much in the same way he had done nearly three months ago. The shared kiss was starved and desperate, and she had no trouble whatsoever getting wet for him anymore.

"You're the most infuriating man I have ever met, did you know that?"

They were both panting at that point, and she was feeling high and wild, especially when Simon seemed suddenly more serious than ever.

"I'll take that as another promotion."

"Of course you will," she whispered out of breath as he devoured her neck and pressed her even more fervently against the wall of her hallway. Her heart was racing, and she had never, ever had a feeling that a man could merely lift her skirt and pull her panties aside and slip inside with no effort. Right now, she did, and right now, she would go mad if he wouldn’t do it.

"Ya missed me?"

"Every day."

The whispers were like long-held secrets finally uttered out into the open air. The lights were off, the city was sleeping, her ghost was here, and she wasn’t afraid at all. She was ready for everything, to conquer the whole world with him.

"How about you?"

"I'll show you just how much," he answered and suddenly detached from her, then grabbed her by the shoulder to spin her around and pin her against the wall again. It was a rough treatment that briefly reminded her of The Incident… But she was so drunk on him that even that didn’t spoil this moment that only felt good and right.

"This too much for you?" A slight trepidation in his voice told her that they were both walking on the brink of something new, but his cautiousness only made her feel more sure about letting him do whatever he wanted before they set the world aflame together. The silk gloves and normal dudes could go to hell; she wanted bare, calloused skin and a revenant, she yearned for the shared suffering that was only a kin to passion.

"No."

That steel of muscle kept her in place as the other hand went under her skirt. The garment was loose enough again and made the plundering far too easy. And of course he commented on it.

"I like the skirts you wear."

The arm from her back disappeared, only to descend down her back and grab hold of the lifted clothing. There was a soft rustle and a poignant click, and then her underwear was stretched away from her skin.

"They're convenient."

She didn’t feel the blade as it cut the fabric, but she could feel the sudden snap as the soft material yielded under a sharp edge. The rest of the ruined clothing was torn down from between her legs, and he didn’t even put the knife away, didn’t fold it with another precise flick and tuck it back to wherever it had been hidden.

He drove it to the wall. Next to her face, not close, but close enough for her to draw a panicked gasp. It wasn’t a classic stiletto or a pocket knife; it was sturdy and tactical, something she would never even have guessed was foldable. The silk gloves were nowhere to be seen, and she was overjoyed about it.

"You know what's infuriating?" The next thing she heard was a zipper opening as he got himself out of his jeans, then pressed his whole body against her.

"Watchin' all those fucking blokes drool after you in that joint."

It was that kinky talk again, but something told her there was more than a few months worth of frustration here too, gushing out like a flash flood. The thickness was guided to her opening in an almost blunderous manner, but he wasn't a brute. He only seemed to be in a hurry to get inside her and chuckled when he found her completely ready for him.

"Makes me wanna shoot everyone." And then he did push inside, with one measured but steady thrust, letting out a shaky sigh as he did it. She was watching the blade jutting out from the wall and didn’t give a single fuck what her landlord would say about the dent left on his property. Her ghost slid in and out of her, finally content. Tender, but thoroughly passionate, like he had missed her far more than mere words could express. He didn’t need his hands to keep her steady anymore; his chest did all that, but a hand found its way to her hair and pulled gently, lovingly, as he nuzzled close to whisper in her ear.

"Would ya like that?"

She tightened around him — she didn’t know whether it was his voice or his words that made her so unhinged. But another huff of silent laughter hit her at the response she gave him without uttering a single word.

"Yeah… That's wha' I thought."

His other hand reached for her thigh, slid down under the knee, and lifted, granting him better access to hit even deeper, and she finally moaned. She could almost hear the good girl talk, even when it never came. He didn’t have time for that, for there were more important matters at hand.

The longing of entire months came undone, and the knife on the wall was evidence enough that Simon was very much dedicated. Somehow that ferocious gesture was a vow, a whole pledge from the man who didn’t fuck anyone else after all. And if that didn’t make her wet, then nothing would.

"Dripping all over me here…" He stated the obvious as he continued the pillage she surrendered to — gladly and with an orgasm that came almost without a warning as the mercenary drove deep and grunted his desperation on her skin. She had to bolt her lips tight to not whisper something stupid that would only ruin the moment that was her first experience of a quickie, first experience of a fierce, intense rutting perfectly capable of having a godly amount of affection in it.

She broke against that wall and knew that she was lost: lost in Simon, in Ghost, or whoever he was. From this day forward, he would be forever inside her. Even if and when he pulled out, she would never get him out again.

Simon was a full package, and she had to accept all of it rather than try and fix him. If he would leave her only with his ghost, she would be forever bound in that frozen state of the engraving, the woman who dropped everything for the sake of sulking and only remembered beauty and meaning from a distant past. It was better to take the risk and die one way or another with this man.

"Simon," she sighed, whispered, because she was afraid that the three words that must not be said would come out if she wasn't careful. His hand found hers and entwined their fingers together, a surprisingly gentle lapse in the middle of a rough fuck.

"You're the one who's infuriating," he grunted. It was his way of telling her that he was nearing the point of loving too, and her only answer was another broken sigh as she came down from the overwhelming realization and the stunning, sinful orgasm that felt more like a love confession.

She was being pressed into pieces between that hard wall and an even harder chest, spread open for his taking, but it only felt safe to be trapped there like this. She was crying inwards by the time he came inside her while having all the earmarks of emotional turmoil as well. The controlled, rigid manners were gone, and he didn’t pull out for a good long time, only panted together with her against that wall that she paid rent for, which had a knife on it, a knife he had probably used to end human lives. How could the same man kill someone one day and bring someone back to life the next?

The desperate clutch that had curled both their hands into a fist loosened its hold, and the chest that had heaved her up pulled away just enough for her to catch some air. He pulled out reluctantly, and the seed gushed forth, making a magnificent mess. A gentle hand ran down her back, another released her leg just to slide up her hip like she was the most precious work of art a bloodied man like him had ever looted. She reached a hand behind his neck to tell him that she was his if he wanted her.

"Love," she whispered the most important one of those three words, and he lowered his head to rest on her shoulder. His was a heavy weight to carry, but she didn’t feel like she was Atlas holding the world. This burden was something she shouldered with joy.

---

The next morning was laced with drowsy tenderness and lazy lovemaking, and she couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

"Simon… are we in a situationship or a relationship?"

"You tell me."

She turned in the loose hold of his arms and admired how comfortable he looked under the mundane, flower-patterned linens. Simon still couldn’t be described as someone joyous or carefree, but he did appear calmer than ever. She liked to think that at least some of it was her influence.

"I like you. I like this."

"Yeah... You're okay, I guess," he muttered with a sleepy smile. She laughed and got up with the intention of making some coffee. And tea.

He soon followed in her trail, and the mood in her apartment was heavenly. He sat on her couch with nothing but his boxers and t-shirt on, the sunlight got in, and the coffee machine made cozy sounds and filled the air with the smell she loved. Simon didn’t even go outside for a smoke: it looked like he was in no hurry at all to get anywhere from that little piece of furniture.

She knew that love was a drug. Would Simon find it amusing if she told him he was the only drug she was on? If she confessed that she was an addict who never wanted to go to rehab...

"Why do you wanna be with me of all people?"

She had already asked the question once before, but today, she was feeling unusually confident. Some of his cockiness was contagious, and something had shifted last night, some fragile power, and she felt wild and optimistic again.

"You're a hot school girl."

"Simon…"

"You remind me of… I dunno. Something from back home."

Again, she didn't quite know what to make of him. Did he mean that he liked the girl from next door look? Was she a nice holiday from his exciting, death-defying work, a small slice of wholesome dullness? It wouldn’t bother her if she was. But something in that remark screeched in her head like nails on a blackboard.

"Something from back home? Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

The sunlight didn’t only fill the room with light; it exposed dust and long-forgotten clutter.

"Tell me about your childhood in Manchester."

"No thanks."

Her confidence this morning was more than enough to move whole mountains and seas. She wanted to know, even if it would hurt to know. If this was supposed to last, she needed to know.

"Was your father a beater?"

"Yeah, and a serial cheater."

He didn’t run away; he didn’t escape this conversation in any way. She had braced herself for resistance, but she was met with none, which caused her to mentally tumble all over the place that was Simon’s past.

And suddenly, she didn't like where this was going. Even if she was the one who had dragged them on this path.

"Only with paid women, though," Simon continued without any filter on.

Hold on…

That didn't sound right.

"Could you please tell me what I remind you of from back home.”

He finally stirred, a torturer who realized he was the one being questioned.

"Sarah…"

"I remind you of a hooker and you're trying to save me?"

"That's not… No."

She saw in his eyes that it was a blatant yes. At least for some part. The jealousy, the offering of money… All made perfect sense now. She felt like a project, not a love interest. She was a nut to be cracked, even if he did it gently and with a tenderness that left her writhing with pleasure. The need to set some things straight suddenly chose to override everything else.

"I’m a dancer, not a sex worker. And just��for the record, I've had like three men before you. Plus the relative who abused me when I was… almost of age."

She never said "as a child" because that sounded too fucked up. She had been 16, so it wasn't the same as 6. It fucking wasn't.

She immediately got an excellent reminder of why she didn't share this stuff with people; because that pity stare was even worse than the fact that shit like that had happened. It reduced her back to a helpless victim.

"I don't want your money," she declared.

"Got it."

She turned, feeling guilty and idiotic for having ruined the most beautiful morning they could ever have had. The coffee was ready, but she felt like throwing up. She put the kettle on — would he want milk and sugar with his tea? Perhaps another slice of trauma dump served with it?

Whatever happened to slow and steady, to creating that calm atmosphere…

She hadn’t meant to share that. It simply flew out of her mouth. Not because she wanted pity, but because she wanted him to know that in some way, there were things that needed to be saved, ruins that needed to be haunted by different ghosts…

And hadn't he been her project as well?

She wanted more than this, more than tests and strategies and projects. Raw, naked flesh was what she wanted, not a treatment plan. He had disarmed her last night, and apparently, it was time for the final surrender. She waited for the bullet of mercy, but it never came.

She heard him rise and walk behind her, then felt Simon place his hands on her shoulders. He was here amidst her ruins, and her eyes stung, even after all these years.

"Are we gonna have a pity party?" She squeezed the ear of her favourite Don’t make me use my art historian voice mug. She wondered why the hell she had voiced anything at all.

"No."

"I don't want your money."

"You already said that."

The hands wouldn’t draw away, they stayed and felt soothing. At least as comforting as her snug little home and the familiar smell of coffee in the morning. The nausea had left her shaky, but he held her, just with his hands, making it known that he was here and wouldn’t leave her with her shattered self.

"I only want you," she finally said to the coffee machine and the empty mug and waited for a second or two to see if that warmth would leave her.

It didn't. If anything, the sun seemed to shine on whole new parts of her.

"You have me."

She felt bold enough to finally turn, and he immediately closed her into a hug and pressed her against his chest.

He breathed more life into her, day by day. All the goodness in the world returned, the water reached a boiling point in the kettle, and an exceptionally loud magpie made a racket outside.

"Ok," she whispered and let herself soften against his warmth.

Simon wasn’t a phantom or a cold, emotionless soldier. He was a man and very much alive. There was coffee and tea, and even if they strangled each other occasionally with ghosts that weren’t invited, it wasn’t enough to choke the mass of beautiful things that came from having found something as pure as this.

"You have me too," she announced in his shirt.

"I was hoping you would say that."

[atoltia]

New farmer in town.

had ideas in my head. couldn't get contain them. i apologize in advance afsafasf

somehow this turned into March's pov and tbh it is what it is

Warning: mild swearing

~0~

People had expectations when they found out that someone would be moving into the old farmhouse south of the town.

It took a little over a week for someone to accept the terms to the land, which wasn't at all surprising. The earthquake took toll on Mistria and not many of the passing adventurers were willing to help out on the rebuilding efforts and monetary aid from the Capital would take days, if not weeks, to arrive unless the trade roads were cleared in a timely fashion.

When Adeline said someone bit on the notice, people were ecstatic. That old farm was decrepit for years with no one bold enough to take on the labor to tend to it long term.

There were bets called from the old guards. Of course there were. Will it be a runaway from one of the neighboring cities trying to find their fortune? Will it be some lowly adventurer that found out early in their career that adventuring and the mercenary life was just not for them? Will it be a former noble exiled by their family to some small town in the middle of nowhere with the hopes that they'll be able to come back as the prodigal child to vye for the position of head of the family, if not the throne (Maple was particularly fond of this theory)?

Not all of the theories were as dramatic as these, however. Celine hoped for a plant lover like herself. His brother, Olric, hoped for an outdoorsy person like himself.

March, of course, didn't care.

They didn't need another person to live here. They were doing fine. His brother, Ryis, and he would be enough. It's not like one person could make that big of a difference. The person could be some shady motherfucker, anyway.

Well, whatever he thought, he would have been wrong either way.

The new "farmer" was not some naive, doe-eyed low level adventurer who had nothing to their name but the clothes on their back. The new farmer was not some inexperienced moron that needed handholding throughout every step. No, they didn't get any of that.

What they got was a woman, taller than most of the women in Mistria, with long (though not as long as that witch Juniper's) hair as dark as midnight. There was a cautiousness to her eyes, one that he couldn't quite pinpoint, that was present even when Adeline was excitedly chatting her up in the town square. Dark, dark eyes fully alert to the comings and goings around them. She was polite enough, he'd give her that.

The chatter changed its tone rather immediately. The woman, Sandra, was here barely here a week before the rumors and gossip started anew.

Balor said he saw her scale the side of one of the cliffs at the western side of Mistria without breaking a sweat. Nora said she was damn sure she saw a knife tucked beneath her shirt while harvesting some berries in the eastern ruins. Dell was adamant that she saw their new villager transform into a dragon at the western excavation site (this was an fib and everyone knew it).

But he didn't care. March did not at all care. He just hoped to god that the woman would leave him the hell alone.

Boy was he wrong.

---

for anyone wonder who my oc is, meet sandra haha (gonna make more art of her soon)

What his eyes can see, part 1

[flowering-thought]

Finally I can get the man that has plagued my mind off my brain and into my OC's. He's been in there banging around my brain for a week now and I can't get him out <3

Though his name took me a while cause I kept changing my mind 🤡

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, gore, descriptions of gore, shitty attempt at medical care,

⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚.

Dante Morelli

First Meeting + Headcannons

Dante Morelli is a man well-known and well sought after. Whether it's to fuck him or kill him that is. A major CEO of a tech company that's just a cover for the shady mob dealings they do.

Not even most of the employees know about it. It's well hidden and only known by the people apart of the mob itself.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep anyone by his side. The way he was raised didn't allow for petty emotions and selfish thoughts. And even after the man, he calls his father passed he couldn't shake that at all.

But who knows what fate has in store for him huh?

Unfortunately, one late night after Dante wanders the streets after a dealing, he was caught by an enemy and gunned down. Luckily he managed to get away but barely by going down several back alleys and hiding near some old boxes and garbage left by neighbors.

He's bleeding out and he lost his phone while running. He should have installed a GPS in his watch but he didn't and he regrets it for sure.

His thoughts become mudded and cloudy, barely awake when he hears humming and what sounds like a bag dropping to the floor. He feels hands on his wound and his immediate response is, "Don't call anyone."

He can't risk the cops or anyone finding out about this. And he can hear the hesitation in the voice as what turns out to be you returning from a late-night trip to the grocery store.

You definitely weren't anticipating a man with a gun wound on his shoulder to even be conscious and when you heard his confession to not call anyone you didn't know if your conscious would let you leave him.

So despite the voice in your head screaming you to not drag him to your place, you did the opposite and used his other shoulder to prop him up and let his legs drag on the floor before you brought him up to your shady but cheap apartment.

Luckily no one saw you and you set him down on the floor of your living space before grabbing a med kit that totally wasn't stolen hospital supplies from your best friend...

But who cares cause stolen hospital supplies are helpful. But you look at the wound and grab a bottle of vodka you were saving for the same friend and poured it on the wound and your hands since you didn't have any gloves. You have decent medical knowledge and enough to know what to do and what not to do. So you look for a bullet and are glad to see it passed right through.

So you disinfect the wound further before attempting to stop the bleeding and closing the wound with a sewing kit you had in the kitchen for emergency fixes in your clothes.

You braced yourself for sewing into his skin and then tying it together to close his wound before wrapping it in gauze. There's only so much you could do so you got a spare blanket and pillow and got him comfortable on the floor. You didn't think it would be a good idea to move him too much.

You only knew that closing a wound and stopping it from getting infected and bleeding is the best option even if you have no fucking clue what you're doing.

And after a tiresome night, you pass out on the couch, wanting to make sure this stranger doesn't steal any of your stuff.

Surprised to say Dante was still alive after that. Seriously you fell asleep thinking about how to explain the dead body in your apartment. If things went south you were screwed.

Since you were finally off from work, as a daycare worker for children, you took the chance to make some tea for your extremely stressful night and now morning.

But as you poured the hot water into the mug and over the tea leaves you heard a groan and whisper of "what the fuck" coming from your living room.

"I take it my late-night patient is up?" You say jokingly, smiling softly as you decide to pour another cup of tea. You wait a couple of minutes for it to steep before taking the mugs and setting them on your coffee table where your "guest" sat up with an annoyed look on his face.

He wanted to ask what the hell he was doing here but when he noticed the pile of dishtowels and an empty bottle of vodka in a slightly bloody pile. You hummed the same tune as last night before handing him the mug of tea and sitting next to him.

"Stress release for a stressful night. If you want honey in yours I have some but I honestly hate honey so I'd suggest sugar." You said, making small talk like it was the most normal thing and you couldn't help but feel like this was a wattpad fanfiction you were living through right now.

Dante felt an unknown emotion rush through him before he took a sip of the tea silently. "Thank you for the uh, help.." He mumbled, taking the time to look at your small apartment, noticing some cracks and things that need to be fixed. He noticed the blood behind your fingernails and then looked at your face.

Something in him realized that instead of the awkward silence he should be compensating you for saving him and he felt guilt over giving you a hard time.

And it's rare for him to feel sympathy for anyone.

"May I use your phone?" He asked, looking right at you before you pulled it out of your pockets and handed it to him, "Just don't say I tried to murder you cause I swear I may have wanted to poke my finger in your wound but I didn't-".

He let out a light chuckle before turning his head and putting a number in to call. He heard his bodyguard answer the phone in a panicked tone and he told his bodyguard to come to pick him up.

After that time went by quickly and the tea was finished when there was a knock and a big buff man behind the door who looked like a kicked puppy who shat on the carpet...

When he left you felt like you could finally breathe. You sunk onto your couch and finally fell into a peaceful nap with sincere hopes to forget that you didn't just have tea with a man who you treated like a doll to sew up.

But unknowing to you, Dante felt a squeeze in his heart and a sure knowing that he had just fallen for a woman whose name he didn't even know.

⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚.

Regular Headcannons

• Dante is 29 and was born on April 2nd.

• He's part Italian and honestly quite tall.

• He's not entirely good at showing his emotions. He had a rough childhood due to how his father raised him so he'd be a cold and ruthless mob boss when his father stepped down. Sadly even after he passed he couldn't shake the stoic mask he showed.

• But when he fell for you something in him couldn't help but smile so when he meets you again he shows this charming and adorable image. But the moment you're gone from sight he can't find himself feeling as warm and safe as you make him feel. So his smile usually falls when you leave and his subordinates quickly realize it.

• While Dante does have experience with women, he doesn't have experience with love. The amount of Googled date spots and how to win a woman's heart in his search history is honestly getting out of hand...

• He doesn't have many hobbies. He's rich but never sure how to spend the money so most of the time it sits away and goes towards bills and expenses.

• He does like taking care of plants. It was something he picked up as a child to cope with. He would talk to them and tell them all the positive things that he wanted to hear as a child and they thrived under his care. So his hobby grew as he became an adult so his house is filled with dark wood furniture and plants littered around wherever.

• He even has a greenhouse and an indoor garden space in his living room where he grows a tree in his living room. Somehow it makes him feel safe.

• Dante doesn't enjoy growing flowers so sometimes he buys some for himself just cause he thought they were pretty and would look nice in a vase he had at home.

• Cook? Why would he cook when he can just order something? Seriously it's not that he's bad at cooking it's just that he sincerely doesn't know how-

• Doesn't mean he won't look up a recipe to try and make you something for a special dinner date

• And as busy as he can get? He always sets time aside for you. And if you come to visit him while he's doing the "normal" part of his job he'll let you stay in his office with him and maybe sit you on his lap as a lovely stress reliever.

• But if you head over while he's doing the part of his job that he keeps far away from you, he'll send one of his subordinates to make you wait in a better area of the building while he finishes up busting someone's hands.

• He always cleans off before seeing you. He can't just see you while he smells like blood or has the disheveled appearance he does after dealing with someone.

• He doesn't ever want you to have to deal with it. Even though he knows you helped him he'd rather his own blood be on your hands rather than anyone else's.

• If he sees something while out near a shop or just randomly while scrolling through social media that he thinks you would like he'll buy it immediately.

• He's got so much money why not spend a bit of it hm?

• Soon after he met you he actually decided to send you gifts.

• it started out small like some tea leaves and sometimes it would be something else. One time you jokingly said, "oh mystery gifter can you give me a gift for my students?" And then next thing you know a stack of stuffed toys for the kids at your daycare center arrived the next day.

• At first you were freaked out but you grew used to it until you left a note by your door hoping to see who it was.

• when you found out it was Dante, he gave you the most adorable smile and said it was thanks for saving his life. He said if he could get to know you better he would be really grateful. You could of course deny but he'll still try to worm his way in eventually.

• And he understands not to send too many gifts as well. He just doesn't know how to properly express how happy and safe you make him feel so he gives gifts as a form of "payment" in his mind.

Yandere Tendencies Headcannons

• Seriously the wrong person to fuck with. He knows how to manipulate and blackmail but prefers violence and threats above all else.

• He loves you too much and he can easily manipulate your surroundings if he has to. And just like another man, we know he has people watch over you. He only trusts the men close to him so he gets one of them to watch over you and report your actions to him.

• But he doesn't want photos of you taken that aren't by him. Somehow he doesn't feel like anyone has the right to.

• And if a subordinate of his ever had the gall to disrespect you? Their dead the moment that shit spewed from their mouth. After that everyone knows better than to mess with you. But you do become a target of some enemy dealers. But that's also why he has his men watch over you.

• And his business never deals with drugs. Maybe some weed but never anything hardcore. They deal mostly in money, loans, organ harvesting, and certain contracts.

• But his job as a CEO of a tech company also earns him lots of money and while he's not too close to those he employs for the company since they are in the dark about the company being a front, he pays them well and makes sure they have the right bonuses and doesn't allow any power harassment.

• He can and will bug your apartment. He can't have himself worrying about your well-being all the time so it gives him peace of mind. And he likes it when you start humming or singing or just talking to yourself as you pace around your home with whatever task you're doing ♡

• But he does get easily lonely without you around, so at some point, he may begin pressuring you to move in with him. He just wants you by his side. He needs you.

He would have no problem keeping you by his side. There's no way for you to ever possibly escape him. So don't make him doing anything too drastic okay? ♡

[purple-striped-shirt]

I thought I’d share an au I came up with with you ^^ (you don’t have to draw it if you don’t want to)

I haven’t exactly thought up of the name but basically it’s an au where Matt wins a new tv randomly from some shady place or something after Tom harpooned the old one, Lynn tries to set it up and ends up getting ‘shocked’ by it. As time goes on throughout the week she starts watching movies and random shows a lot more, everyone kinda pushes it off with her having the Movie/Theater bug till one day she disappears with nothing left but a spilt popcorn bucket and drink- in reality she got zapped into the TV and hijacked by the Ai of the Tv, which was the thing that shocked her sort of planting itself into her. It renames her ‘Lyn’ and essentially zaps everyone else into the Tv as they sort of take roles of different characters in shows or movies, not realizing it and thinking they’re the characters till one of them snaps outta it while Lyn watches and grows a lot more pissed as they slowly start snapping outta it and trying to find her. And that’s all I have currently! Sorry that was long ^^’

Thought I’d do some doodles as well with some peoples ocs in the au (@azul-yellow,@just-a-lil-otter,@lisadoduwuwow’s ocs and coda :3)

What a neat au!!!

Ocs belong to @azul-yellow, @just-a-lil-otter, @lisadoduwuwow

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  With the Russians gone and Father Hughes dead, you and Arthur can enjoy some romantic moments together, including a proposal. After talking about your future, you both decide to leave Birmingham to build a family away from Small Heath's filth. But that dawning happiness is soon wrecked by Thomas and his plans.

Words: 6k

TW:  tooth-rotting fluff, like really sweet moments, angst, quick allusion to smut, typical canon violence, mention of death penalty, allusions to death by hanging

Notes:

✞ This chapter signs the start of season 4 and, consequently, the end of the first Act of Heaven in Your Eyes. Following this chapter, there will be a two-week pause for the series. Also, parts borrowed from the show are italicized.

✞ The song Heaven sings is a French cover of Bad Guy. You can just click on the French lyrics to open the song and listen to it.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

Arthur let out a long sigh of relief escape from his lips as his body slipped a bit more into the hot and soapy water of the bathtub. The smell of body soap, whose fragrances were those of honey and vanilla, wrapped his mind in a sweet haze. But those pleasant scents were nothing compared to the perfume of your skin his senses could recognize even hidden behind the synthetic ones. Following the last violent and chaotic events of the past few days, this moment of pure relaxation felt like a delightful reward. Everything had happened so fast, in a matter of three days, that none of you really had time to process everything. At least, the worst was behind you.

The oldest Shelby brother was lying in the hot water, his back resting against the bath tube’s edge and your tiny frame snuggled in his arms. You were locked in a tight embrace, with your legs entangled and your bodies firmly pressed against each other. The smile that was etched on your juicy lips widened as the melody of his soft sighs and the water’s lapping lulled you to drowsiness. He looked down to observe you and his mind drifted away. The last time he was in a bathtub with a woman — or with two, to be true — Arthur was snorting a ridiculously dangerous amount of snow and drowning his pain in meaningless sex. It was right after the Peaky Blinders had taken over the Eden’s Club by Tommy’s orders. At this period of his life, Arthur was at his worst and he was still very much ashamed of his past conduct.  All he wanted to do back then was to sabotage himself. And yet, here he was, two years later, in the bathroom of his little house — and not in some shady London clubs —, with God’s favorite seraph all nestled in his arms.  He had come far. A comforting wave of warmth spread in his soul as he watched you, his heart filled with both pride and ecstasy. Arthur, more than anyone else, was aware of how lucky he was to have you. For sure he strongly believed he did not deserve your love, but if there was one thing he knew it was that he would never let you go. Never. His long fingers softly moved aside one wet strand of your ivory hair, slipping it behind your ear.  As he did, he could not help but smile. Life finally made sense to him when he looked at you, half asleep in that bathtub. The truth was, he would go through everything again — the war, the pain, the suicide attempt, the hell of addictions, and the catastrophic wedding — just to hold you like this. Wet lips tasting like honey and whisky gently shook you off your torpor with enamored pecks they sprinkled all over your face. First, it was the corner of your mouth, then your cheeks, and, finally,  your forehead. You lifted your heavy lids and looked up only to be welcomed by his ravishing grin and his piercing blue eyes. Those damn eyes you’d die for.

“Yer a cute sleepyhead, eh.”

“Mmm.” You mumbled, slowly emerging from your sweet drowsiness, “It’s your fault.” You teased with a sleepy voice before gently nibbling his earlobe. The light pressure of your teeth on his flesh caused him to groan in pleasure. His grip strengthened on you, long fingers digging a bit more into your porcelain skin. 

“My fault?” He raised a brow all the while rubbing his clean-shaven cheek against yours in a sign of both affection and arousal.

“You did not let me sleep that much the past few days.” You replied with a gleam of amusement in your eyes. As an answer, Arthur’s hoarse laugh rose up to the ceiling. 

“Can't keep my hands off you eh,” He said with a lower voice before rubbing your nose with his in an adorable bunny kiss. His soft facial hair tickled your skin, causing you to laugh with him, “the urge to make love to you is too fookin irresistible… Ye make me lose me fookin’ mind,” He growled in your ear. You low-key trapped your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt one of his calloused hands trailing up your ribs with a caress as soft as a feather “And speaking about makin’ love…”

“Lord, are you even tired?” A gentle chuckle escaped from your lips. Before he could even react, you stopped him in his tracks and swiftly shifted your body until you sat on his hips and faced him. He looked at you with desire blazing in his eyes and smirked, his mustache slightly lifting as did. 

“Not with you all naked in front of me, love.”  Arthur brought his face closer, but all his lips met was your index finger you had slipped on your mouth to keep him from kissing you.

“I had something else in mind, chéri.”

“Come on, lemme kiss you…”  He complained, the tip of his tongue gently licking your finger in a teasing way. The wet caress sent shivers down your spine but even though you really wanted him, you did not give in to his lust.

“No.” You replied, your smile turning into a sharp grin.

He was about to protest a bit more vividly when you slipped your small hands in his hair and started to massage his head. 

“What are you—“ Arthur opened his eyes wide for a few seconds at the unexpected sensation of your fingertips exerting the perfect pressure on his scalp. And then, the whole traits of his face relaxed in an adorable expression, “Oh. Fuuuck—“  He sighed in ecstasy. Shut off by your touch, Arthur squeezed his lids and slightly parted his lips. Enjoying the way he reacted to your touch, you looked at him with a playful smile but what you saw instead almost break your heart. The expression on his face was indescribable — he looked like a beaten dog who had just discovered what tenderness was after a life of abuse and violence. Arthur let out a shaky moan as he gave in under your fingers like a wounded animal finally finding both the comfort and help it needed for years. 

Your softness. Your love. Your patience... It all felt so good he could have cried. 

Feeling him shivering, you deepened the massage and did your best to relax his poor exhausted body. Indeed, you poured all your love into each of your gestures, hoping your sweetness would sip through the crack of his mind and heal his deepest wounds. And as Arthur melt in your hands, the enchanting melody of your voice filled the room and sent him to paradise.

“Tachée de sang ou d’autre chose, Caché, tu rodes et moi je n’ose Parler, on mets la nuit sur pause Tu te prends pour un autre Des bleus partout sur mes genoux Tais-toi c'est moi qui tient ton cou Cette fois je fais ce que je veux J'ai l'âme coupée en deux.”

His breath slowed down at your hypnotic voice whose tone, feathery and supernatural, hold him in a blissful trance.  Curiously enough, the fact he did not understand French only enhanced the impression he was listening to an otherworldly chant. Arthur buried his face in your bosom, his whole being reacting to your voice with goosebumps and shivers. Every synapse of his brain recalled the first time he had heard you sing in this church, lost in the middle of the night. 

“Toi t'es un gars dur, tu aime avoir l'air sûr Bien blindée ton armure et défoncer des murs Moi je fais peur à ta mère, à tes sœurs J'ai ton père dans l'viseur Et ta go veut que j'meurs Je suis le méchant.”

Your fingers continued their work, massaging his head and petting his wet hair with utter tenderness, all the while you kept singing. You sang and Arthur healed. A smile appeared through dawning tears he was fighting hard against, for he was convinced he just found gold and even a few stars in your voice. 

After the romantic bath, both of you reluctantly left the comforting warmth of each other to dress for the last family reunion. In fact, now that Tommy and Tatiana’s business came to a satisfying end for the two parties, he had organized one ultimate meeting with the Shelbys to give the money he owed them.  He, as well as the rest of the Shelby/Gray house, was well aware that Arthur and you took the decision to leave Birmingham to pursue a quieter life. Surprisingly enough, the idea came from Arthur. He had told you about how he would love to open a garage and fix cars, while you had shared with him your inner desire to live near a forest to remind you of the luxuriant nature of your childhood town. Somehow, the smog of Birmingham never made you feel at home. Nevertheless, none of you wanted to do something without the other’s approbation. You were more than decided to face life as you had always done since you met: together, as a unique and vibrating soul. Yet, contrary to Linda, you had reassured him about the family business. In fact, you made clear that you would stick around if he wanted to. In no way you wished to interfere between your man and his family, as long as the risks for him remain tolerable. But Arthur felt the protective need to take you away from Small Heath’s filth. Moreover, he wished to leave his murderous past behind him and focus on the future — a future that was made of you, a house in the forest, and a little mix of both of you running barefoot in the grass.

You let out a cloud of smoke escaping from your lips. Quietly smoking in the garden of Tommy’s magnificent mansion, you looked at the guests coming and entering the house without wasting the slightest minute. They were all eager to retrieve their due and leave. You could have done the same, but you wanted to enjoy the pleasant and soothing feeling of sun rays caressing your frozen skin before locking yourself up in a room with Tommy Shelby and his never-ending speeches. The sound of a car engine made you look to your right: Polly had just arrived with Michael. The poor lad was still under the shock of Father Hughes’ death by his own hands but did his best not to let it show. However, no one could hide something from the witch you were. You took one quick look at Michael and knew something was off. The tiny flame that was burning in his blue eyes when he first came to Birmingham was now extinguished, blown away by the poison of guilt now running through his veins.

Pol greeted you with a warm smile as she passed by you. She was delighted by your presence, and even more by the fact Arthur and you were about to leave the town. She, as well as John, could only thank you for the good you brought upon the oldest Shelby. Regarding Michael, he only nodded to acknowledge your presence before disappearing into the mansion.

“Aunt Heaven!” A little girl, as beautiful as a rose and with a smile as beaming as the sun itself, suddenly rushed to you. Her little feet were hammering the gravel track, ejecting tiny pebbles each time they hit the ground. You stubbed out your cigarette on a small decorative wall and opened your arms to catch Katie, ready to get tackled with her hug. She snuggled against you as soon as she reached you, “Dad says you’re going to leave. Is it true? Can’t you stay? I really don’t want you to leave you know. Who’s gonna play with me now?”

You chuckled, trying to make sense of Katie’s speech because she had talked in such a chaotic and quick pace you had barely understood one word out of two, “I’m not going that far kitty-Kat, you know,” You leaned over her to lay a sweet kiss on her forehead. She reacted with a silky pout.

“But you’re leaving me!”

“Would you forgive me if I braid your hair?”

“Ohhh yess! Yours are always so beautiful — just like my doll!” 

“Aw thank you, kitty Kat.” You put your hands on her shoulders and made her turn around to start braiding her hair with your skillful fingers. It was something you had always liked to do to your little sister, back in France. After her death, you kept doing so on yourself as a way to keep her alive. Since then, your long white hair were more than often adorned with a huge variety of braids. “We‘ll still see each other. And you’ll spend some holidays with Uncle Arthur and me, right? So that I could teach you to bake delicious pastries for your family.”

“For my family? No way, I’ll learn only to make myself pastries and eat them in front of my stupid brothers! Serves them right to break my pony figure!” The little one blurted out with genuine mischief, letting you rearrange her blonde hair in one long French braid. 

“You’re absolutely right. Oh wait… Stay still, kitty. Can’t braid your hair if ya keep moving like that.” You advised with a caring and patient tone. 

Katie tried to remain quiet, but her wonderful children's mind was buzzing with so many thoughts at once it took only five seconds for her to bombard you with questions again. God knew how she managed to stay more or less still despite her overflooding energy. “Dad says living in the countryside is good for babies. Are you and Uncle Arthur going to have a baby?” She asked out of the blue.  You snort with amusement at her vivacity. Kids and their tact, you thought.

“I’d love to,” 

“When?” She straight off replied.

“That’s quite a difficult thing to know, darling… Let’s just wait for it to happen,” Your fingers were braiding the last strands of hair, “Almost done,” you said —  to be true you were quite proud of the result. Even though Katie was such a beautiful little girl you were not sure if the braid embellished her or if it was the other way round.

“But you are a witch. You know everything. That’s what Dad says.” 

“Seems like your Dad doesn’t know how it works.” 

“And how does it—“

“Katie? Come here, sweetie. Charlies’ nanny is waiting for you!” Esme’s voice called. 

It was all it took for Katie to hug you tight, thank you for the braid, and rush toward her mother. Taking into account the importance of this last meeting, Thomas had asked the household staff to take care of the children and not let them interrupt the adults. You looked at Katie’s little swift silhouette disappearing with the nanny with tenderness in your aquamarine eyes. For sure, you were going to miss John and his kids. 

When she left, your eyes instinctively searched for Arthur. He had just finished talking with John, who had followed his wife inside not without giving you a wink. You would have chuckled at John’s charming and teasing demeanor if you had not noticed a tint of nervousness in Arthur’s body language. Indeed, he was standing in front of the massive door, playing with his fingers and taking repeated quick glances at you before looking at his own feet, all bashful and hesitant. Your protective instincts kicked in, wondering what was wrong.  Finally, he made his way to you with his adorable awkward walk and his arms swinging.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your brows slightly furrowed as you tried to understand the reason behind his anxiety.  Once he had reached you, he grabbed your hips to pull you closer.

“Yeah I’m good, me mind was just — Y’know, just thinking about far too many things at once,” He had barely finished his sentence when he fell silent. 

“Arthur?” 

Arthur’s gaze dived into yours, his steel-blue eyes observing the slightest variations of your irises with a deep focus as if he wished to grasp all the secrets God hid beneath them. He could have stayed like this forever, losing himself in the vastness of the frosted desert that composed your alluring eyes. Yet, he was snatched from his contemplation by the soft sensation of your fingers grazing his cheek.

“What’s the matter, mon amour?”  You reiterated, genuinely worried. 

The wind blew in the garden, making your wild ivory mane dance behind you along with the petals of the flowers that were surrounding your frames. Arthur remained silent and kept staring at you — and as he did, your ethereal beauty mesmerized him and he felt his hesitation vanishing in stardust.

“Listen angel, I gotta tell ye something. I’ve been thinking about the whole matter for a while, and tried my best not to make things go too fast...”, The gravel in his voice was coated with palpable nervousness. Arthur paused, at the edge of freaking out, but rather took another deep breath. He hated himself for struggling so much to express himself. That was why his strong hands abandoned your hips and cupped your face in his slightly moist palms, “It’s just that… I can’t wait any longer.” That being said, the tall gangster laid a shy kiss on your juicy lips —contrasting so much with the way he usually devoured them in bed— and to your greatest surprise, took a few steps back right after.

You blinked in confusion, not quite following what he was trying to say, nor what he wanted to do “What do you mean?” You asked, your body yearning for his touch when he backed off.

Arthur parted his lips to say something but, once again, he could not find the right words to share his overwhelming feelings. Instead, he decided to go for it. With one trembling hand, he took a little something out of his pocket.

“Heaven — I know I am not the most handsome lad in town,” He started, nervously tightening his fist around the object he was holding in his palm, “nor the most mentally stable man you have probably met. To be true, I am quite pathetic… A fookin trash. Can’t believe you accept me as I am” Arthur looked at the ground for a few seconds, ashamed of his whole being. “You’re a young and stunning little lady, and I am an old and broken dog eh,” He sniffed, trying to keep composure, “But I’m a good man, I really am. And that good man wants to be a good husband for you.”

Husband. It echoed in your soul, resonating in your skull. Was it really happening? It could not be what you were thinking about, right? You swallowed the lump in your throat, hung onto his every move and word. 

“I am not perfect —  to be true I’ll probably go back home drunk as fook sometimes and fall on my knees, begging you to save me. Cause you’re the only one that can do that, eh” He chuckled nervously and dived into your eyes. This time he managed to keep eye contact. “but I swear to God I’ll do my best to take care of you and make you the happiest,” Joining actions to his words, Arthur’s free hand took yours. His other one, shaking with anticipation and fear of rejection, processed to slowly slip a shiny gold ring around your finger. Your heart imploded in your tight chest as the cold metal touched your skin, “I don’t want another woman ever again — there’s just you. Only you. So I might not be the best, but you can be sure I’ll remain faithful to you, my Angel… And if you ever doubt my loyalty, I’ll build a fookin’ altar to your beauty and pray on my knees,” He freed your hand from his to let you admire the magnificent ring that was now adorning it. 

You lowered your gaze toward the precious jewel and your whole body shook at the sight of the ring. It was really happening.

“Heaven Lavey… “ He cleared his throat, “Would you marry me?”

“Bloody Hell, Arthur.” You swore, unable to choke your reaction. All your life you told yourself no one would ever want the cursed witch you were. Let alone the murder charges against you. You have walked through this existence all alone, convinced it would never change. Yet you found him — a man who was not only in love with you but who literally worshipped you like a goddess. You looked at Arthur’s face again, your angelic face covered by a veil of utter surprise. You stood silent for a few moments which felt like an eternity to Arthur. His anxiety escalated for he could not survive without you. And when he said that he meant it: your mouth held the power to destroy him with one simple word… “ Of course, I want to marry you,” You finally said as you broke the distance between you with determined steps and almost jumped at his neck to pull him in a furiously enraptured embrace, “No matter what awaits me in this life, good or bad, I don’t want it if you’re not by my side, Arthur Shelby. You make me feel safe. You make me feel… Holy. And I’m not used to that.” 

“Christ!”  He exclaimed, unable to hold his joy any longer, “Come here Miss Shelby!” His hoarse and loud voice boomed in the garden. Not minding the rest of the world, Arthur’s arms wrapped around your waist right before he lifted you from the ground. Laughter escaped from your full lips, as well as tears of happiness breaking at the corner of your eyes, “My Angel, come with me to this meeting — not as me lover but as me fiancee.” 

Your feet met the ground again but your heart was still floating. 

“That’s fine with me.” You replied. Bringing your fingers to your eyes, you quickly wiped the tears away, taking care not to ruin your makeup. When your hand fell back against your hips, Arthur’s slipped his in yours and entangled your fingers together. You exchanged one last look, filled with undying love and hope for the future, before sinking deep into the corridors of the mansion. Here you both walked, unknowingly leaving the eye of the storm.

Not the slightest word came from your tantalizing mouth during the whole reunion. Thomas’ cold demeanor and the few arguments here and there managed to severely undermine the exhilarating joy Arthur’s proposal had brought to you. With one look, you both silently decided to wait for another moment to announce your wedding. As you observe little King Shelby distributing money, his temper short and fallible, a sudden unpleasant feeling broke through your core. It was similar to what you had felt when you had sensed something was going to happen to Charlie, except that the feeling was so intense this time it almost took your breath away. Not understanding where did this sudden unease come from, you clenched your fingers on your own seat and tried to calm down by focusing on Thomas’ speech. However, his words were soon covered by the thundering sound of your beating heart, whose pace had quickened so brutally that your whole ribcage was shaking at each pulse. 

Something was wrong. Definitely wrong. 

Fortunately enough, Pol’s last interjection about a different future for the Shelby company marked the end of that tense family reunion. Following a brief silence, you got up from your chair and put your left hand on one of Arthur’s shoulders. You were about to discreetly ask if you could leave but words remained stuck in your throat: the truth was you did not want to rob him of his family goodbye. So, you simply gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before stepping back and waiting, even though the unexplainable urge to get out of this house worsened as minutes passed. 

“I’ll be off then, Tom.” He sniffed, “I’ll see you, eh? I’ll see you brother.” 

The humble farewell, sober like the rest of the Shelby’s way to show affection toward each other, pinched your heart. No matter the problems in which they got themselves or the endless arguments, there was love in this family. Broken, awkward, and sometimes violent love, but still. You quietly made your goodbyes too in the background — A nod of the head for Finn, Michael, Esmee, and uncle Charlie. A hug for Ada, Polly, Lizzie, and Curly. You thought you could handle it well until it came to John. Your eyes met his saddened pout, and your self-control break down. A single tear rolled down your cheek for the deep bond you had formed with him rendered the farewell more painful than with the other family members. Without uttering a single word, John pulled you in a bear hug so tight the pressure he exerted on your body was almost uncomfortable, but you could not care less. You gently rub his broad back with your hands and, when the moment to pull away happened, you laid a long kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll miss you, little Angel.” 

“We’ll see each other. I promise.” 

The last thing you did was look away and do your best not to meet his gaze because you know you would probably burst into tears if you did. John religiously followed the same rules, otherwise, he would take you in his arms again and never let you go. Fortunately enough, Arthur’s hand grabbed yours. The warm contact of his skin against yours sent a wave of comfort through your bones — but if it was enough to heal the pain of leaving, it was not to soothe the odd anxiety that was still creeping in your soul. The same anxiety that was screaming at you to leave this damn mansion right now. 

You grabbed the door handle, half reassured by your imminent departure when Tommy’s voice echoed through the office with the violence of a guillotine’s blade on a prisoner’s neck.

“You can go, but you won’t get far, Arthur.”

You froze, your heart missing a beat. In a protective reflex, you turned your head in one vivid movement and looked dagger at Tommy. If your jewel-like eyes could shoot bullets, Thomas Shelby would be lying in a pool of blood, dead and cold. What the hell would he make such a snarky remark to his brother? But the more you stared at him, the more the weight of your unease crushed you.  

Something was happening, you could feel it. Something awful.

“Ah. All right, Tom.” Arthur, not grasping the meaning behind Tommy’s words, brushed off the comment. You were both about to leave the room when another statement clipped your wings.

“I spoke to Moss last night. He told me that the Chief Constable of Birmingham has issued a warrant for your arrest. Murder, sedition, conspiracy to cause explosion.”

The shocking news crossed your body like a lightning bolt burning every inch of your flesh on its way. Stomach twisting, muscle tensing, you brought your hand to your open mouth to cover it.  Arthur blinked in surprise — he had to lean against you for his long legs threatened to collapse at any moment. His whole body started to shake as he realize the awful truth: they were coming to take him away. 

And just like a rain of deadly shooting stars, came the long list of accusations against the rest of the family members, all uttered with a cold and placid tone as if Thomas Shelby was reciting a lesson. Your head brutally spun. You felt nauseous.

“Wait a minute.” Arthur’s gruff voice exclaimed, filled with confusion and boiling anger, “What the hell you’re talking…”  He commented, his hand still in yours though it was the only thing that could ground him — which was the case. 

“And you Heaven… “

You just stared at Tommy with eyes wide open, while the whole world crumbled apart around you. Contrary to Arthur, you did not even shake. Nor you did burst into anger. You were just here, paralyzed by the sound of your dreams and hopes shattering like glass smashed on concrete.

“For the involvement in Hughes’ death and the murder of Simon Conrad, his fellow friend.” 

You let go off Arthur’s hand and took a few steps back, until your back hit the wall behind you, “You’ve sold us…” Your voice was merely a whisper. Your heart skipped another beat in your chest, running a race against the panic that was crashing against you like a rogue wave on a boat’s hull. The only thing that kept you anchored to reality was Arthur’s mad screams.

“You’re my brother!”

“Listen to me, I have made a deal — “

“They’ll hang us!!”

“In return for giving evidence against them.”

“We’ll fucking hang!” 

And then it happened. You snapped out of your lethargic state, brushing off the petrifying anxiety that had turned you to stone. You broke free from the shock and ignited like hellfire. With furious steps, you rushed to the two brothers and pointed to Tommy with one finger, “Toi, espèce de sale traitre -you damn traitor-,” You started in French. Tommy’s empty eyes fell on your tiny frame, doing their best to hide his emotions. The truth was he perfectly understood what you had just said, “Your own fucking family… You know what?” Your face distorted with disgust, “It was not the sapphire Thomas. It was you. It was you all along.” You spat.

Despite Thomas’ neutral demeanor, the flames that lit up his frozen irises left no doubt about the impact of your words. You had hurt him — not only him but his very own soul, to the point you could almost see the ice of his eyes melting. 

“Come here, come here!” Arthur’s powerful hands grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to follow him, “Come on now, we have to run!” The oldest took one last look at his brother, pain, and rage making his steel-blue eyes glisten, “FUCK YOU!” He roared, hitting the door with the palm of his hand.

Indistinct Screaming. Yelling. Chaos.

You had barely exited the office when a police officer grabbed you and shoved you against the nearest wall. Your hand lost its grip on Arthur and, without his contact, frost settled in your heart 

“Arthur!” You screamed. Or at least you thought you did.

“DON’T TOUCH HER! Heaven!” 

Brutally squeezed between the wall and the officer’s body, you still extended one of your arms in a desperate attempt to reach Arthur but it was in vain. When the policeman noticed it, he twisted your wrist behind your back. A whimper of pain escaped from your lips. What happened next you could not tell, for the chaos that swallowed you made everything fade to black. All you could grasp was the sensation of the handcuff metal, as shiny as the golden ring around your finger, biting your skin, and the sound of Arthur’s screams in the faraway distance.

They said until Death do us part, but you had not expected it that soon.

“Careful with this one. She’s put two of my guards into hospital. That bitch’s fucking feral.”

“That’s okay.” A feminine voice replied to the police officer in charge of your cell’s security. 

The sound of the lock echoed in your small cage, soon followed by the metallic creaking of the heavy door that was keeping you from escaping. When the woman entered the cell, she could not help but frown and look at his colleague with genuine confusion. Police Officer Katlyn Wilson, a tall blonde woman with her hair cut short and her face as hard as her heart, had seen a lot throughout her career. But it is evident she did not expect what was awaiting for her in this cell: right in the middle of the room sat a young woman, in her mid-twenties, on the bed. She had a long white mane that cascaded down her lower back. A marvelous mane, dirtied by the cell’s dust and dampness. Kat Wilson shook her head: you could not be the dangerous inmate they called her for. She sighed, staring at your juvenile face. 

“Heaven Lavey.” 

You raised your head when she called your name, your aquamarine eyes burning with hatred. Yet, not the slightest sound came out of your mouth. All you did was stare at the officer.

“I am Kat Wilson, and I am here to bring you to the gallows by order of the crown.” 

“They took my wedding ring.” You cut her off, your voice sounding a bit raspy after days of not talking. Somehow, you did not care about getting hung high — you were not afraid of death. What scared you though was to be alone, far away from Arthur. 

“They did. They told me that was the reason behind your assault on the guards.”

“Only one of them. The other tried to touch me.”

“So you broke his wrist.” She replied straight away.

You fell back into silence, not wanting to talk about the mentioned incident. Officer Kat Wilson shook her head, astounded by the whole situation. As fierce as she was, she took no pleasure in sending a young girl to the rope, no matter the first-degree murder accusations. The tall blonde woman, whose severe traits inspired a natural authority, walk to the bed and sat next to you despite his colleague’s warning. She let out a long sigh and took off a little golden ring from the pocket of her jacket. Your face enlightened when you recognized the jewel.

“Unfortunately, my power vanishes at this prison’s gates. I cannot stop this execution, but I can give back the young bride’s ring.” As she talked, she put the ring in the palm of your hand and watched you close your grip around it. 

“Fine.” You finally whispered as you slipped the jewel around your finger. What else could you do except obey?  Any attempt of rebellion would result in failure. You got up from the bed, standing on your bare feet with all your little height.

So petite but so fierce, she thought. 

“Fine,” Officer Wilson repeated. Gathering all her strength, she handcuffed you with your hands behind your back and, with one unexpectedly strong grip, led you out of the cell and forced you to walk through the long, dark corridors of the prison. 

The sound of the guards’ boots resonated against the stone walls, contrasting with your own silent steps. Even if your heart raced in your chest, you managed to stay calm. Deprived of your man’s comfort, you tried to find your peace in small details:, the cold and smooth surface of the wood under your bare feet, the faint summer breeze coming from an opened window somewhere, the muffled sound of birds' whistles... All of these allowed you to keep a semblance of sanity.

Kat Wilson brought you to the gallows, which was in a dark wooden warehouse. You swallowed at the sight of the noose, slowly swinging from left to right as if every fiber of the rope itself shivered with impatience at the idea of tightening around your soft throat.

You climbed the stairs and each step felt like you were dancing tango on your broken dreams. The dull silence that was hovering above the warehouse was chilling, but you preferred it to the vain prayers of priests. No matter how hard they begged God, you knew your place was down there. Dying was bothering enough, there was no need to sprinkle the process with hypocrisy. A muffled cries came from the other room — they were going to hang another woman at the same time.

Polly, you thought.

When they put the deadly necklace of rope around your neck and narrowed it until its burning texture bit your skin, you inhaled deeply through your nostrils and stared right at Kate Wilson’s eyes. Here you stand, powerful even in your last moments.

Boom. Boom.

The deafening sound of your beating heart played the drums of the fanfare that was already announcing your arrival in Hell. 

“Go ahead.”  You closed your eyes.

You did not cry. You did not beg.

After all, it was always meant to end like this.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Gif by the lovely @alicent-targaryen

✞ Each of chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone even though it's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @abyssal-whispers

[gentlelass]

Hey there.

I know this isn't mainly a social platform of writing, and if you don't care for reading my long-ass bullshit, you're free to scroll. But I was very eager to post here a summary of my Oc, Marjorie's Ford life since her birth to when she first joined the Marigold Gang, at least for that couple of people who will care enough to bother reading, since I've always left you in the dark about most of her past up until now. I will make a storyboard with actual drawings to make it more interesting to the eye at some point, but it'll take long, so for now, enjoy what I have to offer.

The recurring year is 1894, and yet another baby girl is born under the prosperous (not for too much longer) Kingdom of Italy. But not just any child, falling short of aristocracy in terms of wealth: daughter to the Opera singer Caterina Casiraghi (Ford) and the handsome but opportunist American notary who snatched the Italian beauty as soon as he saw her, Christian C. Ford. Second to nobody in her own home but her older brother, Malcom Ford, Marjorie was still spoiled and pampered from all sides, and for a while, they were happy. 

But of course it was too good to be true, and soon enough Christian's misdeeds came biting back to him, after a life time of biting more than he could chew: the notary and most of his official possessions burnt to ashes in a fire, and although the cause was officially concluded to be an accident, his family knew in their hearts it was nothing but arson: between what remained of the man's belongings, in fact, the wife found multiple letters of a minatory nature coming from some unspecified shady client of the man's, that he had evidently proceeded to ignore. The widow, left on her own with a man to bury and two children to raise,  had no choice but to roll up her sleeves, and the broken family spent the next six years of their lives incessantly hopping from place to place, partially for the matron's role she played in different courts across all Europe as a requested and appreciated soprano, partially to avoid meeting the same early end as the late father and husband may his killers spot them if they stop in a single place too long.

Such circumstances weren't the most normal for the youths to grow up in, and the siblings came out as... not any normal really: while the weight of responsibility hung on the eldest's shoulders, stuck in the role of the "man of the house" and becoming gloomier with each day, the younger could only long to receive that much attention. Daughter unsuitable of inheriting anything, too young to get married to another rich man, and with a voice too small to follow her mother's footsteps into the world of Opera, she soon veered towards theater, her frame, just as small as her voice, nimble and agile, her movements graceful, her scenic presence lovely as she had learnt to emulate from her mother. Still feeling the psychological pressure that was truly only inside her own head from being both female and the younger child, where she couldn't follow her mother's footsteps she instead followed her late father's, soon adopting less-than-savory methods to get ahead in her career, eliminating the competition before it even got the chance to become such.

All prestigious careers however have as much of a raise as they are doomed to have a fall, and in 1914, when the Great War officially broke out, the entertainment business collapsed, specially fields as frivolous as dancing and singing, and the next thing which dropped at dizzingly fast speeds was... the Ford Family's bank account.

The Ford widow, ever the loyal mother and wife, used the last funds she had to send her children to their fatherland America like many other immigrants of the time to seek luck and a better life, and we all can imagine what happened to her, next.

The sole survivors of the Ford Family, at this point aged respectively 21 and 23, were soon separated yet again, however: not any more than a few weeks after they had successfully disembarked in Mexico, in fact, the Italian government spotted them, demanding that Malcom  came immediately back to motherland to fight in the army along all other male, able-bodied Italian citizens of age. The boy, after a lifetime of accepting responsibilities, had it drilled into his very subconscious by this point to always answer the call of duty without question, and so he did one last time, taking leave from his sister and all the money they had left. He wrote his sister letters and send her more money for some time, directing them to Mexico City where he had left her. After a while however he stopped receiving answers from her altogether, an no sibling ever heard from the other ever since.

This is because Marjorie after some months of permanence in Mexico, working some gigs here and there, plus the money she was receiving from her brother, finally saw an opportunity to build a new life all for herself, where she would be the sun, the star of the scene, rather than a mere moon in the backlight of not one, but TWO suns in her case, both mother and brother. Having been a nomad all her life Marjorie never learnt to truly form bonds and emotional attachments to people, always knowing she'd lose them as soon as she had to move yet again; hence the loss of her mother and the betrayal she inflicted on her brother never weighted much on her mind, or so she tells herself. She traveled all the way up to Missouri, where she soon started working as a maid at a certain Maribel Hotel, where a "kind", if sorta odd fella by the name of Asa Sweet welcomed her in his den in exchange of a mere few favors which would cost Marjorie nothing but a constant smell of bleach on her person, due a variety of reasons, and the sanity she had already long lost anyways.

Opportunist sociopath born out of heritage, of circumstances and most importantly of the intrusive thoughts of inferiority inside her own head nobody ever bothered teaching her the strength to fend off, the rest is history.

[solosikoasgf]

you know my body is yours , roman reigns (nsfw)

pairing: roman reigns x oc (afab / black reader) synopsis: vacations are rare, and so you make the most of the sun, the sand, and undivided time with each other. themes: it's nasty, that's all ik. oral (f receiving), light choking, a little dominance. word count: roughly 2.5k author's notes: i am not a smut writer so y'all need to be nice. i just wanted to write about roman being sweet on vacation before i go back to hating him this week. minors dni! taglist: @rez-luvs-hook — @southerngirl41 — @harmshake — @christinabae — @dreamsinfocus — @thesamoanqueen — @thewarlordsworld — @cyberdejos2 — let me know if you want to be added! song recommendations: no limit by tank ft alex isley, it's yours by destin conrad, yours by dixson ft india shawn

the sun is still high in the sky, despite the time ticking closer to evening hours. the two of them had spent all day there, in the rays of the sun, in the waves of the surf, and laying in the sand. a vacation for roman was rare, and jade didn't find herself entitled to his time - in fact, she had encouraged him to take the time to rest and get family affairs in order, or do whatever it was that would make him feel relaxed.

so she was utterly shocked when he showed up with a suitcase for her to pack up, and a flight for them to catch. so much so that he had to basically pack the bag for her just to usher her out so they could make the flight on time, with gentle assurances that if she needed more clothes, she could use his credit card at any store she desired once they reached their destination.

and so the past three days had been filled with nothing but bliss - his undivided attention.

day one spent lounging around their resort, a large suite with a swim up pool, so they didn't find the need to really go anywhere but just rest, enjoying each other's company. day two had been spent out, walking in town, eating everything. day three was for excursions - zip lining, hiking, boat rides, biking. all of the little sweet things that made memories. and jade couldn't help but ooh and ahh at everything, it had been a number of years since she had a vacation, so focused on her career and taking care of her parents as they got older in age.

but today was for the beach, and the beach only. they arrived early in the day, making their spot under a shady palm that was out of the way - so no matter how many people packed the beach, they were sure nobody would venture out where they were.

she watched now as roman made his way back to her, hair wet from the ocean, a tan settled into his skin, taking it to a tawny bronze that accentuated the freckles that hid in his face, to his chest and back. his smile is wide and hands are full with two plastic bowls full of fruit from the vendor who had just passed, and jade smiles, shielding her eyes and setting her book aside to make room for him on their array of beach towels.

"for me?" she beams, faking shock and astonishment as she takes the bowl from him and he eases down across from her. his shorts ride up on his thighs, and he spreads his legs, opening his arms and gesturing her forward. he sighs in contentment when she's face to face with him, her legs on top of his and behind his torso.

"you havin' a good time, babygirl?" he watches her ditch the fork with a smile, as she picks up a chunk of mango with her fingers and bites into it, the juice running down her hand and into her arm.

"mhmm." jade hums, feeding him the other half, which he accepts happily, letting his lips wrap around her fingers to suck the lingering juice off. her eyebrows shoot up a bit, but she gives him a knowing smile and goes back to picking fruit from the bowl. "best baecation ever. but you really didn't have to - like we could have stayed stateside."

he snorts. "best vacations are always out of the country. don't think i didn't see how stressed you've been recently. you're not as good at hiding it as you think you are." he taps her left temple with two fingers as admonishment, and she apologizes with the offering of a piece of kiwi, that he accepts.

"i didn't wanna bother you. you're always on the road or in meetings - the last thing you need to hear on our calls is about why deidre pissed me off again."

"nothing about you bothers me. i'm your man, it's my job to be here for you, and to take those burdens off you. i ain't say nothing, but don't do it again." he warns, letting his hands settle on her thighs, warmed from the sun. "i'm not playin' either, jade."

she rolls her eyes, but he catches her face with his hand, amused. "i'm not playin." he repeats, voice a little lower. she nods quietly, and he picks a strawberry out of her bowl, pressing it to her lips. and when she bites down and juice runs down the sides of her lips, he quickly moves forward to press his lips on hers, hand grabbing at the back of her neck to pull her closer while their lips move against each other's.

she can taste the saltwater on his lips and tongue when he deepens their kiss, and ocean water drips onto her chest from his hair, cold. this moment is one she wishes she could bottle up and live in forever.

jade sighs in contentment, using the heels of her feet to dig into the towel to scoot herself just a bit closer, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. she can feel his length start to poke at her thigh, and she pulls back, holding his face in her hands with a smile - but his eyes are dark, and his hands have tight grip of her thighs. "joe," she warns.

"let's head back," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers.

"it's still early."

"i want to take some of that stress off you."

they barely make it in and out of the shower in one piece, with roman almost engulfing jade to the point where her mind can barely think. from the second they landed back in their room, his hands and lips made quick work of taking her over the edge - the push and pull of him teasing and coaxing, but never quite giving into her.

he had clearly meant it - there wouldn't be room for stress in her mind, because all she could think of was how much she wanted to feel him stretch her out, take her over the limit.

her back hits the bed, black locs fanning out, cowrie shells attached to the ends tingling together in a quiet song. roman's eyes drink her in, steam still rolling off his body from the shower. from her round eyes and soft features, to round supple breasts that dips into a soft midsection. his hands palm her thighs, kneading with added pressure. they roam up to her stomach, fingering the glittering waist beads stacked on her waist. "i ever tell you how sexy these are?"

she breathes hard, but still smiles, her hand sliding down on top of his. "i put on extra, just for you. i know you like to see 'em when you hit backstrokes. i even took the excess," she pauses, raising her right leg a little, revealing beads on her ankle, "and made little anklets. they'll look so good...on your shoulders."

he groans, leaning forward to take her breast into his mouth, making her gasp, back coming up off the mattress. his hand slide under her thigh, and her breaths come shallow when his tongue circles around her nipples, suckling gently, and then gradually growing rougher, while his other hand twisted her other nipple between skilled fingers. "fuck." she whispers harshly, pushing her hands down on his shoulders.

his lips find her neck next, and she can hear him breathing hard, leaving harsh open mouthed kisses, biting down near her ears enough to make her yelp, and then covering the area with kisses and swipes of his tongue, all the while his hand slips down her thighs, gently coaxing them apart, dancing up the warm and already sticky inner thigh, thumb pressing to her clit to start a slow rotation of circles.

it's deliberate, and it's agonizing. she moves her hips in time to his fingers, desperately trying to up the pace, when she hears him chuckle, low. "hold on a lil longer." he assures, slipping two fingers in deep. the addition makes her groan, inhaling hard.

with every quick and deliberate stroke, his fingers become slicker in her arousal, and her moans scale up in octave, grasping onto his wrist for some semblance of control. but the second he feels her hand, he pulls away, in smooth motion lowering himself between her thighs. he squeezes hard. "keep your eyes on me."

jade shifts up on her elbows, pushing locs out of her face to lock eyes with his - both of them silent in the heavy tension of the moment, while he lowers himself down, steady eyes when he gently attaches himself to her clit, suckling softly with a low groan. she instinctively grabs at the sheets, attempting to keep her eyes from closing and letting her back hit the mattress once again.

the warmth of his mouth and tongue running over her clit and lips are almost unbearable, and it doesn't take long before her breathing is labored and soft breaths become soft moans that gradually get louder - all the while he maintains eye contact. he grips harder on her thigh, sucks with more aggression, and the small amount of composure she had been holding falls.

"oooh-" she breathes, finally collapsing back onto the pillows, hands reaching to tangle themselves in his hair while her back arches. he doesn't stop - running the flat of his tongue up her slit, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from his teasing, coming back up to suck on her clit. he pushes her thighs up towards her chest, rising slightly to his knees to push his face into her sex.

for roman, there are no more thoughts to be had. her body at his disposal, the way she dripped and moaned for him, the way her body responded so easily at his touch, at his voice, was enough. and he wanted to see her crumble to nothing - to pleasure her until she was spent and her voice was hoarse. he moans into it, pushing his tongue in an area right under her clit - her grip on his hair tightens, and she pushes his head further in, grinding her hips against his face with gradual urgency.

"fuck. joe, i'm -" gasps for breath, "i don't think i can hold it-" there's a build in her lower abdomen, and her grinding becomes more frantic, hands holding her own thighs up to her chest to give him more room to flick her clit.

he doesn't bother to answer, pushing her legs further back, using a hand to grasp onto hers for encouragement.

let go. let me have it. let me taste it.

"oh my god, i'm cum-" a moan fills the rest of her sentence, her thighs shaking around his face. a build and a release of pleasure streams through her body, one hand clamped onto his, another gripping onto strands of his hair, coming down from her high with deep breaths and smiles.

he finally relents, sitting up on his knees, mouth and beard wet, webs of her arousal dotting various spots between dark brown and gray streaks of hair. roman watches her catch her breath, gently rubbing circles into her sides, hovering over her to capture her lips with his own. her arms circle his shoulders and pull him closer, her tongue slipping past his lips in a way that makes him a little crazy, hand gripping her neck. his dick is hard and rubbing against the wetness of her pussy, and he needs to feel her, be encompassed by her warmth when her legs pull him in deep.

"you good, baby?" brown eyes search hers in a moment of softness.

"yeah, i'm good." she brushes hair out of his face, twirling a piece around her finger.

"we can stop," he murmurs as her fingers trace over his face, and he leaves faint kisses on her fingers when they pass by his lips and into his beard.

she doesn't respond, pulling him in for a kiss, reaching down to guide his dick into her warmth, both exchanging a breath in a kiss. roman's teeth grit down, and the soft moment is gone - they lock eyes with brief understanding, and she relents.

and he takes over.

roman leans back, guiding her legs over his shoulders, pressing kisses on the insides of her thighs, knees, calves, arches of her foot, running his fingers across the glittering beads that adorn her ankles as he settles them on his shoulders. he leans over her, forearms on either side of her head, and starts to give slow but hard strokes. each one slow on the out, but pushing in quickly with enough force to make her cry out.

he relishes in her moans, burying his face into her neck and using his hands to hold her thighs open, bending her all the way back so he had full control of her pleasure as he picked up his pace, their skin slapping together with the sound of her moans.

"look at you," he murmurs into her ear between strokes. "taking this dick so well. i can feel you dripping all over it."

"no fuckin' shit-"

"yeah? tell me how it feels."

"so fucking good." she chokes out, scratching at his back.

"it's yours. it's all yours baby. and i'm gonna give it all to you." he groans, losing himself in the warmth of her pussy. his strokes get faster, keeping his head level enough to see her face contort in pleasure, crying out his name.

arousal so thick, the room feels hot, and he can feel fluids dripping down her thighs. it's getting harder to stay inside of her with how wet she is, and he locks his feet into the mattress to gain more leverage, gathering her up in his arms tightly to barrel deep inside of her - inhaling the scent of ocean water still lingering in her hair to try and anchor him down from finishing too soon.

"don't hold out, give it to me. let me feel you cum on me. claim this dick as yours." he growls.

her moans get louder, nails digging into her back with red marks left in their aftermath. between the high of her first orgasm, his weight pressing into her body leaving her unable to move, and his dick, pushing and pulling her until her brain could barely form thoughts, she was unraveling fast, biting down hard on her lip as she felt an orgasm barrleling towards her fast.

she slaps his shoulders, pushing against him with a shriek. "it's too much, i can't- i'm about to-"

roman doesn't let her finish, pressing her mouth into hers to absorb her protests, feeling her pussy clench down on him, forcing his own orgasm. they pant, foreheads touching while he strokes them both through their high, running his fingers down her thighs to sooth her while she whimpers, and her pussy squeezes out the last bit of cum from him. he stills, letting a moment or two pass, letting her legs down to lay on top of her, his weight settling down, forehead to her breasts.

"you good?" she whispers.

"mhm." this time it's him that needs the comfort, and he sighs at her fingers tracing designs over his back - most likely over the tattoos that adorned his upper half.

"that felt like you're the one who had stress."

"both things can be true."

"you feel more relaxed?"

he lifts his head with broad smile, and in return she laughs, carding a hand through his drying hair.

"i love you, joe."

"i love you too." sweet smiles, a pause. "let me eat a piece of fruit off your nipple real fast -"

"damn, you can't even wait three minutes?"

"i just wanna see sumn-"

her laughs fill their villa, and his smile spreads up through his face. this is what they both needed. each other.

[rzyraffek]

Fallout4 characters with teen!sole

Bestie you are litteraly describing one of my oc's! Of course its purley platonic😊 teen!sole is also from valut and was in fidge for last 200years. I refer to them as 'kid' bcs thats how some of characters would probably treat them anyways. Also its a screenshot vuz I accidentally deleted the ask and luckily had some sort of proof

Maccready

The only guy here with any expirence with kids

Dad vibe

Type of guy who says "We need to cut it off" after Sole tells him their hand hurts

Will teach them how to shoot, hunt ect

Also scold them every time they talk with any shady people??? Like he really doesnt want them to end up like him with whole 'gunners incident'

He thinks that Sole would get along with Duncan well!

If Sole calls him 'dad' mans gotta be so happy

Deacon

Secretly worried about their saftey, like Commonwealth is dangerous place for trained adults, and for kids ESPECIALLY ones who have no knowlage about defence or weapons

But he never shows his worries, just hangs around being cool dude he is😎😎

Rich cousin/uncle vibe

You like this cool hat you saw like week ago? Boom see it apear inside your closed 2days later

His love language (quick remidner that love also can be platonic🙄😎) is giving them little gifts when they don't see him or leaving notes with remiders on them ^^

Quick reminder that he and his wife wanted to have kids! So yeah Sole makes him wonder if thats how it feels to have kids tbh

If Sole calls him 'dad' bro will freeze and panic, probably pretending that he thought that was a joke but he's sweating so hard rn

Hancock

Wtf a child? Here?

Bestie you really shouldn't be here

If Sole is in this cringy teen phase when they do drugs/cigarettes, watch him say stuff like "drugs=bad" meanwhile taking some mentats

Your friendly local drug dealer vibe

Dude gonna teach them how to manipulate assholes, trow knifes, gaslight and still look stylish

If Sole ever tells him about their parents he will be angry, like ??? Why would anyone do anything to a kid???

He will litteraly pay fahrenheit to watch them when he's busy

Preson

"Fire, pretty sky and a lot of storytelling in middle of nowhere" vibe

Im 100% sure he knows how to play on guitar and will try to teach them

He will try to act mature and lead them to the right path but he won't try to be their "new perent" unless Sole is clear that they see him as father figure, he will never even bring this up.

When they call him 'dad' mans will be the happiest minuteman in history. Also if kid will even mention their past caretakers he will just tell them to forget about them cuz they aren't coming back and they are never going to hurt Sole anymore

Gage

How on earth some kid killed Colter? No one knows but Gage is impressed.

He gets annoyed by lack of knowlage and skills, ye ye he gets that they are like 13 or something but come on hes not going to do anything for them. Huh what do you mean you are from valut? Before the war?? Damn kid and im happy to be alive. Stop lying

*sighs* "jesus boss let me do it"

Older brother vibes.

"How many times i have to tell you, dont hang out with pack members they have bad influence on you AND do not even think about going near Nisha"

He needs to learn ALOT he dumped his family and even if he had younger siblings he never really took care of anyone, never, so yeah it is challenging

If Sole somehow calls him 'dad' they were probably incredibly tired or something very emotional happened. No matter how it happend Gage will ignore it and later overthink when Sole wont be around, like ??? Me??? Gee what kind of parental figure this kid had?? Should I check on them more often??

Danse

Uhh erm a child ee greeting?

Akward

At first he sees Sole as lil civilan and just tells them where to find nearest safe place/diamond city cuz hes very very busy and cant take care of child while on duty. If kid hangs around more he will probably warm up

Of course he will ask about their parents but when Sole tells him some upsetting stuff he won't ask again, he won't tell them to go home either. He will just idk let them vibe

I can imagine Sole just tagging along his missions by just begging him to hang out with them constantly. They quickly get along. Very lonley soldier and kid who lost everyone.

One of those 'depressed dude adopts random child he found in middle of knowhere' prompt

When Sole calls him 'dad' he gonna get emotional fr fr pls civilan he's on duty he cant cry rn 😭

Yall I loved writting for gage i might do part 2 with Gage just trying to figure out how kids work. Also another pole cuz I still have no clue how to delete those on phone. And as always, I used x reader tags ONLY to reach bigger audience 🦊

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 32

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/150079369

Arthur was heading to his horse when Hosea called him over. He changed course and walked up to the older man sitting in a chair on Shady Belle’s porch. 

“Where are you going?”

“Gonna check on a lead in Strawberry. Heard some cash loaded wagons rollin' in twice a week.”

“That’s quite far now,” Hosea sighed. “The thought of riding out there alone makes me dizzy.”

“That’s what you got me for, old man,” Arthur grinned. “‘M gonna be gone few days. Ya need anything before I go?”

“I’m working on something.” He gave Arthur an intense look and the other man understood and drew closer. “Could be that last job we need.” Arthur grunted as if to say ‘go on’. “Talked to some fellow at the ball. Once I convinced him I'm some fur trader with a lot of cash but no bank to stash the profits in, he couldn’t stop babbling about how much money they keep at the Lemoyne bank in Saint Denis.”

The younger man’s eyebrows shot up. “Never robbed in a big city before,” he said warily. “Much less a bank.”

“I know,” Hosea waved his hand. “I know it’s risky. That’s why I said I’m working on it.”

Arthur sighed and sat on the steps next to Hosea’s chair. “It’s risky alright." 

“Way I see it…We can rob a hundred coaches - that’s a hundred times rolling the dice on things going sideways or not...or we can rob one bank - a well prepared, well executed robbery - and be done with it.”

Arthur bit his cheeks and squinted out to the camp, looking unconvinced. “Dutch say anything?”

“Dutch thinks we should move on that trolley job. Bronte whispering in his ear that it's foolproof. I ain't so convinced of Bronte's good nature.”

“Well I don’ like that neither,” was the grumble of a response. “Anything in Saint Denis is gonna have a hundred lawmen flockin’. Dozens of civilians in the way, each dumber than the next…”

Hosea didn’t say anything for a while. “I think he’s just trying to impress Bronte. There's also a little payback for Jack in there. Some tug and push between the two, I imagine. In my case…nothing personal, just business.”

“Bank is in Bronte’s town.”

“It’s one of the many branches of the Lemoyne Bank. Doesn’t belong to Bronte.” There was a short silence. “I know you don’t like it. But I’m not asking to go tomorrow. I’m working on it.” Arthur hummed. “Pinkertons breathing down our necks. Bronte and Dutch eyeing each other making me nervous, too. I feel like we’re on a timer here.”

“Yeah,” the younger man admitted reluctantly. “Told Savigne just a few more months and…gonna be that, soon.”

“Okay,” Hosea said, gripping his shoulder. “Good. We do this right, this might be it, son. But…” he eyed Arthur. “…might be a bit awkward for you with her still working in the city. She’d have to stay close and you’d have to run far after.”

“Said she sick of Saint Denis. Might not be a problem,” Arthur shrugged.

“That’s good then! Nothing certain yet, mind you. Still working out the kinks. But I wanted to run it by you, see what you think.”

Arthur groaned and rose to his feet. “Told ya, ‘m done with Dutch’s plans. I’ll follow yer lead. But..." he squinted in the direction of his own tent, "...also told Savigne I ain't takin' stupid risk no more. Ya gotta make sure, Hosea.”

Hosea nodded grimly. “Will do, son. Will do. I need some time. Won’t rush it.”

“‘M off,” Arthur adjusted his hat. “See ya in a few days.”

Savigne was fussing with her plate, turning it left and right to look at it from different angles. The scallops looked fine, but maybe a bit too symmetric? The dressing on the bottom looked like soup though. She thought maybe she could slightly thicken it with cornstarch and smear it on the plate instead for a more dramatic look. The shade could also be more vibrant.

She was contemplating these things, trying to juxtapose the imaginary version in her head on what was in front of her when Chef Ecco appeared by her station.

“Mr. Bronte was extremely pleased with the frutta martorana. He asked for you, but you were gone.”

“It was late,” she said politely, pretending to be absorbed with her dish.

“That’s when the real ball starts,” he said. “You should have stayed.”

She didn’t answer. Mr. Bronte and Ecco were the kind of people who were very capable of politeness when it came to their friends or customers, but had a blind spot for their workers. The idea that not everyone lived around the corner from the rich neighborhoods and needed to be home at a reasonable time was somehow inconceivable to them.

She expected it, but it still filled her with dread when it came: “I want to pay you, come to my office.”

Calm down, it's just payment, she thought and yet, couldn't quite convince herself. She wrestled with herself for five minutes before she could make her legs work and turned to head up to Ecco's office. 

When she entered, he was already sitting behind his desk. He pushed an envelope across and she took it and put it in the pocket of her apron, momentarily her mood lifting because it felt weighty. Just when she was about to scurry out of there, he said “Do you like it here?” and she froze and everything flew out of her head. Stupid, stupid woman, she thought. Why would you come back in here ever again? Why would a mouse follow a cat to a dead end? It immediately triggered her shivering. She felt her throat constrict and perspiration dot her forehead. 

“I’m learning a lot,” she found herself whispering.

This time the fracturing was immediate, organic. She separated from herself and stepped aside, leaving her twin in the middle of the room. 

Breathe, Savigne, her inner voice whispered. Nothing can touch you here. You are invisible. Invulnerable. 

“Good,” he said, pleased, eyes crawling over her rooted form as she glided to put her back against the wall, as far away as she could get from the both of them.

A long while later he rose to his feet. Savigne watched with fascination as her body shifted her feet but remained helplessly rooted while he came to stand to her left side. 

“You think me sadistic, Savigne?” he sighed in her ear.

“Yes,” her body droned.

“Ruminations of a small mind,” he said, fingers absentmindedly correcting the bow of her apron in the back. He walked to her right side, straightening the back of her collar. “You’re a good cook, but without guidance that’s all you’ll ever be. Some people will be cooks forever. All they will ever do is toss ingredients in a pot and expose it to fire." His fingers adjusted the lapels of her shirt to be perfectly symmetric, "But food - real food - is art, Savigne. Art is perfection. And perfection requires pain. Do you understand?"

She watched herself nod. 

"You are right handed, are you not?"

Her body blinked at this and nodded again. 

“There was never an artist who produced a masterwork without a proper buildup of pain,” he said quietly, gliding back to her left side. “Of humiliation. Of failure. Of rejection. Of shame. Not experiencing suffering is like being blind painter. It can not be done." His hand closed on her left upper arm. In her corner against the wall, Savigne just felt the slightest of pressure, but nothing else. 

“I require absolute submission. You are a tool in my hand. You will bend when I bend you. You will straighten when I straighten you. This…” he sighed with regret, “…is hard for some people. They can’t relieve themselves of their pride. But I have no use for such people. Do you understand?”

God, he really likes to hear himself speak, doesn’t he? her inner voice scoffed.

Her body shuddered slightly and shifted on her feet again, but stood steady. It was evident that Ecco's grip was painful, but in this corner, to her invisible self, it was distant, muted, like sound underwater. 

There was a mouse-like whimper from her body and a flush of color rush to her face.

“All these things I will give you. You will not like it. But you will excel under me. Just like a diamond forms from coal dust under pressure.”

Why won’t he apply that pressure to the likes of Ruth and Sarah then? Her inner voice mocked.

The cry of pain distracted her and she realized that it was coming from her body. She felt a stir of worry - she needed that body and didn’t want it to get hurt. Also…what if it left a mark? 

He knows it will. He wants you to worry. He knows you have a partner and he expects you to manage it.

Ecco shushed her and continued to tighten his grip until her body stopped whimpering - which was a long time - and only then did he release it.

Savigne noticed the tears streaking the cheeks of her double, saw the shuddering of breath she took.

“Well done,” Ecco cooed.

He walked around the desk and sat in his chair.

“Next time I call on you, don’t take as long as you did. My time is valuable. Now leave.”

Again, she walked around a long time thinking herself into corners and, in the process, walking into dead ends in Saint Denis. She tried to come up with things to console herself. Arthur was away, that was good. It was cooler now so she did wear a long sleeve nightgown to bed, that was good, too. The weight of the envelope in the pocket of her skirt was good. Then she got angry at herself for thinking these things and avoiding the real issue. Arthur was right, she really was a runner, a coward. And that would not serve her here, because the more she played along with it, the bolder Ecco got. Sarah might believe that he would eventually tire of her but Savigne had the gut feeling that he was only just starting.

So at long last when she found herself at the back door to the steakhouse again, this time she took a deep breath, pulled it open and entered. 

“Oh Lord,” Luther grumbled, lighting a cigarette. “Just when I was havin’ a good day.”

“I missed you too, Luther,” she said drily as she drew over the stool to perch up on it.

“Can’t miss ya if ya never stay away, ever think o’that?” he scoffed.

She didn’t say anything and just sat there, watching him grill the last batch of steaks for the day. That sense of shame came over her again. Like it was all her fault. For being ambitious and leaving the steakhouse, not knowing what a good thing she had. For not somehow being smarter or stronger. For convincing herself every time that it would pass when all it did was accelerate. For getting tangled in a mess she didn’t know the way out of. Even now, sitting here, she didn’t know what she was trying to accomplish except unload her problems on someone else and she felt shame for that, too. What if Luther was really sick and tired of her drama? He was an old man and had his own problems, didn’t he? Why did she come here to pester him with her own?

“What done happen now?” he interrupted her ruminating.

She felt the pulsing band of pain on her left arm, hot and searing as if she had pressed it against a frying pan and, to her own shock, exploded into sobs.

The big man stilled at this, but didn’t say anything for a while, just shuffled over and brought a cloth napkin.

“‘M sorry,” she cried, “I’m just…a sentimental mess these days.”

”It’s fine,” he said roughly and flipped some steaks. He brought her a glass of water and she drank it with shaking hands.

A long while passed as she slowly got herself under control and watched him cook. There was an admirable economy to his movements, a precision that came from long years of practice. His might not be art like Ecco’s food, but it was a craft - an inherent, almost instinctual sense of timing no matter the cut of meat. Something he made look easy, although she knew that juggling this many steaks with different requirements wasn’t easy. There was a reason Luther, despite holding a perfectly ordinary position, was like the king of the kitchen. As simple as it looked, he did his job extremely well. Customers could tell by the taste alone if he was at the grill or not. 

“You think Mister Harrison would give me my job here back?” she asked finally.

This surprised him. “Might could,” he said carefully. “Why? Ya finally sick of that fancy nonsense ya been cookin’?”

She shrugged and watched him work a little longer.

“Come to yer senses, have ya?” he teased her, probably to coax her out of her sullen mood. “Wanna cook real food again?”

“Yeah cause endlessly plating mashed potatoes is ‘cooking real food’” she rolled her eyes, wiping her cheeks.

“Apple pie is,” he countered.

“They have apple pie there,” she sniffed.

“But not mawmaw’s apple pie, is it?” he jabbed his steak fork at her. 

“What the hell is that?”

“True food,” he said around his cigarette. “Measured with instinct, baked with gut. Like yours.”

She clicked her tongue, a little abashed at the flattery. “It’s just plain pie.”

“Some things can’t be improved, Savigne,” he huffed. “Cause they perfect as is. Ya think on that.”

A few moments passed. “Why ya wanna come back?” he asked, more serious.

She hesitated. He gave her an inscrutable look at that, but didn’t push. 

“I’m thinking…” she mumbled, “…thinking…I just feel like…”

She couldn’t get it out, it was like a splinter wedged inside her. Taboo to look at, criminal to talk about. Luther turned some steaks and patiently lighted another cigarette. 

“Is it the work?” he tried to help.

She shook her head. He harrumphed.

“The pay, the hours?” She shook her head again. He hummed and contemplated that for a moment.

“Is it yer boss?” She felt the color surge up her face but even though he must have seen it, he didn’t push further. 

“Ya know I’m yer friend,” he said at long last.

“I know,” she whispered. Then: “Promise not to tell Arthur. Just in case he comes here. He probably won’t, it's very very unlikely, but just on the off chance…”

He gave her a long, heavy look and she blushed further under it. “Okay,” he said at last. “I won’ tell yer man.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. 

She told him everything, starting with Rachel. Then what Ruth had said. Then her hand. Then Sarah. What he had done in his office. Estelle. And then today. She cried about that last part and he offered her another big cloth napkin as she apologized again because of her ridiculous sentimentality. The cleaners came in and Luther dropped his apron, put on his jacket and his hat and ambled out with her in tow. She was grateful that Arthur was gone for a few days and enjoyed walking with him to the harbor, a comical pair overall, where they sat on a bank and watched the ships. Now that she had started talking, it was as if she couldn’t stop. Like it was a deluge no barrier could hold. She went on rants and side issues but Luther knew her well and reminded her to breathe and gently guided her back to the main subject.

There was a long silence after during which she just sat squirming as he smoked his cigarette. 

“You haven’t said a word in an hour,” she said finally, drawing her jacket closer against the chill evening. He took off his own jacket and put it over her shoulders. “No I’m fi-”

“Hush.”

A long while later she asked “What do you think I should do?”

“Ya should tell yer man.”

“He butchered a Murfree for touching me," Savigne hissed with some heat. "There isn't a chance he won't kill Ecco.”

Luther hitched his enormous shoulders. “Maybe the man needs killin’.”

She stared at him, speechless. “What does your Lord say about that?”

“Lord kills a lot of folks, don’ he?”

Savigne gave him a slow head turn at that. Sometimes she wondered if Luther really was who she thought he was. To her, he was a big plush teddy bear. But every now and then he said something that gave her pause. 

“Ya really gonna let this cockroach sink yer career? All them years of hard work?” he continued, his black eyes blazing at her.

“What choice do I have? I’m not letting him touch me again. It's just...escalating."

“Course not,” he scoffed. “Ain’t gonna just stay with touchin’ either, believe me that.” He gave her startled face a scoff. “Ya wasn’t born yesterday Savigne. You know for all his bluster, he just another sick gutter deviant.”

“Then I’ll just come back to the steakhouse. Or...I can find another job." She watched the reflection of the lights of Saint Denis swimming in the dark water. "Could also go somewhere far..."

“What about the next girl?”

She swallowed and looked away. “I know. But…what can I do? Do you think I should talk to the owners of Antoine’s?”

He chuckled with dark amusement. “They know.”

“You think so?”

He grimaced. “Course they know.”

“What should I do then? Don’t say 'tell Arthur' because I won’t. And you can’t either, remember that.”

He adjusted his hat and took a deep breath. “Lemme talk to Mr. Harrison.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Gettin’ late,” he groaned and rose to his feet. “‘M old and I need my sleep.” She handed him his jacket as they started walking towards the stables. “Ya gonna be okay ridin’ back?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed, then hugged his big chest and he gave her a meaty pat in the back. 

“Gonna be just fine, Savigne,” he sighed. “Gimme few days. And don' go up to his room no more. Ya hear?” 

“Okay,” she grinned with happiness and ran into the stable to pick up Cricket as Luther looked after her for a long time.

She swam back to consciousness and almost immediately felt his presence behind her, warm and heavy, sloping the mattress with his weight. She took a deep, quiet breath of relief and closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of knowing he was safe. If this had been six months ago, he would be in his own cot right now and she would be waking up in her small tent, completely oblivious to him, unaware that he had even left. Now his comings and goings, his presence and absence were natural forces that colored her days like the Sun and the Moon. How strange to think that for months she had slept a stone’s throw away from him and hadn’t given him a single thought. He had been a background character in her own story, merely a stage extra in her play. A man that she occasionally spotted in camp and of no particular interest to her. There was something both flimsy and frightening about the notion that they could have passed each other like ships in the dark and she would have never known that she had just missed out on a man she would come to love so profoundly. Was all of life really just luck? Of being at the right time in the right place? What if Javier had walked out of those bat doors in Valentine that day? What if she had rejected Arthur's absurd ask? What if the O'Driscolls had never come to camp? Never taken her? And he had never pursued her? What if, what if, what if... 

She carefully shifted to lie on her other side to face him and watched the shadows on his face move almost imperceptibly with his breathing as he slept. Awake, he was magnetic, intense; his presence hard to ignore. In sleep he looked at ease and vulnerable. The sharp corners of his jaw softened by the days long beard, petering out on his throat, the ridge of his nose, broken at some point and healed over, the criss-cross of lines around the eyes, the sun spots on his left cheek, the chapped lips, that scar on his chin and the strong eyebrows framing his eyes. Her gaze glided over the slope of his shoulder and the fuzz of hair on his chest, following the firm muscles of his arm to his wide forearm, ending with a big hand, resting in a loose fist. 

She watched his breathing, slow and subtle for a long time, trying to imagine what he would look like a year from now, five years from now, twenty years from now. If he would still be here by her side when she woke up or long gone. The idea marred her perfect morning and she pushed it away. When she sighed gently to dispel the cobwebs of sleep, he opened his eyes and looked at her. Then he slowly blinked, waking up, drawing a deep breath. 

“Welcome back,” she whispered and gently ran a hand over his cheek, down his chest. The heartbeat against her palm was slow and subtle, his skin warm. “I missed you.”

He watched her a long moment. “Wasn’t gone long,” was his raspy answer. 

She smiled. “Felt long.”

Her fingers glided through his hair, tucking it behind an ear as his azure gaze rested on her. Then his hand cradled her hip, gliding to her waist. She wondered if he still had moments when, even if only for a second, he was surprised by her presence as he woke up or if she had become a constant to him now like he was a constant to her. 

“Do you ever miss your cot, your own tent from before?” she whispered as birds outside started their twittering. Less of them now that Fall was here.

His brows furrowed with confusion “Why?”

She shrugged deftly, fingers stroking his beard. “I was thinking, how a few months ago you would have returned to your cot and I wouldn’t even know you left.”

The hand on her waist flexed, thumb brushing back and forth against her hip bone.

“What ya think of me back then?” he mumbled, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“You scared me,” she grinned, brushing his cheeks. "Thought you were a mean man."

"Ya let mean men take ya to the woods, Savigne?" was his amused question.

"Apparently," she huffed a laughter. "Probably the best stupid thing I ever did." 

“And after?” he asked at the heels of a silent moment. She knew that he meant after that first night and shrugged coyly.

There was a spark in his eyes as he hummed. “Thought of me, did ya?”

“No.”

His gaze became predatory as he read her lie. “Tell me.”

“Nothing to tell,” she huffed.

The corners of his lips curled smugly. “What ya spin in yer head?”

“Please,” she bit her cheek in mock annoyance. “I can barely remember. I was drunk.”

When she shifted to lie on her back, he followed and rolled to lie on top of her. His lips sought out hers, gentle and coaxing, the kiss teasingly slow but deepening in waves, capturing her mouth, then releasing it, then closing on it again.

“Did ya think on me takin’ you against that tree?” he whispered into her ear as he suckled on her lobe. She felt herself getting wet. These days it didn’t take much, really.

“Maybe,” she gasped as her palms glided over his shoulder blades, feeling the firmness and the warmth of his skin, slightly sticky with sweat as he rose on his elbows and kissed her harder. This has to be the best feeling in the world, she thought. Waking up next to someone you missed and making love in the quietness of the breaking dawn.

His face traveled down her neck, then her chest. He suckled her breast, leaving a dark mark on the fabric of her nightgown. She arched into his mouth and gasped as his beard scratched her sensitive skin. 

“What else?” he mumbled, giving her nipple a long lick with the flat of his tongue, blue eyes locked to hers.

“Can’t…recall.”

The fingers of his left hand snaked into her bloomers and glided over her wet folds. He hummed with approval. “Think you can,” he whispered.

She moaned when his callused trigger finger teasingly circled, parted and then entered her, her inner muscles closing on it eagerly. He grunted and and kissed her again as her hands danced on his ribs, clutching at his lower back.

“I imagined you came to my tent,” she gasped, squirming under him, hips undulating to get friction. 

He perched above her on one elbow, watching her face as his finger pumped her slow and deep.

“Go on.”

“I just…” she moaned, eyelids fluttering.

“Tell me what I did,” he grinned as she writhed in pleasure under him.

She could feel his hardness against her stomach but he had better control over his needs than she did these days. 

“You…touched me,” she moaned and rose on her elbows to kiss him hungrily. 

“Like this?” He curled his finger and she cried out softly against his lips, her nails leaving trails on his back.

She nodded with delirium and fell back on the pillow, panting with need. 

“What else?”

“Kissed me,” she whimpered, clawing at the sheets. The intensity of her arousal was frightening, gaping in front of her like a an open maw, ready to swallow her whole and consume her.

He kissed a trail down her chest as she watched him disappear under the covers. Her breath hitched as her nightgown was pulled aside and a trail of hot lips and wet tongue strolled casually down her stomach. His left hand never ceased its merciless slack pumping while his right hand glided her bloomers off. The stutter of a moan escaped her as he traversed down the patch of hair. 

“Like this?” was his muffled question before his lips closed on her folds as he curled his fingers and ever so slowly brushed against her sensitive spot. 

The jolt of lightning that forked through her blindsided her. Her thighs clamped on his head as she was surprised as she came immediately with a guttural groan, desperately clenching around his finger. He gently licked her bud and fingered her as she rode her orgasm, eyes rolling back in her head, her spine arching off the mattress. When she bonelessly fell back, he withdrew his finger and lapped at her wetness, curling his tongue to enter her as she panted his name. She felt on fire, burning with some internal flame that sometimes flared, sometimes smoldered, but refused to go out entirely.  

He crawled back up and emerged from under the covers, hair mussed, a broad grin on his lips and obnoxiously proud of himself.

“Ya taste different, little bird,” he drawled. “Stronger. Sweeter. I like it.”

She shuddered as she watched him insert his trigger finger into his mouth, suck it to the tip and remove it with a slight pop. There was something so unabashedly perverse about it, she found her arousal stirring at it again. “Oh god,” she moaned, bewildered at the reaction of her own body. "Think I'm going crazy."

Arthur was well aware of her heightened libido and happy to exploit it with maddening brazenness. His hands ran up her thighs and her stomach as he gave her a heated look. “What else?”

“You fucked me,” she said breathlessly. 

He rose on his knees, pulled down his cotton bottoms and positioned himself at her entrance as his eyes, blown with lust, locked on hers. She gasped at the mixture of pleasure and pain when he pushed in slowly, watching her face. He muttered a “Damn yer warm” as he pulled out all the way to the tip, then his hands gripped her hips and he pulled her to himself as he glided back in. 

“Like this?” was his rumble of a question.

She hissed a “Yes”, hands clutching at anything they could find. Her arousal was like a wild, furious fire, flaring up every time he pulled out entirely and bucked into her again. She closed her eyes, squirming and panting as he repeatedly and slowly slammed into her, their harsh breathing and the slapping of flesh on flesh loud in the early morning quietness.

“Or like this?”

Her right leg was pulled up against his shoulder, secured against his chest as he increased his pace and crouched over her. She felt his hot breath on her breasts as he fucked her into the bed, the angle allowing him a deeper penetration. She whimpered his name and stuttered an approval as her body went up in flames.

“Lemme guess…” he panted above her, “…then I did…this.” His pace increased as did the fervor of his thrusting. Fingers found and started to roughly massage her still sensitive nub, tearing peals of desperate cries from her throat. She rose on her head, nails digging into his shoulders as he grunted and those cowboy hips started rutting into her. Her mouth fell open, slack with mindless pleasure. He let go of her leg still hooked over his shoulder as his hand gripped the back of her neck and he crushed his lips against hers when she came, swallowing the scream of orgasm that tore from her.

She whimpered and spasmed as he rode her through it and moaned when he continued on, helplessly bucking and jerking and slapping into her until he groaned into her lips and she felt the warm spurts of his cum jetting into her, filling her. 

He gasped and tore his lips off hers, puffing gasps against her face as he stopped moving while her inner walls rhythmically milked him empty. 

“Christ,” he whispered as cracked open his eyes and found her looking at him, flushed and panting under him. She rose a little and kissed him gently on the lips before she fell back on her pillow. He let her leg drop around him as he settled above her on his elbows, breathing into her neck and groaning with pleasure when she ran her hands through his hair.

“No, I don' miss my cot,” he huffed with amusement and kissed her neck before he shifted to lie beside her and pulled back up his cotton bottoms. He lightly grasped her hand as they lied side by side and watched the light run through its spectrum of color for dawn. She asked him where he had been and what he had done like she usually did and he answered in his signature stoic way, both happy to perform their little private ritual as they basked in the afterglow of their orgasms.

She wished it was Sunday and she could just stay here and didn’t have to go back to that hellhole. Or better yet, that they could spend the day packing the wagon and pull out of camp, heading somewhere far away. As the weeks ticked by and the timeline grew closer, she grew even more eager and restless with the notion of leaving and both of them starting fresh - like clean, pure snow. They said it can be done in America - starting fresh. They said it was a big, wild country; that there were still a lot of places that offered anonymity, where you could be a new person as easily as changing your outfit.

Eventually she rose, sighed away her daydreams, gave him a kiss and scrambled off the bed. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” she asked as she wiped herself clean, then wiggled out of her nightgown. “Don’t say lasagna, you always want lasag-”

“What happened to yer arm?”

She glanced at him lying sideways on the bed, watching her and shifted to point her left side away from him. “Nothing.” She put on a clean chemise.

In the corner of her eye he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. “Lemme see.”

“I’m going to be late.” She put on a shirt and hastily buttoned it up, lifted her hair out of it, then turned to the shelf to find a fitting skirt. When he materialized right beside her as silent as a cat, she jumped a little with surprise. 

“Lemme see,” he said softly, his azure gaze locked on her.

“It’s nothing,” she said again and felt the stirrings of panic when he didn’t move away. 

“Wasn’ there when I left,” he drawled and stepped closer, watching her reaction. 

“I ran into something at work yesterday.”

A moment passed as they stood there and she felt the weight of his gaze crawling on her face. Savigne knew that she had never been a good liar, but it was utterly frustrating how even lies she thought she performed particularly well set off Arthur’s bullshit alarm.

She shifted on her feet, unable to hold his gaze and pulled up her skirt. 

“Savigne,” he said, voice soft but now the timbre of warning audible. “Show me yer arm.”

“You’re ridiculous, it’s nothing,” she rolled her eyes and fumbled with the ties of her skirt.

“Ain’t nothin’ if yer lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then show me yer arm.”

She pressed her lips, flustered and couldn’t make herself lock eyes with him, afraid that she would blush and give everything away. He started to unbutton her shirt. She gripped his hand to stop him and their gazes collided. He seemed unfazed by her hard stare, returned one of his own, roughly pushed her hand away and continued unbuttoning her shirt. When it was done, he peeled the left sleeve off and lifted her arm to inspect it closer. The purple had faded to a weak red but the imprint of a hand was obvious. His eyes flicked up to her face immediately and he looked at her for a long time as she stood there, silent.

“What happened?” was his quiet question.

“Someone gripped me a little hard at work.”

“Thought ya ran into something,” he said, his eyes hard.

“Yeah, they gripped me so I wouldn’t, that’s what I meant.” 

Another very long moment passed. Her earlier mood of joy turned to ash in her mouth. It had always been hard to look angry Arthur in the eye, but that day she found out that it was ten times harder when his anger was directed at her. This was no flare of ire either - something crested in his eyes like an iceberg pushing up the surface of blue waters and kept rising as she stood there, a deep sense of dread in her stomach. Chef Ecco had hurt her and the pain had scared her, true, but that seemed very mild compared to the trepidation she was feeling with Arthur looming above her right now. Not exactly fear of physical pain, but a sense of dismay combined with anguish at the idea of what would follow - the collapse of all her dreams. Her mind scattered down the forks in the road and where the offshoots lead and each one promised a prospect worse than the next. 

“Gonna ask again,” he said finally, voice audibly strained now. ���What. Happened?”

She stood under his hard stare, feeling obnoxiously exposed. Her heart was thumping in her ears and she had an irrational fear that he could hear it. She was about to respond but he was faster:

"And don' say nothin'."

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish several times and was unable to come up with something. 

He pulled a chair out and ordered her to sit. 

"I'm going to be la-"

"Don' care."

He pulled the other chair out and she flinched a little when he banged it down, ran a hand over his beard to calm himself, then sat across from her. 

Savigne morosely threaded her arm through her sleeve again and sat down, absentmindedly buttoning up her shirt. 

It got so silent, she heard the stirring of conversations in the camp even though it was a good distance away. 

"Arthur," she managed finally. "You have to trust me on this." She inspected her hands, unable to look him in the eye. "It's noth- it's not important."

"If it ain't important, should be easy to spill."

She wet her lips and started to draw shapes on the table.

"I was...I was..." she stammered, her mind going blank. At the orphanage, whenever her and her friends got caught doing mischief, Savigne had always been the weakest link. She would unravel immediately under the hard stare of the Sisters and spill everything, so much so that after a while the other girls didn't want her to string along anymore. When she had been angry and upset about this, arguing that she had just one of those faces and it wasn't her fault, her friends had told her that her mistake was not sticking to the lie. You have to stick to it, Savigne. No matter how absurd the lie, you can never stop telling it. Don't elaborate, don't explain, just repeat it. She had already messed up by embellishing the lie with the addition of how she almost ran into something, now she had to stick to it.

"I was going to run into something..." she started stubbornly.

"Woman..." was his growl.

"...I almost ran into something and someone in the kitchen grabbed me too hard," she rattled off. It reminded her of the prayers she would prattle off when asked to - a jumble of sounds that had been reduced to meaningless memorized gobbledygook with years of repetition.

Another long minute passed. "Did the same someone..." he said and she heard the creak of his chair as he slowly leaned his elbows on the table between them, "...grab yer hand back when, too?"

Her eyes jerked up to him in shock before she could control her reaction. She could have sworn that something ignited in his eyes then. It was eerie how clever Arthur was, really. It's like he never threw anything out and just stockpiled his memories only to be retrieved later to neatly line them up to reveal ghosts of patterns and conclusions that weren’t there before.

Regardless, she found herself saying "N-no."

"Y'aint denyin' someone grabbed yer hurt hand, then?" he said slowly, as if talking to a child. 

"I don't...remember," she whispered. She had been unable to look at him and now that she had, she couldn't look away.

He just sat there, gaze unblinking and so hard, it had a weight to it. He had never looked at her with this sort of anger before and she had an irrational fear that it would set her skin aflame. 

"Please," she whispered and wet her lips again. "It was just an accident." When he didn't respond, she was desperate to try again: "I'm going to be late."

He looked at her so long, she thought she must have not said it out loud and was about to again, but then, to her utter surprise, he suddenly said "Fine."

She hesitated, thinking she must have misheard him. Or that a "but" would follow with a threat of some kind if she left the tent. 

When nothing of the sort happened she dared to ask "Really?"

His jaw clenched as if he was fighting himself to say it but eventually he managed a "Really."

"Okay," she sighed and the relief that washed over her made her dizzy for a moment. "Okay. It was noth-" He looked away as if insulted and she swallowed the rest of the sentence. "Sorry."

She hastily got up and finished dressing and didn't even bother with her hair, just grabbed her satchel. Then she had a terrifying idea.

"You're not going to storm into Antoine's or anything like that, right?" was her timid question. 

"Was an accident, no?" was his sarcastic, bitter retort. 

"Yes. Accident," she said breathlessly. 

"Okay then." He clicked his tongue and grimaced like he was willing to humor her nonsense. 

In her gut, she knew he didn't believe a single word she had said but ultimately the danger had passed. She hadn't cracked under pressure and there was nobody else who could tell him, she had made sure of that. A relief flooded through her along with guilt. "Lasagna tonight?" she asked, eager to move on and to make it up to him.

He wouldn't look at her but nodded in agreement. Wary to push her luck further, she ran out after that, hesitated when she remembered that she hadn't kissed him goodbye halfway to her horse, then decided that it's not important right now and ran on.

Perhaps, if she had known that this was the last time they would make love in that tent, she would have decided otherwise.