#les packer x reader

[bullet-prooflove]

SOA Masterlist

Alexander 'Tig' Trager Masterlist

David Hale Masterlist

Filip 'Chibs' Telford Masterlist

Herman Kozik Masterlist

Juan Carlos 'Juice' Ortiz Masterlist

Les Packer Masterlist

Nero Padilla Masterlist

[the-hinky-panda]

Strings: Part I

Title: Strings

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Les Packer x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Les had been high school sweethearts. You're going to be a music teacher, he's going to climb the ranks of the SAMDINO MC. The only thing that stands in your way is his mentally unstable brother, Isaac. Things fall apart and fifteen years later, your daughter calls Les for help when you're in a coma and she's trying to figure out how to stay out of foster care. Les is faced with figuring out if you daughter is his or possibly Isaac's. Either way, he can't walk away for a second time from you and your daughter.

She looks like you, that’s the first thing that strikes Les. 

Her posture, straight and tense, the waves of hair falling over her shoulders, the serious set of her mouth. It isn’t until he enters the small diner and approaches the table that he realizes her nose and eyes are not like yours at all. 

They’re a Packer’s. 

The eye color is a mix, blue and green, like an unsettled sea. But the shape is most definitely Packer. 

“Zoey, I presume?” As if she could be anyone else. 

She nods once, those eerie eyes studying his face. “Mr. Packer.” 

He hears one of his guys snort from a couple booths over. Hoosier from the sound of it. He wasn’t sure if this was a set up or not so back up was a must. Now, he’s regretting that decision. With a heavy sigh, he slips into the booth across from her. He doesn’t know if she knows anything about him, or Isaac. What you told her about her father. He doesn’t have enough information going into this meeting so he does what he always does in these situations: get the other person to talk. 

“Alright, say what you have to say.” 

She reaches under the table and pulls out a stack of slightly yellowed envelopes, all tied neatly together with a fraying blue ribbon. “My mom told me where to find these letters, in case anything happened to her.” She pushes them with shaking hands across the scratched formica towards him. “There’s not too many Les Packers in California. I just assumed…” 

He recognizes the ribbon, remembers when he gave it to you, and fights the urge to reach out and touch it. He had used it to tie the stems of wildflowers together in a poor excuse of a bouquet when he had asked you out to some music in the park festival in Redlands. The next day, after the wildflowers had been arranged in a canning jar with water, you used the ribbon to tie your hair back away from your face while you played the guitar on a dilapidated back porch. He can still remember what the curve of your cheek felt like under his fingers, soft as the satin of the ribbon. 

He clears his throat. “So something has happened to your mother?” 

Zoey nods. “Yeah.” 

“Is she…” even after sixteen years of distance, he still can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. 

“No, but it’s bad. She’s in a coma.” 

“For how long?” 

“Six days today.” Zoey folds her hands in front of her and Les sees the ring on her middle finger. A small sterling silver band with a teardrop piece of turquoise. 

“Your mama give you that ring?” 

“No,” she turns it around her finger nervously. “I found it with the letters. In a safety deposit box. Do you want it-” 

It’s a cheap thing he bought from a street vendor in San Diego. You had loved it, the colored veins in the blue rock. You had called it a piece of art and he handed over a twenty dollar bill for the treasure. He shakes his head. “Nah. Tell me what happened to your mom.” 

“She was in an accident. On her motorcycle. She was coming back from a music recital at the middle school when a drunk driver clipped her. The police said she skidded across the road and h…h…hit a tree.” 

That’s a nasty type of accident and it sounds like a miracle that you’re just in a coma and not dead. “Do you think that’s what really happened?” 

Zoey’s entire face clouds over, tears gathering quickly in her eyes. “Yeah. The police arrested the guy.” 

“So what am I here for?” 

She pulls out another envelope, thick and wrinkled. “Here. It’s not a lot, about $560 but it’s all I have.” 

He glances in the envelope and finds mostly $10s and $5s. “Where did you get this money?” 

She fiddles with the fraying end of a braided bracelet around her wrist. “I’ve always saved up money. It’s just my mom and me. Some months are harder to pay the bills than others so I save up what I can to help when that happens.” 

Les closes the envelope and sets it down on the table between them. It pains him to no end to hear that you’ve had to struggle financially because of him. Because of Isaac. And what little bit he had tried to do for you, to help ease that burden, wasn’t enough. “How old are you?” 

“Fifteen.” 

He nods in understanding. “CPS is starting to snoop around.” 

Zoey uses a shaky hand to wipe away her tears. “Yeah. They’re talking about putting me in a foster home. I overheard the lady tell the doctor that they need to get me in placement as soon as possible for when my mom…” She chokes down a sob. “My best friend in school is in a foster home. She says it’s terrible. She sleeps on the floor, has to take care of the younger kids and work a part time job. And the father…” 

God, what is wrong with the world? Like he needed that confirmation to make his decision. He slides the money back over to her, along with the letters. Her face falls, thinking he’s going to say no. He’s failed in protecting you and your daughter. He’s not about to let that mistake continue. He’s stayed on the sidelines for far too long. 

“What hospital is your mama in?”

[gilbertineonfr2]

SSTIC 2017 Wrap-Up Day #1

I’m in Rennes, France to attend my very first edition of the SSTIC conference. SSTIC is an event organised in France, by and for French people. The acronym means “Symposium sur la sécurité des technologies de l’information et des communications“. The event has a good reputation about its content but is also known to have a very strong policy to sell tickets. Usually, all of them are sold in a few minutes, spread across 3 waves. I was lucky to get one this year. So, here is my wrap-up! This is already the fifteen edition with a new venue to host 600 security people. A live streaming is also available and a few hundred people are following talks remotely.

The first presentation was performed by  Octave Klaba who’s the CEO of the OVH operator. OVH is a key player on the Internet with many services. It is known via the BGP AS16276. Octave started with a complete overview of the backbone that he build from zero a few years ago. Today, it has a capacity of 11Tpbs and handles 2500 BGP sessions. It’s impressive how this CEO knows his “baby”. The next part of the talk was a deep description of their solution “VAC” deployed to handle DDoS attacks. For information, OVH is handler ~1200 attacks per day! They usually don’t communicate with them, except if some customers are affected (the case of Mirai was provided as an example by Octave). They chose the name “VAC” for “Vacuum Cleaner“. The goal is to clean the traffic as soon as possible before it enters the backbone. An interesting fact about anti-DDoS solutions: it is critical to detect them as soon as possible. Why? Let’s assume that your solution detects a DDoS within x seconds, attackers will launch attacks of less than x seconds. Evil! The “VAC” can be seen as a big proxy and is based on multiple components that can filter specific types of protocols/attacks. Interesting: to better handle some DDoS, the OVH teams reversed some gaming protocols to better understand how they work. Octave described in deep details how the solution has been implemented and is used today… for any customer! This is a free service! It was really crazy to get so many technical details from a… CEO! Respect!

The second talk was “L’administration en silo” by Aurélien Bordes and focused on some best practices for Windows services administration. Aurélien started with a fact: When you ask a company how is the infrastructure organised, they speak usually about users, data, computers, partners but… they don’t mention administrative accounts. From where and how are managed all the resources? Basically, they are three categories of assets. They can be classified based on colours or tiers.

Red: resources for admins

Yellow: core business

Green: computers

The most difficult layer to protect is… the yellow one. After some facts about the security of AD infrastructure,  Aurélien explained how to improve the Kerberos protocol. The solution is based on FAST, a framework to improve the Kerberos protocol. Another interesting tool developed by Aurélien: The Terminal Server Security Auditor. Interesting presentation but my conclusion is that in increase the complexity of Kerberos which is already not easy to master.

During the previous talk, Aurélien presented a slide with potential privilege escalation issues in an Active Directory environment. One of them was the WSUS server. It’s was the topic of the research presented by Romain Coltel and Yves Le Provost. During a pentest engagement, they compromised a network “A” but they also discovered a network “B” completely disconnected from “A”. Completely? Not really, there were WSUS servers communicating between them. After a quick recap of the WSUS server and its features, they explained how they compromised the second network “B” via the WSUS server. Such a server is based on three major components:

A Windows service to sync

A web service web to talk to clients (configs & push packages)

A big database

This database is complex and contains all the data related to patches and systems. Attacking a WSUS server is not new. In 2015, there was a presentation at BlackHat which demonstrated how to perform a man-in-the-middle attack against a WSUS server. But today, Romain and Yves used another approach. They wrote a tool to directly inject fake updates in the database. The important step is to use the stored procedures to not break the database integrity. Note that the tool has a “social engineering” approach and fake info about the malicious patch can be injected too to entice the admin to allow the installation of the fake patch on the target system(s). To be deployed, the “patch” must be a binary signed by Microsoft. Good news, plenty of tools are signed and can be used to perform malicious tasks. They use the tool psexec for the demo:

psexec -> cmd.exe -> net user /add

The DB being synced between different WSUS servers, it was possible to compromise the network “B”. The tool they developed to inject data into the WSUS database is called WUSpendu. A good recommendation is to put WSUS servers in the “red” zone (see above) and to consider them as critical assets. Very interesting presentation!

After two presentations focusing on the Windows world, back to the UNIX world and more precisely Linux with the init system called systemd. Since it was implemented in major Linux distribution, systemd has been the centre of huge debates between the pro-initd and pro-systemd. Same for me, I found it not easy to use, it introduces complexity, etc… But the presentation gave nice tips that could be used to improve the security of daemons started via systemd. A first and basic tip is to not use the root account but many new features are really interesting:

seccomp-bpf can be used to disable access to certain syscalls (like chroot() or obsolete syscalls)

capacities can be disabled (ex: CAP_NET_BIND_SERVICE)

name spaces mount (ex: /etc/secrets is not visible by the service)

Nice quick tips that can be easily implemented!

The next talk was about Landlock by Michael Salaün. The idea is to build a sandbox with unprivileged access rights and to run your application in this restricted space. The perfect example that was used by Michael is a multi-media player. This kind of application includes many parsers and is, therefore, a good candidate to attacks or bugs. The recommended solution is, as always, to write good (read: safe) code and the sandbox must be seen as an extra security control. Michael explained how the sandbox is working and how to implement it. The example with the media player was to allow it to disable write access to the filesystem except if the file is a pipe.

After the lunch, a set of talks was scheduled around the same topic: analysis of code. If started with “Static Analysis and Run-time Assertion checking” by Dillon Pariente, Julien Signoles. The presented Frama-C a framework of C code analysis.

Then Philippe Biondi, Raphaël Rigo, Sarah Zennou, Xavier Mehrenberger presented BinCAT (“Binary Code Analysis Tool”). It can analyse binaries (x86 only) but will never execute code. Just by checking the memory, the register and much other stuff, it can deduce a program behaviour. BinCAT is integrated into IDA. They performed a nice demo of a keygen tool. BinCAT is available here and can also be executed in a Docker container. The last talk in this set was “Désobfuscation binaire: Reconstruction de fonctions virtualisées” by Jonathan Salwan, Marie-Laure Potet, Sébastien Bardin. The principle of the binary protection is to make a binary more difficult to analyse/decode but without changing the original capabilities. This is not the same as a packer. Here there is some kind of virtualization that emulates proprietary bytecode. Those three presentations represented a huge amount of work but were too specific for me.

Then, Geoffroy Couprie, Pierre Chifflier presented “Writing parsers like it is 2017“. Writing parsers is hard. Just don’t try to write your own parser, you’ll probably fail. But parsers are available in many applications. They are hard to maintain (old code, handwritten, hard to test & refactor). Issues based on parsers can have huge security impacts, just remember the Cloudbleed bleed bug! The proposed solution is to replace classic parsers by something stronger. The criteria’s are: must be memory safe, called by / can call C code and, if possible, no garbage collection process. RUST is a language made to develop parsers like nom. To test it, it has been used in projects like the VLC player and the Suricata IDS. Suricata was a good candidate with many challenges: safety, performance. The candidate protocol was TLS. About VLC and parser, the recent vulnerability affecting the subtitles parser is a perfect example why parsers are critical.

The last talk of the day was about caradoc. Developed by the ANSSI (French agency), it’s a toolbox able to decode PDF files. The goal is not to extract and analyse potentially malicious streams from PDF files. Like the previous talk, the main idea was to avoid parsing issues. After reviewing the basics of the PDF file format, Guillaume Endignoux, Olivier Levillain made two demos. The first one was to open the same PDF file within two readers (Acrobat and Fox-It). The displayed content was not the same. This could be used in phishing campaigns or to defeat the analyst. The second demo was a malicious PDF file that crashed Fox-It but not Adobe (DDoS). Nice tool.

The day ended with a “rump” session (also called lighting talks by other conferences). I’m really happy with the content of the first day. Stay tuned for more details tomorrow! If you want to follow live talks, the streaming is available here.

[The post SSTIC 2017 Wrap-Up Day #1 has been first published on /dev/random]

from Xavier

[bullet-prooflove]

Was she worth it?

That’s the question that Bishop asks Les as they sit on the porch outside of the clubhouse in Santo Padre. The two men are smoking cigars and watching Gilly beat the shit out of one of Les’s San Bernardino guys, Rhino, a bruiser who was stupid enough to get into the cage with him. Les winces as Rhino goes down before handing over a hundred bucks to Bishop.

“Yea.” He says blowing out smoke from the cigar. “She was worth it.”

“I was sorry to hear that she’d passed.” Bishop says quietly.

Les hunches over, it’s been a couple of months now and he still feels the agony inside of his chest. It’s why he’s on the road so much lately, he can’t stand to be home these days. The house is too lonely without you, everywhere he looks is another memory and he can’t face that.

“Yea.” Les whispers as he stares out into the darkness. “Me too.”

[bullet-prooflove]

We just roll around beneath these sheets

Les Packer pretty please!!

Young!Les Packer Series - Fallen Star

Les can't get enough of you, the way you feel in his sheets as he makes love to you, the waning afternoon light filtering though the wooden blinds as he kisses you as if his life depends on it, as if yours does to.

Your eyes are on his, your fingers threading in his hair as your back arches meeting his thrusts. You're close, he can feel it in the way you tighten around his cock, your fingertips digging into his tattoos on his shoulders, that pretty flush creeping cross your cheeks.

When you come, he comes with you spilling his release deep inside as your thighs grip his waist drawing him in all the way to the hilt.

In the aftermath he holds you close, his thumb sweeping over the ridged scarring of the brand that has been seared into your skin.

He remembers the first time he saw you, walking into the general store in that sundress, the edges of the brand peeking out across the flat of your shoulders.

"She's one of those Fallen Star girls." Timbers had said to him. "That cult on the outskirts of the forest."

"You mean the hippies?" He'd replyed pulling on his leather gloves.

"Man, you haven't been around long enough to know the shit that they get up to." Timbers tells him.

He knows now, he knows that they don't value their women, that they treat them like a commodity. He knows that they brand them, try to cow them, treat them like livestock. You've been with the cult five years due to your father but they still haven't broken your spirit.

"You can't go back there." He whispers as his fingertips trace across your cheek. "I can't take this anymore. I can't stand the thought of them hurting you."

"They'll come for me if I stay." You say as he trails over the star blazed into your shoulder. "You know they'll kill us both."

[bullet-prooflove]

Say my name

for Les Packer

You whisper at the pinnacle of release. "My real one."

His grip tightens on your hips and he slows his motions, he looks into your eyes and he breathes it and the noise you make...

It kills him.

When your father had joined the cult you had been reborn and the name they had given you was Aurora. You fucking hated it.

Les is the only person who calls you by your real name, the only one who knows who you really are.

He says it again and you come for him, the orgasm tearing through your synapses as he drinks down your pleasure with a thousand greedy kisses.

"You'll never be Aurora to me," he tells you in the aftermath. "You'll always be who you are right now."

***Part of the Fallen Star Universe - Young! LES Packer ***

[bullet-prooflove]

Wife Number Nine: Young!Les Packer x Reader

Part of the Young!LesPacker Fallen Star Series

Companion piece to Stolen Kisses & Sheets

Tagging: @kishie8 @aaa111aaa222 @oureternalbond @kirisimpster @words-and-seeds @thump31 @thandesa91 @lifeis-tooshort @anime-weeb-4-life @genius2050

It’s past midnight when you turn up at Les’s door with a thirteen-year-old beauty queen and a Colt 44 that’s still warm to the touch.

“Molly?” he questions when his eyes land on the young girl clad in a thin white nightdress that leaves little to the imagination with a man’s denim jacket thrown over her shoulders.

The last thing he expects is to see Timber’s daughter under your care. He’s spent days putting up missing person’s posters, shaking down every low life in town and putting the fear of God into anyone who’s ever laid hands on a child. He’d never thought…

He knew the cult were fucked up, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind because she was so fucking young. He thinks of you back then, sixteen and already a bride. He realises he should have known; he knew Fallen Star are dangerous, he’s seen the scars across your skin…

“Wife number nine.” You say quietly as you set the gun down on the sideboard and gently guide Molly into his home.  “They took her when she was on the way back from the library. Her backpack’s still there…”

Molly finally tilts her head up towards him, her eyes are dull and glassy. Her pupils are pinpricks drowned out by the hues of her iris, there’s no recognition in them despite the fact he’s been present in her life for a couple of years by now.

“It’s the drugs.” You explain as you settle Molly on the couch, she lays down on her side and closes her eyes as you drape the tartan blanket that his mother had given him over her lithe frame. “It’s supposed to make the first time easier…”

He can tell from the tone of your voice that it doesn’t.

The two of you move into the kitchen, you close the door over behind you, leaving a gap so that you can keep an eye on Molly.

“Did he…” Les can’t bring himself to say it.

You shake your head.

“I didn’t let it get that far.” You tell him as you lean against the kitchen counter your arms crossed over your chest. He can read you like a book; he knows what it means when you withdraw like this, he knows that if you drew up the sleeves of that white peasant blouse that he’d see the bruises. He knows why Molly remains untouched. His jaw tightens at the thought, and he wishes you had never had to make that choice.

“I need to call Timber.” He says, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck. “When he finds out where she’s been…”

You both know what’s about to happen. As soon as the MC learns about what happened, they’re going to wipe Fallen Star off the face of the earth. Anybody who was complicit in the kidnapping is going to end up buried.

“If you want to get someone out, now’s the time to do it.” He tells you as his hand rests upon avocado rotary phone.

You both know that he’s talking about your father, the man who traded you to the sixty year old man, who became your husband so that he could take his place as one of the elders. The man who’s going to beat you bloody, who’s going to kill you when he finds you’ve left the leader of Fallen Star naked and dead in the middle of his bedroom with a hole the size of your fist in his chest.

“No.” You say resolutely. “He knew what they were doing when they took her, he knew how old she was, that she was just a little girl…”

You trail off as you feel the weight of it all starting to collapse in on you, it builds up in your chest and you blink rapidly but you hold it together because this isn’t about you. This is about Molly, about making sure she stays safe, because you are sure as shit know they will try to get her back, even with Ben dead. She’ll be forced to marry the next man, bear his children, it’s a cycle that won’t ever end, not unless someone makes it.

“Do it.” You tell Les. “Make the call.”

Love Les? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

let me take it off for you.

For Mr. Les Packer, pretty please!

Les whispers against your skin as you struggle undoing the buttons on the white dress you're wearing. His thumb ghosts along the line of your jaw as you look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

His deft fingers undo each of the buttons, loosening the fabric until it slips from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You practically virginal, a simple white bra that shows the darkness of your nipples and thin cotton panties with a damp patch spreading between your legs.

Fuck, he thinks, his mouth going dry at the sight. He drops to his knees and presses his face into the juncture, inhaling the sweet scent of your arousal.

"Has anyone ever..." he trails off as you shake your head.

It takes everything in him to slow things down, to stop himself from utterly devouring you. His lips ghost over your clit, as his fingertips chase along the back of your thigh.

"Can I?"

[bullet-prooflove]

Flowers: Les Packer x Reader

Whenever Les thinks of you he thinks of flowers.

He thinks of the orange rose to used caress the contours of your skin as you lay amongst his sheets, the delicate petals trailing over your nipples before his lips follow suit. The dark, subtle scent of irises clinging to your skin as he makes love to you by candlelight on the couch.

When he leaves, he always finds himself smiling grimly at the sunflowers on either side of your door as he kisses you goodbye, because he doesn’t want to leave, he wants to stay, wrapped up in you for the rest of his life.

Whenever he goes away on ‘business’ you find a small bundle of forget-me-nots in the antique milkjug your grandmother left you. It touches something deep inside your heart because you know wherever he is, he’s thinking about you too.

Love Les? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[the-hinky-panda]

Strings: Part III

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Les Packer x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Les had been high school sweethearts. You're going to be a music teacher, he's going to climb the ranks of the SAMDINO MC. The only thing that stands in your way is his mentally unstable brother, Isaac. Things fall apart and fifteen years later, your daughter calls Les for help when you're in a coma and she's trying to figure out how to stay out of foster care. Les is faced with figuring out if you daughter is his or possibly Isaac's. Either way, he can't walk away for a second time from you and your daughter.

“When was the last time you ate?” 

Zoey covers her mouth with her hand as she chews the massive bite she just took out of a hamburger. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles behind her hand. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. Kinda killed my appetite.” 

Les forces a smile at the comment, memories of shoving greasy bags of take out into Isaac’s room whenever “inspiration” took hold of him. Isaac would write, paint, sing, draw, whatever outlet of creativity happened to strike him at the moment. He would become obsessed with self-expression to the point that he would forget to eat or sleep. Les was once again shoved into the position of caring for his younger brother. The fact that Zoey shares in that temperament kills Les’ appetite and he slides his untouched burger over to her. 

“So CPS is off your back and you’re feeling okay with that?” 

She nods her head emphatically. “I was so scared of where I was going to end up. My friend, Tilda, her foster family actually made a request for me to live with them.” 

Ah yes, the friend with the handsy foster father. “Tilda, that’s your friend who sleeps on the floor and takes care of the kids, and…” 

Zoey grabs a fry and dips it in the small plastic cup of ketchup. “Yeah, that’s her.” 

It infuriates him thinking about the possibility of Zoey being in that same situation. “What’s the family’s name?” 

She looks up at him with those hopeful eyes. “You can get her out of there? Can she live with us?” 

Les holds up his hand. “Slow down. First of all, I’m only here until your mama wakes up. So ‘us’ is very temporary. Second, I don’t know what to do about your friend but I’m willing to look into it. If something can be done, I’ll do it. But don’t go giving her false hope.” 

Zoey nods in understanding. “I get it. Thank you, for whatever happens.” 

He snags a fry off her plate. “Your mama got me into dipping these things in hot wing sauce whenever we would go to music festivals. If we couldn’t find that, we used bbq sauce.” 

Zoey smiles and slides a couple of the ketchup cups towards him. They’re not filled with ketchup but bbq sauce. “She taught me that too. So is that how you two met? At a music festival?”

Les takes another fry from her plate. “No, it wasn’t a music festival. We met in high school.” 

 Isaac had been caught smoking a joint in the boys bathroom that afternoon. Thank God he had unloaded the crack he had brought to school that morning or else Les would have been waiting for him down at the police station and not at the high school. Their mother was on her way to the school but she had to finish her shift at the steakhouse before attending another sit down with the principal over her out of control son. Their father just flat out refused to even speak to the school anymore. 

So Les has an hour to kill before Isaac is released into the frustrated hands of his parent and he ends up going where he always goes: the music room. No one knows he plays the guitar, that he started teaching himself at the age of ten. His father took him along to one of his motorcycle club’s parties and one of the guys had a guitar sitting in the garage with an inch of dust on it. Les had found a music book in the beaten up case and taught himself how to play jingle bells that night. It only progressed from there. He can now play by ear and has his own instrument stashed behind a stack of tires in the garage. 

But as he approaches the door to the music room, he hears music already spilling out into the empty hallway of the high school. It’s a mix of guitar and percussion. He peers through the small window to see who is in the room but he only sees you. He watches as your fingers dance along the frets and strings, and then he sees you strike the body of the guitar with the heel of your hand. That creates the percussion sound. He doesn’t even realize he’s opened the door and stepped inside until silence replaces the music. 

You stare up at him with wide, surprised eyes. He takes in a breath to say something but you jump to your feet. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” 

He holds his hand up to stop you. “No, don’t go.” 

“I don’t want any trouble. Please.” 

Fucking Isaac and his reputation is starting to pull Les’ reputation under as well. Les is a senior, keeps his grades just above passing even though he could have straight A’s. He thought he was just playing it cool but perhaps his actions were listing him into degenerate space. He doesn’t like seeing the fear in your eyes, the tremble in your hands around the neck of the guitar. 

“No trouble. Promise.” 

He gives you a small smile and that seems to calm you somewhat. “Okay. Um, do you…do you play?” 

He sticks his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugs. “A little, yeah. Not like you though.” 

You duck your head in embarrassment and brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was just messing around. It’s not exactly traditional skills. Mr. Elledge would kill me for hitting the body of the guitar like that.” 

“I thought it was beautiful. Could you teach me?” 

You think about it for a minute before nodding. “Okay. Sure.” 

He remembers taking that guitar from you, the strings still warm from your hands. He remembers the scent of your shampoo, rosemary and thyme, as your hair fell over the both of them as you maneuvered his hands into the percussion positions. He remembers the warmth of your body pressed against his back. He remembers the desire that settled under his skin that prompted him to seek you out every day after that at school. 

“My mom plays the guitar?” 

The question wounds him. “She used to play all the time.” 

“Huh.” Zoey sips at her soda. “I’ve heard her play the piano and a little on the cello, but never a guitar.” 

He wonders what it was exactly that made you give up the guitar, the instrument that was constantly in your hands. He hopes he’s not the reason why you gave up the thing that brought the two of you together. That thought causes him to worry what your reaction will be when you wake up from the coma. “Well, when she comes to, you’ll have to ask her to play something for you.” 

Zoey nods silently, taking his words as they were intended: hopeful. 

[the-hinky-panda]

Strings Series (Les Packer x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Les Packer x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Les had been high school sweethearts. You're going to be a music teacher, he's going to climb the ranks of the SAMDINO MC. The only thing that stands in your way is his mentally unstable brother, Isaac. Things fall apart and fifteen years later, your daughter calls Les for help when you're in a coma and she's trying to figure out how to stay out of foster care. Les is faced with figuring out if you daughter is his or possibly Isaac's. Either way, he can't walk away for a second time from you and your daughter.

Part I

Part II

Part III

[the-hinky-panda]

Strings: Part II

Title: Strings

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Les Packer x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Les had been high school sweethearts. You're going to be a music teacher, he's going to climb the ranks of the SAMDINO MC. The only thing that stands in your way is his mentally unstable brother, Isaac. Things fall apart and fifteen years later, your daughter calls Les for help when you're in a coma and she's trying to figure out how to stay out of foster care. Les is faced with figuring out if you daughter is his or possibly Isaac's. Either way, he can't walk away for a second time from you and your daughter.

TW: This chapter has a mention of rape.

Les Packer is a tough son of a bitch and there is very little that surprises or unnerves him. Seeing you lying in a hospital bed, tubes and IVs and monitors surround you makes his heart race and his palms sweat. The constant beeping of your heartbeat, the whoosh of the ventilator, the ticking of your brain waves are all hopeful signs that you’ll survive this but the constant noise grates at his nerves. Your coloring is off, your eyes closed, your hands are still. He remembers you always being so animated, bright, and full of life. You didn’t stay still for longer than necessary.

You’re almost unrecognizable. 

Almost. 

Zoey goes through the routine of setting down her backpack in one of the pastel vinyl chairs in the room, opening the blinds, and putting fresh water in a plastic vase of drooping roses. She picks up the dropped petals and drops them into the small trash can in the bathroom. The routine has come so naturally to her, she seems to forget that he’s even in the room at the moment. It’s when she turns from the trash can that she seems to finally notice him. 

“When was the last time you saw her?” 

Les smooths a hand over the soft leather of his kutte, wishing he could touch you. But it’s been so long, too much damage hangs between the two of you. Damage he had hoped one day to fix but it seems time may have run out. “It’s been sixteen years.” 

Your hair has been braided, the thick rope draped over the side of your bruised neck and shoulder. Zoey carefully undoes the plait and gently brushes your hair. There’s no movement from you whatsoever, no flicker of eye movement, tic of your cheek. He steps up to the other side of the bed and slips his hand into yours. His fingertips brush over yours, looking for the familiar callouses he had come to love feeling against his skin. But they’re not there anymore. Another thing lost. 

Zoey turns those blue-green eyes towards him, studying his face with a shrewd intelligence, as she rebraids your hair. She almost looks like Isaac in her intensity, her planning and scheming. “She told me my father died before I was born.” 

It’s almost a challenge but more of a question. He wonders if she went home last night and recognized her eyes in the mirror, that she saw the similarities that he did. That she has the same questions he does: who is her father? There’s only one person who can answer that and you may never be able to solve that mystery for them. 

He understands, with almost a sad resignation, why you would have said that and it only seems to confirm his suspicions. He stays quiet, neither confirming or denying anything. He had been hopeful last night when he had returned home that Zoey had been his own child, born out of passion, love, and joy. Instead, evidence is pointing to his unstable brother and his off the charts intelligence. This struggle brings back another time with stunning clarity when he struggled with the idea of Zoey being his daughter or his niece. 

He’d been standing in front of your door for ten minutes, squeezing and twisting the soft stuffed rabbit in his hand. This was the third time he’s ridden down to Santee, a suburb of San Diego that was dilapidated and falling down. He wished you would get a better lock on your door, carry mace or a knife on your person. But he did see how the community treats you and it’s with nothing but kindness. 

Especially now that the baby was born. 

A little girl with your dark hair and bright blue eyes. She’s beautiful and fierce. And he wants nothing more than to protect you both. But he can’t. That night at the clubhouse, in the middle of the chaos of celebration with a group of Sons from Seattle, proved he couldn’t protect you. That’s why he didn’t blame you for leaving him and San Bernardino. You deserved so much better, as does the little girl you’ve been gifted. 

He took an envelope out of his back pocket. It had a note, words filled with regret, bitterness, and a need for forgiveness, that he had spent hours writing. It also had $500 in it, a pitiful amount to help as best he can with this burden you’ve taken on yourself. He wanted you to know he realized just how much he failed you. How he failed your child. How desperate he was to make it up to you both, if it was at all possible. But then he recalls that night with razor sharp clarity:  you in the dim light of the clubhouse, holding your ripped blouse closed, a dark navy shirt with bright yellow lemons on it. It’s a sunny, happy shirt that you only wear on special occasions. There was a thin rivulet of blood running from your nose, some of it already smeared as you had tried to wipe it away. Your eyes, dark ringed with smudged mascara, downcast and tear filled as you slipped out the backdoor. 

He removed the note from the envelope. He didn’t deserve forgiveness for that. Not yet at least. When he trades in his Sergeant at Arms flash for the Vice President, and then the President’s flash, when he officially takes Isaac’s kutte from him and banishes him for good from the club and San Bernardino, then he can come ask for your forgiveness. Until that happens, he has no right to invade your life.  So he set down the stuffed rabbit with the envelope of money in front of your door and left. 

“Mr. Packer?”

“Les.” He chuckles. “Well, when CPS comes around, better call me Uncle Les.” 

Zoey finishes off your braid and ties the end, a small smile on her face. “Uncle Les. I like that.” 

He likes Uncle Les. 

He would prefer Dad.

[bullet-prooflove]

Young!Les Packer Series: Starburst - Les Packer x Reader

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @kishie8 @anime-weeb-4-life @oureternalbond  @thanossexual

It’s a starburst, the brand on your shoulder. Les knows it almost as well as he knows himself. He’s spent nights caressing it with his fingertips and his lips. It reminds him of how strong you are, how resilient.

In the wake of the cult’s annihilation the two of you have built a home together, a life. You’ve gone back to school with the intention of completing your GED, something he has no doubt that you’ll accomplish. You work parttime at a bookstore and it seems to suit you. You’ve re-discovered your thirst for literature now that you have the freedom to explore it. In the cult there was only one book, and it was the one the Founder had written himself.

It's been two years since Fallen Star crumbled and Les has not only gained a partner but a daughter as well. He thinks of little Sasha sleeping in the room next door, walls decorated with ponies, a nightlight that shines sparkles on the ceiling because she’s afraid of the dark. The daughter he didn’t even know he wanted until she’d appeared in his life.

Now he can’t imagine a world without her in it. Without breakfast with smiley faced pancakes or school drop offs and pick ups. She’s as ferocious as her mother, bright and adventurous. He thought her time in the cult would have cowed her, but she leaps into everything with a curiosity that amazes him. The world is a bright, dazzling place for her and she’s eager to learn more about it.They go to the library sometimes after school, her favourite book is Funny Bones and Les has spent many bedtimes reading it to her, while you study at the kitchen table.

Les thinks of the two women that approached him today looking for you. He’d been with Sasha at the General Store, sitting outside on the bench where the two of you had first met. They’d been eating popsicles, Sasha’s orange because it was her new favourite colour and his cherry. He hadn’t even registered their approach until he saw Sasha react, he’d never seen her withdraw so fast. Her silence spoke volumes.

He recognises the style of clothing; you all wore similar outfits usually in white or pastels. The first time he’d met you, you’d been wearing a lavender summer dress. He remembers you’d worn your hair tied back, the edges of the brand peeping out from underneath the fabric.

“She doesn’t belong to you anymore.” He reminds them, trying very hard to keep his tone even as not to alarm Sasha.

“Sasha does. She’s his only living relative.”

He’d snarled at them then because the only way they were getting Sasha was over his dead body.

“She’ll come back.” The older of the two had assured him. “She knows where she belongs.”

They’d left after that, but the damage was already done because Sasha may not have remembered their names, but she remembers being ripped away from her mother time and time again by these women. She’s inconsolable until you get home from work because she thinks that it’s happening all over again. He wants to kill them for that. For distressing his child.

When you finally manage to get Sasha settled, you come to bed wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. You straddle his hips and make love to him with your hand over his mouth to stifle the noise, because when he’s with you like this, he’s loud. There’s an element of control to it, he understands the need to be dominant especially when it feels like the world is starting to crumble underneath your feet.

“I won’t let anything to happen to you.” He promises in the aftermath as he holds you close. “You and Sasha are my family, I’ll protect the two of you until the day I die.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bullet-prooflove]

How can I trust you after what I've been through?

How about some more Les Packer and his Fallen Star girl? I fucking love these two so much!

You ask Les as you slip from his sheets, reaching for the lavender sundress that decorates his bedroom floor. He watches as you step into it, pulling it ip over your shoulders before you tug your panties on underneath it.

"You trusted me enough to come home with me." He points out. "To let me take you to bed."

You give him a look and he feels like he's been chastised.

"We fucked." You tell him. "You needed someone to fill the space beside you and I needed..."

You trail off because you can't vocalise what you needed. To feel loved, to feel care for, to feel anything but the crippling numbness that overtakes you everytime you go back to that farmhouse.

Les sees it in your features, the vulnerability, the anguish at going back to the place that's stifling you. They hurt you there, he knows they do because he's seen the marks on your skin.

"This isn't just sex for me and I think you know that." He tells you, the sheets pooling around his hips as his back comes to rest against the headboard.

You stare at him, your fist clenched and your chest heaving. You're torn, you want to bolt, you want to stay. The indecision pins you in place until Les leaves the bed, his hands coming to rest upon your shoulders.

"If you want out, just say the word and I'll help you." He promises.

There's silence and he knows he's lost this fight, that you'll keep going back over and over again because it's what you know.

"I want out." You whisper, your palms coming to rest upon his bare chest, his heart beat thrumming underneath your fingertips. "I need to get because the only way this ends is with me dead and I don't want that."

"I won't let that happen." He tells you, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you close. "I promise I'll find a way to get you out."

[bullet-prooflove]

Midnight You come and pick me up, no headlights

Part of the Young! Les Packer Series - Fallen Star

Fallen Star Series - Young!Les Packer:

Stolen Kisses - Les and you steal a moment before you have to return to the cult.

Sheets (NSFW) - Les reflects on the first time he met you.

Wife Number Nine - You show up at Les's place with a thirteen year old beauty queen and a 44. Colt.

It’s past midnight when Les pulls up to the stop sign on the outskirts of town. He allows the bike to idle before he climbs off it and lights a cigarette. The moon is full tonight, the stars twinkling like a thousand dazzling lights. It’s a beautiful night for mischief.  

He senses your presence before he sees you emerge from the trees. His senses are attuned to you and he knows your frequency anywhere. You look ethereal in that white dress they make you wear, like a siren emerging from the darkness. You turn your face away from him as he approaches and he knows there’s something wrong, it’s in the way you hold yourself. He reaches out, tipping up your chin and guiding your gaze back to him.

His jaw tenses as he reviews the bruise blossoming across your left cheek. It’s a few days old, black ebbing into shades of green. The rage it raises in him like a wildfire, because this isn’t the first time he’s seen you with bruises, he knows they beat you when you refuse to comply. He also knows what it is you refuse to comply too.

“Sweetheart…” He sighs as he presses his forehead to yours. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting you go back to them.”

“I don’t have a choice.” You whisper as your fingers chase along his chiselled cheek. “I need you… I need you to understand that.”

He looks at you, this beautiful, beaten angel and he wants so badly to rescue you, to steal you away from all of this agony that you endure.

“I love you.” He tells you earnestly. “What you need is time and space away from them. You need to heal…”

“Les, I can’t leave.” You say to him, tears trailing down your cheeks. “You know that.”

“Bring her with you next time, I can get you somewhere safe.” He promises. “We have charters all over the country, there are people that can help the both of you.”

“They won’t let me near her.” You tell him, closing your eyes because the anguish of it it’s all too much. “Christ they won’t even let near my own daughter, they use it as punishment, it’s leverage to make sure I…”

You trail off but he knows, he knows exactly what you’re not saying.

“Look at me.” He whispers against your skin, tasting the salt on your cheeks. “I will find a way to get you out, the both of you. I won’t let them break you. I’m going to make sure you’re safe, that you can live the life you’re supposed to.”

[bullet-prooflove]

A subtle kiss that no one sees

How about a Les Packer?

Young!LesPacker - Fallen Star

It's slow the way Les kisses you, a tender brush of the lips as your fingers grasp the leather of his kutte.

"Fuck I don't want you to go." He whispers against the corner of your mouth. "Please just stay with me..."

"Les..." You drawl his name and it sounds like music in his ears, because your voice, it's just the sweetest fucking sound. "You know I can't."

He dips his head, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. Your fingertips trail over the stubble on his cheeks.

"One day Les," you promise him. "I promise you one day, we'll be together."